Silver Linings

cover.
    “You get to volunteer as our average bookstore browser for this on-the-spot consumer test. Read the first page.”
    “Without moving your lips,” Emery added.
    Hugh looked at Mattie. “Do I have to do this?”
    “Yes, you do. Get busy.”
    With a great show of reluctance, Hugh opened the book and scanned the first paragraph of St. Cyr's Axiom . Then he went on to the second and third paragraphs.
    Mattie grinned as he started to turn the page. “That's far enough. It proves my point.” She snatched the book out of Hugh's hand. “See what I mean, Emery? If even Hugh couldn't resist turning the page, nobody will be able to resist.”
    Emery turned a most unusual shade of red. “I am deeply flattered, Abbott.”
    “No big deal,” Hugh muttered. “I was just going to finish the sentence, that's all.”
    “Buy a copy of your own if you want to finish it.” Mattie put the book back on the stack. “Well, I've got to get back to work. Emery, your new career is launched. Congratulations.”
    “St. Cyr is never going to win any Pulitzers,” Emery said.
    “Who cares? It's going to sell, and that's even better than winning prizes.”
    Emery finally permitted himself a small, rueful smile. “How can you be so damn sure of yourself when it comes to second-guessing the market place, Mattie, my love?”
    “It's a knack,” Mattie told him. “Hugh, stop trying to sneak a peek at the second page of Emery's book. Buy it and be done with it. I'll bet Emery will autograph it for you if you ask him nicely, won't you, Emery?”
    “Certainly,” Emery said.
    Hugh took the copy of St. Cyr's Axiom over to the counter. “Forget the autograph.”
    Emery sighed. “Mattie, love, it does worry me so to see you engaged to a man of such astonishingly limited social polish. You really do deserve better, my dear.”
    “I know, but at my age a woman can't afford to be too picky,” Mattie said with a daring grin. It occurred to her that teasing Hugh could be rather amusing at times.
    Hugh ignored them both as he paid for the book.
    The trio returned to Sharpe Reaction in thoughtful silence. At the door of the gallery Emery came to a halt and looked down at Mattie with deep affection.
    “Mattie, my love, I owe you more than I can say, and I am only just beginning to realize it. Do you know, I must confess it really was something of a thrill to see all those copies of St. Cyr's Axiom stacked up in that bookstore. Much better distribution than I ever got with any of my important literary stuff.”
    “Just wait until the paperback edition comes out and you see it sitting on a rack at a supermarket checkout stand right next to the tabloids and flashlight batteries,” she advised with a chuckle. “Then you'll know you've really arrived.”
    Emery laughed and kissed her forehead. “Who would have guessed? Life takes odd turns now and again, doesn't it?”
    “It certainly does.”
    “Well, I suppose that's what keeps it interesting.” He arched a laconic brow at Hugh, who was watching the little scene with an irritated expression. “I wish you the best of luck with your odd turn, Mattie. But watch him closely. I wouldn't trust him any farther than I could throw him, if I were you. He has plans to carry you off, my dear. Mark my words.”
    There was a short, charged silence between Mattie and Hugh as they watched Emery walk away down the sidewalk.
    “Do you?” Mattie finally asked quietly.
    “Do I what?” Hugh's narrowed gaze was still on Emery's back.
    “Have plans to carry me off, or are you really going to settle down here permanently in Seattle?”
    “You still don't trust me, do you, babe?”
    “Hugh, I'd trust you with my life. In fact, I have on a couple of recent occasions.”
    “But not with your heart?”
    “I'm thinking about it.”
    “You do that, babe,” he said as he pulled her close and kissed her full on the mouth. “You think about it real hard. Because one way or another this is going to work.”

    Hugh removed a massive pile of computer printouts from the one visitor's chair in Johnson's office and sat down. The intense young man in horn-rimmed glasses, running shoes, polyester slacks, and an unpressed white shirt looked up warily.
    “I told you I'd call if I got anything, Mr. Abbott.”
    “I happened to be going by your office, so I thought I'd just drop in and check on the progress,” Hugh lied. The Vailcourt computer facilities were located several floors below management and were