Roberta toyed with her tea mug, turning it back and forth, left and right, as she pondered the situation. “I don’t like other people seeing my work. Maybe he can see it when it’s done when it’s good enough to be read by someone other than me.”
“When’s that going to be?”
“Maybe by Christmas,” Roberta mumbled. “At the rate I’m writing with all these interruptions.”
“Christmas! You’ll each be long gone from here. How is he going to see it then? And by his thinking, it will be too late to change anything unless he can pay you off or buy it from you outright,” she said. “I totally get his point. And I think if you have nothing to hide, you should give him the damn thing for an overnight and let the issue rest.”
Sipping from her mug, Roberta remembered how Taylor’s eyes had hardened to black when she refused to hand over her manuscript. “Let me tell you something. I’ve had my material read by another person before and been ridiculed for it. It became a topic of lurid gossip in town. The point is, this one person I trusted threw me under the proverbial bus. I’m not going to give anyone that opportunity again. End of story.” The mug clanked hard on the surface of the table. Both women winced at the sound.
Sara took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Do you really think Taylor would do such a thing?”
Roberta’s eyes locked on Sara’s. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not getting the chance.”