Page 80 of Stony Point Summer
“I’d be embarrassed to see it on the shelf, Shane. The title would be bulldozed, too, to fit the marketing department’s agenda for amindlesssummer read.”
“Mindless? This? So … after all the hard work between you and Neil, it would come down to that?”
“Afraid so. A publisher will care more about securing a phony blurb on that cover than about Neil’s storyline. And that’sifthey publish it.”
“If? Nothing compares to this, Maris.”
“Right.” She walks over to Shane and takes the manuscript pages from him. “So I’d be deemed a threat to their existing authors. Draw readers away from the same-old, same-old. Not to mention, if I were to submit this manuscript, do you know where it would end up?”
“On the bestseller lists, where it belongs?”
Maris laughs. “No.Driftlinewould be passed around to authors who can’t come up with their own story ideas. Then I’ll receive a rejection letter, and next year I’ll see a stolen version of Neil’s novel published under some random author’s name.”
“You’re serious.”
Maris nods.
He lets out a low whistle. “No wonder you’re fiercely protective of your work.”
“I have to be.”
“You only get one shot to do it right. And honor Neil’s vision, too.”
“Exactly. Jason and I talked a lot about it. There’s an agent in New York still emailing me. She wants this book bad, but the traditional route is off the table.” As Maris says it, she puts the manuscript papers back in her folder. “This project is all mine to see through. Only people I trust will read it now.”
“You trust me?”
She shrugs her shoulders before slipping the folder back in her tote. “I showed you a passage, didn’t I?”
“Fair enough.”
“Anyway, Shane. I have to get going.” Maris puts on her sunglasses. “But I’m really glad you came back for Elsa.”
Shane hops off his half-wall perch. “I’ll see you and Jason tonight? At the epic Ocean Star Inn’s grand opening?”
“We’ll be there.”
“Bothof you?”
From where she stands at the top of the porch stairs, she turns and gives a nod.
“That’s good, Maris. Like the boys say waiting out a dirty day on the boat, eventually the fog clears.”
“Hope so,” she whispers.
Shane looks long at her then. It’s a familiar look, one she knows. One of time, and history between them. The moment is quiet, one when she hears the waves lapping on the small beach behind his cottage. One when a seagull cries as it swoops low, its call guttural and repeated, again and again and again. There’s something about that seagull cry, today. Something haunting.
It’s a moment when Maris feels the years between Shane and herself. Her eyes moisten, just a little, before she gives a wave, turns and walks down the painted porch steps.
thirty
— Then —
10 Years Ago
The Next August Day
The Decision
