The Accidental Bestseller (45 page)

Lacy stepped forward so that she crowded Jane’s space. Lacy was taller and bigger and, as far as she was concerned, she had right on her side. “You’re a gifted editor—I saw what you did for Kendall’s manuscript—but I’ll never understand your hostility and your disdain for the people around you.”

Lacy was on fire with righteous indignation; she wasn’t sure she could stop the words spilling out of her mouth; she wasn’t even sure she wanted to.

“Bottom line,” Lacy bit out, “I’d rather be a Pollyanna than someone too . . . too . . .” She caught herself at the last minute and swallowed back the ugly words she’d been about to hurl. “. . . too cynical to do her job!”

And with that Lacy turned on her heel and marched out of Jane Jensen’s office without being dismissed. At her desk, she worked out her aggression rewriting the rejection letters. Instead of rejecting the prisoners’ manuscripts, she heaped praise on their work and told them to contact her personally to discuss possible publication. She signed each letter with a flourish, making sure the name Jane Jensen was legible on each one and adding Jane’s direct phone line. Then she walked them down to the mail room personally so she could be sure they went out.

36

—LEO ROSTEN

 

 

 

Kendall and Faye had left Chicago O’Hare International Airport and were speeding north on I-294 toward Faye’s home in Highland Park when Jane Jensen reached Kendall on her cell phone to tell her that she was now a
New York Times
Bestseller.

Once she’d determined that it was not a prank call, Kendall started to cry.

“What is it?” Faye asked, clearly shocked by Kendall’s tears. “Are you OK? Did something happen to the twins?”

Kendall shook her head, but she couldn’t stop crying. The enormity of what had happened hit her like a physical blow, sucking the air from her lungs and clogging her throat with emotion.

“You’re starting to freak me out!” Faye’s gaze was locked on Kendall rather than the highway. Even in her emotional stupor, Kendall realized this was not good, but she was struck dumb by the impossibility of what had happened.

“Are you feeling sick? Should I drive you to an emergency room?”

Kendall shook her head again as a great swell of happiness arose within her. Then she was laughing and crying. Her sobs were loud and choking things, but the joy was trying to break through, too.

The dream she had dreamed for years and finally given up on had actually come true. She, Kendall Aims, had a book on the
New York Times
Bestseller List.

“What’s happened?” Faye demanded as they exited and began to work their way eastward. Street signs flew by, but Kendall didn’t even try to read them. “If you don’t tell me right now, I’m going to stop right here in the middle of Deerfield Road until you do.” She pulled to a stop at a red light as if making good on her threat. “I’m not kidding, Kendall. What’s going on? You have to tell me right this minute.”

Kendall sobbed a final sob then swiped at the hot tears littering her cheeks. Her lips twisted into what she thought was a smile. “
Sticks and Stones
is number ten on the
New York Times
list.” Kendall could hear the amazement in her own voice. “It’s going to be announced tomorrow as part of my introduction on
The Kristen Calder Show
.”

The light turned green but Faye was still looking at Kendall. Her foot didn’t move from the brake.

“Are you sure?” Faye asked.

Horns blared behind them. A guy in a semi leaned out of the truck’s cab to yell at them personally.

Kendall nodded her head numbly. “That was Jane Jensen. She called to tell me.”

The two of them sat and stared at each other while horns blared and irate drivers raced around them. “I feel like aliens just landed and offered to take me to their leader,” Kendall said, her tears still flowing. She sniffed and swiped. “I’m afraid to look,” she said. “Has hell frozen over?”

A policeman appeared and pounded on Kendall’s window demanding to know why they were just sitting there. “Sorry, officer.” She smiled and blubbered. “We just had some . . . shocking news. We forgot where we were.”

Without so much as a blinker, Faye made a hard right onto a side road and pulled to a stop at the first opportunity. They sat in the silence of the front seat, locked in their own little bubbles of wonder. “We made the list,” Faye said.

Kendall’s tears stopped and the fog of amazement began to dissipate. She was on the list, but she hadn’t gotten there alone. She looked into Faye’s eyes and both of them registered the truth at the same time: All four of them had written the book together. Only Kendall’s name would appear on the
New York Times
list.

“We have to call Tanya and Mallory right now.” Faye pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll dial you first so we can conference.”

Kendall duly answered her phone and then waited while Faye found and then connected the others. Her excitement was now tempered by worry over the others’ possible reactions. Even though they’d discussed the possibility of this happening because of Kristen Calder, not being able to claim authorship of a
New York Times
Bestseller couldn’t feel good.

Kendall listened quietly as Faye gave them the news.

Tanya shrieked just as she had when she heard the Kristen Calder news, and Kendall thought how surreal it was to be sitting in a car in the northern suburbs of Chicago listening to Tanya shriek in a St. Petersburg Laundromat. Mallory was noticeably silent.

“Dang it!” Tanya said. “Hold on. I’ve got a customer who’s having trouble with her spin cycle.” The phone clattered as she set it down.

Kendall looked at Faye. Faye stared back. They were still sitting on the side of the road while traffic passed by them.

“I can’t believe we’ve been put on hold for a laundry emergency,” Mallory said. “But then that seems to be so . . . us.”

Tanya came back on the line. “Lordy,” she said. “Some people should not be allowed to reproduce!” And then, “This is so incredibly . . . incredible!”

“I don’t see that we need to get all worked up,” Mallory said. “We knew when
Sticks and Stones
became a Kristen Calder pick that this could happen. We all agreed we were willing to take the risk.”

Mallory’s comment was yet another reminder that everything positive that had come of their collaboration was countered by a negative. The more books sold the more money they would make. And the more visible Kendall and
Sticks and Stones
would become.

“I just want to remind everyone to be careful tomorrow,” Faye said as they prepared to hang up. “The whole
New York Times
thing opens up
Sticks and Stones
to a whole new level of scrutiny. The last thing we want to do is give Kristen’s people the slightest reason to be suspicious.”

As they hung up, Kendall slumped in her seat. She felt as vulnerable and insubstantial as a leaf pried loose from its branch and hurled into the unknown. Somewhere she needed to find the enthusiasm and strength for this afternoon’s signing and
The Kristen Calder Show
taping tomorrow. Even with her “peeps” in the audience and the Scarsdale PR people on hand, Kendall would be the one in the hot seat. Faye was right: For people with so much to hide, they were venturing into a fearfully public arena.

She stared resolutely out the window, trying not to panic as Faye pulled back onto Deerfield then headed north again. She’d simply have to play things just right tomorrow. The publishing gods had put her on the list. Now she’d have to hope they didn’t intend to desert her.

At home Faye directed Kendall to a downstairs guest room and then leafed through mail in the kitchen while her friend freshened up.

Steve was out on the West Coast for a speaking engagement, so Faye had made a lunch reservation at Rosebud, where they could celebrate the news then walk around the corner to Borders for Kendall’s book signing.

They ordered glasses of chardonnay and sipped them as they dipped pieces of crusty Italian bread into a shared plate of seasoned olive oil. They had a second glass of wine with their chopped salads—just enough to calm their nerves without impairing their senses—and by the time they arrived at the bookstore, tomorrow’s taping had once again taken on the luster of an adventure rather than a visit into the fire pits of hell.

“Hello, Mrs. Truett.” Judy Winslet, the customer relations manager, greeted them as they entered the store. “I’m so glad you steered Ms. Aims to our store. There’s a lot of excitement about
Sticks and Stones.
”

“It’s great, isn’t it?” Faye said. “We just found out
Sticks and Stones
made the
New York Times
list.” She smiled at Kendall. She’d been a bit jealous when she’d first heard the news. Happy for Kendall, but disappointed, too. This was the second appearance on the list that Faye had been unable to claim.

There was a nice-sized crowd for the signing, lots of readers and even more aspiring writers who seemed to have adopted Kendall as their poster child of possibility. Faye stood and chatted with other Highland Park residents and the customer relations manager while Kendall signed and schmoozed, something Faye noticed she’d gotten quite good at.

When the crowd had thinned, Kendall signed remaining copies while Judy affixed autographed-copy stickers onto their covers. “I’ll put these on the end cap,” the manager said, referring to the outward-facing shelf Scarsdale had paid to have
Sticks and Stones
placed on. “And I’ll put a few extra on the new release table, too.”

“Great, thank you,” Kendall said. Faye could see her friend sagging from exhaustion and decided to fix a simple dinner for them at home. They could both use a good night’s sleep before the
Kristen Calder
taping in the morning.

The manager walked them to the front door. Through the glass window they could see a group of women walking in a tight circle outside. They carried placards raised above their heads.

“What’s going on?” Kendall asked.

The young woman sighed. “This group has been threatening to picket for a week now. They’re a great big pain in the . . .” The woman looked at Faye and stopped short. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Truett. I forgot they were from your husband’s church.”

Judy turned to Kendall. “They’re picketing because they heard Shannon LeSade was planning to come here on tour.”

“LeSade, the erotica author?” Kendall asked, interested.

Faye’s hands stilled.

“Yes,” Judy said. “She’s so reclusive I don’t think the whole tour thing is much more than a rumor. But they’re picketing anyway. They want us to take her books off the shelves and burn them.” She frowned. “Our manager told them they could do whatever they liked with LeSade’s books, but they’d have to buy them first.” She smiled at her boss’s one-upsmanship.

“That woman in the front is their ringleader,” Judy continued, clearly warming to her topic. “She’s been very unpleasant.”

Faye had already recognized the woman in charge. She closed her eyes and prayed for strength.

“Do you know them, Mrs. Truett?” Judy asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Faye replied, wishing she could deny it. “The woman in front is my daughter.”

Judy’s eyes grew wide. It was clear she wasn’t sure what to say. Faye wished they could sneak out the back and pretend they’d never seen the protesters, but it was too late for that now.

“Neither her father nor I believe in book banning.” Faye felt the need to clarify that this was not a family position. “But Sara’s a grown woman and she’s very strong willed.”

“Oh, Faye!” Kendall said.

“Yes.” Faye couldn’t meet her friend’s eye. “I expect we’d better go.” Faye put her shoulder to the door and braced for combat. She nodded good-bye to Judy.

“Come on, Kendall. I’ll introduce you to Sara. And then I suspect we’re going to have to stop on the way home after all, because I’m probably going to need another drink.”

As it turned out, she needed two. One to forget about the shouting match her daughter drew her into. The second to forget the
Chicago Tribune
photographer who documented it and then wanted to double-check the spelling of their names to make sure he’d gotten them right.

37

—ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

 

 

 

The photo appeared on the front page of the morning newspaper and Kendall hoped it wasn’t an omen of things to come. When she slid into the backseat of the limo that Kristen Calder’s production company had sent to pick her up, there was a complimentary copy of the paper waiting for her. Kendall folded it facedown and stuffed it under her seat. Did this mean that Kristen’s people had already seen it? She was not going to be the one to ask.