Page 21 of Camino Ghosts

“That’s awful.”

“That’s Florida.”

“Can we stop them?”

Gifford was never shy about jumping into the fray. He’d even been arrested several times while staring down bulldozers. Each arrest, of course, was well documented by the news crews who’d been tipped off. The fact that he had already adopted a “we” posture was no surprise.

“Oh, it’ll be a fight. We might need you to lean on some of your tree-hugger groups for support. I gave you a book called Tessa. Ring a bell?”

“Afraid not.” Unlike most writers, Gifford didn’t read much. Nor did he pretend to. “Who wrote it?”

“A lady named Mercer Mann, sort of a local, got a cottage on the beach and spends her summers here.”

“Who summers in Florida? Thought you were supposed to go to the mountains.”

“Ask her tonight. She’ll be at dinner, along with her new husband. She just got married last month here on the beach, so hands off.”

“If you say so.”

“Anyway, she’s considering a book about Dark Isle, its history and so forth, and the fight to preserve it. She’s given me a ten-page rough draft of a book proposal which I think is excellent. Care to take a look?”

“Not really. I’m not much of an editor.”

“Come on. It’s a favor. You know these stories better than anyone. It’ll take fifteen minutes to read.”

“And what if I don’t like it?”

“You will.”

“Okay, what if I do like it? What am I supposed to do?”

“Enjoy it, and file it away. I want you to open some doors with your environmental crowd. You know every group from here to Washington, even beyond, and we’ll need plenty of help.”

“Sounds like fun. I’m always ready for a fight.”

“That’s one of the few things I like about you.”

“Fair enough. And no one expects me to call my publisher and gush about this proposal.”

“No one. Mercer has her own publisher.”

“Good. I’m thinking about suing mine.”

“Don’t do that. They’re paying you plenty. What’s the first printing this time out?”

Gifford could not suppress a proud smile. He drank some wine, savored the moment, and said, “Bruce, I’m now officially over half a million in hardback. Same for ebooks. I’m in the top ten, buddy. Can you believe it?”

Bruce smiled too and they clinked glasses. “Congratulations, Gifford. You deserve it. I devoured your latest book in one night. Great stuff.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“No, Bruce, I’m sincere. I owe you a lot. We were sitting right here almost twenty years ago when you, rather bluntly, told me I was wasting my time with literary fiction. Said I wasn’t complicated enough, as I recall.”

“You still aren’t and that’s why you have a million fans.”

“And you convinced me that the route to success, at least for me, was to create a great character and use him over and over. It’s working. Here’s to Bake.”

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