Read Online Wonders Never Cease by Tim Downs - Free Book Online Page B

of little-known titles to its credit, Vision Press has made a name for itself in the publishing industry through the release of a single book: the mega best seller Lattes with God . Kalamar picked up the book after it was rejected by a dozen more-established publishers—and he’s glad he did. Profits from the book have allowed Vision Press to expand its staff and to relocate its offices here in posh Beverly Hills.”
    The scene changed again to an interior office setting. The young man, Wes Kalamar, was now seated casually in a sleek blue-and-gray office chair with gleaming silver accents. His feet were propped up on a sprawling mahogany desk shaped like an artist’s palette.
    â€œ Lattes with God definitely taught us a lesson,” Kalamar said thoughtfully. “It taught us that there’s a hunger out there for spiritual guidance, and I think Vision Press is strategically positioned to satisfy that hunger. Lattes with God was just our first step. Wait ’til you see what we do next.”
    The segment closed with a wrap-up by the reporter standing in front of the offices of Vision Press. “ Lattes with God was without a doubt a publishing phenomenon,” he said, “but a phenomenon is notoriously difficult to reproduce. The question is, What will Vision Press do next? What will be the next Lattes with God —and will Wes Kalamar be the one to find it?”
    Kemp switched off the TV and sat staring at the blank screen. His mind was spinning like a flywheel.
    He thought about Liv Hayden lying in a coma back at UCLA.
    He thought about Mort Biederman and his dwindling ten percent.
    He thought about Wes Kalamar and the question the reporter asked him: “What will be the next Lattes with God ?”
    Twelve million copies. Twelve million copies . . .
    Kemp McAvoy had an idea.

8
    N atalie looked around the classroom for a place to sit, but the only adult-sized piece of furniture in the room was the teacher’s own chair. It seemed like a bad idea to sit there; the last thing she wanted to do was start off the meeting with a turf war. She looked at the students’ desks and considered trying to squeeze herself into one of them, but she imagined what she would look like staring up at the teacher with her knees tucked up under chin. She didn’t like that idea either—she felt enough like a child already, called into the teacher’s office for a lecture. She finally decided just to stand and wait for the teacher to offer her a place to sit.
    She thought about Kemp again and felt a twinge of anger. He should have come with her. He should have known how important this was to her. He didn’t have to play the father; he didn’t have to say a word. He just should have come—he shouldn’t have left her to do this by herself. He should have known .
    She looked down at herself and smoothed the front of her blouse. She had come directly from work and briefly considered wearing her nurse’s scrubs, but decided instead to go for a less professional and more parental look. She hoped it was a wise decision.
    The door suddenly opened and the window glass rattled in the brittle wooden frame. Natalie jumped.
    â€œI’m sorry,” a man said, standing in the doorway. “Did I startle you?”
    â€œNo. Well, a little.”
    The man entered the room dragging a wooden chair behind him; the legs made a dull scraping sound on the linoleum floor. He extended his hand. “I’m Matthew Callahan,” he said, smiling pleasantly. “Just call me Matt. I’m Leah’s teacher.”
    Natalie returned the smile. She could see why Leah liked this man. What’s not to like ? she thought. He was younger than a lot of teachers, probably about her own age. He looked like a definite California native, with thick wavy hair that could never look combed and skin that had spent too much time at the beach. There was a faint purplish patch down the center of