“There you are. Enjoy, my friend,” he said, handing back the container. Jan grabbed it and studied the contents, pushing the money further in as if it might fly out in the slightest breeze. His demeanor did not scream I’m thrilled with my windfall. Maybe this was a profitable begging spot. Or in living on the street he’d become cynical. Or he was too drunk to realize. There was Occam’s Razor again. He probably did it out of habit.

“Thankssh. You’reAGooshOne. BleshYou.”

“Take care of yourself. Really be careful.”

William thought to warn him of the danger he might be in but that would take too long, and no doubt be pointless. He would die or be injured and possibly nothing William said could change that outcome. So he hurried away, desperate to read the message.

Once around the corner, he figured he was safe and he stopped to read the note. His curiosity wouldn’t allow him to take another step.

“What the hell?” he whispered.

The noted contained just five words. What did they mean? As he thought about them, and ran a million ideas through his head, he realized the answer was obvious. Yes, yes, Occam’s Razor was just a non-scientific concept when you couldn’t think of a reasonable answer to a puzzling question. Yet, he couldn’t argue with this. Occam’s concept was right. Those five simple words explained a hell of a lot.

55

The day after Nem finished the manuscript, she brought it with her to work and presented the folder and the loose papers to Diane. It surprised her how filled with trepidation she felt, and yet proud as if she shared a newborn.

The conversation didn’t begin as she’d hoped. Her boss appeared unimpressed. Although the sentiment wasn’t conveyed by her demeanor; she was friendly as always. The questions she asked caused Nem to suspect she had reservations about the book even before reading it. Confused, Nem wondered why the usually enthusiastic woman wasn’t at least happy for her?

“Congrats,” Diane said. “Ooh, I can’t wait to read it but… that was quick. Too quick to write a whole book, don’t you think?”

She smiled as she spoke, but the emphasis on quick made Nem doubt her sincerity.

“A month, but I worked on it every spare moment.”

“Wow. Edited too?”

“Umm, not yet.”

“Well, there’s a problem.”

Why was she already talking about problems?

“You can’t give a first draft to an agent or a publisher. They won’t even read it.”

Nem’s white glow of excitement faded to a gray drab disappointment. She had hoped for more encouraging words. What was wrong with Diane?

A creeping doubt slithered into her mind, but she fought it off.

No! Whatever bothered Diane she must ignore that response. She’d learned to be tough from the best. Gone with the Wind’s Scarlett O’Hara, Pride and Prejudice’s Elizabeth Bennett, Sofia from The Color Purple and so many others.

Nem took a deep breath and did something she rarely, if ever, did. Swallowed any pride lingering from the achievement of writing the book and asked for help.