“Rambling and long-winded mansplaining?” Harper guessed.
Natalie laughed at the accuracy of Harper’s statement. “Yes.”
“How long do you think it’s going to take?” Harper asked.
Natalie let out a snort. “A long time. We’ve completed one chapter so far.”
They were only that far along because Natalie was ignoring all her other work as much as possible. And that was because, after much debate, they’d agreed the article revealing the new information about Mudville’s founding families wouldn’t be written until after she sent the book to his publisher.
Maybe that wasn’t the only reason she was pushing to get this done. She figured the faster she finished the sooner they could end this unholy partnership.
“One chapter in twenty-four hours isn’t so bad. How many chapters is the book?” Harper asked.
“Eighty,” Natalie revealed with a slump of her shoulders.
“Eighty? Jeez. But listen, if you keep up that pace you’ll be done in under three months.”
Three months of working with Lionel would feel like an eternity.
“I honestly don’t know if I can continue like this. I have the shop to run. Not to mention Lionel is a very particular—and a particularly demanding—writing partner. And then when we’re done with the factchecking, we’re supposed to polish the first draft enough to submit it to his publisher.”
“The publisher you’re supposed to lie to and say you and he were partnering before his death.” The doubt was clear in Harper’s expression as she recapped the plan.
“I know. It’s a stretch, but it’s all we got.”
“Well, I can help you with the polishing stage. I’m an excellent proofreader and I’m not a bad editor in a pinch.”
“That would be great… if Lionel agrees. But finishing the book is only step one. It’s step two I’m worried about. Getting the publisher to believe me.” And believe the whopper of a lie she was going to have to sell them.
“Yeah.” Harper cringed. “Have you reached out to them yet?”
“I emailed his editor. He didn’t get back to me.”
Harper wrinkled her nose. “Mmm. They might not, ever. They could have deleted it without having read the email. There are too many authors trying to circumvent the slush piles by contacting an editor directly. You’ll have to call and talk to them.”
“Call?” Natalie sunk lower in the chair with a groan. The only thing she hated more than writing emails was talking on the phone.
Harper shook her head. “And Stone calls me an introvert. Give me the number. And all the information you have on Professor Dickhead and this project. I’ll call and pretend I’m you.”
Natalie sat up straighter at the offer. “You’d do that?”
“Of course I’d do that. If you think you can keep me away from a real life caper that revolves around publishing and ghosts, you’re crazy.”
Moments later the two sat with Natalie’s cell phone on the kitchen table between them. The phone number on the screen and Harper’s finger paused over it.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Yes. But remember to mention how he called me to apologize?—”
“I know. I’ve got the story.”
“We’re probably both going to end up in jail over this,” Natalie predicted.
“Publishing jail?” Harper smiled. “Relax. it’s going to be okay.”
Then before she could stop her, Harper tapped the screen to connect the call and the ringing turned quickly into a human voice.
It was all Natalie could do to not snatch the phone away, apologize for dialing the wrong number and disconnect this horrifying call. Forget all about Lionel and his book, and Alice and her family legacy.
