Though he’d never been one to share, it occurred to him having a protégée might be fun. A wife wasn’t on his dream list as yet. Never had been and probably never would be. What he desired was someone to share the trials and tribulations of sitting alone for too long staring at a blank page. Someone who understood that peculiar terror.

They could compare notes, understand each other’s fluctuating moods, commiserate when the muse didn’t visit and become encouraging allies. In short, helping Orelia suited his purpose. He’d wave a magic wand via his connections and make her dreams come true.

Well, he’d give it his best shot.

So Orelia Mason became a habit.

Twice weekly they met at a local coffee shop, and he would talk her through where in the work he believed she needed improvement. William grew accustomed to basking in Orelia’s admiration and looked forward to their meetings. She always sat statue-like and wide-eyed, absorbing his every utterance. The more she listened, the more his stature grew in his own mind.

Not only did he share his thoughts on her work but he would also talk endlessly on the sparing use of similes, lack of character development in current best sellers, publishing industry foibles and readers’ lack of loyalty.

Readers’ lack of loyalty! In hindsight, how prophetic of him. He now could give a three-day conference on that one.

The way her big, brown eyes followed his every movement swelled his heart. By the third meeting he grew more impressed by her story’s improvements and her keen implementation of his advice. That’s when he decided he’d move heaven and a truckload of pulped paper to help get her book published.

Though they wrote in different genres, hers romance mystery and his literary drama, he wondered if in the future their books might lay together on a best seller table. Might they speak together on a literary festival panel as a double act? They’d sit in opposite chairs up on a stage and Orelia’s tinkling laughter, along with his measured exposition on literary subjects, would be entertaining to the crowd. She, of course, would defer to his opinion. As part of the entertainment they’d joke at the mismatch of their friendship. The Punch and Judy of the literary world.

“William knows better than I do. What he doesn’t know about writing doesn’t bear knowing. He discovered me you know,” she’d say.

He’d reply with a cool smirk. “Orelia you’re too kind. Anyone would see your talent—a rough diamond awaiting a polish.”

He’d emphasize rough too. The audience needed assurance that her talent wasn’t obvious, and that he possessed greater insight into the craft than the average author.

For three months they met together for lunch, until one day he announced that her reworked book, thanks to his guidance, was ready. He’d give the manuscript to his agent, and he was sure Morris would seriously consider representing her.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high. Morris must shop this to publishers. What they think at any given time is anyone’s guess”