35
didn’t have to write a book.
R 36
3 7
2nd PASS PAGES
13713_01_i-vi_001-344_r4jn.qxd 4/21/03 8:03 AM Page 38
A M Y G U T M A N
1
“Here you go.”
2
Jenny handed her FedEx packets from her editor and her 3
agent.
4
Diane turned to her editor’s packet first, quickly ripping it 5
open. Inside were three smaller envelopes in a range of soft pas-6
tels. Pale pink. Pale blue. White. They reminded her of Easter 7
eggs. A note was clipped to the stack in Marianne’s familiar 8
scrawl: “Looks like fan mail,” she wrote. “Thought you could use 9
a boost.” Diane smiled, though a bit uneasily, reminding herself 10
that Marianne couldn’t know how far behind she really was.
11
Diane opened the pink envelope, skimmed the spidery cursive.
12
“My daughter gave me Dreams of Dying and since then I’ve read 13
every one of your books. Are you ever afraid that some of the 14
people you write about might come after you?”
15
The next envelope she opened was white. She unfolded the 16
single thin white sheet and read the short typed message.
17
Happy Anniversary, Diane. I haven’t forgotten you.
18
Happy Anniversary?
19
Puzzled, she turned the paper over, looking for an explanation.
20
There was her AA anniversary, of course, but that was months 21
away. Again, she looked at the envelope. No postmark or return 22
address. Maybe she should call Marianne, find out where it came 23
from. For now she stuck the mail in her purse. She’d open the rest 24
at home.
25
She said good-bye to Jenny and headed up the road. Between 26
buildings she glimpsed the flat sea against the backdrop of sky.
27
Mild cramps pinched her stomach. She’d been drinking too 28
much bad coffee. While she’d brought out a stash of French 29
Roast, it didn’t taste the same. The old aluminum percolator 30
worked a curious alchemy, transforming the beans’ dark richness 31
to something sharp and bitter.
32
Longingly she thought of her home in New York, the lights, 33
the traffic, the noise. She lived in a loft in Tribeca, a sun-34
drenched open space. On an ordinary day, she’d have breakfasted 35 S
at Le Pain Quotidien. She could almost taste the flaky croissant, 36 R
the bowl of caffe latte. After a few hours at her desk, she’d have 3 8
2nd PASS PAGES
13713_01_i-vi_001-344_r4jn.qxd 4/21/03 8:03 AM Page 39
T H E A N N I V E R S A R Y
headed off to the gym. Worked out with Bob, her personal 1
trainer, maybe had a massage. Back home, the mail would have 2
arrived, with its cache of invitations. Book signings and film 3
openings. Requests to come and speak. She had a life in New 4
York, friends and dinners and parties. All those distractions she’d 5
come to escape seemed endlessly alluring.
6
Back at the house, she went straight to her desk and forced 7
herself to sit down. Keep your butt in the chair. No more procrasti-8
nating. She worked for a couple of hours, then made a tuna fish 9
sandwich — a far cry from the take-out sushi she’d have picked 10
up back home. Sandwich in hand she returned to her desk and 11
continued to work as she ate.
12
By three o’clock, she was amazed to find that she’d written 13
more than two thousand words. She stuck another log in the 14
woodstove, then printed out the new pages. At her desk, she 15
reread what she’d written that day, making penciled notations in 16
the margins. It was good, much better than she’d thought.
17
When she next looked up it was almost five. A solid day’s work.
18
The best she’d done in months. Standing up, Diane stretched her 19
legs, then headed upstairs to change. She tied back her hair, 20
pulled on a hat, dropped her necklace under her shirt. On im-21
pulse, she picked up the phone and dialed a New York number.
22
Her editor’s assistant picked up.
23
“Hi, Kaylie? It’s Diane. Is Marianne around?”
24
“Sorry, Diane. She’s in a meeting. Anything I can do?”
25
“No. Well.
didn’t have to write a book.
R 36
3 7
2nd PASS PAGES
13713_01_i-vi_001-344_r4jn.qxd 4/21/03 8:03 AM Page 38
A M Y G U T M A N
1
“Here you go.”
2
Jenny handed her FedEx packets from her editor and her 3
agent.
4
Diane turned to her editor’s packet first, quickly ripping it 5
open. Inside were three smaller envelopes in a range of soft pas-6
tels. Pale pink. Pale blue. White. They reminded her of Easter 7
eggs. A note was clipped to the stack in Marianne’s familiar 8
scrawl: “Looks like fan mail,” she wrote. “Thought you could use 9
a boost.” Diane smiled, though a bit uneasily, reminding herself 10
that Marianne couldn’t know how far behind she really was.
11
Diane opened the pink envelope, skimmed the spidery cursive.
12
“My daughter gave me Dreams of Dying and since then I’ve read 13
every one of your books. Are you ever afraid that some of the 14
people you write about might come after you?”
15
The next envelope she opened was white. She unfolded the 16
single thin white sheet and read the short typed message.
17
Happy Anniversary, Diane. I haven’t forgotten you.
18
Happy Anniversary?
19
Puzzled, she turned the paper over, looking for an explanation.
20
There was her AA anniversary, of course, but that was months 21
away. Again, she looked at the envelope. No postmark or return 22
address. Maybe she should call Marianne, find out where it came 23
from. For now she stuck the mail in her purse. She’d open the rest 24
at home.
25
She said good-bye to Jenny and headed up the road. Between 26
buildings she glimpsed the flat sea against the backdrop of sky.
27
Mild cramps pinched her stomach. She’d been drinking too 28
much bad coffee. While she’d brought out a stash of French 29
Roast, it didn’t taste the same. The old aluminum percolator 30
worked a curious alchemy, transforming the beans’ dark richness 31
to something sharp and bitter.
32
Longingly she thought of her home in New York, the lights, 33
the traffic, the noise. She lived in a loft in Tribeca, a sun-34
drenched open space. On an ordinary day, she’d have breakfasted 35 S
at Le Pain Quotidien. She could almost taste the flaky croissant, 36 R
the bowl of caffe latte. After a few hours at her desk, she’d have 3 8
2nd PASS PAGES
13713_01_i-vi_001-344_r4jn.qxd 4/21/03 8:03 AM Page 39
T H E A N N I V E R S A R Y
headed off to the gym. Worked out with Bob, her personal 1
trainer, maybe had a massage. Back home, the mail would have 2
arrived, with its cache of invitations. Book signings and film 3
openings. Requests to come and speak. She had a life in New 4
York, friends and dinners and parties. All those distractions she’d 5
come to escape seemed endlessly alluring.
6
Back at the house, she went straight to her desk and forced 7
herself to sit down. Keep your butt in the chair. No more procrasti-8
nating. She worked for a couple of hours, then made a tuna fish 9
sandwich — a far cry from the take-out sushi she’d have picked 10
up back home. Sandwich in hand she returned to her desk and 11
continued to work as she ate.
12
By three o’clock, she was amazed to find that she’d written 13
more than two thousand words. She stuck another log in the 14
woodstove, then printed out the new pages. At her desk, she 15
reread what she’d written that day, making penciled notations in 16
the margins. It was good, much better than she’d thought.
17
When she next looked up it was almost five. A solid day’s work.
18
The best she’d done in months. Standing up, Diane stretched her 19
legs, then headed upstairs to change. She tied back her hair, 20
pulled on a hat, dropped her necklace under her shirt. On im-21
pulse, she picked up the phone and dialed a New York number.
22
Her editor’s assistant picked up.
23
“Hi, Kaylie? It’s Diane. Is Marianne around?”
24
“Sorry, Diane. She’s in a meeting. Anything I can do?”
25
“No. Well.
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