Page 64 of A Novel Summer
“You’re right,” he said. “It’s very good. She’s talented.”
Hunter beamed with excitement. Okay—now they were getting somewhere! “I’m so glad you agree.”
“But we can’t publish her.” He removed his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes.
“Why not? I mean, if she gets an offer from a major publisher and wants to go with them, fine. But there are lots of examples of great writers who made their debut with a small press. Donna Tartt published with theMississippi Review.”
He stretched out his legs. “I know. And stories like that were in the back of my mind when I started this little venture—”
“Great. So I’ll reach out to her.”
“No,” he said.
“Duke, what’s the problem? I’ll do all the work. Let me take the lead on this. Just go for the ride. You can trust me.”
Duke sighed and straightened up. “It’s not about you. Or this book. It’s bigger than that. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. And soul-searching. I suppose I have for a while now. At any rate, I’ve come to the difficult decision to shut down the press.”
Hunter leaned forward. “Excuse me?”
“I know, I know. It sounds like it’s coming out of nowhere. But since spending so much time with Max, seeing how things work behind the scenes at Malaprop, I’ve realized a few things,” he said. “One of them is that I’m never going to get the distribution I need.”
“Don’t say that.”
“No, it’s true. And it doesn’t matter so much to me—I do it because I love it. But ultimately, it might not be fair to my authors.”
“And what did Max say about this?” she said.
“He tried to talk me out of it.” Duke crossed his arms.
Hunter stood up. She hadn’t realized how seriously she took the summer job until that moment, learning it had an expiration date.
She shook her head. “This is a mistake,” she said.
Duke smiled at her in a way that was almost paternal. “It’s okay, Hunter. I’ll be fine. And I know you never intended to stay on past the summer.”
She bit her lip. Had it been that obvious? Had she seemed ungrateful? “I appreciated the job here. I liked it a lot.”
“Let me rephrase that: I never thought youshouldstay here past the summer.”
Hunter didn’t know what to say. She had the urge to cling to her desk and ask for more time.
“Go on,” Duke said. “Get out there. You found a great manuscript. That hasn’t changed just because Seaport Press is closing.”
He was right. But it did change her options for what she could do about it. She wasn’t ready to go out on her own.
She almost wished she hadn’t found it in the first place.
Forty-Six
Justin was on the beach shortly after sunrise. He’d gotten a call from his boss; in the wake of the storm, the Office of Emergency Management needed help assessing water quality and damage to the seagrass beds.
It was an early morning after a late night. He’d barely been able to get to sleep after trying to help Shelby at Land’s End. He felt a connection between them, and it was unnerving. Hours later, alone in his bedroom, he wondered if she’d felt it, too.
Now, in the light of a new day, he wanted to stop thinking about her. And from what he could see of the driftwood-and seaweed-littered beach, he just might be busy enough to stop.
He waded into the bay and collected water samples to check for any contaminants that might have washed into the water and for any HABS—harmful algae blooms—that might threaten marine life. When he finished, he packed up his filled test tubes and drove his truck west for another sample area. By then, last night was all but forgotten.
Until his phone rang with a call from Shelby.
