My telephone – my rather retro home landline – has a strange feature: it announces the caller. I found that annoying right from the start because it garbled simple words. I mean, really, how difficult is “Grandma B”? But one day, just over two years ago, I kissed that phone. On January 23, 2012, I was stepping out of the shower when the phone rang. “Forget it. I’m dripping wet,” I thought. “It’s probably someone who wants money/clothing/blood donation. Later.” After the second ring, the phone announced, “Call from Orca Books.” Clear as day, no swallowed vowels, and strangely no exclamation point. I’m pretty sure I scared the dog as I flew across the room and I’m pretty sure I dropped the towel, but I got there before the fourth ring. “Hello?” My voice was hopeful, but not trembling. I had received a rejection delivered via the telephone just a few months earlier, so I knew not to pop open the champagne just because a publisher phoned. But this was the real deal. Orca Books wanted Ospreys in Danger!
