ten—The Naked and The Dead."
Nina started to laugh and then stopped herself. "Okay, you want some criticism? I don't know about these chapter titles. We may have to rewrite some." She tucked the manuscript under her arm and fished her door key out of her sweats' pocket. "And even though I do think this is great, you're going to have to make it a little more upbeat," she told Charity as she put her key in the lock. "We can take care of it in the rewrite, but some of this comes close to being bitter."
"That's because I am bitter," Charity said. "You really think it's too bitter?" She shook her head.
"We need another reader on this. Somebody who doesn't know me at all."
Great, Charity wanted other readers. Now she was going to have to go door to door to find somebody for a second opinion. Nina started to shove her own door open and then stopped, remembering a door worth knocking on. "Wait a minute. How about if I get you several other readers?"
Charity looked cautious. "Who?"
Nina pulled her door closed. "Come on. You have to meet Norma." She started for the stairs, and Fred and Charity followed her up to the fourth-floor apartment.
"Norma, this is Charity," Nina said when Norma opened the door, and then she stopped while elegant Norma—dressed in olive cashmere and khaki linen—and over-the-top Charity—dressed in electric blue vinyl and silver lycra—sized each other up, came to their separate conclusions and smiled at each other.
"Charity's written a book," Nina went on when it seemed safe. "Does your readers' group ever read unpublished manuscripts?"
"Well, we haven't before," Norma said. "That doesn't mean we can't start." She opened her door wider.
"Come on in and tell me about it," she said, and Fred trotted in.
Fifteen minutes later, they were down the stairs again, and Charity had a new deadline.
"I can finish the last chapter by Thursday," she told Nina. "This is so great of Norma to do this. Can you get the copies run off if I get it to you by Thursday night?"
"Sure." Nina put her key in the door. "Norma can give them out on Friday and then the next Friday—"
Her voice broke off as she opened the door and heard her television.
"We're out of Oreos," Alex called from the floor in front of the TV, and Fred went to join him.
Charity raised an eyebrow at Nina.
Nina lifted her chin. "I must have left the window open." She led Charity over to the couch.
"This is Alex. Alex, this is Charity."
Alex turned from the TV. "Ah, the great author—" he began, only to stop as his eyes traveled up Charity's endless black-stockinged legs to her vinyl miniskirt and lycra tank top.
Seeing Charity for the first time was always an experience, Nina reminded herself. But seeing Charity from floor level would be mind-boggling. It wasn't Alex's fault that his chin was on his knees.
"I've heard a lot about you," Charity said, and Alex climbed to his feet.
"I haven't heard nearly enough about you," he said, and Nina wanted to kill them both.
"I'll go get the Oreos," she said to get away from them, and Alex turned back to her and said,
"I told you, we're out."
"I moved them," Nina told him. "I was trying to make a space for the Crock-Pot because you keep bitching at me about it, and I moved them. And then there still wasn't enough space for the pot, anyway, but I forgot to move them back."
Alex shook his head at her. "Don't move things around on me. Stability is the foundation of any good relationship. One day it's moving the Oreos, and the next day it'll be the couch, and then where will we be?" He leaned closer to smile into her eyes. "We've got a good thing going here, babe. Don't screw up."
Nina's heart lurched sideways, but she did her best not to smile back. "I'll get the Oreos. You amuse Charity."
She headed for the kitchen, trying not to stomp, and then jumped when Charity spoke from behind her as she reached for the cupboard door.
"That man was flirting with you," Charity said, absolutely
Nina started to laugh and then stopped herself. "Okay, you want some criticism? I don't know about these chapter titles. We may have to rewrite some." She tucked the manuscript under her arm and fished her door key out of her sweats' pocket. "And even though I do think this is great, you're going to have to make it a little more upbeat," she told Charity as she put her key in the lock. "We can take care of it in the rewrite, but some of this comes close to being bitter."
"That's because I am bitter," Charity said. "You really think it's too bitter?" She shook her head.
"We need another reader on this. Somebody who doesn't know me at all."
Great, Charity wanted other readers. Now she was going to have to go door to door to find somebody for a second opinion. Nina started to shove her own door open and then stopped, remembering a door worth knocking on. "Wait a minute. How about if I get you several other readers?"
Charity looked cautious. "Who?"
Nina pulled her door closed. "Come on. You have to meet Norma." She started for the stairs, and Fred and Charity followed her up to the fourth-floor apartment.
"Norma, this is Charity," Nina said when Norma opened the door, and then she stopped while elegant Norma—dressed in olive cashmere and khaki linen—and over-the-top Charity—dressed in electric blue vinyl and silver lycra—sized each other up, came to their separate conclusions and smiled at each other.
"Charity's written a book," Nina went on when it seemed safe. "Does your readers' group ever read unpublished manuscripts?"
"Well, we haven't before," Norma said. "That doesn't mean we can't start." She opened her door wider.
"Come on in and tell me about it," she said, and Fred trotted in.
Fifteen minutes later, they were down the stairs again, and Charity had a new deadline.
"I can finish the last chapter by Thursday," she told Nina. "This is so great of Norma to do this. Can you get the copies run off if I get it to you by Thursday night?"
"Sure." Nina put her key in the door. "Norma can give them out on Friday and then the next Friday—"
Her voice broke off as she opened the door and heard her television.
"We're out of Oreos," Alex called from the floor in front of the TV, and Fred went to join him.
Charity raised an eyebrow at Nina.
Nina lifted her chin. "I must have left the window open." She led Charity over to the couch.
"This is Alex. Alex, this is Charity."
Alex turned from the TV. "Ah, the great author—" he began, only to stop as his eyes traveled up Charity's endless black-stockinged legs to her vinyl miniskirt and lycra tank top.
Seeing Charity for the first time was always an experience, Nina reminded herself. But seeing Charity from floor level would be mind-boggling. It wasn't Alex's fault that his chin was on his knees.
"I've heard a lot about you," Charity said, and Alex climbed to his feet.
"I haven't heard nearly enough about you," he said, and Nina wanted to kill them both.
"I'll go get the Oreos," she said to get away from them, and Alex turned back to her and said,
"I told you, we're out."
"I moved them," Nina told him. "I was trying to make a space for the Crock-Pot because you keep bitching at me about it, and I moved them. And then there still wasn't enough space for the pot, anyway, but I forgot to move them back."
Alex shook his head at her. "Don't move things around on me. Stability is the foundation of any good relationship. One day it's moving the Oreos, and the next day it'll be the couch, and then where will we be?" He leaned closer to smile into her eyes. "We've got a good thing going here, babe. Don't screw up."
Nina's heart lurched sideways, but she did her best not to smile back. "I'll get the Oreos. You amuse Charity."
She headed for the kitchen, trying not to stomp, and then jumped when Charity spoke from behind her as she reached for the cupboard door.
"That man was flirting with you," Charity said, absolutely
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