FALLEN (NOW PUBLISHED ON AMAZON)

46.

For the moment, I need to figure out what Edith thought of my story. That won't be easy either. And all I seem to be able to do since this morning when I read those texts is to wait for somebody to do something. I can't just stand there. I will do what I can and now it starts by going to see Edith directly.

Before having dinner with her last night I wouldn't have even thought of going to see her so bluntly. She has always intimidated me a bit. I was seeing her as an obstacle to Mace's career. Now, I feel like I know her. At least, I understand her more. I think having a common enemy, being Kate, rallies us. It gives us a common goal. I can feel how much I trust and like her now. Her opinion values to me more than ever.

I walk straight to her office with confidence, until I get to the closed door. I feel suddenly nervous and uneasy remembering her disliking in me, Grace. I feel incredibly sorry to have made her feel that way towards me. I should take advantage of this moment to change the air between us.

I take a deep breath in and knock two times on the large mahogany door. It takes a moment before hearing any response, so I look back at the floor's secretary. She's typing something until she looks up and nods my way. She immediately picks up the phone and calls Edith's office.

"Miss Hemingway is at your door. Should I send her in?" She asks and I smile in return to thank her. "She's waiting for you."

"Thank you."

I take yet again a deep breath in and push the massive door. I immediately find Edith sitting at her desk. She seems to be composing herself back, sitting straighter on her chair, before her sight lays on me. Her expression is exactly how I know her to be. She is stone cold, but I would never expect her to look anything else other than that. Marcel is the very same on that point.

With a sign of her hand, she invites me to sit on the chairs in front of her, which I oblige immediately. I don't know if I see properly, but I think her stare softens on me. At least, I find comfort thinking so. It makes me smile back to her.

"So, Grace? What brings you to my office?" She pushes her laptop away a few inches so there's nothing between us.

"I was wondering if you were done reading the first three chapters Marcel has sent you. I would really like your feedback and do any changes you see fit. I just want to polish it as quickly as possible to give you the final version tomorrow to revise... if it's OK with you of course..." I add as her stare has been very intense on me, almost intimidating, so I lost my train of thoughts and my confidence.

"Tell me, Grace... What do you think of your story?" She leans forward resting her elbows on the table to give me her attention. Her eyes on me still very intensely analysing my every action and every word.

"I think it's great. I wouldn't have written something I wasn't proud of, or I would have changed things." I respond with confidence and pride. No matter what she thinks of the story I love it, and so does Marcel, and that's really all that matters to me.

"And what do you think of your work with my son?" Her eyes narrow a little bit more, and I see her lips purse into a weird expression of judgment. I can't quite figure her out...

"It was a rollercoaster to say the least, but we made it work and we did something beautiful together. Something I would say I am proud of." I answer with confidence. I really don't want her to get the wrong idea of her son or our work.

"How would you qualify Marcel's work?"

"What do you mean?"

"Was he stubborn or attentive? Was he driven or lazy? Did he have good ideas? Was he confident in his work or did he seem lost?"