Brad Cowen
Glen Cove, New York

I really enjoyed this piece, but I agree with the others that it ended too abruptly. Have you heard from Finn, Adina?

I chewed my lip. The negative feedback didn’t bother me nearly as much as the pleas for further details about Finn, since I didn’t have any.

My phone rang. “Hi.” For the first time ever, I answered Derek’s call without fear attached to me like a third arm. The mere volume of feedback, good or bad, meant the story had been read. This could only be a positive. For every person who left a comment, there were probably twenty more who hadn’t. The nerves in my tummy shimmied and shook knowing Finn might fall into the latter category.

“Congratulations, Gellar. I told you to find a story, and you did.”

“Thank you!” I put the phone on speaker.

“Finn.”

“What about him?” The fear was back. What if Finn had called Tea’s offices to complain about his name being used? Could he do that? Nothing I said would be considered defamation of character. I hadn’t even used his last name! I was being paranoid.

“Have you spoken to him?”

“No.” My hand shook as I scrolled through more comments. None of them were from Finn.

“Track him down. Open a dialogue about whatever happened between you. Write a part two. Share it with our readers.”

I froze with my elbows on the table. The idea left me cold. I hoped this story would lead to another (and another, and so on), because…well…duh! But I wasn’t comfortable using Finn to secure another publishing credit for my résumé. Also, I aspired to write feel-good stories, and I didn’t know if this one would have a happy ending. “How about I think about it?”

“Fair enough.” He paused. “About the full-time staff position. You want it?”

Did dogs like having their bellies rubbed? Did Rory Gilmore like coffee? Slow your roll, Adi. Ask about starting salary, health insurance, and retirement planning. I smoothed down my hair. “Yes!”

“Love the enthusiasm. It’s yours. But not until after Christmas. Jo is leaving the city to move with her boyfriend to Arkansas.” He scoffed. “What is it about small towns?”

“I have no idea.” I conjured an imaginary selfie taken with my temporary Pleasant Hollow neighbors—Doreen with a pencil behind her ear, Aaron and Greg holding up half-washed pilsner glasses, Lorraine pursing her lips in annoyance—and smiled. “None at all.”

“Right? Anyway, she writes our love and romance column. I think you’d be a good fit.”

“I’m thrilled for the opportunity!” My whole body vibrated with joy.