Unseen and private, other large homes populated the buttes of the Catskills. They belonged to the rich, and sometimes famous. Cameron and Tessa Young had purchased the log-style home three years earlier when Cameron’s third novel found the New York Times list and stayed there for a year, selling over a million copies. His first two novels had earned him a nice living, but the third set him apart. And the two that followed put him into an elite class of novelists. His books had taken off around the world and the Youngs were enjoying their financial success. Years before they had used Cameron’s second advance as a down payment on the Catskills home. His last royalty check wiped out the mortgage. By all measures, Tessa and Cameron Young were living large.

Tessa was a professor of English literature at Columbia University, where she taught comparative literature and dissected some of the greatest works bound between two covers. The irony that this distinguished professor’s husband struck gold writing lowbrow commercial fiction was not lost on either of them. She endured her husband’s writing because it supported their lifestyle, but regarded it for what it was—spectacularly successful garbage.

On the back patio, four Adirondack chairs were positioned around the fire pit. Tessa and Cameron sat in the chairs and watched the bruised-color sky of evening silhouette the mountains. The fire offered enough warmth to stave off the chill that came as the sun sunk below the mountain peaks. They were enjoying drinks with their friends, Jasper and Victoria Ford. Jasper was the realtor who had found the home, negotiated the price, and brokered the deal. To celebrate the purchase, Cameron and Tessa had invited Jasper and his wife out for a sail. The four had become fast friends. Over the past three years, Jasper and Victoria had been on countless sailing excursions with the Youngs, who were avid sailors, and the four had even vacationed together in the British Virgin Islands.

“Cameron,” Jasper said. “Your latest releases this summer?”

“June,” Cameron said. “I’ll be touring for three weeks. Starting on the West Coast and hitting fifteen cities on the way home. I’ll be back just before the Fourth of July.” He pointed to his studio across the creek. “Then I’ll be back in the lab trying to hit my deadline for next year’s release.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” Victoria said. “I just can’t get the words out as fast as you. I wish I had the discipline.”

Victoria was a financial planner for a midsized firm, but harbored a passion to write novels herself. Over the course of their friendship this secret had come to light. Cameron offered advice and had pulled all the publishing strings he could to help Victoria with her writing.

“Deadlines are very effective motivators. And from what little you’ve shared, it sounds like you’re quite a prolific writer yourself.”