The Writer and her Muse

Defending myself, I replied, "I don't want to invest hours of editing, only for her to be pissed at me."

"I take your point, dear. Yes, by all means. Send it back and I'll get Annabelle to go over it."

That night, I was conflicted, I wanted to carry on reading, but I like to edit as I go.

I was a bit like a cat on a hot tin roof, waiting for a reply. When it came, I was a little shocked. My phone rang as I was in the library, "Hi, Delia."

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, dearest, but Annabelle was not happy. She was livid, actually."

"Oh, sorry to hear that. I guess you better find somebody else."

"Yes, sorry darling. I do have some other work for you. I'll send it on. I feel terrible about this. I thought you and Annabelle would be a fabulous mix. I feel like it's my fault."

"Its no big deal, Delia, I'll not be losing sleep over it."

"That's not true and we both know it. I know you better than you think, Virginia."

"Yeah, okay, I will lose a little sleep. It is a good story. I wish her well."

We talked a little before saying our goodbyes. She was right, it annoyed me. I thought my editing was top quality. She must have got her nose out of joint over the changes I made. That made me grumble away under my breath. Whether she admitted it or not, the changes I suggested were appropriate, and did improve the flow and readability.

I managed to wind myself into a bit of a huff. It bloody annoyed me. She was obviously one of those bog-headed egotistical self-important writers.

Over the next few days, I worked my way out of my bad mood. The camping ground was fun, full of new people. That made for a friendly atmosphere.

It was Wednesday the next week, when I got another phone call from Delia. "Virginia, my love, good news. Annabelle has had a change of heart. She wants you to continue editing her book."

Delia always thought whatever was best for her was good for everybody. In this instance, it irritated me. "Well, good for her. The problem is, Delia, I'm no longer interested in working with her. I can do without shallow people like her."

"Oh, darling, don't be hasty. This is definitely going to be a best seller. It will reflect well on you."

"I don't care if it is, Delia. I'm busy with the other material you sent me."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Virginia. Stop being a drama queen. She changed her mind. She asked me to pass on her gratitude, your editing suggestions were wonderful. Her words, not mine, dear."

"I don't care, Delia, I have moved on."

"Virginia, you can be so temperamental sometimes. She apologised, she accepted your suggestions and wants to see more of them."

"I'll think about it," I rumbled unhappily.

"We don't have time for you to play the victim here, Virginia. If we are going to make our Christmas deadline, we need to get a bloody move on."

"Yes, all right, against my better judgement. I'll do it. Can I have her number? It might speed up future delays if I speak to her directly."

"I will see what I can do, dearest. I will ask if she's okay with that."

I felt a little uncomfortable, but I was already invested in the story. That evening I got a text fro Delia, including Annabelle's mobile phone number.

As I got back into the work, I immediately fell back into the wondrous story. I was drawn into the sparkling dialogue and full of life characters.

The only thing spoiling my enjoyment was the infuriating errors. This woman was an absolute shocker. Her continual repeat mistakes, dragged me out of my enjoyment zone.

It wasn't just simple grammar and punctuation errors, there were missing words, sentences broken. She obviously used cut and paste a lot. I was forced into writing more myself as I tried to repair her mistakes and lost threads.

I had rewritten so many sections, I decided I better talk with Annabelle. After the last episode, I expected a bad reaction.

"Hello, is this Annabelle?"

"Yes, to whom am I speaking?"

"This is Virginia Moore. I am doing the editing on your new novel. I need to talk to you about some aspects of it."

Her bright tone, vanished quickly. "Oh, I see. How can I help you?"

Summoning up some courage, I replied. "I have started editing your novel again, and I wanted to talk to you about a couple of sections. I have made some suggestions, and I think you should check them before I carry on... In some ways, they are quite significant."

She seemed unsure of what to say. The phone was silent aside from some fairly heavy breathing. "Just email them to me. I will check them out."

"Wouldn't it be easier, and faster if we just talked about them?"

"No, just send them to me. If I like it, I'll reply via email."

I was about to reply when she just disconnected the call and I was left holding a beeping phone. "Rude bitch," I grumbled to myself. "Christ, she didn't even say thank you." It really peeved me off. I emailed her the changes, copying Delia in on the email, so she could see the exchange.

I was polite, if curt.

I heard nothing for three days, and then it was just Delia. "Hello darling, how's the editing going?"

"It's not. I'm waiting for a response from Annabelle. She hasn't responded."

"Really, oh dear. I better give her a call. Give me a mo, dear, and I'll get back to you."

It took about an hour before Delia called back. "Yes, sorry dear. Apparently she has been busy. She was happy for you to proceed."

"It would have been nice if she explained that to me. I've been sitting here for three days with my finger up my bum, waiting."

"I understand." There was a brief pause before she added. "I don't know how much you know about Annabelle, but she does keep to herself. However, I suppose the important bit is she's dyslexic."

"What? How the hell does she write?"

"Darling, calm down. Her disorder doesn't stop her brain function. She is, as you've probably already seen, a brilliant story teller. It's just her actual writing. She tends to jumble things up."

"Christ, you're not wrong there."

"Virginia, you are probably the best editor we have ever had. That is why I assigned you to work with her. You're also very kind and easy to deal with. I thought you would be a good team."

"Delia, not to put to fine a point on it. Annabelle, is a rude bitch. When I called her about the last edits, she never even acknowledged me. Never said thanks, kiss my arse or nothing."

"Oh dear, she has always been nice to talk with, and we did go out to lunch a few times. I thought she was lovely."

When we ended our conversation, I jumped online to see what I could find out about Annabelle. There wasn't a lot of info. A few pictures, and some brief bio stuff. She was actually from the Bay. So she was a local, well, as much as anyone who lives in the Bay of Plenty can be described as a local. The few photos I could find were all promo ones, and looked very nice. She hardly looked like the sour bitch I talked to on the phone.

I carried on the editing process, I did love the story; it was intriguing, and the characters jumped out. The female lead characters were so strong and determined, I did love that.

I was stacking the library shelves when I saw the sexy lady I had been lusting after walk in. She went to the counter as usual to drop off her books, before heading into the aisles to search for something new.

She strolled bewitchingly into my aisle, and as her eyes met mine, she smiled. "Well hello, busy as usual."

"Yes, you know, the work of a librarian is never done."

"Yes, quite. The books I drew out last time were very good. Do you have any suggestions for something along similar lines?"

Chewing my bottom lip in thought, I drew in a deep breath. "Yes, I do have a few thoughts, if you enjoyed those."

Her smile turned into a smirk. "Yes, it would be interesting to see your ideas."

"Have you tried "The Price Of Salt," by Patricia Highsmith?"

"Oh yes, a fabulous read, it has been a while, but something more contemporary I think."

"What about, "Sing You Home," by Jodi Picoult?"

She laughed, a rich warm embracing gurgle. "It seems we do have similar tastes, yes I have read that one as well."

"Hmmm, all right then, what about "The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo," by Taylor Jenkins Reid?"

"Oh, I have heard of it, but haven't read it. Yes, let's do that, shall we."

I giggled, "That was silly, actually. It isn't here, it is at my place. I just finished reading it myself."

"Oh blast. Oh well, I'll just keep looking."

Jumping in far to eagerly. I stammered. "I could get it for you."

"I don't want to trouble you."

"No problem, if you give me your address, I could drop it off this afternoon."

"Don't you have to work?"

"I finish at lunch time. I only work four hours a day here."

"Oh, I see," she murmured. "What do you do for lunch?" she asked.

"I normally go to the bakery in town, have something to eat before heading home."

"Wonderful, what say we have lunch and I drive you home to pick up the book?"

"Yes, that sounds delightful, although I don't finish for another hour."

"That's quite all right. I have some other shopping to do. I'll meet you at the bakery in an hour."

"Its a date." I giggled. She smiled at my suggestion of it being a date.

"If it is a date, then I suppose I shall have to pay, shan't I?" she sneered.

I went back to stacking the shelves, but, everywhere I looked, there she was. God she was so bloody sexy. Everything about her reeked of style, elegance. The way she walked. It wasn't overly suggestive, but her hops swayed with a natural grace. Her butt jiggled, hinting of luscious firm flesh.

Oh damn, I had to shake my head to clear the erotic images filling my out of control mind.

I was nearly finished when I saw her bent over, retrieving a book from one of the lower shelves, her creamy silk blouse billowing open and the gorgeous firm orbs of her breasts fell into view.

I almost tripped as I stared open mouthed. How could she be so perfect, so utterly, inexplicably perfect.

By the time I finished my shift, she was gone. I quickly locked myself in the bathroom, trying to make myself a little more presentable. I didn't carry a lot of makeup, just the usual mascara, lippy and light powder.

As I walked past the chemist shop, I peeked in. Linda, a young girl was on the floor. I rushed inside. "Do you have any tester eyeshadows, babe?"

She giggled. "Oh, sounds like an emergency. Somebody special is it?"

I winced, not wanting to let the cat out of the bag. "Just somebody I want to impress. Could you help?"

"Yeah, course I can, cuz. Come on, we got heaps of old stock out the back."

She practically pushed me into a chair and then went to work. She chatted away, about how she wanted to go to beauty school, but couldn't afford it. When she finished, I was amazed. It didn't even look like me. I never used this much makeup, but she did a fantastic job.

I was super impressed. Even I had to look twice as I admired myself in the mirror. As I was about to walk out the door, she grabbed my arm. "Hold on, cuz." Then she sprayed me with Dior J'adore Eau de Parfum." "That shit's like two hundred bucks a bottle." She gave me a hug and I was out the door before her boss noticed.

I felt quite chuffed as I sauntered down to the bakery. I thought I was going to be making the entrance, as I was a little late. Nope, no sign of, Lesley as I walked inside. I found a seat by the window, and waited.

She knew how to build tension, that's for sure. I was about to walk out when I saw her strolling across the street. My heart gave a little surge, as my nerves kicked in. Did I mention I'm an introvert?

She breezed into the little bakery, and upon seeing me, slid into the booth across from me. "Sorry I'm late."

"No worries."

"What shall we have to eat?"

"I normally just have a croissant."

Sounds delightful, I might have the same. What about a drink?"

"Cappuccino for me, please."

She slid back out of the booth and headed for the counter. She returned with plates of food. As she slid back in, she giggled. "I couldn't resist a Lamington. I wasn't sure if you would prefer raspberry or chocolate, so I got both. A little treat won't hurt."

As she slid my plates across the table, she leaned a little further, her nose twitching. "Oh, I love that scent. It's divine, what is it?"

"Um, Dior."

"Oh it is very sexy. I love it."

As we ate, the waitress brought over our coffees.

"You like lesbian literature, is that significant?" Lesley asked suggestively.

Trying to sound calm and composed, I replied. "I like it for the same reason you do, I suppose."

She sniggered. "I like it for the fashion advice."

"Then I guess we don't like it for the same reasons."

"Really, what insightful gems do you glean from reading, then?"

"Lesley, if you're asking me if I'm a lesbian, then the answer is yes."

She nodded. "Sorry, I was trying to be funny. I gathered that already. I'm glad you're not ashamed to admit it. So many women, even in these times, are embarrassed to come out." She gazed questioningly at me. "You are out, I take it?"

"I'm not ashamed of it, although since coming here. I have kept it to myself. The town isn't exactly overflowing with like-minded people."

"You're right there. Unfortunately, it is a small town, with small minded people."

"What about yourself, Lesley, are you out?"

"Yes, I have made no secret of my sexuality."

"Do you have a partner?"

"No, not for a while. We parted ways. I did love her, but she wanted to see the world and I was happy to stay here. I already did my OE, and now I am comfortable in my little world."

I frowned, "Sorry. I didn't mean to open old wounds."

"Uh, no. Don't worry about it. I'm well over it. What about you, do you have a partner?"

"No, I'm single. I did, but she decided she liked my friend better."

Lesley's face sagged as she said comfortingly, "I am sorry, that must have been very painful."

"Yeah, it hurt more than I thought. I moved here to get away."

"Well, there was a positive outcome then."

"How so?"

"If your girlfriend hadn't been nasty, then we wouldn't be sitting here, would we?"

"No, I suppose not."

With the croissants gone, we started in on the Lamingtons. "What do you do when you're not at the library?"

Gazing up, with my mouth overflowing with raspberry sponge, I mumbled, "I edit novels."

She seemed taken aback. "You're an editor?"

I nodded, wiping away some of the coconut. "Yes, I freelance. I used to do it full time. I wasn't going to work at all. I actually came here to write."

Her frown deepened. "You write as well. Have you been published?"

"Yes, nothing special, just some short stories. What about yourself, what do you do to pass the time?"

She grimaced, as if embarrassed. "I'm a writer."

Now it was my turn to show surprise. "A writer, wow. That's awesome. Have you written anything I might have read?"

I watched as her face took on a grave look. "Actually, if you are Virginia Moore, you are editing a novel of mine at the moment."

"I think you're confused, I'm only editing one book at the moment, and that's Annabelle Roundtree."

She snorted softly. "Yes, indeed you are. Annabelle is my pen name."

I laughed softly. "Wow, who would have taken those odds."

She didn't look that impressed. "I'm sorry, Virginia. I think I'll leave the book. Have a nice day." She slid out from the booth, and walked out. She never looked back once.

I sat staring after her as she walked purposefully across the street and out of sight.

Well, that was surreal. What was I supposed to do now? Should I finish editing the damn book, or should I send it back? I walked slowly back to the library to get my bike, at least I had a bit more time to think.

By the time I was back at the caravan, I had made up my mind. I tidied up the file, and sent it back to Delia with a note. 'Sorry, Delia. I can't finish the novel. I made it a third of the way, but ran out of steam.'

It was getting late in the day, so she probably wouldn't see it till tomorrow.

Sure enough, as I was cycling into work, my phone went ballistic, call after call, messages. It was non stop. I opened up the library and welcomed in a couple of the other aides. Once everything was set up for the day, I pulled out my phone. Six missed calls from Delia, and a couple of angry texts asking why I wasn't answering.

Walking outside for privacy, I gave her a call. "Morning, Delia. You got my email then?"

"What in heaven's name is going on? Why can't you finish the damn novel?"

"Its personal, I just don't think I'm the right person for the job. Give it to one of the other editors."

"I don't want one of the others. Damn it, Virginia. I have read what you did with Annabelle's novel, and I like it, and so does she. Blast it, is it money, do you want more?"

"Its not the money Delia, I can't tell you why. Lets just say I'm too busy."

"Damn you can be so blasted obstinate sometimes."

"You're probably right, but I'm not interested. I will happily work for you, just not this time."

"Very well, if your mind's made up, but I am very disappointed, Virginia. I thought you were far more professional than that."

A couple of days slipped by, and I tried to put it out of my head, but I just couldn't. Try as I might, Lesley was right there.

It was Wednesday the next week when I got the surprise of my life. I was busily cleaning up a spilt ice cream cone, on my knees scrubbing the carpet like a crazy thing, when I heard the voice behind me. "Good morning, Virginia."

As I turned, I saw Lesley standing over me. As always, she looked wonderful. "Hello, Lesley." I went back to scrubbing the carpet.

"Virginia, could we try the lunch thing again, please?"

"No, I don't think so. You made it pretty clear last time you weren't interested."

"You have to forgive me for that, Virginia, you caught me by surprise. I was a little shocked. You must realise that?"

"Oh, I understand all right. You were no more surprised than me, but I didn't behave like a bitch."

"I was shocked, that's all. Please, can we start again?"

I glanced up and her face was pleading; she saw my hesitancy, and asked again. "Please, we do need to talk."

"Fine."

Her stern expression softened, and she said, "Perhaps we could try Crossroads, it might offer a little more privacy and we could have a glass of wine?"

"Yes, all right. I might be a little late today. One of the aides called in sick. Probably more like one."

She smiled, and nodded. "That would be nice, it's a date."

I was busy, and unfortunately, this time I didn't have time to call into the chemists. I had to make do with what was in my handbag. Gazing dubiously in the mirror, I grimaced. Not my best look, and I only had my sneakers on. No dress shoes.

Oh well, nothing I could do about that. This time I cycled up to the restaurant and locked the bike to a lamppost as I walked in.

This time, Lesley was inside waiting. She was at the bar, playing with a glass of wine. When she saw me, her face brightened and she heal her arms open for a hug.

It felt weird now. Last time I was aroused and feeling it. Now I was filled with doubts and confusion. "Would you like a glass, Virginia?"

"What are you drinking?"

"Its a Waimea Estates' Pinot Gris. It's very nice."

"Sounds good, I'll have the same."

She ordered my drink, and handed me a menu. After perusing the list, I decided on the Honey Miso chicken, with soba noodles, Asian slaw and candied sesame.

We walked out to the beer garden out the back. Being a weekday, there was nobody around. We found a nice shaded spot under a huge umbrella and sat facing each other.

"Virginia, I don't know where to start. I'm sorry for walking out the other day. I was shocked."

"Yeah, well so was I, Lesley. I didn't know who you were."