The Writing Desk Read online

  ACCLAIM FOR RACHEL HAUCK

  The Writing Desk

  “Rachel Hauck enchants us again! Tenley and Birdie are bound together by the understanding that creativity is a guiding force and that their stories must be told. A tale both bittersweet and redemptive, The Writing Desk is your must-read.”

  —PATTI CALLAHAN HENRY, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  The Wedding Shop

  “I adored The Wedding Shop! Rachel Hauck has created a tender, nostalgic story, weaving together two pairs of star-crossed lovers from the present and the past with the magical space that connects them. So full of heart and heartache and redemption, this book is one you’ll read long into the night, until the characters become your friends, and Heart’s Bend, Tennessee, your second hometown.”

  —BEATRIZ WILLIAMS, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  “The Wedding Shop is the kind of book I love, complete with flawed yet realistic characters, dual timelines that intersect unexpectedly, a touch of magic, and a large dose of faith. Two breathtaking romances are the perfect bookends for this novel about love, forgiveness, and following your dreams. And a stunning, antique wedding dress with a secret of its own. This is more than just a good read—it’s a book to savor.”

  —KAREN WHITE, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  “In The Wedding Shop, the storyline alternates between past and present, engrossing the reader in both timelines. There are certain elements that are more obvious to the reader than to the characters, and it can get slightly frustrating waiting for the characters to get a clue. However, this is short lived, and the ways that God’s provision is shown is heartwarming and can even increase the reader’s faith. The weaving in of characters and plot points from The Wedding Dress and The Wedding Chapel adds depth and meaning to the gorgeously rendered tale.”

  —RT BOOK REVIEWS, 4 STARS

  “Hauck seamlessly switches back and forth in this redeeming tale of a shop with healing powers for the soul. As Cora and Haley search for solace and love, they find peace in the community of the charming shop. Hauck succeeds at blending similar themes across the time periods, grounding the plot twists in the main characters’ search for redemption and a reinvigoration of their wavering faith. In the third of her winsome wedding-themed standalone novels, Hauck focuses on the power of community to heal a broken heart.”

  —PUBLISHERS WEEKLY

  The Wedding Chapel

  “Hauck’s engaging novel about love, forgiveness, and new beginnings adeptly ties together multiple oscillating storylines of several generations of families. Interesting plot interweaves romance, real life issues, and a dash of mystery . . . Recommend for mature fans of well-done historical fiction.”

  —CBA RETAILERS AND RESOURCES

  “Hauck tells another gorgeously rendered story. The raw, hidden emotions of Taylor and Jack are incredibly realistic and will resonate with readers. The way the entire tale comes together with the image of the chapel as holding the heartbeat of God is breathtaking and complements the romance of the story.”

  —RT BOOK REVIEWS, 4½ STARS AND A TOP PICK!

  The Wedding Dress

  “The Wedding Dress is a thought-provoking read and one of the best books I have read. Look forward to more . . .”

  —MICHELLE JOHNMAN, GOLD COAST, AUSTRALIA

  “I thank God for your talent and that you wrote The Wedding Dress. I will definitely come back to this book and read it again. And now I cannot wait to read Once Upon a Prince.”

  —AGATA FROM POLAND

  The Royal Wedding Series

  “Perfect for Valentine’s Day, Hauck’s latest inspirational romance offers an uplifting and emotionally rewarding tale that will delight her growing fan base.”

  —LIBRARY JOURNAL, STARRED REVIEW

  “Hauck writes a feel-good novel that explores the trauma and love of the human heart . . . an example of patience and sacrifice that readers will adore.”

  —ROMANTIC TIMES, 4 STARS

  “A stirring modern-day fairy tale about the power of true love.”

  —CINDY KIRK, AUTHOR OF LOVE AT MISTLETOE INN

  “How to Catch a Prince is an enchanting story told with bold flavor and tender insight. Engaging characters come alive as romance blooms between a prince and his one true love. Hauck’s own brand of royal-style romance shines in this third installment of the Royal Wedding series.”

  —DENISE HUNTER, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE WISHING SEASON

  “How to Catch a Prince contains all the elements I’ve come to love in Rachel Hauck’s Royal Wedding series: an ‘it don’t come easy’ happily ever after, a contemporary romance woven through with royal history, and a strong spiritual thread with an unexpected touch of the divine. Hauck’s smooth writing—and the way she wove life truths throughout the novel—made for a couldn’t-put-it-down read.”

  —BETH K. VOGT, AUTHOR OF SOMEBODY LIKE YOU, ONE OF PUBLISHERS WEEKLY’S BEST BOOKS OF 2014

  “Rachel Hauck’s inspiring Royal Wedding series is one for which you should reserve space on your keeper shelf!”

  —USA TODAY

  “Hauck spins a surprisingly believable royal-meets-commoner love story. This is a modern and engaging tale with well-developed secondary characters that are entertaining and add a quirky touch. Hauck fans will find a gem of a tale.”

  —PUBLISHERS WEEKLY STARRED REVIEW OF ONCE UPON A PRINCE

  ALSO BY RACHEL HAUCK

  The Wedding Shop

  The Wedding Chapel

  The Wedding Dress

  Novellas found in A Year of Weddings

  A March Bride (e-book only)

  A Brush with Love: A January Wedding Story (e-book only)

  THE ROYAL WEDDING SERIES

  Once Upon a Prince

  Princess Ever After

  How to Catch a Prince

  A Royal Christmas Wedding (novella)

  LOWCOUNTRY ROMANCE NOVELS

  Sweet Caroline

  Love Starts with Elle

  Dining with Joy

  NASHVILLE NOVELS

  Nashville Sweetheart (e-book only)

  Nashville Dreams (e-book only)

  WITH SARA EVANS

  Sweet By and By

  Softly and Tenderly

  Love Lifted Me

  ZONDERVAN

  The Writing Desk

  Copyright © 2017 by Rachel Hauck

  Requests for information should be addressed to:

  Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546

  Unless otherwise noted, Scripture quotations are taken from the ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by Zondervan, nor does Zondervan vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Interior design: Mallory Collins

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Hauck, Rachel, 1960- author.

  Title: The writing desk / Rachel Hauck.

  Description: Gr
and Rapids, Michigan : Zondervan, [2017]

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017017339 | ISBN 9780310341598 (paperback)

  EPub Edition May 2017 ISBN 9780310343585

  Subjects: | GSAFD: Christian fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3608.A866 W75 2017 | DDC 813/.6--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017017339

  Printed in the United States of America

  17 18 19 20 21 / LSC / 5 4 3 2 1

  Dedicated to: My aunt, Carol Hayes.

  We dreamed of this, didn’t we?

  CONTENTS

  Acclaim for Rachel Hauck

  Also by Rachel Hauck

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Discussion Questions

  About Rachel Hauck

  ONE

  TENLEY

  This should be her night of triumph. To be the queen of her world. An acclaimed, bestselling, award-winning author with the literati bowing at her feet.

  But tears snuck along the rims of her eyes, blurring the Manhattan scene slowly passing beyond the limousine’s window. Though her Fifth Avenue apartment was only a few blocks from the award venue, her publisher had insisted on sending a luxury ride.

  “You’re quiet.” Holt, her boyfriend of eleven months and eleven days—yes, she counted—leaned to see her face.

  “Nervous I guess.” She offered a conciliatory smile, holding her clutch against her middle. If her mother texted, she’d want to see it. Not that she expected to hear from Blanche Albright. But tonight was a big night. “I think they’ll find out, you know . . . the truth.”

  “What truth? That you’re a great writer?”

  “That I’m a hack.”

  Holt moved against her, pressing her against the limo door. “You’re the Gordon Phipps Roth Award winner for Outstanding Debut Novelist. Enjoy it, Tenley.” His hard kiss came with a mocking laugh. “Sheesh, you’re the envy of every novelist in New York. A Roth Award?” He fell back to his side of the wide seat, smoothed his tie, and checked his morphed appearance in the tinted window. “You can write your ticket. Literally. Just like all the others.”

  “But I’m not like the others, am I?”

  She was legacy. Words like nepotism and payoff had rumbled through the publishing world when the Gordon Phipps Roth Foundation announced Tenley Roth, the great-great-granddaughter of America’s beloved storyteller Gordon Phipps Roth, and daughter of the frequent New York Times bestseller Conrad Roth, as this year’s winner.

  “Is this how the night’s going to go? You being surly over winning an award founded in your family’s name?”

  “I think they gave it to me because of Dad.” She’d said it to Holt a hundred times since they announced her name. Over dinner. While getting ready for bed. Walking down Fifth Avenue after an evening out with friends.

  “The foundation uses a select team of judges. They decide. If I were you—”

  “Which you’re not.”

  “—I’d drink this in until I was loopy with adoration. You’re a descendant of literary geniuses. Me? I hail from greedy bankers, Wall Streeters, and slum lords who robbed the poor to pay the rich.”

  The limo slowed for a traffic light.

  Yeah, she didn’t have a lot of compassion for Holt. A struggling screenwriter to be sure, he hailed from old New York Knickerbockers. The Van Cliffs. Their fortune was legendary, rivaling the Vanderbilts’ during the Gilded Age.

  He pretended to hate money as a way to relate to the starving artists in their circle, but his clothes closet and shoe rack said otherwise.

  “Do you think he’d be proud?” Tenley said.

  Her father had penned beloved thrillers and mysteries until his untimely death two years ago rocked the publishing world. And destroyed Tenley’s.

  Black ice. On his way home from a book signing upstate. Tenley had been writing in a coffee shop when she got the call. Holt, only a friend then, sat a few tables away.

  “Yes, Tenley, he’d be proud. So would Gordon.”

  She’d sold over a million copies of Someone to Love. Embarked on a national book tour and appeared on talks shows. Even did a quick spot on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon.

  From her beaded clutch, her phone pinged.

  Holt eyed her. “Want to turn off your phone? You’re a celebrity tonight. Try to act like it. Give the people what they want.”

  “It might be Blanche.”

  “Blanche? Are you serious?” He sighed. “I don’t know why you even care what she thinks.”

  But it wasn’t Blanche, it was Alicia. Her best friend from college.

  Wish I was there. Go get ’em. Addison May is feeling better. But all my clothes smell like baby puke. Yay me! Hugs.

  The limo glided to a stop, finding a rare vacancy along the curb, the driver announcing through a set of speakers, “Loft and Garden.”

  This was it. The Manhattan rooftop venue was her introduction to New York’s elite literati club. Here, for a few hours, all of New York City would be at her feet.

  She’d hobnob with the aristocrats of the publishing world, mingle with the glitterati, the wealthy and famous, smile for photos and selfies.

  But tomorrow? Back to reality. To a deadline she knew in her bones she could not meet.

  The doorman opened Tenley’s door. Before she could step out, Holt leaned across her, handing the man a folded bill.

  “Give us a few, please.”

  “Yes, sir.” And the door clapped closed.

  Tenley made a face. “Holt, what are you doing?”

  “Well, we’ve been together for a while now.” Sweat dotted his high, smooth brow as he fidgeted, slipping his hand in and out of his tuxedo pocket. “I believe we’ve taken this relationship as far as we can.”

  Tenley’s phone pinged again. She snapped open the clutch, reaching for her phone. Despite her doubts, the Gordon Phipps Roth Award was quite an achievement and Tenley wondered if her estranged mother just might wish her well.

  But before she could read the screen, Holt snatched her bag away.

  “Turn off your phone, Tenley.”

  “Just let me see . . .”

  “It’s not Blanche.” He slid across the seat, his brown eyes wide behind his dark, struggling-writer glasses, the slightest hint of a beard on his aristocratic cheeks. “I’m trying to talk to you about us.”

  “You never want to talk about us.” Her phone rang this time, chiming over and over. Couldn’t be Blanche then. She only communicated through long, single text messages. “Holt, let me check this.” She retrieved her bag. “It might be Wendall or Brené or someone from the foundation.”

  Wendall Barclay and Brené Queen were her publisher and editor at Barclay Publishing, a small but ancient and esteemed New York house.

  They had launched her great-great-grandfather’s career, her father’s, and now, quiet possibly, hers. If she didn’t succumb to—

  “Answer your phone.” Holt’s sigh ended with a growl.

  Te
nley caught her breath as she peered at her phone. It was actually her mother. Blanche.

  “Who is it?”

  “Blanche. She called.” She never called. She texted. Once or twice a year.

  “She can wait. Call her after the evening.”

  “What if she wants to congratulate me?”

  Holt laughed. “I don’t know why you care so much about her opinion. She didn’t care about yours when she walked out on you.”

  “She’s still my mother.” But Tenley felt the sting of truth in Holt’s assertion.

  Nevertheless, Barclay Publishing had invited Blanche Hastings Roth Williams Albright to Tenley’s award ceremony. She was hopeful. Maybe, for once, Blanche would go out of her way to be there for her. Fly up from Florida for the occasion.

  But when Barclay’s assistant called to confirm Tenley’s personal invitations, Blanche was not one of them.

  She stuffed her phone back into her bag and turned to him. “You have my attention. What is it you want to say about us?”

  Holt leaned in, flirting, adjusting his nerdy but sexy glasses, a mass of his dark hair curling over his forehead, an object cupped in his right hand.

  “We’re both twenty-nine, in the prime of our lives, know what we want, working in our chosen careers.”

  Where was he going with this? “Do you want to write together? Because I’m barely a novelist, let alone a screenwriter.”

  “Tenley, for crying out loud, will you marry me?” He held up the blue ring box, slowly raising the lid, revealing a blinding diamond. “I bought it new for you. Not from the family jewels. Tiffany’s.”

  “Y-you want to marry me? Holt, we’ve never even talked about it.”

  Her phone rang again and someone hammered on the limo window.

  “Tenley? You in there?” Wendall, her publisher. “We’ve been waiting on you.”

  She glanced over to see Wendall squinting through the dark window, his voice bouncing off the glass.

  “What do you say?” Holt took her hand. “You and me.” The cold ring slid down her finger. “Is that a yes?”

  “Tenley!” The door opened and Wendall peeked in. “Let’s go. You two kids can make out later.” The gregarious publisher took her hand. “Your public awaits.”

  “Tenley?” Holt followed her out of the limo.