A Dark and Stormy Murder (A Writer's Apprentice Mystery) by Julia Buckley Page B

Allison—how we had met, how long we had been friends.
    I took a sip of water. “Allison and I were in the same homeroom in high school. She was one of those theater kids who was always in a show, always full of energy and outrageously happy and dramatic.”
    Camilla smiled. “She’s still that way.”
    “The first day I met her, she said, ‘I’m Allison! How about if you take your nose out of that book and we can talk?’ I had been hiding, really, because I was afraid to be in a big new school. And just like that, Allison walked up and demanded to be my friend.”
    “How perfect.”
    “Yes. She’s so unlike me, because I’ve always been a quiet person. In school I walked around with my blank journal and doodled ideas in it when I had free moments. When we got together, Allison would jump around, learning some new dance for whatever inevitable play she was in and talking about every boy in school. But she made me laugh and brought me out of my moodiness. And she said I was the person who could always calm her down when she got too manic.”
    “I can see that—what a fine pairing. But you seem like the sort who should be in a play, as well. A name like Lena London, and that pretty face.”
    “Thank you.” I felt myself blush at her compliment. “I’ve always been more of an introvert.” I forked up some food and then, embarrassed, said, “I hope you don’t think I’m eating too much.”
    Camilla laughed. “Of course not. You probably haven’t eaten all day, and Rhonda always makes too much—she seems to be laboring under the delusion that I am a lumberjack.”
    Now it was my turn to laugh.
    “Besides,” Camilla said, turning her fork tines down to signal that she was finished, “I despise leftovers. One never knows what to do with them.”
    “Well, if my appetite stays this hearty, you won’t have to worry about leftover food. And I’m guessing the canine companions who are currently warming our feet would help you out with them.”
    “They often do,” she said. Then she leaned back and sighed. “Have you started reading the book?”
    “Oh, yes. What a pleasure! I’ve only read five chapters,but I’ll get back to it when I go upstairs. It’s wonderful, Camilla. I feel so honored to read it before the rest of the world.”
    “Good. But of course I’ll need your suggestions.”
    “It definitely has that Graham magic that your fans love. So far I just have two main notes.”
    She looked amused, but interested. “Good—go on.”
    “Well, the heroine—Johanna—leaves Salzburg in the first line, and it’s implied in the first chapter that she leaves out of necessity. Later, though, she tells the man she meets in the café that she left on a whim. So either she’s lying to the man in the café, or this is a contradiction of what the narrator tells us earlier.”
    Camilla leaned forward, her eyes bright. “That’s an excellent note. You might find that the issue resolves itself by chapter ten.”
    “Ah,” I said. “Okay, then there’s this issue: on Johanna’s passport, her middle name is listed as Alina. But later, when she signs the form at the embassy, she writes ‘Johanna T. Garamond.”
    Camilla clapped her hands. “This is what I need you for more than anything else, Lena! These small errors are the bane of my writing life, and the older I get the less I can keep track of them. Do please note these things down for me.”
    “Of course! Would you prefer a typed sheet?”
    “Perhaps that would be best. You have your laptop, correct? So if need be you can e-mail the comments to me, and I can send them to the printer in my office.”
    “And should I wait until I’m finished, or just send notes section by section?”
    “The latter will be best. Then your mind is fresh on the chapters you’ve just read.”
    For the first time since I had arrived, I thought I was seeing the real Camilla Graham. Her face was flushed with excitement as we talked about the process of feedback