After Eleanor and Jackson decided they were finished in the pool, they both showered and went back to their bunkie. They changed into regular clothes and went back to the house. Once inside, Jackson made himself comfortable in the movie theater, watching a basketball game on the large television. Once he was completely zoned out in one of the leather recliners, Eleanor got up and left him.
She wandered down the hall to the library. She pushed open the door and was relieved to find that the room was empty. Eleanor quietly shut the door behind her and turned to look around the room. She walked over to the desk and sat down on the chair. She looked around at the items on the desk. She touched a couple of random keys on the typewriter to see if it worked. It did.
Eleanor opened the drawers in the desk, somewhat surprised to find that they were empty. Eleanor stood and walked around the library. She leafed through a few of the books and picked one that she hadn’t read. She curled up on the chaise lounge and opened the book carefully.
She had only read a couple of chapters when there was a soft knock at the door. Eleanor looked up to see Corrine silently slipping into the room. “Hello. My apologies for interrupting…” She began gently.
“Oh, it’s no interruption.” Eleanor insisted.
Corrine smiled politely. “The chef is just getting ready to put out dinner, if you are ready eat.”
Eleanor closed her book. “Yes. Thank you. I lost track of time.”
“That’s quite alright. I can ask the chef to hold dinner if you wish…”
“No, no. I’m sure that Jackson is hungry now, I’ll eat with him.” She stood and left the room. She met Jackson in the hall and together they walked to the dinning room.
Eleanor sat down at her usual place setting in the dining room. Again chairs had been removed and their place settings had been more evenly spaced out to allow them more room at the table. As it had been the first night they arrived, there was a third place setting at the head of the table.
Eleanor took this as a sign that the author would be joining them for dinner. The waiter arrived, bringing Jackson a tall glass of beer, with a foaming head on top. He placed the glass in front of Jackson, and poured from a bottle of white wine into Eleanor’s glass.
“So what’s on the menu tonight?” Jackson asked, swallowing a mouthful of beer and lowering his glass.
“Chicken Keiv, with roasted asparagus and mushrooms. The first course will be a little gem salad with a lemon vinaigrette.” The waiter announced proudly. “A specialty from Chef Ashford.”
“Sounds delicious.” Eleanor mused.
The waiter left the room, briefly leaving them on their own.
“Sounds expensive.” Jackson said once they were alone.
Eleanor smiled at him. “You’re right, it does.” She took a sip of her wine. “I’m not much of a white wine drinker, but this wine is delicious.”
The waiter returned with a clear glass pitcher of water clinking with ice cubes. He poured water into all three water glasses at the table and ducked from the room again.
The first course arrived. It was a strange looking salad; piled high with a curl of red onion around it. There was a sprinkling of crumbled walnuts and a pale yellow dressing zig-zagged across the plate.
Eleanor looked up at Jackson, waiting for him to come up with a smart or a sarcastic comment. In fact, she half expected him to push the salad away and request a hamburger instead. However, Jackson picked up his fork, speared a piece of strange lettuce and put it in his mouth. He ate without comment.
There was a strange, flutter of activity in the hall. Eleanor stopped what she was doing—her fork half raised to try her own first course. The waiter quickly pulled the food trolley off to one side, and stood in the corner, with his hands neatly folded in front of him. The rigidity of his back and how he stood straight up—almost at attention—made Eleanor clearly aware that someone important was coming in.
Corrine appeared first, coming into the room like a hummingbird anxiously flitting around through the blossoms of flowers.
A new person arrived. She was young, about the same age as Eleanor. Eleanor had barely touched her thirties and this woman appeared to be the same age. Her hair was long and blonde, hanging past her shoulders. The blonde locks had been effortlessly and yet carefully curled at the ends. She wore all black, a black shirt with black skinny jeans. She was wearing a long black sweater that hung almost to her ankles—it flowed out behind her as she walked. On her feet were a pair of heeled boots.
The waiter moved into immediate action and pulled out her chair for her to sit, but she stood at the head of the table for a moment.
“Hello,” She said, her voice sounding surprisingly warm and calm.
Eleanor found herself in an unusal state of awestruck silence.
Jackson got to his feet and politely shook her hand. “Hi, I’m Jackson. Nice to finally meet you. You must be L.M. Quinn.” He put on his award winning smile.
The author extended her hand and shook his. She smiled warmly, but there was a hidden weariness there. “I am, but please call me Lilith.”
Eleanor forced herself onto her feet. “I… I know you.” She said dumbly, the words tumbling out of her mouth without any conscious thought on behalf of her brain. “I know you from somewhere.”
Lilith gently shook the hand that Eleanor presented . “Yes. I suppose you do.” She mused. She gracefully lowered herself into her seat, and the waiter pushed her chair in for her.
Eleanor suddenly and awkwardly realized that she was the only one standing—both Jackson and the author were sitting. She forced herself into a seated position on legs that felt like cooked spaghetti.
The waiter arrived and poured white wine into the author’s glass and backed away quickly. The head chef arrived out of nowhere and carefully placed a plate of the same salad in front of her.
“You know her? How?” Jackson asked. “How is that possible?”
“I… I think I know you. You look very familiar.” Eleanor shook her head. “I don’t understand this.”
Lilith folded her hands in her lap neatly and sat straightly in her chair. She made no move to touch her food, water or wine.
“You’ll probably remember me as Lily Grey.” Lilith said softly and evenly.
“Yes!” Eleanor said. “From high school… I remember!”
Jackson frowned. “Someone clue me in?”
“From the ages of fourteen to sixteen we were inseparable,” Eleanor explained. “We were writing buddies. We used to write together all the time. We were best friends, I mean, we would sleep over at each other’s houses and stay up all night writing. We would pass notebooks back and forth in class and write in them. She would write five lines and then I would write five lines. We were working on this one big novel that never ended. We put everything into that book, our favorite characters from books and movies, our favorite music and food… It’s what made me get into writing in the first place.”
Lilith nodded once, an expression of longing and far-away remembrance on her face. The corner of her mouth turned up in a sad smile.
“Really? Ellie you never told me.” Jackson said, taking a drink from his beer.
“I completely forgot about it. It just felt like a silly little thing like you do when you’re kids…” Eleanor explained. “But I remember now. Lily and Ellie.”
Lilith slowly reached for her glass of wine and took a small sip.
“So what happened? Why did you stop writing together?” Jackson asked.
Eleanor frowned. “I… I don’t know. Did we drift apart?”
“No,” Lilith answered solemly.
Eleanor thought for a moment. “Oh, that’s right. You moved away. You were at school, then you weren’t.”
Lilith remained quiet. Eleanor took this as a hint that there was something more. Something that she needed to remember, but it wasn’t coming to her memory as quickly as she wanted it to.
Eleanor sighed. “There was a car accident. Your parents…” She said gently.
Lilith nodded. “Yes. My parents were killed in a car crash. I was taken out of school and sent to Seattle to live with my aunt and uncle there.”
“I’m so sorry. We lost touch…” She breathed.
Lilith shook her head. “Not at all. There was no way that you could have known where I was. This pre-dated the Internet and I’m not even sure if I had a phone.”
“But you kept writing.” Eleanor said. “And you did amazingly well for yourself. You’re one of the most recognizable writers of our time. That’s amazing.”
Lilith carefully turned her wine glass on the table using her thumb and forefinger. “I got lucky. If I can do it, anyone can.”
Jackson was chuckling suddenly.
Eleanor frowned at him. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” He chuckled. “It’s just… well, up until we got here, Eleanor thought that this was some strange ploy to get us out here, quietly murder us and eat our bodies. Little did we know that she’d be reuniting with an old friend.”
The corner of Lilith’s mouth turned up in a small smile. “Yes, Corrine told me. She was quite appalled that someone would think that. I apologize for all of the secrecy. I don’t travel much myself, and in the interest of protecting my identity and keeping my whereabouts a secret, I had to go to extreme lengths. I had to know that I could trust you before I could meet you.”
“I don’t get it, though.” Jackson said again. “I mean, if I was a big-time writer like you, I’d want my face out there. I’d want to be a big huge celebrity. That would be cool.”
“You’d think so.” Lilith answered carefully. “But I like my anonymity. I like that I can go places and not be a complete spectacle. I don’t have to worry about paparazzi and media invading my little corner of the planet.”
“But you could have all of this fame and notoriety.” Jackson pointed out.
Lilith shook her head. “I never wanted any of that. I still don’t want any of that.”
Jackson nodded, picking up his glass again and taking a drink from his beer.
“So, when would you like to start the interview process?” Eleanor asked suddenly. “We could start tomorrow. I have a list of questions to ask.”
Lilith shifted in her seat. For the first time, she was showing signs of outward emotion. She shifted awkwardly in her seat. It was the first completely honest and uncalculated move she had made since she sat down at the table. She took a long pause before she spoke.
“Unfortunately, I did not bring you here to write an article on me. You can if you wish, but I would prefer not to. Let’s consider that to be plan B, if you will.”
“So then why are we here? Why did you drag us all the way out here?” Eleanor asked, trying not to sound as upset as she was feeling.
Lilith looked at Corrine, who was standing nearby. As usual, her hands were folded in front of her, but she wasn’t making eye contact. She was looking down at her feet.
“I can assure you that it is an even better proposition than the one I originally gave you. I hope it is not something that upsets you, nor do I wish to offend you in any way.” Lilith said gently.
The waiter arrived with their plate. He placed a plate in front of Eleanor, and one in front of Jackson. He began to place a plate of food in front of Lilith, but she politely waived her hand and waived him away.
“Madam, are you sure?” He asked, “It is your favorite. I-I can make you something else if you wish…”
“No, thank you,” Lilith said. “I will not be dining tonight.”
The chef’s expression was a mixture of hurt and confusion, but he nodded once and left the room with the waiter.
Jackson attempted to fold his arms over his chest, but was hindered by his cast and sling. “Why are we here then? Did you ever intend to give an interview?” He asked, his stern police officer personal leaking in.
“I will give you an interview, if you request it.” Lilith said. She picked up her wine glass and swirled the soft yellow colored liquid inside. “But I would prefer not to.”
“What is this other proposition you have for me, then?” Eleanor asked.
Lilith said nothing for a moment. Her silence hung so heavily in the room that Corrine took a step forward to check on her employer, appearing worried and unsettled.
“I guess to best explain myself; I’ll need to start at the beginning.” Lilith’s voice was breathy, almost a sigh. “I have cancer.”
Jackson’s eyebrows cocked upward with an almost comical speed.
“What?” Eleanor breathed. “You’re my age. How can you have cancer?”
Lilith didn’t speak for a very long time. She drained the last of her glass of wine, and Corrine was at her side in a split second with the bottle to fill the glass again. Finally she said “I guess these things happen.”
Eleanor gaped at her in complete disbelief.
“What kind of cancer? Is it curable?” Jackson asked. He leaned forward in his chair and balanced his elbows on the table.
“I have a glioblastoma. It is an aggressive and incurable brain tumor.”
“Oh my god,” Eleanor gasped, her hand covered her mouth.
Lilith drew in a deep breath , “Again though, that’s not why I called you here. I have a proposition for you. An important one.”
“Okay…” Eleanor said hesitantly. “What is it?”
“I want you to continue writing under the name L.M. Quinn after I pass on.” Lilith said.
Eleanor gaped at her with her mouth practically on the floor. “What?” She demanded.
“There have never been any photos of me, nor have I given interviews, done press releases, or any kind of publicity. My likeness is not attached in any way to the name L.M. Quinn. That name is just a figure head. It could be anyone. I read an article in a magazine recently that speculated that the collected works of L.M. Quinn were actually a collection of works by many different authors all written under the same pen name. This gave me an idea. Why couldn’t someone else continue on the legacy that I have started after I’m gone? Who will know?”
Eleanor frowned. She wasn’t sure she understood what she was hearing.
“I remembered how we used to write together, and how similar our writing styles are…”
“Wait, you want me to write for you?”
“I would like you to write under the name L.M. Quinn. I would like to keep the name going. The name carries weight, so the publishers will be more than willing to publish anything you give them. I will also put a stipulation into my contract, and legally sign everything over to you. Once I am gone, you will inherit the manor, the pen name L.M. Quinn… everything. You’ll get everything, I’ll sign my bank accounts over to you, and any royalties you collect from your own works will be yours, of course.”
“Wow.” Jackson breathed.
“The staff will be given quite a generous severance package, but it will be your choice if you wish to hire them back, and their choice to take it or not.” Lilith said, looking up at Corrine. Corrine was still staring down at the floor with a solemn expression on her face.
“People are going to know. People are going to be able to see the difference between a book that you’ve written and a book that I’ve written.”
Lilith shook her head. “No. No they won’t. V.C. Andrews has been doing it for years. She died in nineteen-eighty -six and has published thirty-three books since then. Robert Ludlum, Dr. Suess, Steig Larsson… they’ve all published posthumously. They have all used ghostwriters. The change in writing styles can be attributed to change and growth as a writer. Writing styles change.”
Eleanor didn’t speak for several moments. “And what if I say no?”
“If you say no, the original offer still stands. I’ll let you interview me. I’ll let you sell the article to any publication that you wish, even at the highest bidder. We go our separate ways, and with the confidentiality agreement still firmly in place; we go our separate ways.” Lilith explained.
“And if I agree to this?”
“Then you become L.M. Quinn upon my demise. You get to write whatever you want under an already famous author’s name. There are a couple of manuscripts that I’ll probably never finish; they will be yours to finish if you wish… As long as you keep writing under the name L.M. Quinn, all of this is yours.” Lilith said, waiving her hands around.
Eleanor looked to Jackson, who had an unreadable expression on his face.
Lilith followed Eleanor’s gaze. “What do you do for a living?” She asked Jackson.
“I’m a Police Officer… I’m off right now because of my injury.” Jackson explained. “But once it heals, I hope to go back.”
“How did you injure your arm?” Lilith inquired.
“I was on duty, responding to a robbery call. I was shot by a scared eighteen year old kid.” Jackson explained.
Lilith nodded. “If you take my offer, you’ll never have to work again. You would never need to worry about money as long as you both live. It’s entirely up to you. I’ll understand if this is not something that you can do.”
Eleanor shut her eyes tightly. “I… I need to think about it.”
“Take all of the time you need.” Lilith said. She drained her second glass of wine. “If you’ll excuse me…. I’ll leave you both to your meals.” She stood and Corrine was immediately at her side. Lilith handed Corrine her wine glass and the two of them left the room. Lilith swept from the room with the same flare in which she had entered.
Eleanor let out the breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding. She fell back against her chair in a state of shock.
“Ellie,” Jackson said. “This is… it’s an incredible opportunity for you.”
“It’s a lot of responsibility. It’s big shoes to fill-”
Before Eleanor could say anything further, Chef Ashford swept into the room. “You have not touched your food! Is it not satisfactory?” He worried.
“No, no. It’s delicious.” Jackson said quickly. “We were just talking and got distracted.” He picked up his utensils as if he was making a point.
Eleanor didn’t feel much like eating any longer.
“Can I warm it up for you?” The chef worried.
“No, it’s fine. Really.” Jackson insisted. “Can we please be alone? I would like to speak to my wife. Thank you.”
The chef nodded and left the room without another word.
“Ellie, what are you going to do?” Jackson asked, once they were alone again.
Eleanor shook her head. “I don’t… I don’t know. I need to think about it. I need time.”