PS. Is cousin Emma half as beautiful as Mr Clifton suggests in his book?
Phyllis folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope.
‘So what’s the bad news?’ demanded Emma.
Phyllis bowed her head, as she did not approve of displays of emotion, and said quietly, ‘You have no idea, child, how much I shall miss you. You are the daughter I never had.’
‘I signed the contract this morning,’ said Guinzburg, raising his glass.
‘Congratulations,’ said Alistair, as everyone else around the dinner table raised their glasses.
‘Do forgive me,’ said Phyllis, ‘if I appear to be the only one among us who doesn’t fully understand. If you signed a contract that prevents your company from publishing Harry Clifton’s earlier work, what exactly are we celebrating?’
‘The fact that I put one hundred thousand dollars of Sefton Jelks’s money into my company’s bank account this morning,’ Guinzburg replied.
‘And I,’ said Emma, ‘have received a cheque for twenty thousand dollars from the same source. Lloyd’s original advance for Harry’s book.’
‘And don’t forget the cheque for ten thousand you failed to pick up for Mrs Clifton, which I retrieved,’ said Guinzburg. ‘Frankly, we’ve all done very well out of it, and now the contract has been signed, there will be even more to come, for the next fifty years.’
‘Possibly,’ said Phyllis, taking the high ground, ‘but I’m more than a little irked that you’ve allowed Jelks to get away with murder.’
‘I think you’ll find he’s still on Death Row, Mrs Stuart,’ said Guinzburg, ‘though I accept we’ve granted him a three-month stay of execution.’
‘I’m even more confused,’ said Phyllis.
‘Then allow me to explain,’ said Guinzburg. ‘You see, the contract I signed this morning wasn’t with Jelks, but with Pocket Books, a company who have bought the rights to publish all Harry’s diaries in softback.’
‘And what, may I ask, is a softback?’ said Phyllis.
‘Mama,’ said Alistair, ‘softbacks have been around for years now.’
‘So have ten-thousand-dollar bills, but I’ve never seen one.’
‘Your mother makes a fair point,’ said Guinzburg. ‘In fact, it could explain why Jelks was taken in, because Mrs Stuart represents an entire generation who will never come to terms with books being published in softback, and would only ever consider reading a hardback.’
‘What made you realize that Jelks was not fully acquainted with the concept of a softback?’ asked Phyllis.
‘F. Scott Fitzgerald was the clincher,’ said Alistair.
‘I do wish you wouldn’t use slang at the dinner table,’ said Phyllis.
‘It was Alistair who advised us,’ said Emma, ‘that if Jelks was willing to hold a meeting in his office without his legal assistant present, it must mean he hadn’t alerted his partners to the fact there was a missing notebook, and that if it were published it would be even more damning to the firm’s reputation than The Diary of a Convict.’
‘Then why didn’t Alistair attend the meeting,’ said Phyllis, ‘and make a record of everything Jelks said? After all, that man is one of the slipperiest lawyers in New York.’
‘Which is precisely why I didn’t attend the meeting, Mother. We didn’t want anything on the record, and I was convinced that Jelks would be arrogant enough to think that all he was up against was a slip of a girl from England and a publisher he was sure he could bribe, which meant we had him by the short and curlies.’
‘Alistair.’
‘However,’ Alistair continued, now in full flow, ‘it was just after Emma had stormed out of the meeting that Mr Guinzburg displayed a moment of true genius.’ Emma looked puzzled. ‘He told Jelks, “I look forward to seeing you again, once the contract has been drawn up.”’
‘And that’s exactly what Jelks did,’ said Guinzburg, ‘because once I’d gone over his contract, I realized it was modelled on one that had originally been drawn up for F. Scott Fitzgerald, a man who was only ever published in hardback. There was nothing in that contract to suggest that we couldn’t publish in softback. So the sub-contract I signed this morning will allow Pocket Books to publish Harry’s earlier diary, without breaking my agreement with Jelks.’ Guinzburg allowed Parker to refill his glass with champagne.
‘How much did you make?’ demanded Emma.
‘There are times, young lady, when you push your luck.’
‘How much did you make?’ asked Phyllis.
‘Two hundred thousand dollars,’ admitted Guinzburg.
‘You’ll need every penny of it,’ said Phyllis, ‘because once that book goes on sale, you and Alistair will be spending the next couple of years in court defending yourself against half a dozen libel writs.’