The magazine department currently had seven publications. Century Weekly and City Monthly were like two jewels on a crown, jointly upholding the department's glory. These two editorial offices also had the most staff, each with fifty to sixty employees, so they occupied the two largest office areas in the center of this floor. The other special issues had at most a dozen or so people in their editorial offices.
Jenny stood in the central corridor, with people constantly passing by. They wore name badges for various publications on their chests, and she did the same, walking among them openly, no longer hiding like when she first sneaked in.
The washroom was at the junction of the two editorial offices, next to a smoking room. Jenny went to a bookcase outside the washroom, opened the glass-doored cabinet, and took out a past issue of City Monthly, flipping through it nonchalantly. The monthly was more expensive than the weekly, with colorful patterns on its cover and over sixty pages, containing content that was more inclusive than the weekly. It could be said that whatever the weekly had, the monthly also had; whatever the weekly couldn't fit, the monthly still had. Each dominated its own realm in short-term and long-term periodicals. The overlapping content included various serials and longer literary works. She absorbed everything she read without discrimination.
As soon as Cowens came out of the washroom, he saw Jenny standing by the bookcase reading the monthly, clearly waiting for him. When Jenny saw him, she immediately put down the magazine and turned to ask him what had happened that morning. Somewhat helpless, Cowens told her the truth.
"This is my fault."
Ronald and Cowens had gone to visit the butler, handed over Mr. Alpha's business card, and gave gifts to the butler, hoping to arrange a meeting with Mr. Burshuta. But the butler flatly refused, saying that Mr. Burshuta currently had no writing plans and didn't want to see any editors. Mr. Burshuta was known to be an eccentric writer, but they hadn't expected his butler to be so difficult. Ronald and Cowens discussed it, and Ronald mentioned he knew where the writer's wife liked to spend her leisure time. If Cowens was willing, they could try their luck there. However, Cowens thought it inappropriate. That great writer was already eccentric; if they made things worse and annoyed him, they'd have no chance at all. So he didn't agree.
After listening, Jenny roughly understood the situation and felt that this matter wasn't over yet.
The two of them walked back to the editorial room one after another, just in time to bump into colleagues from the adjacent section distributing afternoon snacks—almond ginger slices and animal crackers from that famous dessert shop in Union Square. Mr. York had a sweet tooth and loved that shop's pastries; someone from the other group went there every day to queue up for him, and also brought a few boxes for Mr. Alpha's group. As Jenny sat down, Clare next to her warmly invited her to share, and she accepted as if nothing had happened. To outsiders, this seemed like a signal of reconciliation.
Jenny's actions today had actually helped advance this week's work progress ahead of schedule. Now that things were idle, a few people in the office packed up and left on time. Jenny had arranged to have dinner with Monique, but typist Owen insisted on tagging along. The two women found him clingy, so they simply invited Cowens, Polly, and William as well. The six of them gathered around a table and decided to pool money to go to Water Street for seafood.
William said, "Why don't we call Frank? He's a rich guy. If we butter him up with some sweet talk, maybe he'll treat us." Mentioning Frank, they walked toward his office cubicle. Through the crack in the door, they saw Fujena standing inside. The voices from inside came out—Frank was talking to Fujena. "...If you can handle the work you have, I wouldn't stop you from taking on more, but you can't." "Since Mr. Alpha entrusted that task to Ronald and Cowens, it shows he has his own considerations..." The voice gradually faded. Fujena mumbled something in reply and walked out with a dejected expression. She ran into the six of them, felt even more embarrassed, and grabbed her files to leave. Polly stopped her to join them for dinner, and Fujena finally calmed down. However, the few people outside the door, aside from Polly, could easily guess that Fujena had also wanted to take a crack at the tough nut that was Mr. Burshuta. But perhaps because her work wasn't up to par, Frank hadn't agreed to let her go.
Cowens felt a bit awkward but pretended nothing had happened. He knocked and went in to call Frank. Soon, Frank came out with a jacket over his arm, apparently agreeing to join them. The group clocked out and left the office, heading to Pier 6 near the Dawling Building. The weather was relatively dry that day, and the streets were bustling in the evening. They walked in pairs along the street to the fine French restaurant Frank frequented, named "Mrs. Shell's," and sure enough, he offered to treat them. In the office, business was business; now that work was over and they had little overlap in their personal lives, naturally everyone wanted to relax. Frank led them to a good window seat in the hall and indeed announced he was paying. The others, none of whom matched Frank in salary, position, or family background, naturally didn't argue.
Jenny and Monique sat together. They knew their limits and when Frank asked them, they both said they didn't know how to order and let him choose. Frank ordered a few signature dishes, then turned to Polly and asked what she wanted. He knew Polly was straightforward and wouldn't stand on ceremony like the others. Polly, indeed, was not polite, asking for plum sauce ice cream and grilled salmon. Frank agreed to everything, told the waiter to add those, and also ordered a bottle of liqueur.
Jenny sat nearby, growing more satisfied as she listened. She was even starting to see Polly in a better light. Smiling, she waited for the ice cream, which cost forty-five cents a serving, to arrive. Although the basic salary for clerks was meager, the secretary's salary wasn't high either—the base pay was much lower than an editor's, about a thousand dollars a year, with quarterly bonuses. The secretary position, besides the possibility of being promoted to editor after three to five years, also came with the right to have their name on important publications. They could apply for a well-equipped single room in the East Building, where the company covered basic living expenses. But Frank had never taken advantage of that benefit; instead, he rented a small apartment in the best neighborhood near City Hall, which was why he was often called a rich guy.
Jenny truly envied Frank. She wanted the byline so badly, just to get a single dorm room. Although her current roommate was tolerable, it was still different from having a choice. She thought that since she had finished her work early, she might ask Mr. Eliot for a day off tomorrow. She also wanted to take a crack at the tough nut that was Mr. Burshuta.
The ice cream came with small silver spoons. As soon as it arrived, Jenny quickly scooped several spoonfuls and savored them. After dinner, Cowens said he wanted to go back early to rest, and Fujena pulled Polly aside, murmured a few words, and left. The remaining people just fit in one carriage to head to the next block for a magic show, which was cheap—tickets were only fifteen cents each. After the show, those few planned to continue to a pub for a late-night snack. Jenny, afraid her boss might smell alcohol on her tomorrow and worried about delaying things, left early and went to a public horse-drawn carriage stop on the street.
She hadn't stood there long when a carriage stopped in front of her. Jenny looked up. Frank spotted her slender figure through the window, opened the carriage door, and quickly called her in. "I was planning to turn in early too. Come on up; I'll take you back first." "Is it on your way? Your place seems closer to here than to the company," Jenny asked. Frank nodded, seeming contemplative about today's events. "It's on the way. I have some things to discuss with you." Jenny didn't hesitate. She knew she had done quite a bit today and expected a lecture from the secretary. She quickly got in, took off her gloves, placed them on her lap, and assumed a respectful posture.
Frank seemed to have seen through her little schemes. "Your clash with Mr. Clare today was clearly Mr. Eliot using you as a whetstone. You need to be careful." Jenny knew that Frank, though holed up in that small office all day, was aware of everything. He then said in a calm tone, "Although I strongly disapprove of what you did, it's done now. As for the matter with Mr. Burshuta, don't get your hopes up, and don't waste your effort. Alpha intended from the start to release only one byline." Now Jenny was confused. She looked up with a questioning expression. "Why? Doesn't Mr. Alpha want to sign his agency as soon as possible? Since there's an opening, why can't I compete for it?" Frank's eyes flickered. "He does, but he prefers that Ronald be the one to accomplish it. Tomorrow, he will definitely pull Cowens out and let Ronald go alone." Jenny sensed something. "Ronald? I've only heard that no one in the company knows his background." "Who told you that?" "That's not important. You mean this credit is tailor-made for him?" "You could say that."
The carriage wheels hit a bump on the street. Frank took out a pocket watch and checked the time. "You know who the current chief partner of Dawling is, right?" "Of course—Mochi. Dawling, Mr. Remiel, and Mr. Zweit are his biological sons; the other partners are his nephews." The family portraits of the partners hung in the hallway. Frank shrugged. "He also has another biological son, born to a maid. That son was previously settled in Europe. Since the old man fell ill in the past two years, he seems to have had a change of heart. He brought all his illegitimate children back to New York and plans to arrange their futures carefully." Jenny scratched her head, finding it absurd. "You mean Ronald is one of them?" Frank saw her look of disbelief and snorted. "Don't even think about that little thing you're after. In a few months, I'll probably have to move aside for him too. He'll definitely take my place then. Just wait and see." Jenny was speechless. No wonder Ronald never exchanged more than half a word with the rest of them. In the end, that opening existed because of him. "Then... what will you do in a few months? Transfer?" Frank nodded. "Mr. Alpha has spoken with me. I plan to transfer to the Literature Department upstairs. I can only advise you not to stand in his way in the future." Jenny bit her lip. "Do Mr. Remiel and Mr. Zweit know they have this little brother?" Frank smiled. "Bury this in your stomach. Pretend you never knew. It has nothing to do with us." Jenny nodded emphatically. She didn't dare imagine what would have happened if she had actually fought for that credit and blocked his path.
After the conversation, the carriage had already entered the block behind City Hall. Frank asked the carriage to stop briefly at his apartment building. "Wait in the carriage for a moment. I'll go up and get something for you." Jenny agreed, slumped dejectedly in her seat, thought for a while, then pushed open the carriage door and got out to stand beside it. The cold wind brushed her face, indeed making her feel unusually clear-headed. However, she saw a carriage stop at the neighboring apartment building. A man got out; his figure looked very familiar. He walked toward the adjacent entrance hall, took off his bowler hat mid-step, and looked in her direction. Jenny averted her gaze. Behind her, Frank patted her shoulder and handed her a bag of chocolate liqueurs.