Author Nora Ephron Novels & Stories

Gentle hands pull the blanket over me and tuck it around my shoulders. "Do you have pills for this?" she asks. "Tell me where they are and I'll get them." I'm appalled at myself. One conversation with Hayden Wolfe and I'm reduced to this—sweating, half-blind, and barely able to stand. Nora brushes my damp hair away from my forehead. Her touch is light and a bit hesitant. "I want you to be honest with me from now on," she whispers. "Can you do that?" I don't move.

He wasn’t in the mood for games. The woman tilted her head, an amused smirk forming on her lips. "I thought I made that clear over the phone," she said. Her voice was low but steady, carrying a weight of confidence. "You want Audrey, don’t you?" Frank said nothing, his silence an invitation for her to continue. She took a slow step toward him, her boots clicking softly against the concrete floor. "Well, your situation and mine aren’t so different," she said, her tone measured. "My name’s Nora. I used to work as your uncle’s assistant—until Audrey had me kicked out."

She pushed all the books to the floor,kicking away all the rubbish and settling down on the chair, resting her head on the table. “E-excuse me.” A small voice called out by her side. She opened her eyes to see who it was, a cute girl with glasses. She remembered her from her past life. She was one of the people that were nice to her and tried to warn her but she ignored her. Her name was Nora. In the future, she was an excellent script writer who was so popular but she married a bad man who beat her and later she ended up dead with her wrists slit in her bathtub. It was all over the news. She would try as much as she could to protect her in this life.

Her name was Veira. Nora had sat three rows in front of her for eight weeks. She had dark hair and a quiet way of entering rooms and the kind of careful politeness that never asked too much or offered too much. She took notes in a precise hand. She never spoke in the seminar unless Professor Aldren called on her directly. She had, in eight weeks, made herself completely unmemorable. Which was, Nora understood now, entirely the point. She didn't sleep Tuesday night.

she said sweetly, her voice slicing through the air, “Here comes our little Miss Perfect. Holier than thou, back-from-the-dead queen of drama herself.” A few gasps filled the room. My lips parted, but I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t expecting that kind of venom. “I’ve heard all the stories,” Nora continued, standing now and facing me fully. Her eyes glinted. “All your little secrets. You suck harder than the devil in church.” A few laughs broke out. Those low, awkward types of laughter. Still, I held my ground. I didn’t flinch. “Nora, just move from my desk please.”

She opened her laptop. She did not write about scandals or billionaires. She did not write about the weight of a diamond ring. She wrote about the sound of a turning in a lock. She wrote about the taste of coffee in the morning. She wrote about the peace of knowing that every word on the page was finally hers. She hit save. The cursor was blinking like a heartbeat in the silence of the warehouse. The story of Nora Vale was a bestseller.. The story of Elena Vane was a work in progress.

And she wanted to. — A loud bang snapped her back to reality. “Nora!” The room spun. “Shit!” Nora jolted upright in her chair. The memory faded away like a whip. Her breath came fast. Her throat was dry. The past still clung like ash on her tongue. Across the table, Kire Norman—her fifty-nine-year-old secretary—stood with her arms folded and a glare sharp enough to cut stone. “What the fuck is your problem, Kire?” Nora rasped, pushing her fingers through her hair. She wasn’t angry. Not really. Her voice just came out raw. Because pain like that doesn’t knock, it barges in, like everything else.

** Three days later ** Nora was busy on her laptop and she took a bite from her apple. Since she is not allowed to leave the house without a tangible reason, she does all her business online. Nora owns a high school in New York, a supermarket and one of the largest cosmetics in New York. She controls them by constant messaging to her secretary and P.A. Richard doesn't allow her to leave his house for any reason, she just sits at home for hours busy on her laptop.

I was very frustrated and a little worried too for Nora but then again, I am not among those who show their emotions that why I shove her out of my room telling her to find it out herself. Nora.... I hate it how her innocent face flashes before my eyes whenever I close them. How her beautiful smile towards me is fresh in my memory irritates me.... I looked at the packet of cookies Nora brought for me two days back when we made lov- erase fucked each other... Her cookies are very delicious. So extra scrumptious! I took a bite, and they were not soggy so had them with the tea. ____________________ My eyes shot open as my phone continued to ring.

Nora had closed it deliberately. For about ten minutes they talked about nothing in particular — a mutual friend's new apartment, a show Ashley had started watching and was already three episodes into. Nora ate and let herself just be in the room. Then she set her slice down on the box lid and rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. Ashley looked at her immediately. "What is it?" "I need to tell you something." Nora kept her eyes on the table. "I got an email today. From the grant."