Bird in Hand - Christina Baker Kline [102]
“I’m getting the sense this place isn’t for you,” the Realtor says.
“Do you have anything else we can look at?” Claire asks.
The Realtor flips through the file she’s carrying. “In this range,” she says slowly, as if she’s doing them a huge favor by even talking to them, they’re so far below her usual price point—“it’s going to be hard to find exactly what you want.”
“If you don’t think you can help us—” Charlie begins.
“No, no,” she says quickly, flashing a conciliatory smile. “Actually, there’s something here that might have potential. It’s near Astor Place. Large, airy, needs a bit of work. It’s empty, so I can take you there now, if you want. I just have to call the super for the key.”
“Great,” Claire says.
Charlie glances at his watch; he should get back to the office. But what’s another hour? With all the upheaval in his life, leaving his job seems even less of a possibility these days, but who knows? The impetus to make a change is stronger now. For the first time in years, Charlie has a sense of the inherent potential of each unfolding moment. He feels like a snake that has shed its skin. The skin is still out there, in the tall grass, almost intact, but the snake has left it behind. Sometimes Charlie wonders if Claire is too much for him, the hawk to his snake. Deep down, he fears that she might take him high into the air and drop him. But at least he will see, as Donne described it, “the round earth’s imagined corners”; he will embark on a journey. He will take flight.
Chapter Two
“This is Alison Gran—shit.” She pushes number seven on the phone, waits for three beeps, listens to the commands, and starts again. “This is Alison Gray. Please—shit.” She pushes the button. “You have reached Alison Gray at HomeStyle magazine. I’m either away from my desk or on another line. Please leave a message.” She presses number five and sits back in her chair. Good. Done. Next?
As if on cue, a young woman with wispy blond hair pokes her head around the door. “Alison—great, you’re here. Staff meeting in ten minutes in the conference room. We’re going over the holiday issue.”
Alison smiles—Christmas in July. Welcome to the upside-down world of magazine publishing. In December they’ll be testing barbecue sauces and staging a cookout on a California beach. She looks around her office. It is cramped and spare, with a window overlooking the dirty, exposed organs of the short building next door, but she knows she is lucky to have it. Not to mention the job—it isn’t a great time in publishing to find a full-time position. Three months ago, when she’d called everyone she knew in the industry to see what was available, it had seemed hopeless. One acquaintance, looking over her e-mailed résumé, essentially told her there was no chance. “Twenty-six-year-olds are being hired at your level,” she said. “And the thing is, magazines want to hire young. It keeps things fresh. You have some good experience, but it’s a little—well—outdated, isn’t it? Unless you work for a parenting magazine, you’re kind of out of the loop. Even there, I’d say it’s a long shot. Have you considered getting an MBA?”
Great—so she was over the hill and underqualified. After going back to bed with a pillow over her head for several hours, she’d flung the covers off and sat up. She had spent ten years in this profession, damn it. She wasn’t going to let one