The Color of Love Read Free

room was twice the size of the library she’d just left but
resembled it with its filled-to-capacity bookshelves on two walls, the
comfortable leather sofa and chair in the seating area, and the big wooden
library table that served as a desk. The president of the Winfield Agency sat
behind it now in a dark brown leather swivel chair.
    At five-four and a hundred and ten pounds,
Henrietta should have been dwarfed by the size of the table and the
expansiveness of the room, but she filled the space—any space—with a palpable
energy. When Emily had first met her seven years before, she’d been twenty-two
and fresh out of school, and had felt as if she’d walked into the path of a
hurricane. Despite being five inches taller and nearly forty years younger than
Henrietta—HW, as everyone called her in casual conversation—she still sometimes
had to run to keep up with her. Henrietta was energetic, trim, and formidable.
She was also Emily’s mentor, role model, and closest friend.
    Henrietta, her shining black hair cut
casually short, without any gray and naturally so, nodded hello. As was always
the case, she wore a business suit, this one a gray pinstripe with a white
open-collared shirt and a plain gold necklace showing at the throat.
    “Hi,” Emily said. “Sorry I couldn’t make it
sooner, but I just finished a call with a client.”
    “That was the fantasy you were telling me
about the other night at dinner?”
    Emily shook her head, although she shouldn’t
be surprised. HW’s memory was prodigious and enviable. “That’s the one.”
    “Is the author signing?”
    “She is.”
    “Excellent. I agree with you—we’re going to
see a resurgence in high fantasy in the next year. Can you get this one
positioned with one of the brand divisions?”
    “I think so.” Emily doubted Henrietta had
called her in to discuss a relatively straightforward contract, but she waited
patiently.
    “Sit down. This will take a minute.”
    Emily’s heart jumped. Something about the way
Henrietta was looking at her sent a chill down her spine. When she’d been a
young intern working directly for HW, she’d been the recipient of a few hard
stares, an occasional quiet but unforgettable admonishment, and a thousand more
words of encouragement. Henrietta Winfield was the best at what she did, and
she’d held the reins of her company in a firm grasp through economic and
industry upheavals that had decimated other agencies. If she was unhappy, Emily
couldn’t fathom what might be the cause. She sat, feeling the pulse beat in her
throat.
    “I’ve just been on the phone with our
attorneys,” Henrietta said without preamble. “There’s a better than even chance
we’re going to lose our H-1B approval at the end of the year.”
    Emily caught her breath. If that happened,
her application for permanent residence would be in limbo—or terminated. “Why?”
    “Because the idiots who make the laws, or
listen to the people who elect them, are hysterical about immigration issues
right now and they’re cutting all the quotas. We are not tech, and that’s where
most of the allocations go.”
    Emily knew that, but she’d been in the United
States since she’d enrolled at Harvard as an undergraduate. Singapore had a very
good working relationship with educational institutions in the United States
and obtaining a student visa had been easy. Then when she’d been accepted as an
intern after a year of graduate school, she’d moved into H-1B status. Other
than being a supreme hassle in terms of paperwork and documentation, her visa
had never really been a problem.
    “But if—” Emily swallowed. “Am I going to
lose my job?”
    “Not if I can help it,” Henrietta said, a
fierce light in her eyes. “The entire thing is ridiculous, and we’re working on
it, but I wanted you to know.”
    “Of course, yes.” Emily’s mind reeled. She
couldn’t lose this job—this was more than a job, it was her passion, her
future, and if she had