The Accidental Columnist 2 (You're Next!)

By Jeannie Yee Davis

After months of hopelessly searching for the right apartment, Sandy just may have found the right place or did she? Adding to her dilemma, her new boss requests she expand readership. Will she be able to do this? Can she do what it takes to keep her dream columnist job?

Her plans to return the favor and play matchmaker for her mother and Uncle Ho backfires heating up her fears of losing her freedom to live the life she chooses.

Can Sandy resolve Uncle Ho's secret that's keeping him from committing to her mother? Can Sandy and Michael make more time for each other or will a new man in Sandy's life write him out?

Find out in Jeannie Yee Davis' The Accidental Columnist 2, as the saga continues.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeannie Yee Davis
• Release date: May 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458132840

Jeannie Yee Davis

Jeannie Yee Davis is a freelance writer. She writes from her home in South San Francisco, California, where she resides with her husband, Mark. Her short stories appear in Long Story Short, e-Clips and Applecart Magazine. She authored two columns for The Voice, her church’s newsletter, entitled, Pleasing God 24/7 and A Moment in His Light. She is currently working on her third book. Contact the author at [e-mail]

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The Accidental Columnist 2

You’re Next

Jeannie Yee Davis

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2011 by Jeannie Yee Davis

Smashwords Edition, License Notice

All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it., or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To Mark, my husband, my best friend, my number one all-time fan, my stellar editor, and my fabulous-manager-wannabe . . . okay, so you’re not perfect, but you are my everything! If it wasn’t for you, this book would still be in early draft mode. You asked me to let you begin reading the first draft of this novel, which I normally don’t let anybody read, until I’ve gone through it a few passes, but my plate was unbelievably full. You begged and pleaded with me and offered to do the first edit for me because you simply couldn’t wait to see what happens next in Sandy’s world. I relented and we got the ball rolling, bringing to life this long-awaited installment—all thanks to you!

THE NOTEWORTHY (In No Specific Order)

Dear Readers, thank you for buying my second installment in The Accidental Columnist (TAC) series. If you enjoyed book one, I’ll bet you will enjoy Sandy’s continued saga as much or even more!

To the Readers who bought my first book, TAC, thank you! I appreciate your support immensely. My appreciation goes to those of you who let me know how much you enjoyed reading TAC, especially those who took time to write a review, an email, or add a post expressing your enjoyment.

Kyra Davis, you’re my favorite author of the delightfully entertaining Sophie Katz mystery series, which I bought and read every copy of your books. You’re my inspiration, so your support of my first novel means more to me than you know. I appreciate the plug on your blog as well as your outstanding review of my novel, and to top that off, you refused to take a free copy. You rock!

Betty Lee, thank you for lending me your architect’s eyes.

A big Thank You to My Priceless First Readers:

* Robert Thompson, my dear fellow Happy Writer, thanks for being someone I can count on who gladly reads over my stories at a moment’s notice. This journey is definitely more fun having you with me.

* Lenore Laumann, I swear you are some famous author/artist behind a hidden identity who has taken me under your wing. Thank you for your soulful critiques and for never complaining.

* Kathy Griffin, thank you for lending me your eyes in finding typos.

Franklin Kang, thank you for being the first one to reserve a copy of TAC 2. Also, my gratitude to you, my dear BART buddy, for caring so much about my writing career and not wanting to see me as a starving author eating at Quiznos, that you attempted to jumpstart my career with a table spot to promote my novels at the second annual APA Heritage Celebration. What a privilege and great experience that was! Thank you! (Oh, just for the record, I don’t really eat at Quiznos.)

Simon Yu, thank you for being the second person to reserve a copy of TAC 2.

Iggy, thank you for believing in me, for cheering me on and for celebrating my successes in such creative and loving ways. I am especially touched by the beautiful scrapbook memory box with a copy of TAC in it that you presented to me in celebration of my first novel. I cherish this gift dearly.

Joanne Allen, thank you for loving TAC so much that you bought eight copies, which makes you my biggest customer. You are every author’s dream!

John Carney, thank you for your invaluable critique of TAC from a professional’s standpoint.

Menie Lee and Susie Stricklin, my precious sisters, thank you for being there when I needed you most.

A Big Thank You to My Number One Fans:

* Clarissa Tom, my crazy Number One Fan in Foster City. Your excitement was energizing!

* Donna Smith, my Number One Fan in Phoenix. I was touched you bought two copies of TAC, one to read and one to keep as a souvenir.

* Lily Gee, you made my day when you told me you loved TAC so much that you shared it with twenty-five other people (at the time we spoke). You’re definitely my Number One Fan in Canada.

Mark, one more thing I’d like to thank you for—thank you for all the time and effort you spent to painstakingly translate TAC into Chinese via Google Translate just so my mother could read my book. You are the best!

Karl Ortis, thank you for being such a wonderful TAC enthusiast to post the great review of TAC 1 on Amazon and for squeezing in time from your already packed schedule to preview and provide your invaluable review of TAC 2 to meet my publication schedule. It means a lot to me.

Last but not least, Father in Heaven, thank You for enabling me to write.

CHAPTER 1

You’re next! the property manager’s voice resonated from somewhere in the apartment behind me. I cringed from the memories those words provoked. She had no idea what an emotional response those words would cause or that those exact words were the reason for my apartment hunting in the first place. She has been nonstop on cell phone calls since she escorted me into this rental, allowing me free rein to scope out my potential future home while she conducted her potential future business. I know she wasn’t talking to me, but with her potential prospects, those words meant I stood a chance of not getting this luxurious apartment, which I knew very well I couldn’t afford and probably stood zero chance of getting anyway. This, however, was the best apartment I have seen since I began looking, making it hard to resist. Yet I can’t bring myself to get off this deck, go back inside, and let her know the bad news.

Oh, but look at this fabulous view, I mumbled, taking in the grand view of the Promenade leading to Herb Caen Way. "And it’s a skip and a hop to work, I reminded myself. As if I needed more convincing, An opportunity like this doesn’t come your way every day. I gnarled my lower lip as I pondered the bay harbor and all the shops within walking distance. No, forget it. I don’t think I can do this. I tightened my grip on the railing of the deck as a part of me attempted to pry my fingers loose and leave this torturous scene Wait, I spat between clenched teeth. Uncle Ho! Don’t forget Uncle Ho . . . and Mom. They’ll never leave you alone if you don’t move out. I gasped, Right." That was all the convincing I needed.

I’ll take it! I exhaled both my decision and the cool November sea air that I drew in moments ago and held on to as I weighed my options. I flipped a strand of hair off my face, took one last deep breath, exhaled, released the railing, and retreated from the balcony with the great view of the Bay Bridge in the distance on the north side of King Street. I stepped into the furnished living room and slid the patio door close, glancing around for the property manager. She was nowhere in sight. Oh well. I shrugged and went for another look around the two-bedroom apartment waiting for the elderly property manager to reappear. I made my way down the left side of the hallway to the master bedroom with the spacious deck overlooking the street where I could see myself sitting at a small round table on a nice day sipping my Starbucks Mocha Malt Frappucino and typing on my laptop. This would be my bedroom. I swirled around taking in the 360 view. "I totally love this place. I slowed myself to a halt. I bit down on my lower lip and felt my brows knit together in response to the thumping of my rapid heartbeat reminding me that I couldn’t afford this place. Prime real estate in this location was out of my league, but a girl could dream. In fairy tales, dreams could come true if for some miraculous reason I could live here, But how could I make this work?"

It would be close to the Chronicle newspaper office where I was employed as a columnist since the beginning of summer. Although my salary practically doubled once I traded my part-time accounting clerk’s position at Dixon’s Drug Store, where I worked through college, for the columnist position, obtaining residence at this waterfront location was still something dreams were made of. The only reason I even bothered to check this place out was because after two months of apartment hunting with nothing remotely resembling a possible close deal, my options were becoming slimmer each day. The places I had seen that I could afford were either a rodent-infested dump or located in a shady neighborhood. At this point, I couldn’t pass up any leads if I wanted to move out within this decade.

Clicking heels on the hardwood floor followed by the muffled sound of the property manager’s conversation only audible enough to hint that she was still talking on the phone interrupted my thoughts. The elderly woman arrived at the doorway with one hand holding her cell phone up to her ear confirming my suspicions.

What do you think, dear? the elderly woman asked me when she came through the doorway without hanging up her phone. "No, I said don’t give it away. Tell them full price or no deal, she said firmly but softly into the phone. In her sternness, a hint of accent eluded. It was an accent I recognized but couldn’t pinpoint. Was it Russian or was it English or maybe Australian? She held up her hand to me and apologetically lipped, One second, and grinned, turning away from me. Uh-huh . . . uh-huh . . . no, not a cent less. Listen, you have my price. Make it work. I have a client here. I’ll call you later. She pulled the phone away from her ear, fumbled to put on her glasses, peered through her reading glasses, located the button she was looking for, and dramatically pressed it to end the call before snapping her phone closed. She turned to me with a ready smile on her face. Now, where were we? I opened my mouth to speak not realizing it was a rhetorical question. She spoke before I could utter a sound. Oh yes, what do you think about this place, my dear? This is a well sought after location and a rather good price for it at that. Not too many people get a panoramic view of the Bay Bridge overlooking the Embarcadero, Alameda, and Oakland, and those who do, pay for it."

You are within walking distance to restaurants and shops, and you are near the freeway. If you like baseball, you can walk to the ball park. If you jog or like to walk, you can do that right outside your building along the scenic bay. You can jog all the way to the Golden Gate Bridge if you like or even all the way to Crissy Field or to Fort Point. Some people do that. She rattled on, twirled her small dainty frame around with her outstretched arms as if she were on stage, presenting the spacious living room surrounding her. She paused, looked me up and down in a deliberate fashion, and nodded, What more could you ask for?

I’ll take it, I blurted out breathlessly, resisting the urge to jump up and down as I did when I was a little girl standing in front of the ring toss booth where all my tosses made it and the carnival man pressured me to pick the prize I wanted to take home. For a city girl, her mentioning the San Francisco tourist attractions meant nothing to me, but the Promenade, a.k.a. Herb Caen Way, was my favorite part of the city. There was no need to entice me further.

Lovely, my dear. She gestured for me to follow her. She turned, and the soft pitter-patter of her heels faded into the kitchen. Come, dear. If I could just have you fill out the rental contract, we could get you moved in before you know it. She fingered through the papers in her briefcase on the table in the breakfast nook.

I accepted the papers from her and quickly skimmed over the legal document. My mouth fell open when my eyes reached the line where the rental amounts were listed. The elderly woman, whose name I couldn’t remember, quickly caught my expression. What’s the matter, dear? She came around the table to where I was standing, fumbled with putting on her reading glasses, and reviewed the document with her head moving in an animated way. Well, everything seems to be in order here. She peeled off her glasses and stuck her face under mine, forcing me to lean back to regain my personal space. She was grinning and staring at me with clasped hands in front of her chest, anticipating my telling her what shocked me. What’s the matter, dear? she repeated.

First and last month rent and a cleaning deposit comes to three months pay! I blurted out unintentionally. I forced myself to blink when I realized I was staring at the little woman. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, but I can’t afford this, and handed the contract back to her. She fell back a foot, and her smile fell off her face.

Why, it’s a steal! If you walk away from this deal now, I can guarantee you it won’t be available again if you change your mind. She paused and sighed. The clicking of her heels kept time with my heartbeat as she retraced her steps around the table to shove the contract back into her briefcase. A deal like this doesn’t come along every day, dear. I have a few more people lined up to see this place and . . .

I bit my lower lip. Wait! I held my fist up to my mouth and fidgeted. Do you think I could get back to you later in the day, no, wait, could I get back to you first thing in the morning? Let me think this over and see if I could do this. Is that okay with you? I winced. The elderly woman stood across the table and listened to me with sympathy.

All right, sure, we can do that. You seem like such a nice young lady. I’ll do that for you. She reached into her briefcase and retrieved the contract that she had stuffed in there a moment ago. Why don’t you fill out this contract, in which case we’ll be all set to go when you call me back? We can begin the background check in the meantime.

I nodded in agreement and slid into the chair across the table from her and filled out the forms while she excused herself to answer her cell. She finished her call as I filled out the last blank and signed the bottom of the contract. I handed the papers back to her. She skimmed it quickly to confirm everything was filled out properly. That looks like everything. Now, dear, don’t take too long to decide. I’ve got others waiting to see this place, but I’ll wait a day before I show it to them.

"That would be great. I really appreciate this." I reached out to shake her hand.

After we shook hands, the property manager reached into her briefcase and took out a business card and handed it to me. I glanced at it and mouthed the woman’s name, Olivia Cauliver. Pretty name.

Thank you, dear. Olivia opened the door and waited for me to leave. Now remember, don’t take too long. She wiggled her fingers at me as if she were saying goodbye to a toddler, and I wrinkled my face with an exaggerated smile and nodded toward her as she closed the door on me.

CHAPTER 2

I sighed both in relief that this awkward scene was over and in disappointment that I’m not getting this beautiful apartment. The worst part was that I have to go back to the drawing board, and to add insult to injury, now that I’ve been exposed to this luxurious apartment, it’s going to be that much harder looking at the apartments that my salary could afford. I sighed again at the increasing disappointment. At least I bought myself a little time in case miracles really do happen. No sooner had I walked the short distance to the elevator and pressed the down button when I heard a noise behind me, a sound like someone opening their door in a big hurry. Curiosity made me turn toward the sound to see who was coming down the hallway. Olivia bobbed toward me in her heels and fitted skirt. Hold on, Alexandra!

What’s the matter? I jumped aside to avoid being run over by her. She wouldn’t have, but instinctively, I felt the need to get out of the way in case her heels and tight skirt caused her to trip or something.

"You work at the Chronicle? Olivia asked breathlessly. I nodded with quick nods. You work with Lenora Lawman?"

I nodded again. Worked, I corrected her.

Olivia took me by the elbow and walked me back toward the apartment. I just had a nice talk with the owner of this apartment, and he’s a big fan of Lenora Lawman’s. When he heard Lenora listed as one of your references and employer—

Former employer.

"The owner asked me to work with you to make it possible