Fox Island (15 page)

He breathed in deep and closed his eyes. “If
I hear that one time today, I’ll quit signing autographs forever.
But, please, wear some of that.”

Price dabbed a mixture of Skin Musk and Baby
perfume behind her ears. “I think it’s a nice compliment, actually.
But that usually only happens when you’re pushing your westerns.
Today will be the travel home and AARP crowd. Speaking of which,
we’d better get going if we’re going to make it to Bellevue on
time.”

“Bellevue? I thought we were signing in
Seattle.”

“Bellevue’s a suburb. I hear it’s an
upscale, yuppie sort of place. Liz says the store’s in a great
location. She’s sure we’ll like it.”

“Yeah? She’s the one who said I’d love
midtown Manhattan.”

“Most people do. Try to be nice and smile at
the little old ladies.”

“I’ll be my typical charming, witty,
debonair yet rugged and rustic self.”

“A delightful change from ‘We’ve been here
five minutes already, when can we leave?’”

“Did I ever tell you this self-promotion
stuff is one thing about writing that is very difficult for
me?”

“About once a day for the past twenty
years.”

“I thought maybe I mentioned it.” He kissed
her on top of her head. “Nice scent blend ... clean, not too
strong, perfect for the occasion. What’s it called?”

“Chapter Five.”

Tony broke out in a laugh. “Hey, it didn’t
smell that good.”

He jammed on his cowboy hat, held the front
door for Price, then answered the ringing phone.

“Tony? Peter Frankal here.”

“Hi, Pete. How’s the world-famous art
director?”

“Let me pick your brain on the cover
for the next River Breaks western. We’re trying to design the
spring catalog. You’re going to set
Standoff at Rifle Ridge
on the Yellowstone
River, right?”

“Pete, I’ve got to call you later. I’m
heading out the door for a book signing in Seattle, and we’re
running late. Liz will skin us if we keep them waiting.”

“But... well... when can you call me
back?”

“Tomorrow morning. What time do you get into
the office?”

“Can’t do it tomorrow. Got to meet with an
artist in Philadelphia. Then there’s the weekend and I need some
ideas for Monday’s meeting. Are you sure you don’t have a minute?
Give me twenty and we’ll get what we need. You’ve got that much for
old Pete, don’t you?”

“Nope. Petey, call me back when you get a
chance. I’ve got to run. Bye.”

He locked the front door and joined Price in
the old white Oldsmobile. “Business?”

“Why does that always happen? They never
call me when I have time to talk. Then they slap on some
historically inaccurate cover that doesn’t even resemble the story,
and I have to live with it the rest of my life.”

“It’s a good thing it doesn’t bother you.”
Price scooted over to the middle of the seat. He slipped his arm
around her shoulder.

“Did I ever tell you I like bench seats
better than bucket seats?”

“About once a day for the past thirty years.
Now, come on, famous author, let’s go meet our adoring public...
both of them.”

Tony fiddled to find a country and western
radio station, while Price surveyed the Island as they approached
the bridge to the mainland. If she could give him a special
present, it would be that one bestseller. He worked so hard at the
craft. He never compromised his standards of excellence or ethics.
Maybe that’s why he’d always be her favorite writer.

Lights were still on in the house when they
returned around midnight. Melody met them at the door. “Oh, wow,
here you are. I was getting pretty worried. I thought you’d be home
in time for supper. I didn’t know a book signing would last so
long.”

“The publisher’s rep lined us up with some
bookstore folks and a long dinner at the Space Needle,” Price
reported.

“Isn’t it totally awesome up there? The view
always takes my breath away.”

“It took my appetite away, that’s for
sure.”

“Are you afraid of heights, Dr. S.?”

“No, heights don’t bother me. It’s fear of
falling off heights that’s troubling. You didn’t have supper
waiting for us, did you?”

Melody managed a weary smile. “Oh no. But
don’t worry about me. I scraped up some leftovers out of the
fridge. Hope you didn’t mind.”

“Nope,” Tony said. “Why, just the other day,
Price and I commented how you have become like part of the
family.”

“Boy, that’s really neat. You know what, Mr.
S.? I never knew my father very well. But if I could pick out my
own father, I’d want him to be just like you.”

Tony seemed at a loss for words, so Price
said, “You didn’t need to stay up for us, Melody.”

“No big deal. I wanted to talk to you.”

Price used the bootjack by the door to slip
off her boots. “Why don’t you go boil some water? We’ll kick off
these dressy things and meet you in the kitchen for a cup of
something hot.”

“Oh, sure. You want
me
to boil the water?”

“Go for it,” Tony said.

When Tony and Price returned in jeans and
sweatshirts, chocolate, tea and packaged espresso mix lined up
behind three mugs. The chrome teapot whistled a jarring note.

“It’s like a tea party.” Melody beamed as
she fussed with the mugs and pot. “How was your autograph
signing?”

Price tugged her green sweatshirt sleeves up
above her elbows and dipped the Earl Grey bag five times. “Not too
bad. Nice crowd, don’t you think, Tony?”

“People came for the grand opening, the
drawing for free books, lattes and biscotti, and as long as they
were there, why not buy a Shadowbrook book and get an
autograph?”

“How many did you sell?”

Tony sipped on his coffee. “About 195 for a
two-hour signing.”

“Is that good?”

“We’ve done worse,” Price said.

Tony snorted. “A lot worse. I once did a
signing in Chicago when only elderly women showed up. They wanted
to see what I looked like, if I really wore a cowboy hat, and to
garner another autograph for their collection. But they didn’t buy
a book.”

“Wow, what a bummer.”

“It keeps me humble.”

Price pulled off her earrings and
rubbed her earlobes. “But it was a good evening. We visited with a
couple book distributors and several store owners... important
contacts. And they’re all looking forward to
Fox Island
coming out next May. It should do
well up here.”

“Hey, I almost forgot. You had a FedEx
package left at the door and a phone call.”

“Where’s the package?” Tony asked.

“It’s over behind Grandma’s umbrella
stand.”

“Who called?” Price quizzed.

“Your daughter.”

“Which one?”

Melody waved her hands as if trying to
generate a word. “The one whose name starts with K. Who is it?”

“They both start with a K. Was it Kit or
Kathy?”

“Let’s see ... someone was pouting in her
room with the door locked, and the other one called.”

Price took a deep breath. “Must have been
Kit.”

“How old did you say your daughters
were?”

“Eighteen, sometimes going on twelve.” Price
took a long sip of tea. “When did she call?”

“About seven.”

“Well, maybe they’ll have it all solved by
morning.”

Tony entered, examining the contents of a
cardboard envelope. “What about the girls?”

“Probably just a sisterly spat,” said Price.
“Why don’t you fly home tonight and take care of it, dear?”

Tony looked up with a puzzled
expression.

“I’ll call them in the morning. What did you
get?”

“It’s the agreement with Davidian. The legal
boys at Atlantic- Hampton worked it over.”

“How’s it look?”

“I’ll give it a long read.”

“What does Liz think?”

“She said it was up to me.” Tony scanned the
pages and took a swig of coffee.

Melody slapped the table. “Hey, I haven’t
told you the big news... what I found out about Bennington.”

Tony and Price both turned to her.

“I completely forgot,” Price said. “Did you
talk to the florist?”

“Yes. Lynne Anne, that’s my friend, let me
check the records. The bouquet was purchased by an older,
gray-haired man who paid for it with a credit card in the account
of CMI.”

“The only CMI I know is Chesapeake Mutual
Investments,” Tony remarked.

“Bingo! That’s exactly what I thought, Mr.
S.”

“You know about mutual funds?” Price
asked.

“Oh, sure. I manage my grandmother’s
portfolio. Didn’t I tell you that?”

Tony and Price looked at each other. “I
guess it slipped your mind.”

“I’ve been doing that ever since I graduated
from ASU. It gives me some income until the book royalties start
rolling in, like you guys. In fact, that’s where I met Kenny.”

“Where?”

“At the brokers’.”

“He really owns early Microsoft stock?”

“Yeah, isn’t that wild?”

“It’s totally awesome,” Price admitted.

“Anyway, just on a lark, I called
Chestertown, Maryland, and sure enough they had a number for
CMI.”

“So you called them?”

“Yeah, but it was already closing time back
there. I’ll have to call in the morning.”

“Well, that is a lead. Maybe Bennington is a
stockbroker.”

“That’s what I was thinking. And maybe he
has an unlisted number. I’m hoping I can get a home phone or
something.” Tony groaned, slapped the papers and got up to pace the
kitchen.

“What’s the matter?” Price asked.

“This isn’t right.”

“What isn’t?”

“This contract. They propose to give
Davidian 10%, the publishing house 45%, and I receive 45%, less
Liz’s 10%.”

“How’s that again?”

“Davidian gets 10% off the top,
Atlantic-Hampton 45%, Liz 4.5% and that leaves me with 40.5% of
royalties earned off the movie rights.”

“Is that the way they assign movie
royalties?” Melody asked.

“Not for my books,” Tony huffed.

“Actually, we have no idea what is usually
done,” Price said, “since this is our first contact with a
Hollywood agent.”

Tony’s face pinched into a frown. “I’m not
agreeing to this. Why does it always seem like the writer is the
least important person in the royalty chain?”

“Davidian hasn’t sold the story. It might be
a big worry over nothing,” Price reminded him.

Melody carried her cup and saucer to the
sink. “You think Tom Clancy gets that kind of deal?”

“I think Clancy can get just about whatever
he wants.” Price tucked a stray brunette strand behind her ear.

“Well, I’m glad you’re both home safe and
sound. I’m going to bed.” After a few steps, she turned around.
“Hey, did I tell you Kim finally kicked Amigo out?”

“Does that mean you’ll be moving in with
her?” Price walked with Melody to the front door. “The summer’s
half over.”

“Hey, that’s what I was thinking. I might as
well just stick it out in the garage. That is, if it’s all right
with you and Mr. S. Besides, Kim’s in one of her dark moods.”

“Dark moods?”

“All her paintings are in black and
blue.”

“What is she painting these days?”

“Kind of a modernistic, surreal, still life,
ocean scape thing with angels looking on. Know what I mean?”

“I can see why you’d rather be in the
loft.”

“Then you two don’t mind?”

Price glanced back at Tony in the kitchen,
engrossed again in the contract. “We wouldn’t know what to do if
you weren’t around.”

“Boy, I can’t ever thank you guys enough. I
wouldn’t have been able to write this new book without your help.
I’ve decided I’m going to dedicate this book to ‘My good friends
Price and Tony Shadowbrook, who taught me all I know about
writing.’ No matter how famous I get, I’ll always remember how you
helped me in the early days. And maybe, someday, I’ll be able to
help someone else get a start.”

“Good night, Melody.”

“Good night, Dr. S.”

A persistent buzz needled Price out of bed
at 6:29 A.M. She fumbled for the alarm, then grabbed for the
princess phone on the nightstand. Where was Tony? What time was it?
Why did he have to run so early? “Priscilla Shadowbrook,” she
mumbled.

“Good morning,” the cheery voice chirped.
“Hope I didn’t pull you out of the garden.”

“Who is this?”

“Tulip.”

“Who?”

“Tulip. You’re on the committee with me to
ensure the humane treatment of Fox Island animals held in temporary
confinement.”

“I’m what?”

“Last week at the community meeting,
remember?”

“Oh. Yes ... sorry. I’m a little
groggy.”

“The meeting is at the Community Center
10:00 this morning.”

“Why?”

“To go over a site selection procedure for
finding the proper location for the petting zoo.”

“Does it matter?”

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that. See you
at ten. Say, tell Tony he’s certainly welcome to come with
you.”

“I think he’ll be busy writing.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Tulip held onto
the word
bad
much too long.
“Is Kenny Mallard there?”

At 6:30 a.m.? “Eh, no.”

“I can’t reach him. If you see him, tell him
about the meeting.”

“Sure.” Then dial tone.

No “goodbye.”

No “thanks.”

No “sorry to bother you so early.”

Price pulled back the covers and collapsed
back into bed. She got the idea Tulip didn’t care two cents about
her. Why did she think that? The woman’s agenda drove her over the
top of people. Even with right goals, it helped so much to care
about the people along the way. Tulip reminded her of Mrs. Lindsay
in the sixth grade: “You girls are going to learn this if I have to
beat it into you.” So, they learned, whatever it was.