times on the way back to Aunt Dorothy’s.
I like Keith. I’m hoping for him without quite knowing why. He’s not what I expected. And that might be kind of nice.
Chapter 15
I started mining Gretchen’s Word files from Gregor on the following day—Sunday. In all of the files, there were only a couple under the name Accidentally on Purpose.
“Damn it, Gretchen!” I said. “How could you leave me hanging like that?”
I tried for files named My Favorite Lies— the other title given to me by Gretchen’s agent — but found none.
Then I searched all of Gretchen’s Word documents for Keith and didn’t find anything besides what I’d already read. I also tried Paternity and DNA and still no new files came up.
I glanced over at her crate of notebooks. If Gretchen had gotten a test done, surely she would have written about it. Maybe not typed it in—but written about it, at least. What to do next? Flip through all of her notebooks, scanning for the name “Keith”?
I didn’t feel like doing that just now, but maybe soon.
Giving up on that subject temporarily, I tried her Recent documents, just to see what was there. I opened the most recently saved file, which was named Library Talk 3.
Thanks for the great introduction, Ruth, and thanks for having me. It’s great to still have opportunities to talk about Tammyland. Now, I wanted to start with a piece about Tammy Wynette. But before I do, I’d like to talk a little bit about her. People always ask me how a person my age, who never heard any country music growing up, who went to a granola-crunchy liberal-arts college, could possibly become such a big fan of hers. And I always answer . . .
I clicked the file closed. I didn’t think Gretchen would want me reading this. There was something embarrassing about it—how self-conscious it was. After all her success and surely about a hundred readings, she was still nervous before a little library book talk.
The next file was called Emerson 1985. It contained only these lines:
YOU TURNED OUT PRETTY SMART.
SMARTER THAN I THOUGHT YOU WOULD.
And then, underneath that:
Dr. Henry Platt—Pediatrician at Emerson Pediatric Group—Died 1984
Replaced by Dr. Katherine Wright—1986
I paused there for a moment, finding the file’s brevity and incongruous contents unsettling. Then I closed it and opened the third-most-recent document, which was called Tracy Draft Letter:
Dear Tracy,
I apologize for my late response on this.
I am sorry to have to tell you that I am far from finishing My Favorite Lies, in no small part because I am having a personal family crisis. I am not in a position to rush to the finish line at the moment. I hope we can work something out—like postponing my pub date.
Respectfully,
Gretchen
Personal family crisis? Was it true? Or just Gretchen trying to buy herself more time? Based on her most recent Word documents, it felt like not a great deal of actual writing was going on. The addition of personal to family crisis smacked a little of desperation. I checked the date on the document. About a week before Gretchen died. I wondered if she’d actually brought herself to e-mail this.
I switched to her e-mail account and signed in easily as Gregor had instructed me.
I searched the account for Tracy . The most recent message was from Tracy:
Dear Gretchen,
I really need to know the status of My Favorite Lies . Bonnie’s talking cancellation of contract if we don’t give her something. I’m sure we can work this out, but we need communication from you.
I don’t want to alarm you, but I do need to hear from you. Call me when you get this. I will be up till eleven at least—you can call me anytime you get in.
I hope everything is all right.
All best,
Tracy
That was about two and a half weeks before Gretchen’s death. As far as I could tell, Gretchen had not replied.
I returned to her recent e-mails and glanced through them, starting with
I like Keith. I’m hoping for him without quite knowing why. He’s not what I expected. And that might be kind of nice.
Chapter 15
I started mining Gretchen’s Word files from Gregor on the following day—Sunday. In all of the files, there were only a couple under the name Accidentally on Purpose.
“Damn it, Gretchen!” I said. “How could you leave me hanging like that?”
I tried for files named My Favorite Lies— the other title given to me by Gretchen’s agent — but found none.
Then I searched all of Gretchen’s Word documents for Keith and didn’t find anything besides what I’d already read. I also tried Paternity and DNA and still no new files came up.
I glanced over at her crate of notebooks. If Gretchen had gotten a test done, surely she would have written about it. Maybe not typed it in—but written about it, at least. What to do next? Flip through all of her notebooks, scanning for the name “Keith”?
I didn’t feel like doing that just now, but maybe soon.
Giving up on that subject temporarily, I tried her Recent documents, just to see what was there. I opened the most recently saved file, which was named Library Talk 3.
Thanks for the great introduction, Ruth, and thanks for having me. It’s great to still have opportunities to talk about Tammyland. Now, I wanted to start with a piece about Tammy Wynette. But before I do, I’d like to talk a little bit about her. People always ask me how a person my age, who never heard any country music growing up, who went to a granola-crunchy liberal-arts college, could possibly become such a big fan of hers. And I always answer . . .
I clicked the file closed. I didn’t think Gretchen would want me reading this. There was something embarrassing about it—how self-conscious it was. After all her success and surely about a hundred readings, she was still nervous before a little library book talk.
The next file was called Emerson 1985. It contained only these lines:
YOU TURNED OUT PRETTY SMART.
SMARTER THAN I THOUGHT YOU WOULD.
And then, underneath that:
Dr. Henry Platt—Pediatrician at Emerson Pediatric Group—Died 1984
Replaced by Dr. Katherine Wright—1986
I paused there for a moment, finding the file’s brevity and incongruous contents unsettling. Then I closed it and opened the third-most-recent document, which was called Tracy Draft Letter:
Dear Tracy,
I apologize for my late response on this.
I am sorry to have to tell you that I am far from finishing My Favorite Lies, in no small part because I am having a personal family crisis. I am not in a position to rush to the finish line at the moment. I hope we can work something out—like postponing my pub date.
Respectfully,
Gretchen
Personal family crisis? Was it true? Or just Gretchen trying to buy herself more time? Based on her most recent Word documents, it felt like not a great deal of actual writing was going on. The addition of personal to family crisis smacked a little of desperation. I checked the date on the document. About a week before Gretchen died. I wondered if she’d actually brought herself to e-mail this.
I switched to her e-mail account and signed in easily as Gregor had instructed me.
I searched the account for Tracy . The most recent message was from Tracy:
Dear Gretchen,
I really need to know the status of My Favorite Lies . Bonnie’s talking cancellation of contract if we don’t give her something. I’m sure we can work this out, but we need communication from you.
I don’t want to alarm you, but I do need to hear from you. Call me when you get this. I will be up till eleven at least—you can call me anytime you get in.
I hope everything is all right.
All best,
Tracy
That was about two and a half weeks before Gretchen’s death. As far as I could tell, Gretchen had not replied.
I returned to her recent e-mails and glanced through them, starting with
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