“I know it’s crass, but I want the book to sell.”

“Well, let’s hope it does.” Madeline’s glass clinks against the counter when she puts it down. “I can’t really resurface right now. It would be very, very complicated if I did. Dangerous, I would say. I think it’s a risk for me to be in this town.”

“Madeline, if you think someone wants to hurt you, then you should go to the police. Tell them the truth. Give them names. They can protect you.”

She shakes her head, arms crossed. “You’re so silly, aren’t you? The successful middle-aged white man who naturally thinks if you go to the police, they’ll help you with all your problems. Of course they’ll believe you. Of course they’ll take your side. Why wouldn’t the good old police help the good old man? Right? Isn’t that what always happens? A man can get away with whatever he wants. I’ve seen the police up close before. When I was a kid. They don’t help.”

“Okay,” I say. “Then tell me what I can do.”

“It’s easy, really. A simple transaction. You give me all the money from the book, and I won’t tell everyone you plagiarized it. Cash, of course. No checks. I know you had to give fifteen percent to your agent. And there are taxes and shit. Just give me the rest, since I actually wrote the book, and we’re even. When the time comes, I’ll write another book. And so can you. No one will know the real truth about this one.”

I ignore the part about me writing another book. Whether she meant it as a dig or as a statement of fact, I can’t bear to dwell on it. I just don’t know if I can ever write anything else. If the past five years have taught me anything, it’s that I may lack what it takes to finish a project I start.

As for the money . . .

“I can’t do that, Madeline,” I say. “This novel is my New York debut, and I didn’t get paid that much for it. People always think authors make a ton of money, but I really didn’t get a big advance.”

“I grew up without money,” she says. “I mean . . . nothing. So any amount will sound like a lot to me. Three or four digits is a windfall.”

“I didn’t grow up with money either.”

“You grew up with more than I did,” she says. “If your parents kept the lights on, you had more than me.”