The Write Man

by Lisa Ricard Claro

  “We had a good run, but keeping it a secret has outlived its usefulness. It’s time to unmask me as Scurvy Rickets—right now, when we’re still riding the wave of social media publicity. If we let the cat out of the bag, I can cross promote. I can’t do that now, and it’s a waste of resources.”

  “But Nick—”

  “Talk to the powers that be. Please. And consider that after the truth is out, every time someone on ESPN or at any sports function asks me how it’s going as Scurvy Rickets, it will be a promo we don’t have now with a demographic we can’t touch otherwise. Also, think about book signings. Maybe more dads will come if they think they can ask me sports questions. We can meld the two somehow, make it a big marketing thing.”

  He’d pulled that last one out of his ass, but the silence from Phoebe’s end told him she was mulling the possibilities.

  “Once we tell the world I’m Scurvy Rickets, I’ll write a public apology—as myself—to Merry Sunjoy for everything that happened last year. Pirates fans need to know that Merry Sunjoy was not on board but kept her cool anyway, and Faeries fans need to know that Scurvy isn’t a total asshat. I’d like to mend those fences. It’s time.”

  More silence from Phoebe had Nick wondering if the call had dropped, but a faint glass-on-glass tink came through the phone, so he waited.

  “You,” she said, “are the reason I’m out of vodka.” Her trademark sigh blew through the phone. “I’ll make a few phone calls. You may be right about the timing of this thing and opening a new demographic. A lot of dads out there might be curious. As to your grand apology, you want to tell me what’s really driving that?”

  “She didn’t know, Phoebe,” he said. “Merry had no idea her agent was pushing our social media argument.”

  “There’s no question that Walter should have talked to her, gotten a green light,” Phoebe said. “But it isn’t our fault he didn’t. Anyway, it’s all over now, right? She never responded to your final tweet which—honestly, Nick, what was that all about? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were telling the world that you’re in love with her. But then, I’m a Princess Bride fan, so—”

  “Well, you’re a smart lady to have figured that out. I’m sure you’re not the only one who did. Unfortunately, Merry Sunjoy was unmoved.”

  Silence greeted him for a second time while she digested what he had admitted.

  “I’m sorry, Nick. I had no idea. Maybe she didn’t know what your comment meant,” Phoebe said.

  “She knew. Anyway, I need to apologize, and it needs to be public. So please do this for me, and I’ll buy you a whole case of Tito’s.”

  “My favorite vodka!” she said, and Nick heard her smile through the phone. “You’ve got a deal, but no promises. Hey, how’s your weather there? Still nasty?”

  Nick looked from the television to the gray darkness beyond the window. A few weeks from now he’d be at the villa, and if all went as he hoped, he’d have a nice apology out in the world and Merry’s steel would be breached. It was a start. After that, who knew?

  “Yes, the weather is nasty, but I’m seeing silver linings,” Nick said, staring at the falling snow that had prompted his decision to make radical changes. “Those silver linings and rainbows are out there if you look, Phoebe. I learned that from Merry Sunjoy and the Foundling Faeries.”

  “Aw, geez. Now you’re getting all mushy on me, Brubaker.”

  “Lady,” he said with a heartfelt sigh, “you have no idea.”

  Chapter 14

  Merry rested her elbows on the desk and plopped her chin in her hands. She stared at her laptop and wondered why the Faeries weren’t talking to her.

  “C’mon girls, she murmured. “We’re on a strict deadline here.”

  “We miss the golden-eyed creature,” Sunbloom said with a pout, and her sisters chorused their agreement.

  “If that’s all you’ve got to say, then shut up,” Merry said.

  “Who the heck are you talking to?” Holly asked from the guestroom doorway. She stared at Merry with a wistful smile and shook her head. “Are those faeries talking to you again? I’m not sure that’s normal.”

  “It is for me.” Merry closed her laptop and swiveled to face Holly. “I can’t concentrate today.”

  “Maybe it’s that apology from Nick Brubaker that’s gone viral.” Holly sat on the corner of the bed facing her sister. Behind her, sprawled on the mattress, Chula twitched and emitted a snore.

  “My agent texted me about it, said it’s bound to sell more books.” Merry rolled her eyes. “I haven’t read it, and I’m not going to. I told you, I swore off social media. Besides, Nick Brubaker is a liar, and I don’t care what he has to say.”

  “Did you ever read his last tweet? After you told him to go pound sand?”

  “Nope. Don’t want to.” Merry pursed her lips.

  “Well, it was surprisingly sweet and accommodating.”

  “Whatever it is, he tweeted it weeks ago. It can’t possibly be relevant now,” Merry said, setting her hands, palms down, on her denim-clad thighs. “Anyway, it won’t change how I feel.”

  Holly sighed and stood. “Well, you should at least read his apology. It’s respectful—even a little formal sounding—but it’s pretty clear you two had something going on,” she said. “I get the feeling you didn’t quite tell me everything, Mer.”

  “Oh, great. So now the whole world knows I was stupid enough to be involved with him?” Merry threw her hands up. “Just like a man, to go kiss and tell. Now I’m even more certain he’s a jerk.”

  “Didn’t I say his wording was respectful? Look, I understand why you’re angry, but the whole world knows he’s Scurvy Rickets now. And I think you should at least read what he has to say. Give the poor guy a chance. Deep down, you know you want to.”

  Merry watched Holly leave the room. Hands shaking, she opened her laptop and tapped the keys. It wasn’t difficult to find the letter Nick had posted to all his social media sites:

  An Open Letter to Ms. Merry Sunjoy:

  Dear Ms. Sunjoy:

  First, please accept my apology for the recent social media brawl dumped on you by my alter ego, Scurvy Rickets. At the time of Scurvy’s first snarky comment, I was under the impression that you understood there would be a back-and-forth. I have since learned that you did not know, nor did you approve. Please know that I regret any personal distress you may have suffered. I—and by extension, Scurvy Rickets—have only the utmost respect and appreciation for you and your work.

  Second, I regret the way you discovered my nom de plume, although I tried to tell you another way. I was bound to silence by a contract with my publisher. This was recently revised at my request and the mystery of Scurvy Rickets’s identity brought to light. Consider me now an open book.

  Third, you’ll find me where the moondrops dance on the water. It is my deepest hope to see you there. But whatever you decide, please know that the outcome will always and only be as you wish.

  With sincere respect and affection,

  Nick Brubaker

  Merry re-read Nick’s apology. And read it again. And again. Two phrases attached themselves to her heart.

  As you wish.

  He had to know what that would mean to her when he wrote that.

  I tried to tell you another way.

  What other way? When? How?

  Heart pounding, she opened a new tab and brought up her Twitter page. She hadn’t been on it since she’d told Scurvy Rickets to pound sand.

  And there it was. She sucked in a quick breath.

  Scurvy Rickets @scurvyrickets Dec 15 @merrysunjoy As you wish.

  She hadn’t wanted to see the tweet, had let it sit unread for weeks. But now it was impossible to look away. Those words . . .

  She forced herself to breathe.

  Nick had written those words weeks ago. He’d posted it the day before she walked into that Naples bookstore and discovered his secret, the day before her heart split open and bled angry words and painfu
l sorrow.

  He had tried to tell her with that tweet the day before.

  Had she read it, she would have known who he was before she walked into the bookstore. That tweet meant that he had trusted her with the information he was legally bound not to share. And more than that, he . . .

  As you wish.

  She sucked in a quick breath. Understanding washed over her, cleansed the debris of the past from her heart. Quick tears stabbed her eyes.

  As you wish.

  There were only two people in the whole world who knew what those words meant to her, only two who understood the depth of importance. One was herself. The other was Nick Brubaker.

  As you wish.

  Three little words that changed absolutely everything.

  ***

  Nick strode across the lawn, waving to residents and staff on his way to where Ruth Canton sat enjoying the breezy day. She looked up when Nick approached, and her face crinkled in a smile.

  “Well, this is a surprise! What are you doing here?” She tilted her face so he could kiss her cheek, and she caught his hands in her own. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

  “One of the housekeepers at the Casa Blanca recommended a new restaurant here in Naples, and I thought you might like to join me for lunch today. What do you say? Can you clear your busy schedule?”

  Ruth chuckled and squeezed Nick’s hands. “Twice in one week? You’re spoiling me, but I love it. A couple of my friends saw me leaving with you the other day and asked if you were my nephew or grandson. You should have seen their faces when I said, no, you were a young man who asked me out on a date.”

  “You are date-worthy, Ruth,” Nick said, smiling.

  “Well, not as much as I used to be, that’s for sure.” She squeezed his hands again and released them. “What happened with the grand gesture you told me about? Heard anything from the lovely Merry Sunjoy?” Nick shook his head, and Ruth frowned. “I’m sorry. Give her some time. I assume you’re willing to wait for her?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  “That’s the spirit. How are your plans coming for the big move? Have you had any success in the last couple of days finding a permanent place?”

  “Not yet. There are plenty of choices here in Naples, but I really want to be out on the Key, and that’s a little harder. But the villa at the Casa Blanca is a comfortable place to stay while I look for a permanent residence, so I’m not worried about it. The right thing will come up.”

  “It is a lovely place, and that’s a wonderful attitude. And you’re moving at the right time of year. We’re in season, now, and the weather is perfect, even with the snowbirds gumming up traffic.”

  “You’ll see the traffic for yourself when we drive to lunch. You hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “Me too. What do you say we leave right now?”

  “Why, I say let’s ditch this joint, handsome,” she said, laughing.

  ***

  Merry set Chula on the walkway leading to the villa. The little dog knew her way, and she trotted up the steps that brought Merry to Nick’s front door.

  A slip of paper taped to the door rustled in the breeze.

  Poppy, please use your master key to come in. I’m out this afternoon—hoping to snag another date with that lovely lady you met here the other day—but I appreciate your delivery of jerked chicken. I’m already looking forward to eating it for dinner. Thanks for everything - Nick.

  Chula scratched at the door and let out a little woof. Merry ignored her and reread the note. She knew that Poppy was Poppy Washington, the Jamaican woman who worked as a housekeeper and who was responsible for the delightful jerked chicken Merry had enjoyed with Nick once before. But who was “that lovely lady?” Whoever she was, Nick had obviously brought her here to the villa at least once, and he was on a date with her this afternoon.

  He’d posted that public apology on social media and then hadn’t even given Merry the time necessary to respond to it before he’d used his smooth moves on someone else.

  Merry’s heart pounded against her breastbone like an anvil. Like some weird emotional virus, the ache spread from her chest to her extremities. Her knees quavered, and she lowered herself to sit on the villa steps. Chula sat beside her and rested her head on Merry’s thigh.

  Merry had come back here at Nick’s request, certain she understood the meaning behind his words. But obviously, she was wrong. He wasn’t saying he loved her, he had simply used the words he knew would capture her attention, get the reaction he wanted.

  As you wish.

  But how else could he have meant those words? He knew the meaning she would take away. She had trusted him with how and why those words were important to her. Was he so uncaring that he’d forgotten? Or worse, had he used those specific words to play her again? And was she really so stupid she’d allowed herself to be taken in by him a second time?

  Merry closed her eyes and breathed, “Oh, my god. I’m such a gullible fool.”

  Chula climbed into her lap and licked her chin.

  “You know what?” Merry said, stroking the dog. “You’re my silver lining in all of this. Yes, you,” she said when Chula’s pink tongue took another swipe at her jaw. “If it weren’t for Nick Brubaker, I wouldn’t have wanted to come back here so badly, and I never would have found you. You are my silver lining, and I’ll never be sorry about that.” Merry kissed the top of Chula’s head, set the little dog on the pavers, and snapped on the leash. “You’re worth all of this. Best silver lining ever.” She smiled through a blur of tears when Chula wagged her fluffy tail.

  Merry dried her eyes and gave one last look at the note fluttering against the door with every whisper of the salty breeze. She lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders and spine.

  “I am Merry Sunjoy,” she said aloud. “I am the author of the successful Foundling Faeries series. You, Nick Brubaker, are not the only wordsmith on the planet, and the next time I see you, you’ll be the recipient of a few choice words of my own. Hope you enjoy your damn date. C’mon Chula. Let’s get out of here.”

  Merry put her back to the villa and strode away.

  Chapter 15

  Merry signed her name at the front desk and glanced up in time to see Brenda Yancy striding toward her with a smile.

  “Hello there! Merry, right?”

  “Yes,” Merry said, smiling. She shifted Chula in her arms and shook Brenda’s outstretched hand.

  “Good to see you again. I’m sorry I can’t take you to Ruth, but I’m heading into a meeting. Trudy,” she said to the ponytailed woman behind the reception desk, “please be sure Ms. . . .”

  “Please call me Merry,” Merry supplied.

  “Right. Please take Merry to see Ruth Canton, will you? Enjoy chatting with Ruth.” She waved as she strode off.

  “You timed your visit perfectly,” Trudy said, coming around the reception desk. “Ruth just returned from lunch. I thought she’d be exhausted, but she went back outside with—well, I think it’s either her grandson or her nephew, I’m not sure. Anyway, follow me.”

  Merry followed Trudy along the same path she had taken weeks before with Nick. She set Chula down, pleased the little dog was so well trained to the leash, and the trio walked down the path toward where Ruth sat near the pond. Beside her was a man in an Adirondack chair. Merry couldn’t see his face, but Ruth was laughing at something he said.

  “Hey there, Ruth,” Trudy called, waving when Ruth turned her head. “You have two more visitors.”

  “Well, hello!” Ruth’s brows shot up when she spied Merry and Chula. Her eyes lit, and she offered a wide smile. “Another wonderful surprise. You’d think this was my birthday.”

  Merry released Chula’s leash so the dog could greet Ruth. Chula trotted to her old friend, stood on her hind legs with her front paws on Ruth’s leg, and wagged her tail with unabashed glee.

  The man in the Adirondack chair stood and turned.

  Merry stopped in her
tracks. Her smile froze in place. It faded when she swallowed hard and steeled herself against the rush of conflicting emotions.

  “Hello, Merry,” Nick said. His eyes, more green than gold today out here on the lawn, regarded Merry with what she read as optimistic caution.

  But his voice—the sound of it spread an ache inside her. She stared at him, unable to look away, and it was with effort she said, “Nick.”

  “Please sit.” He indicated the chair he had vacated.

  “No, thank you. I can only stay a few minutes.” Merry moved past him to help Ruth lift Chula onto her lap. Merry smiled at Ruth, a brittle effort that did nothing to mask Merry’s emotional turmoil.

  “What brings you back to Naples?” Ruth asked, casting a sideways glance at Nick.

  “I had some unfinished business here,” Merry said. “But I’m sure it’s—it’s over now, so I’ll be returning to Asheville. I wanted to be sure you got to see Chula again, because I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  “I see.” Ruth’s gnarled hand smoothed the wavy fur over Chula’s head, and she kissed the little dog between her ears. “Would the two of you mind taking a stroll around the pond? I’d like a few minutes alone with Chula, if you don’t mind. I don’t know when I’ll see her again, and I’ve got a few things to say to this furry girl.”

  “Of course,” Merry said. She stepped back and gave Ruth and Chula one last glance before heading off toward the pavers that circled the pond. She heard Nick’s footfalls behind her, and he fell into step beside her a moment later.

  “Did you read my apology?”

  “The whole world read your apology, Nick. So what?”

  “So what? That’s it?”

  He caught her arm, and Merry stopped walking. She looked at his hand with narrowed eyes, and he released her when she tugged away.

  “You’re a writer, Nick. It’s what you do. I get it, because I’m a writer, too. You know how to put words together to achieve a certain sound, a certain meaning. You did that. You used the words you knew would get my attention. And it worked. Congratulations. Here I am.” She spread her arms. “And you know what I learned? That I’m more gullible than I ever imagined.” She shook her head. “I don’t know, maybe you thought it would take longer for me to show up. Or maybe you didn’t care if I showed up or not. Was it a word game for you? Let’s see how that silly, naïve, happy-happy-joy-joy Merry reacts to this one?” Her eyes welled, and she looked away toward the pond. Lily pads ruffled in the breeze. On the far bank, several brown turtles had collected to sun themselves. A small fish jumped, silvery in the sun for a split second and then gone again beneath the surface, leaving a circle of ripples behind.