Page 62 of Now That It's You
“This won’t take long.”
Meg heard the shuffling of footsteps and stood up, looking for a place to hide. She spotted a bathroom right behind her, and thought about ducking into it. She should give them some privacy, not to mention putting an extra barrier between herself and her former-future-mother-in-law.
“I wanted to talk to you about Meg.”
Or she could stay put. Meg bit her lip. Then she sat down on the cot.
“This can’t wait?” Kyle asked.
“You seemed upset this afternoon when I brought up the subject of your brother’s book. I hope you know?—”
“It’s not just Matt’s book. His name’s not even on the cover.”
“That’s another thing,” Sylvia said. “Why didn’t she give him proper credit?”
Meg balled her fists up and ordered herself to breathe. They weren’t there, she reminded herself. They don’t know how it happened.
But Meg did. She remembered every detail, every word out of Matt’s mouth the night she’d brought up photo credits.
“I’m an established photographer with a respected brand,” he’d told her. “I’ve had my work on the cover of Sports Illustrated, for crying out loud. I don’t want my name on some little self-published cookbook.”
She remembered cringing at his words, but trying to hold it together and be a professional about it. He was a commercial artist, after all. He knew that side of things better than she did. “So how do you want me to credit you?” she’d asked. “Should I have Daphne put your byline under each photo, or?—”
“Just leave me out of it, babe. It’s not like it’s my best work or anything. I didn’t even use my new Nikon for those shots.”
She hadn’t rated his best lens or his name on the cover of her book. It had stung at the time, but not as much as the next words out of Kyle’s mouth.
“You’re right,” he said to his mother. “I’m sure Matt would have wanted his name on the cover of a bestselling book.”
Meg swallowed hard and balled her fists in the blanket on the cot.
“Of course he would,” Sylvia said. “I’m glad you see it my way.”
“But you’re forgetting it didn’t start out as a bestselling book.”
“That’s not the point here, Kyle. That woman robbed him of?—”
“That woman,” Kyle interrupted, “may have a good explanation for why Matt’s name isn’t on the cover. Have you asked her about it?”
“I don’t need to. I know my son. He would have wanted credit. Come on, Kyle, you know your brother was a stickler for that sort of thing.”
“Artists make strategic choices all the time when it comes to artistic credit.”
Meg dug her bare toes into the floor and wondered if Kyle would be defending her to his mother if she weren’t sitting thirty feet away. He had to know she was listening, right?
Across the room, Sylvia huffed. “You’re not suggesting Matt doesn’t deserve credit?”
“Of course not,” Kyle said. “But I have a friend who does computer animated design. Really artsy stuff, it’s big in Japan. But she picks up side jobs for magazines, and she uses a pseudonym so no one gets it mixed up with her real work. Or what about ghostwriters? Plenty of writers pick up side work and never have their name on anything.”
“Hmph,” Sylvia said, her heels tapping across the floor. “Well, I suppose the photo credit doesn’t matter as much as making sure Matt’s estate is fairly compensated.”
“Agreed.”
Those two syllables sent a tiny dagger into Meg’s heart, but it wasn’t like he was saying anything she hadn’t already heard him say. She certainly didn’t expect a roll in the hay would change his point of view.
“Mom, I know you’re hurting right now,” he said, and the sympathy in his voice made Meg’s chest squeeze. “Maybe the best thing to do would be to wait a little bit. Give things a chance to settle down a bit before moving ahead with this lawsuit.”
“I just miss him so much.” Her voice hitched and Meg felt an ache in her chest.
