"It's good to see you," Molly replied politely, because no matter what Kevin said about her, she was, by nature, a polite person.
A strip of the Chicago River was visible through the office window, but the colorful display of children's books on the shelves drew Molly's attention. As Helen chatted about the new marketing manager, Molly spotted the bright slender spines of the first five Daphne books. Knowing that Daphne Takes a Tumble would never join them should have felt like a stab in the heart, but that part of her was too numb right now to feel anything more.
"I'm so glad we're finally having this meeting," Helen said. "We have lots to talk about."
"Not so much." Molly couldn't prolong this. She opened her purse, drew out a white business envelope, and set it on the desk. "This is a check reimbursing Birdcage for the first half of the advance you paid for Daphne Takes a Tumble."
Helen looked stunned. "We don't want the advance back. We want to publish the book."
"I'm afraid you won't be able to. I'm not making the revisions."
"Molly, I know you haven't been happy with us, and it's time to sort this out. From the beginning we've only wanted what was best for your career."
"I only want what's best for my readers."
"We do, too. Please try to understand. Authors tend to look at a project only from their perspective, but a publisher has to look at the larger picture, including our relationship with the press and the community. We felt we had no choice."
"Everybody has a choice, and an hour ago I exercised mine."
"What do you mean?"
"I published Daphne Takes a Tumble myself. The original version."
"You published it?" Helen's eyebrows shot up. "What are you talking about?"
"I published it on the Internet."
Helen erupted from her chair. "You can't do that! We have a contract!"
"If you check the fine print, you'll see that I retain the electronic rights to all my books."
Helen looked stunned. The larger publishing houses had plugged this hole in their contracts, but some of the smaller presses like Birdcage hadn't gotten around to it. "I can't believe you did this."
"Now any child who wants to read Daphne Takes a Tumble and see the original illustrations will be able to do it." Molly had planned a big speech, complete with references to book burning and the First Amendment, but she no longer had the energy. Pushing the check forward, she rose from her chair and walked out.
"Molly, wait!"
She'd done what she needed to, and she didn't stop. As she headed for her car, she tried to feel triumphant, but she mainly felt drained. A college friend had helped her set up the Web site. In addition to the text and drawings for Daphne Takes a Tumble, Molly had included a page that listed some of the books various organizations had tried to keep out of children's hands over the years because of their content or illustrations. The list included Little Red Riding Hood, all the Harry Potter books, Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time, Harriet the Spy, Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn, as well as the books of Judy Blume, Maurice Sendak, the Brothers Grimm, and Anne Frank's Diary of a Young Girl. At the end of the list, Molly had added Daphne Takes a Tumble. She wasn't Anne Frank, but she felt better being in such wonderful company. She only wished she could call Kevin and tell him that she'd finally fought for her bunny.
She made a few stops to pick up supplies, then swung onto Lake Shore Drive and headed north to Evanston. The traffic was light, and it didn't take her nearly long enough to get to the moldy old brownstone where she now lived. She hated her second-floor apartment with its view of the Dumpster behind a Thai restaurant, but it was the only place she could afford that would take a dog.
She tried not to think about her little condo, where strangers had already moved in. Evanston didn't have many loft conversions available, and the building had a waiting list of people anxious to buy, so she'd known it would sell quickly. Even so, she hadn't been prepared for it to go in less than twenty-four hours. The new owners had paid her a premium to sublease while they waited for the final paperwork, so she'd had to scramble to find a rental, and here she was in this dismal building. But she had the money to repay her advance and settle her bills.
She parked on the street two blocks away because her Slytherin landlord charged seventy dollars a month for a parking spot in the lot attached to the building. As she climbed the worn steps to her apartment, the El tracks shrieked just outside the windows. Roo greeted her at the door, then scampered across the worn linoleum and began to bark at the sink.
"Not again."
The apartment was so small that she had no place for her books, and she crawled over the packing boxes on her way to the kitchen sink. She gingerly opened the door, peered inside, and shuddered. Another mouse quivered in her Hav-A-Heart trap. The third one she'd caught, and she'd lived here for only a few days.
Maybe she could get another Chik article out of this-"Why Guys Who Hate Small Animals Aren't Always Bad News." Her cooking piece had just gone into the mail. At first she'd called it "Breakfasts That Won't Make Him Puke: Scramble His Brains with Your Eggs." Just before she'd slipped it into the envelope, she'd come to her senses and substituted "Early-Morning Turn-ons."
She was writing every day. As devastated as she was about everything, she hadn't given up and gone to bed the way she'd done after her miscarriage. Instead, she was facing her pain and doing her best to live through it. But her heart had never felt emptier.
She missed Kevin so much. Each night she lay in bed staring at the ceiling and remembering how his arms had felt around her. But it had been so much more than sex. He'd understood her better than she'd understood herself, and he'd been her soul mate in every way but the one that counted. He didn't love her.
With a sigh that came from the bottom of her being, she set aside her purse, slipped on the gardening gloves she'd bought along with the trap, and warily reached under the sink for the handle on the small cage. At least her bunny was hopping free and happy in cyberspace. Which was more than she could say about the rodent.
She let out a squeak as the frightened mouse started scampering around the cage. "Please don't do that. Just be quiet, and I promise I'll have you in the park before you know it." Where was a man when you needed one?
Her heart contracted in another achy spasm. The couple Kevin had hired to take over at the campground would be in place by now, so he was probably back in town partying with the international set. Please, God, don't let him be sleeping with any of them. Not yet.
Lilly had left several messages on her answering machine wanting to know if Molly was all right, but she still hadn't returned them. What could she say? That she'd had to sell her condo? That she'd lost her publisher? That her heart had suffered a permanent break? At least she could afford an attorney now, so she had a shot at being able to get out of her contract and sell her next Daphne book to another publisher.
She held the cage as far away as she could and retrieved her keys. She was on her way to the door when the buzzer sounded. The mouse had given her the heebie-jeebies, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Just a minute."
Still holding the cage at arm's length, she stepped around another book box and opened the door.
Helen charged inside. "Molly, you ran out before we could talk. Oh, God!"
"Helen, meet Mickey."
Helen pressed her hand to her heart, the color bleaching from her face. "A pet?"
"Not exactly." Molly set the cage on a packing box, but Roo didn't like that. "Quiet, pest! I'm afraid this isn't the best time for a visit, Helen. I have to go to the park."