There were several suggestions that were discussed and immediately dismissed. Dory mentioned the political scene but before she could continue, Camille put her hand up and stopped her. “No…a thousand times…no. Politics is like beating a dead horse. Any news or relevancy is gone in twenty-four hours and besides, I believe our demographic of readers is tired of anything political.” Dory was not happy about her idea being dismissed so quickly. She tried to hide the look of disdain that crossed her face but Camille caught it anyway. She continued speaking as though she hadn’t noticed. “If I interpret the landscape and social media correctly, most of our middle-aged readers are starved for a little peace and kindness and yes, even romance. That doesn’t mean they aren’t politically active and involved. It just means when they have a chance to kick off their overextended life shoes, they enjoy something a bit lighter.”
“I think we’re way off the mark with the romance angle. It doesn’t seem feasible to me,” Dory stated. The expression on her face was daring Camille to disagree with her.
Camille glanced her way but dismissed the remark. Dory was competent and good at her job but their relationship had always been a bit like oil and water.
Allie, Camille’s assistant editor, jumped in, “I don’t think we’ll get anywhere with peace and kindness but the romance angle is interesting. Given the fact that the majority of our readers are middle-aged, do you think they’ll be interested in romance?”
Camille answered, “Allie, middle-aged and senior women are still interested in romance and sex. They may not be in their twenties any longer but they’re not dead, either.”
Several remarks were made asking if she knew that from personal experience. She rolled her eyes and continued speaking. They all seriously considered her remark and tossed varying ideas of ‘romance’ back and forth. Some suggestions were immediately discarded as being too risqué and others were kept as possibilities to be investigated and fleshed out.
“I realize only a few of you are old enough to be considered baby boomers; however, nearly all of our readers are of that general age. That’s the group of women the original Mavis, my great-grandmother, wanted t
o reach. She felt that nearly all the other women’s publications were for the young wives and mothers. At that time, there were very few women working outside the home, so the magazine catered to the women who were now grandmothers or suddenly had retired husbands at home. Of course, things have changed drastically over the years…I mean, for heaven’s sake, we now run articles on erectile dysfunction affecting husbands and lovers, raising grandchildren, travel for newly- retired women and learning totally new skills for fun, furthering their education and yes, we are still discussing what to do with a recently retired husband.”
Everyone in the room laughed at that remark.
Camille continued, “I’m not trying to give you a history of our magazine; you already know those facts. Instead, I want you to see how the basics are still the same…our readers are middle-aged to seniors and in today’s world, they are as energetic, as committed to causes, as aware of world events and as active as their younger counterparts. The only difference is in the way they work, exercise, volunteer, read, and make love. Same females, just with a wiser, more conditioned and possibly more focused look at life. So let’s think of something that may affect many of them, and if not them personally, at least it will make them aware.”
Allie had another idea as she proposed an angle about online dating, and Leonard added to that with his own thoughts. “What if we had a real woman join an online dating site and write installments of her experiences and the various men who contact her?”
Michael added, “And maybe details of the meetings they have…if she finds someone interesting. It could be a type of online dating journal with new installments each month, describing the humorous contacts, possible scam artists and some serious, ‘one-night-stand for sex only’ meetings.”
“Okay, kids,” Camille said as she reined them in. “I like the romance angle but I want to be clear about a few things before you get too carried away with your ideas. There can definitely be a steamy side to our segments if we choose this topic, but we aren’t publishing the magazine’s version of 50 Shades of Grey, okay?”
With that admonition in mind, they each left for their own office with lots of thoughts and ideas spinning in their heads.
CHAPTER 3
CAMILLE SPENT THE rest of the day analyzing the figures she’d been given. It didn’t look at all promising. She met with the public relations administrator to examine the possibility and expense of a new advertising campaign. There wasn’t time for lunch as she had another meeting with her assistant editor to discuss the morning’s suggestions. Before she realized it, the clock told her it was time to head home. She would take some of the paperwork with her and look at it tonight. Perhaps going digital was the answer…even though she didn’t really want to do that.
The drive home was much shorter than her morning commute had been…no backed-up traffic. As Camille rummaged in her bag for her house key, the front door opened unexpectedly. It startled her, but even more startling was the sight of Will standing in front of her wearing an apron.
She hesitantly entered the foyer, then turned and asked, “What’s up with the apron, Will? Are you cooking dinner tonight?” As she noticed his bare legs sticking out from under that apron, she sighed and said, “Please tell me you have some clothing on under there.”
He threw his head back and laughed nearly uncontrollably. Then lifting the bottom of the apron, he said, “Yes, my dear. I have shorts on…see? Were you hoping I didn’t?”
She shook her head in exasperation at this man who sometimes drove her to drink.
“No, Will. I’m very happy to see you are clothed. I may have had difficulty eating if you weren’t.” Seeing his sudden smile, she clarified her statement. “I meant I would have been nauseous, not thrilled.”
“Okay, okay, Camille. I get the idea. Come in and sit down, take those heels off and relax.” He poured a glass of her favorite wine he had cooled in a chiller on the side table. She glanced at the bottle and realized it was from the order she’d received yesterday. She noticed he was enjoying a glass, also.
“Thanks, Will. You do realize this wine is pretty expensive, right?”
He frowned and took a big gulp. “Oh for heaven’s sake, Camille. Stop being such a curmudgeon. We both know you have the resources to buy this entire row of townhouses…and you don’t really need my measly contribution for the month’s expenses, if that’s what you’re being all bitchy about.”
He turned and walked to the kitchen. “Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes, Your Majesty,” he mumbled as he grabbed the dishtowel he’d tucked in the waistband of his apron and flung it over his shoulder.
She leaned her head back against the loveseat. Her feet hurt from wearing the stilettos all day. She hadn’t taken the time to change to her flats for the drive home. Will was an excellent cook when he wanted to be, and right now, the smells wafting in from the kitchen made her empty stomach feel even hungrier. She might as well enjoy the glass of wine and dinner, too.
True to form, the meal was delicious. “Y’know, Will, perhaps you missed your calling. As I’ve said before, I think you should apply to some culinary art colleges and become a chef,” Camille told him as she used the linen napkin to wipe any remaining crumbs from her mouth.
“That’s not on my radar, Camille. We’ve discussed this before and you already know my feelings on the subject. I might consider opening a restaurant, but I’m not interested in schooling or being a chef. To prepare a meal once in a while is fun, but every day? Ugh. I couldn’t bear it.”
Camille sighed and poured the last drops of wine into her glass. “Well, Mr. Will, what is on your radar? There had better be some blips on it pretty soon or you won’t have a place to live.”
He peered at her through half-closed eyes. “You threatening me, Camille? Are you sure you want to kick me out?”