Free Venom and the River by Marsha Qualey Page A

divorce, of course.”
    Terry released a throaty growl.
    Peach again noisily sipped coffee and then patted her mouth. “After I learned that you’re also a children’s author I had a marvelous idea.”
    “I don’t claim to be a children’s author.”
    Peach recoiled. “Of course you should. Good grief, don’t you have any ambition?”
    Terry grunted. “Shut the hell up, Peach.”
    She ignored him. “In a few weeks over three hundred book-loving women will arrive in town to honor Pepin’s own Ida May Turnbull and her heavenly books. And what serendipity: Another children’s author is living in her cottage. I’d like you to give a talk.”
    “No. I have too much to do here.”
    “But you’d have so much to share. The crowd would love to hear from a real author.”
    Hadn’t Marti told her about Roberta? She glanced at her watch. It had been little more than fifteen hours since Marti had left the cottage, but surely she’d have crowed loudly and proudly about her coup. Unless there was a hitch in the scheme. “If you want an author, you can do better than me.”
    “Of course we could. But you’re the only one who’s living in the cottage. I’ll pay you three hundred for a forty-five minute talk. I know that’s not much, but think of the book sales. We’ll stock all your Ann Owen titles in the convention gift shop, schedule a book-signing, and I guarantee that you’ll be there for hours. That will be one nice royalty check in six months.”
    “It’s a generous offer, Peach. Thank you. But I don’t want to give a speech to hundreds of women, and as for the book sales, I don’t get royalties. I took a flat fee.”
    Peach sat back, shocked again. “You need a business manager.”
    “She needs to work,” said Terry. “Now vamoose, Little Peach Pie.” He chuckled as she glared. “That’s what her father called her, Leigh. For years and years—Little Peach Pie. Oh, Charlie Ewald was…something else.”
    Peach rose. “See me out, Leigh?”
    *
    Leigh fingered a dusty leaf on the lilac bush just outside the kitchen door. So this was fungus. She smiled at Peach as the other woman positioned a hat. Should she offer now to shake hands?
    “I’m transparent, I know,” Peach said.
    Leigh brushed her hand on her jeans. “I’m not so sure.”
    “I do want you to plead my case about access to the cottage. It’s clear he likes and admires you. One word from you and we’re in.”
    Leigh looked toward the water. Geneva was setting out a blanket under the giant oak as Tucker watched. “No.”
    “I’ll sweeten the deal, Leigh.”
    “I told you: I don’t want to speak to your group.”
    Peach shook her head. “Sweeter than that.” She looked around, then she grabbed Leigh’s arm and lowered her voice. “Do not tell a soul. Promise?”
    “I can’t, really, until I know what you’re going to tell me.”
    “There’s a good chance we’ll be reviving the television series. Petra Sinclair and I are just about to close a deal with a network.” She touched her lips with a finger. “Don’t tell anyone, but the new Little Girl, Big River will soon be the first original programming done for the Christian Family Universe. They’re very excited, especially since Petra will be producing, directing, and starring.”
    “Isn’t she a little old to play a little girl?”
    “The mother, of course. A new show means new books—a whole new series of books, several series probably. We need writers for all those books, Leigh. I’ll give you a decent advance and I’ll pay you royalties.”
    “Spin-offs?”
    “Don’t be a snob. What the public doesn’t know is that for years the spin-offs and merchandise have been earning way more than the originals bring in. You can be part of it, Leigh. Good god, you don’t even have to come up with the ideas. That’s my husband’s job. He does the outlines and ships them off to the writers. You’ll be our lead writer. They’ll all be published under your name. Oh,