"Are we going to the luncheon?" Jane asked. "I've heard rumors that the guest speaker is boring."
"We've paid for it in our fee. We might as well try it out. If it's good, we can eat it. If not, we can find our own lunch. I wonder if Felicity is free?"
"She's probably required to show up and mingle with fans," Shelley said. "It's in her best interest even if she doesn't have to attend. We can sit near the door and slip out before the speech. Pretending we're taking a potty break, if anyone at our table asks."
The luncheon, as it turned out, was extremely tasty and came to the table hot. "We should have guessed it would be good," Jane said, "considering how terrific those desserts were last night. We are sticking around for dessert this time, too, aren't we?"
"Of course we are. We can bolt it down and run away."
"And go shopping," Jane said.Ten
Shelley found the pin she'd seen. It was no longer in the shop window, but Shelley insisted they must have at least one more somewhere. When she offered, quite firmly, to help the assistant manager find it in storage at the back of the shop, suddenly the young woman remembered where it was kept.
Jane agreed it was exactly what she needed. And the price was much less than she'd feared. Shelley spotted a few new pieces of jewelry in the shop and made Jane try on a ring that had the same pretty paste stone as the pin. Jane didn't normally wear any rings at all for fear they'd either be impossible to squeeze back over her knuckle or be big enough to fall off unnoticed.
But Shelley said it fit perfectly and would do neither. Jane plunked down her credit card. When Shelley was so sure of something, there was no point in arguing. Shelley would just come back and buy it for Jane as a gift.
Jane put the pin on her sweater, the ring on her
finger, and said, "We're going to be late for the one-thirty session. Let's go."
Unfortunately, none of the one-thirty sessions especially interested either of them, so out of loyalty they went to the one where Felicity Roane was a panelist.
Even Felicity looked bored by the topic, which was "Planning Your Own Future in Publishing."
One of the baby agents went on and on about how your agent could map out a plan to follow.
"And what if the agent decides to have a baby and is off work for the first two years of its life?" Felicity asked. "Things like this happen. Editors become agents to make more money. Editors move to other publishing houses at the speed of light. Agents move to new agencies and writers get stuck with their assistant, who hasn't ever read one of your books and doesn't want to."
She went on, "As an author, the only thing you can control in this business is the quality of your work. And your reputation as a professional — producing manuscripts on time, making sure there are as few errors as possible. Not behaving as if you were their only author."
"Oh dear, Ms. Roane, these things you've cited that go wrong at the publishing end don't happen that often," the baby agent said with a giggle.
"How long since you graduated from college, my dear?" Felicity asked with a smile, but with fire in her eyes.
"Only two years. Vassar," the baby agent answered proudly. "But I've learned a lot about the business since then."
"I've been publishing my work for twenty-one years," Felicity said. "Bear with me. I really do know just a little bit more about this than you do."
The moderator jumped in and changed the subject and directed an extremely innocuous question about customary contract terms to another of the panelists.
"Poor Felicity," Jane said to Shelley under her breath. "She's running out of patience with fools, and I don't blame her."
The rest of the session wound down without any other problems but not much information either. Shelley and Jane went up to the speakers' table when the session was over. Everyone but Felicity had already fled. Felicity had taken out her contacts and was dumping everything in her purse hunting for her glasses.
She glanced up at them, smiling. "I made a bit of an ass of myself. But I was right and that little girl wasn't."
"Everybody knew that," Jane said.
"At least I'm done," Felicity said with a sigh. "I have no more obligations. Don't you have an appointment pretty soon with that editor I suggested?" she asked Jane.
"At three," Jane said.
"I think you'll like her. She's a grown-up. That's a pretty pin on your sweater."
Jane went back up to the suite to retrieve her second copy of the first three chapters and the outline. Shelley came along. "What session do you want me to attend while you're busy?" Shelley asked.
"I don't see anything very interesting," Jane said, glancing at the brochure. "Why don't you just veg out?"
"No, I'm going to go back to that shop and buy another of those pins so that we can give it to Felicity."
"What makes you think there is another one?"
"Didn't you notice? The girl came out with two boxes. I'm going to snag the other one while I can. Felicity's been very nice and candid with us. And she needs a pick-me-up."
Jane chose the copy she meant for the very good editor Felicity had recommended. This copy had something extra.
Months before, when Jane had broken down and bought a new computer, she had also bought a house plan program. The majority of her plot took place in an old rambling mansion perched on a cliff and backed by a village where a few of the scenes played out. She'd used the program to make a floor plan of the house and a map of the village as well. It was what had really inspired her to make a serious attempt to finish the book. This packet included copies of both the floor plan and the village map.
The editor was reading a book when Jane came into the meeting room a few minutes early.
The editor looked up and said, "You must be Mrs. Jeffry." She stood up, leaned over the table, and shook Jane's hand. "I'm Melody Johnson."
"I know you are," Jane said with a smile. "Felicity Roane told me to be sure and see you. She thinks very highly of you."
Melody Johnson appeared to be well into her forties, beautifully groomed, and casually, but stylishly, dressed. She wasn't what Jane thought of as "New Yorkish." She could have been a neighbor of Jane's.
"And I of her," Ms. Johnson said. "Let me see what you're clutching in your hand with a death grip."
Jane laughed and handed over the folder.
Ms. Johnson flipped through the pages and said, "A very nice presentation, Mrs. Jeffry."
"Please call me Jane. It scares me when people call me Mrs. Jeffry except if they're salespeople."
"And I'm Melody," the editor replied as she continued to examine the manuscript. "Oh, house plans! And the layout of a village! I love books with relevant illustrations. These are very good. Would you be so kind as to bring us both soft drinks while I skim the outline?"
Jane was over the moon. She could hardly make her legs work right as she headed for the snack table. She picked up two plastic cups of ice-cold Coke and dawdled, watching as Melody Johnson read the outline.
When Melody looked up, Jane crossed the room and set the drinks on the table.
"Have you finished this book?" Melody asked. "Or is this what you plan to do?"
"I've finished it," Jane said. "At least I thought I had before I came to this conference. I've already heard some advice I might want to incorporate. It's just a couple of paragraphs added and a few deleted or moved. I think the book would be better with them."
"I'd like to read the sample chapters in peace and quiet, then go over the outline again. And I want to know, after I do that, what you're planning to change. May I keep this overnight and meet with you again tomorrow?"