“I read your snippet, you don’t have to repeat it over the phone. I trust you have something a bit more challenging today.”
“That’s the thing. I need you to use one of the puzzles you have in my backup file.”
“Savannah, you need fresh puzzles every day, you know that, don’t you?”
“I would if I could, but I don’t have time right now.”
There was a long pause, and then he said, “If this is too much for you, maybe you should go ahead and retire like that husband of yours did.”
My puzzles were popular with the readers, and Derrick knew that, but since I’d gotten my work into more and more newspapers, he regretted the original deal we’d signed. His syndicate had one-time publishing rights to my puzzles, and he got a flat fifteen percent commission each time I got a check. Since we’d signed that deal, he came to find out that it was too generous on my end, at least in the opinion of some of his colleagues. Since then, he’d been trying to get me to sign another deal under terms more favorable to him, or if that didn’t work, he wanted me to quit so he could replace me with someone else. It was a constant struggle dealing with him, and it was one reason I was rarely late with a puzzle. If everything went as expected, the main contact I had with Derrick was my growing bank account.
“There’s no chance in the world I’m quitting. Besides, they love my little snippets, as you call them. I’d be harder to replace than you might think.”
He didn’t answer that, a clear indicator that he suspected that I was right.
“Fine, we’ll use one of your old ones. Just don’t make a habit of it.”
The way he said it was insulting, and I wasn’t in the mood to take any grief from him today. “They aren’t old to the readers, remember that.”
I could hear him riffling through a file on his desk. “You only have three left after I distribute this one; you know that, don’t you? That means you’re just three days away from being in breach of your contract. If that happens, all bets are off.”
I hadn’t realized my cache of backup puzzles had gotten that low. One bout of the flu and I’d have to renegotiate my contract with him, and that was something I wasn’t willing to do.
“Don’t worry; I’ll have a handful more by the end of the month.”
He sounded disappointed as he replied, “If you think you can do it, but I don’t want any more of those tiny little submissions like you sent yesterday. For what they’re paying you, the papers expect more complex math and logic puzzles from you.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said, though I had no intention of creating a puzzle that was too complex for my average reader. There might be puzzlemakers out there who could run circles around my computational challenges, but I had something they could never replace. The snippets that Derrick disliked too much as “homey” were something that came from me, and no one else in the world could come up with them just the way I did.
“I need a new puzzle tomorrow, Savannah.”
“Good-bye, Derrick,” I said, and hung up on him before he could reply.
I hated to call him, since every conversation we had always led me to feel like I needed a shower, but I wasn’t about to let his sour disposition ruin my mood. My time with Uncle Thomas, especially out on the water, had been too dear for me to let anything else ruin it. I’d buckle down and crank out more puzzles, and get enough breathing room to keep Derrick off my back.
Just not tonight.
Chapter 12
I WAS ACTUALLY FEELING BETTER AN HOUR LATER. AFTER A long shower and a fresh outfit, I was ready to tackle a puzzle after all. I’d just settled onto the couch with a pad of paper and a pencil when there was a knock at the door.
I thought about ignoring it, but it was like a ringing telephone. I just had to answer it.
“Yes?” I called out before I opened the door. Zach’s warnings were starting to sink in, especially after I had the feeling that someone had followed me from Charlotte to Hickory, even though I still wasn’t certain if I’d been right or not.
“Savannah, I’d like a moment of your time, if I could.”
Just because the man knew my name didn’t mean I had to open the door. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know you.”
“Of course you don’t,” he said. “I could show you some identification if you’d open the door. I happen to own this hotel.“
“How do I know that’s true?” I asked.
“I suppose you can’t.” After a moment’s pause, he added, “It appears that we’re at a stalemate. Is there anyone at the hotel that you trust?”
I thought about it, and realized that there was one person who fit that bill. “Garrett,” I said.
“Excellent.”
I could hear him speak briefly into his telephone, and a minute later, the manager arrived. “Ms. Stone, it’s Garrett.”
That was certainly a voice I’d come to recognize. I opened the door, and there were two men standing in the hallway. Garrett smiled at me, but the man with him was a stranger to me. Then I realized that there was something familiar about him, though I had no idea what it was. The inkling was gone as quickly as it had come.
