the name of God is his addled -headed sister going to deal with this woman, who routinely interviews the greats of world literature?
On the monitor Jonas Blunt says, “I’ll leave the two of you alone,” exits frame and appears through the bedroom door, where he stands towering over Gordon and Jane, cupping his alpha male chin in his hand.
Petula Montclair clicks on a small voice -recorder and says, “Lizzie, perhaps you could start by telling me how it all began, how you came to write Ivy ?”
Bitsy, staring at the journalist, says nothing for a few moments, then she leans forward in her chair and says, “Petula, first I think I need to be completely honest with you and make it clear that I’m not the author of Ivy .”
Gordon feels a sick dread take hold of his gut and sees what little color there is drain from Jane Cooper’s face.
Bitsy says, “ Ivy is entirely the creation of Viola Usher.”
Gordon takes a ragged breath and sees Jane relax just a little.
Petula Montclair says, “Aren’t you being just a little disingenuous? You are Viola Usher, after all?”
“No. Viola Usher is like a sibling who wrote Ivy and then handed it over to me, complete in every way.”
The journalist laughs, “I think you’re very neatly explaining the somewhat schizophrenic relationship an author has with their work. Many I’ve interviewed have described the process as some sort of out-of-body experience.”
“I would agree with that,” Bitsy says.
“This is fascinating, particularly since Ivy is very racy, very modern. Certainly it allows a view into the mind of a young woman who has stepped outside any boundaries society has drawn for her.”
“Yes, Olivia Usher seems to understand all this very well.”
“But you don’t?”
“Good heavens, no!” Bitsy says.
Gordon knows she is being nothing but honest, but the journalist, enchanted, says, “So where does this all come from? Is it in anyway autobiographical?”
“Certainly not, I’m a terrible prude.”
“But you are from a small town in Vermont, not unlike the one in the book?”
“Yes, I am.”
“And I understand that you once lived on an Ivy League campus where your husband was a faculty member?”
“I did, yes.”
“But you didn’t indulge in any of the shenanigans described in the book?”
“Gosh, no. I observed, though, of course.”
“Ah, you were an observer?”
“Yes,” Bitsy says, leaning forward and smiling an artless smile , “I always have been. You might say I like to watch.”
The journalist hoots with laughter.
“Brilliant,” Jonas Blunt says, “she’s simply brilliant !”
29
The Entertainment Tonight camera crew lug the last of their gear out of the suite, and all that’s left is the smell of overheated klieg lights.
Jane sinks down into a chair opposite Bitsy, who, now that she is finally away from the glare of the media, slumps like a puppet that’s had its strings cut.
“Jane, promise me I won’t ever have to endure a day like that again,” Bitsy says.
“Lizzie—”
“Bitsy. Please call me Bitsy. Let me feel a little like myself again.”
“Bitsy, I promise,” Jane says, lying through her teeth.
She wants to say: you’ve just stepped onto the roller coaster, sister, buckle up tight , and exchanges a look with Gordon who is pouring himself a huge Scotch.
He holds up the bottle, his eyebrows raised.
Jane nods, mouthing, please .
Jonas swans back into the room and plants a kiss on Bitsy’s forehead.
“You have been astonishing. You handled the TV thing like a seasoned pro.”
“Thank you,” Bitsy says in little more than a whisper.
Jonas says to Jane and Gordon, “Didn’t you just love it when Raynebeau Jones cooed, ‘Lizzie, I really want to come up and visit with you in Maine’ and Lizzie said, ‘Vermont’ and Raynebeau went ‘Vermont?’ and Lizzie said, ‘If you hit Canada you’ve gone too far.’?”
“It was priceless,” Gordon says, sagging into a
On the monitor Jonas Blunt says, “I’ll leave the two of you alone,” exits frame and appears through the bedroom door, where he stands towering over Gordon and Jane, cupping his alpha male chin in his hand.
Petula Montclair clicks on a small voice -recorder and says, “Lizzie, perhaps you could start by telling me how it all began, how you came to write Ivy ?”
Bitsy, staring at the journalist, says nothing for a few moments, then she leans forward in her chair and says, “Petula, first I think I need to be completely honest with you and make it clear that I’m not the author of Ivy .”
Gordon feels a sick dread take hold of his gut and sees what little color there is drain from Jane Cooper’s face.
Bitsy says, “ Ivy is entirely the creation of Viola Usher.”
Gordon takes a ragged breath and sees Jane relax just a little.
Petula Montclair says, “Aren’t you being just a little disingenuous? You are Viola Usher, after all?”
“No. Viola Usher is like a sibling who wrote Ivy and then handed it over to me, complete in every way.”
The journalist laughs, “I think you’re very neatly explaining the somewhat schizophrenic relationship an author has with their work. Many I’ve interviewed have described the process as some sort of out-of-body experience.”
“I would agree with that,” Bitsy says.
“This is fascinating, particularly since Ivy is very racy, very modern. Certainly it allows a view into the mind of a young woman who has stepped outside any boundaries society has drawn for her.”
“Yes, Olivia Usher seems to understand all this very well.”
“But you don’t?”
“Good heavens, no!” Bitsy says.
Gordon knows she is being nothing but honest, but the journalist, enchanted, says, “So where does this all come from? Is it in anyway autobiographical?”
“Certainly not, I’m a terrible prude.”
“But you are from a small town in Vermont, not unlike the one in the book?”
“Yes, I am.”
“And I understand that you once lived on an Ivy League campus where your husband was a faculty member?”
“I did, yes.”
“But you didn’t indulge in any of the shenanigans described in the book?”
“Gosh, no. I observed, though, of course.”
“Ah, you were an observer?”
“Yes,” Bitsy says, leaning forward and smiling an artless smile , “I always have been. You might say I like to watch.”
The journalist hoots with laughter.
“Brilliant,” Jonas Blunt says, “she’s simply brilliant !”
29
The Entertainment Tonight camera crew lug the last of their gear out of the suite, and all that’s left is the smell of overheated klieg lights.
Jane sinks down into a chair opposite Bitsy, who, now that she is finally away from the glare of the media, slumps like a puppet that’s had its strings cut.
“Jane, promise me I won’t ever have to endure a day like that again,” Bitsy says.
“Lizzie—”
“Bitsy. Please call me Bitsy. Let me feel a little like myself again.”
“Bitsy, I promise,” Jane says, lying through her teeth.
She wants to say: you’ve just stepped onto the roller coaster, sister, buckle up tight , and exchanges a look with Gordon who is pouring himself a huge Scotch.
He holds up the bottle, his eyebrows raised.
Jane nods, mouthing, please .
Jonas swans back into the room and plants a kiss on Bitsy’s forehead.
“You have been astonishing. You handled the TV thing like a seasoned pro.”
“Thank you,” Bitsy says in little more than a whisper.
Jonas says to Jane and Gordon, “Didn’t you just love it when Raynebeau Jones cooed, ‘Lizzie, I really want to come up and visit with you in Maine’ and Lizzie said, ‘Vermont’ and Raynebeau went ‘Vermont?’ and Lizzie said, ‘If you hit Canada you’ve gone too far.’?”
“It was priceless,” Gordon says, sagging into a
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