head explode. For that kind of money, my entire apartment building could have retired, in luxury.
“Finally. After all these years, I can have a life! I can travel, get a girlfriend. Sleep in! Do you know the last time I got more than five hours’ sleep? Fourteen years ago, the day before I started the paper.” He leaned against the edge of his desk, shoulders drooping as he exhaled an enormous, relieved sigh.
“You’ve worked hard. And I’m happy. For you. But . . . what happens now?”
“I’m not one hundred percent sure.” He laughed again. “I’ve been so busy pulling the deal together that I haven’t thought it out entirely. But a week from tomorrow, I take delivery on a new sailboat. Three berths, four sun decks, sixty-two feet long.”
“I meant what happens to us? And to Daily McKee?”
“Oh. Well. It’ll go on like it always has,” Dan said, “just under the Tate Universal umbrella. I doubt readers will even notice. Tate wants to keep the name.”
“And the staff? Does Tate want to keep them? Or are there going to be cuts?”
“A few, I imagine.” He shrugged. “But that’s not really my problem anymore.”
No, indeed. It’s ours. And mine.
“What about my column? Are they keeping it?”
“They are.” He got up and walked around to the front of the desk. “Tate wants to syndicate it to all their publications. Without Dear Calpurnia, I’m not sure I’d have been able to pull off the deal. Thus the present,” he said, nodding toward the still-unopened box in my lap as he resumed his seat.
My stomach unclenched a little. I still was concerned for my coworkers but it was a relief to know that my job was safe. And even, possibly, my hopes for a raise? And a baby? If Tate wanted to publish my column in their many publications, they’d have to increase my salary, wouldn’t they? Maybe I should get an agent. Negotiating with a big corporation would be different from dealing with Dan. But could I make a deal quickly enough to get a bigger apartment before the home visit? Doubtful. Maybe Dan would intercede on my behalf? After all, the deal might never have happened without me. He said so himself.
“Listen, Dan. Something has happened, something great. And I need a —”
But Dan wasn’t listening.
“Tate is keeping Dear Calpurnia,” he said, cutting me off. “But they’re not keeping you.”
“Excuse me?”
I blinked, certain he must be joking. But he wasn’t smiling anymore.
“That’s crazy. They can’t publish the column without me. I am Calpurnia.”
“You’re Celia Fairchild. Calpurnia is a persona, a pen name. Somebody else can assume it and write her just as well as you did, but for less money.”
He pulled a sheet of paper out of the same drawer where he’d stowed the Tiffany’s box and laid it on the desk in front of me.
“What’s this?”
“It’s a letter of termination and separation, with a one-year severance attached. Sign it and you’ll get a check today.”
“What!”
“Don’t look at me like that, Celia. Do you know how hard I had to battle with Tate to get this for you? I went to the mat for you. The others won’t get even half as much. A whole year. You’re going to come out money-ahead. It won’t take you nearly that long to find another job.”
“Not one that pays anything close to what I make writing the column,” I snapped, knowing it was true. “And I don’t want another job. Calpurnia might be a persona but she’s my persona. If Tate isn’t willing to pay for her, someone else will.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Our contract was for three years, which means my noncompete will be up at the end of next month. After that, I can write for anyone I want. I don’t care how much money Tate throws at me, I’m not signing away the rights to Calpurnia.”
“Celia. You already did.”
Dan stared at me. I stared back.
“Your last contract says that the name Dear Calpurnia in all its forms belongs to McKee Media and that in the event of the company’s being sold during the duration of the contract, the rights transfer to the new owner.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No. I would never have agreed to that.”
“But you did. It’s all there—clause sixteen, paragraph nine B.”
He opened his desk drawer again, this time to extract a copy of my employment contract, which just happened to be turned to clause sixteen, paragraph 9B and highlighted in yellow marker. Clearly, Dan had spent a lot