Fox Island by Stephen Bly Read Free Book Online Page B

the
manuscript. “What do you think about my idea to open each chapter
with an italicized section on geographical description, and
transition into the text?”
    “We talked about that. Like I said, it
doesn’t seem right. Nice idea, though. Maybe I’ll use that sometime
in a novel. I just deleted those openings.”
    “You did what?” Price picked up the first
chapter and stared at the front page.
    “Look, honey, that idea was a bit
distractive. I think keeping in pattern with our other...”
    “You deleted the entire opening
paragraph?”
    “Only the stuff in italics.”
    “That stuff in italics was my part. What was wrong with it?”
    “It was nice enough. You always do a superb
job. But it’s the concept.”
    “It didn’t meet your present needs? Is that
what you’re trying to tell me?”
    “Babe, look...”
    “Don’t ‘babe’ me. Just exactly what was
wrong with those openings, Mr. Famous Author, other than the fact
you didn’t think of it yourself?”
    “Surely you don’t think...? It was
just...”
    “Just what?”
    “For one thing…” He drummed his fingers on
metal. “…the transitions were rough.”
    “Then rewrite the transitions. The opening
is what gives me ownership in that chapter. Take it out and I’m
nothing more than a copy editor.”
    Tony stood up and walked to the deck
railing. The fog seemed cold and heavy, rather than restful. “I
thought we solved all of that last summer. Remember those long
talks we had? Now, you’ve got to trust me on this. I’ve written a
number of books and...”
    Price slammed her hands on her hips. “I am
well aware of your book list. I was working under the assumption
this project would be co-written.”
    Tony gently placed his hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, there’s no reason to get in such a tiff.”
    Shoving his hand away, she stormed toward
the house. “I am NOT in a tiff! And I don’t want to talk about
it.”
    When the sliding glass door slammed shut,
Tony peered into the fogbank for some sign of life. He was
surprised to see the pelicans moved far down the inlet. The shroud
of silence shut him into his own private world of thoughts.
    Why couldn’t they just calmly talk about it?
They were both adults and professionals. Why did Price have to take
it so personally? He was a reasonable man. All she had to do was
logically explain, step by step, line by line.
    He gathered up Price’s tray and tiptoed into
the house. “Honey, let’s talk this out,” he called out.
    “We did,” she answered from the bedroom.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
    The bathroom door slammed. He could hear the
turn of the lock. “Priscilla?”
    “Whoa! I’ve never seen Dr. S. so upset.”
Melody stood at the front door clutching a large yellow plastic
basket. “Maybe this isn’t a good time to do my laundry. I’ll do it
this evening.”
    “It’s just some ... eh, creative
differences.”
    “Is Dr. S’s name Priscilla? I’ve never heard
anyone call her that before.”
    “Well, I don’t normally call her that.”
    “Only when you’re mad?”
    “Something like that.”
    “At least you’re human. For a while I
figured you two were the last perfect Christian couple.”
    Tony took a deep breath. “I’m afraid we’re a
long way from perfection. But that doesn’t mean we’re not trying.
Just a little artistic misunderstanding. You see, she mistook
my...”
    “Hey, you don’t have to explain to me. I’ve
often wondered how two literary masters can get along in the same
household at all. Kim and I get into hairy arguments all the time
over our pieces, and she’s an artist and I’m a writer, and we don’t
even live together. Tell Dr. S. I’ll be over at my place whenever
she’s ready.”
    “Oh? More interviews?”
    “Mrs. Nelson’s mother is visiting this week.
She lives in Spokane. But in the thirties she worked at the
Longhouse.”
    “Then maybe she could tell us something
about the type of guests they had. Make sure you two ask her