“A fair amount—and it’s fascinating. Are you aware that the Battle of Saratoga was a turning point in the Revolutionary War?”
“Gosh, I think I do recall that, though I’m rusty on details.”
“It was 1777 and the colonists were demoralized. When they won at Saratoga, it revitalized the whole war for them. And, of course, it forever changed the world.”
The waitress interrupts and we place our orders.
“I haven’t been to the battleground yet,” I say after she departs. “And I don’t think Guy has either. He’s been so crushed with work since he moved here.”
“He’s not from this area originally?”
“No, California, though he worked in Chicago, both before and after business school, and then Miami. He ran a business there that handled fund-raising for small organizations who couldn’t afford their own teams.”
“He did a great job taming that woman Kim the other night. Personally I had to resist the urge to fling a spoonful of crème br?lée in her direction.”
“I so wish you hadn’t resisted.”
He smiles, and in the sunlight I see that his eyes are actually green, not hazel, lined faintly with crow’s-feet.
“Regardless of her, I still had a terrific time.”
I’d wondered if there was a way to get through the lunch without summoning up the murder, but now it seems weird to skirt the issue, especially since Derek and I chatted briefly about Eve at the table.
“I assume you heard about the murder,” I say.
His expression darkens. “Yes, I was going to mention that. I’m sure this must be weird for you. She was just in your home.”
“Weird, yes. And scary, too.”
“The college is concerned, needless to say. They’re putting on extra security at the dorms in case there’s some crazy person out there. Are you anxious being in the house alone during the day?”
“Yes, a bit. And it doesn’t help that I was actually at the murder scene. I saw the body.”
“What?”
“I dropped by the catering office Saturday morning—to follow up on something about the dinner—and I arrived right when another woman had come across the body. It was awful.”
“Oh, Bryn, that’s terrible.” He picks up his fork and lightly jostles it in his hand. “Did you get a read on what happened? I mean, was it the result of a break-in?”
“I . . . I couldn’t tell. The police warned us not to share any details, but trust me, it was brutal, and it’s hard to believe a burglar was responsible.”
“Did they hint whether they had any leads?”
“No, they didn’t,” I say, deciding not to bring up my appointment with the cops. “You mentioned that an acquaintance had hired her. Do you know anything about her?”
“Not really, no. He only used her once, I believe.”
As might be expected, the topic casts a momentary pall over the conversation. Fortuitously our food arrives and Derek switches subjects.
“Okay, so this is when I turn particularly obnoxious. How do I talk you into teaching one of my summer classes and turning me into a hero to my students?”
“You don’t have to talk me into it. I’d be happy to do it.”
“Fantastic. You just made my day.”
“You said the name of the course is Writing for Fun and Profit. Do you want me to concentrate on the fun or the profit part?”
He laughs.
“Both! A lot of these kids are very earnest about their writing, and though that’s fine in one sense, it can also be limiting. Not many people can count on having the success you’ve had, but I want them to see that there’s potential to make money if they work hard and watch where the whole business is going.”
“You mean that print journalism is dying?”
“Exactly. Believe it or not, some of them are still enamored with the idea of working in print. I’m trying to make them see that they need to think of themselves as content creators and be willing to pivot. It would be great if you could talk about your own path and whatever strategies you used.”
I shrug. “I wish I could say there’s been a ton of strategy, but some of my success has been due purely to luck and circumstance.”
“You’re being way too modest.”
“Look, I admit I’ve always been ambitious, and I worked my butt off during the years I was a journalist. I also didn’t kid myself about how the newspaper business was changing. When a book editor saw a piece I wrote and offered me a contract, I jumped at the chance because I knew I needed a plan B. But in some ways I have fate to thank for how my first book sold, which, of course, led to the next book and so on.”
He cocks his head, his eyes intense with curiosity. “How so?”