Tess was catatonic with rage.
“What’s wrong?” Nick leaned closer as people applauded at the end of the reading. “Are you all right?”
“No.” Tess turned to him. “We have to stop him. He can’t publish this book.”
“Tess,” Nick said warningly. “You are not going to interfere. It’s his book.”
“No, it’s not. He plagiarized.”
Nick closed his eyes. “No. Don’t tell me this.”
Tess shook her head. “He plagiarized. I know that story. It’s not his.”
“ALL RIGHT.” Nick shut the door to Welch’s study behind Tess and Park and Gina. “Explain this to me.”
Tess cast one blindly incurious look around the room, registering expensive paneling, Oriental carpets, a huge leather-and-brass sofa and soulless sets of leather-bound books on walnut bookcases with glass fronts. Money, she thought. It always comes back to money.
“Tess?” Nick prompted.
“He plagiarized,” she replied. “That prologue about Cinderellen? He stole it. Word for word, the whole thing. He stole it.”
“Why would anybody plagiarize that garbage?” Nick asked. “It was god-awful. The good stuff came later. I just hope the critics make it through the early garbage to get to the good stuff.”
“You’re not listening to me,” Tess said. “It’s never going to get to the critics. He plagiarized, and I’m going to stop him.”
“No!” Nick and Park said simultaneously, and Gina said softly, “Oh, no.” Then Nick pushed Tess down into the padded leather desk chair and sat down on the desk in front of her.
“That would not be a good idea,” he said.
“Why not?” Tess demanded.
Park snorted. “Because there’s a lot of money at stake here, that’s why not.”
Nick held up his hand. “Will you let me handle this?” he said to Park. “Please?” He turned back to Tess. “It’s like this. We’re guests in this man’s house, and now you want to accuse him of plagiarism. I know you’ll find this hard to understand, but it doesn’t seem appropriate under the circumstances.”
“The hell with appropriate,” Tess said. “This is a moral issue. No, it’s more than a moral issue. It’s my life he’s trashing. It’s everything Lanny ever gave me, and I’m going to confront him.”
“Confront me with it first,” Nick said.
“Do not let her talk you into this,” Park warned.
Tess appealed to Park. “Doesn’t the fact that he stole part of that book make any difference to you? You’re a lawyer. You’re supposed to uphold the law.”
“That’s the police,” Park said. “Don’t get us confused. We make a lot more money. And we’re going to keep on making a lot more money if you keep your mouth shut about plagiarism.”
“I don’t believe this,” Tess said. “You want him to get away with it.”
“Wait a minute,” Nick said. “We don’t even know what he’s getting away with. Explain.”
“Oh, great,” Park said.
Tess shot him a dirty look, then concentrated on Nick. “When I was about eight, we lived on a commune near Yellow Springs. Here in Ohio.”
“I know where Yellow Springs is,” Nick said. “Go on.”
“Bunch of hippies,” Park put in.
“It was a nice commune,” Tess flared. “Anyway, one day not too long after we got there, this guy showed up.” She bit her lip, the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach growing as she remembered how special Lanny had been and how Welch had just raped his story. “He was really wonderful,” she said. “He was probably in his early twenties. A big husky guy.” She smiled. “I thought he was a mountain. Big and broad with long brown hair and a big brown beard. Big ears. Everything about him was bigger than life.”
“Great,” Nick said. “Get to the point.”
“His name was Lanny.”
“Is this important?” Park asked. “Because Gina and I are missing cocktails.”
“Shut up, Park,” Nick said.
“He told me that same story,” she said. “The prologue story. Word for word, it’s Lanny’s story.”
“And you remember it thirty years later?” Nick asked. “Come on.”
“He told it to me over and over again the whole summer,” Tess said. “Every time he told it, he added something, another task the heroine had to do, another problem she had to solve, and it got to be really long. When he left at the end of the summer, he wrote it all down for me, and Elise used to read parts of it to me every night for the two years we lived there. I know big chunks of it by heart.” She glared up at Nick. “And your great American author was reading that same story. I could recite parts of it with him. He stole that story.”
“Who’s Elise?” Nick asked, confused.
“My mother.”
“And she read you a story about this Ellen?” Park said. “I don’t believe it.”
“No. My story was about CinderTess.”
Park rolled his eyes.
“Lanny wrote that story for me,” Tess said to Nick, ignoring Park. “And Welch stole it, and I’m going to—”
“Are you sure, Tess?” Nick said. “This is serious.”
“I told you,” Tess said. “He wrote it for me. It was my story. And at the end Lanny always said, ‘And CinderTess and the prince always looked for the best in every day and made sure they had a part in creating some of it.”’ She stared up at Nick defiantly. “And that’s exactly how Welch ended that part he read to us.”
“Could be the same,” Nick said reluctantly. “So you’re saying that Welch is using parts of the same story.”
“No,” Tess said. “He’s using all of the same story. Word for word. And even worse, he’s making fun of it. He’s making my story sound stupid and…” She caught her breath and tried to slow herself down. “Look, the CinderTess story was important to me. In fact, sometimes I think it had more impact on me than my parents did. I know Lanny did.” She stopped and looked at Nick, her jaw tight with determination. “I know it sounds childish to you, but basically Lanny taught me how to live my life with that story, and I’m not going to let some aging neoconservative with writer’s block turn it into an antifeminist tirade. I’m going to talk to Welch.”
“Wait a minute.” Nick folded his arms and stared down at her with disgust. “Let me get this straight. The reason you’re always rushing in to save the world is that this guy told you a fairy tale?”
“Didn’t you have any book when you were a kid that affected you like that?” Tess asked. “You know, like The Velveteen Rabbit? Love is what makes you real?”
“People should be more careful about what they read to their kids,” Park said. “Some of this stuff sounds dangerous.”
“Well, kids just don’t get caught up in the Wall Street Journal, Park,” Tess snapped. “They tend to be deeper than adults.” She turned back to Nick. “But the important thing is that he’s taken the story and turned it inside out. It’s as if he’d rewritten The Little Engine That Could so that it couldn’t.”
“I had that book,” Park said.
“I did, too,” Gina said.
Park smiled down at Gina. “That was a good one, wasn’t it?”
“Exactly!” Tess said before Gina could mention any other childhood favorites. She glared at Park. “Wouldn’t you be angry if somebody stole that book and made the train fail?”
Park looked startled. “Well, yes. But that’s not—”
“Well, that’s why I’m angry,” Tess said. “He didn’t just steal Lanny’s story, he made it sound…stupid. Foolish.”
“It was stupid,” Nick said.
“No, it wasn’t. Not if you were a little kid. It still isn’t if you have any values at all.”
“Oh, hell, don’t start,” Nick said. “Let me think about this.”
Park sat down beside him on the edge of the desk. “Don’t bother.” He turned to Tess. “This was a handwritten manuscript, right? Not published in any way?”
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“Right. But that doesn’t—”
“And this was in the sixties?” Park said.
Tess counted back. “About sixty-five or sixty-six. I can find out for sure.”
“Then legally it doesn’t matter,” Park said. “According to the copyright law of 1976, any work automatically comes under copyright as soon as it’s written. But before that, which means the sixties, we’re dealing with the 1947 law that says works not produced for sale must be registered with the copyright office, and I don’t imagine your hippie buddy did that. Of course, since he wrote it down and gave a copy to your mother, that could be construed as publication, but not enough to remove it from fair assumption that it was public domain. I think Welch is covered.”
Tess listened to him openmouthed and then turned to Nick. “This is Park? This walking textbook of loopholes is Park?”
Nick shrugged. “I told you—nobody knows contract law like Park.”
Park went on as if he hadn’t heard them. “Plus, part of the 1976 law says that plagiarism is only an issue when the new work affects the potential market of the work in question. Frankly, from what I heard, there is no potential market for that drivel. In fact, if Welch’s book makes it big, your hippie buddy could actually profit because then there might be a market for his stuff. Besides, Welch can’t copyright something that belongs to someone else even if he uses it in a copyrighted book. So your buddy could still claim copyright to his old story and publish it.” Park stopped, struck by a thought. “I wonder if he’s represented by anybody. What did you say his name was?”
“I don’t care what the law says,” Tess said, recovering from her shock at Park’s sudden acuity. “I know Welch stole it and that’s wrong. It belongs to Lanny. The least he could do is give Lanny credit. Lanny was wonderful.” She stood up. “And I’m going to tell Welch—”
“No!” both men said again.
“Just wait,” Nick said. “Wait until Park and I can look into it.”
Park scowled. “Why? I just told you, legally there’s no prob—”
“Well, there may be a problem morally,” Nick said. “Especially if a thousand enraged former hippies start writing op-ed pieces and faxing them from their Mercedes.”
“Oh, come on,” Park said. “All from one little Ohio commune?”
“He moved on,” Nick reminded him. “He stayed for a while and then moved on.” He turned to Tess. “How long was he with the commune?”
Tess shrugged, still simmering with anger. “Just for the summer. But then, who cares about Lanny? Let’s protect the great Norbert Welch and all of his millions first.”
“Tess, concentrate,” Nick persisted. “About Lanny. Did other people hear the stories?”
“Of course,” Tess said. “There were a lot of us kids there. CinderTess was one of our bedtime stories that summer.”
Nick frowned. “Where did he go when he left? Did he move on to another commune?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know where we went next. Pennsylvania, probably.”
“So he could have told this story across the country,” Nick said. “Thousands could have heard it.”
Tess smiled, triumphant at this new turn of events. “Yup. Just think of them all out there, waiting to pounce when this thing hits the bookstores.” She looked at the two men virtuously. “We have to confront Norbert Welch. For his own good.”
“No,” they said again, but the vehemence was gone from their voices, and Nick looked thoughtful. Park just looked annoyed.
“Can we sleep on this?” Park said finally. “Welch isn’t publishing this damn thing tomorrow. Can we just wait awhile and give this some consideration first?”
“And then we’ll confront him?” Tess demanded.
“Maybe,” Nick said. “Listen, we don’t want to rush into anything here. There’s a lot riding on this. My partnership, for one thing. If that book doesn’t get published, I’m out in the cold.”
Tess looked at him in disgust. “I can’t believe what a Yuppie scum you are. I should have known you weren’t a prince.”
Park looked at him in equal disgust. “You had to bring her, didn’t you? It had to be Tess.” He shook his head and walked out of the room.
Gina looked after him miserably, turned and looked at Tess in equal misery, and then followed Park.
Nick sighed. “It’s not going to do us any good to go rushing around shouting ‘Plagiarism’ at a crowded book reading. Give it a rest and let me think about it.”
“Until Monday,” Tess said. “I’ll give you until Monday. Then I’m talking to Norbert Welch, and if he won’t see reason, I’m going to the press.”
“You are one hell of a fun date,” Nick said.
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it, since I’m never going anywhere with you again.” With that Tess stomped out of the room.
“Give me that in writing,” Nick called to her retreating back. Then he leaned back in his chair and groaned.
TESS CONTENTED HERSELF with being barely civil to Welch when she said her goodbyes as the afternoon ended. Nick, of course, was more than civil, even though Welch genially told him he needed more time to consider the contract.
“I’ll call you next week, Jamieson,” he said, shaking hands with him and entirely ignoring a confused Park. “Maybe we can have dinner. Bring Tess. I like her.”
“We’d enjoy that, sir,” Nick said, wondering how he was going to talk Tess into a long business dinner when she had just vowed never to see him again.
Tess meanwhile was saying goodbye to the only man in the area she was still speaking to. “I really enjoyed watching you this weekend, Henderson,” she said, and then she stood on her toes and kissed the old man on the cheek. “You’re a wonder.”
“Thank you, Miss Newhart,” Henderson said impassively.
When they were in the car, Nick grinned at her. “You’re going to give that man ideas.”
“At least he doesn’t steal them like his boss,” Tess said, and Nick gave up. She was hopeless. Sleeping with her had been great, well, more than great, and he did care about her, but she was going to be death on his career no matter what he did. As much as he wanted her, as much as he liked being with her, he was going to have to stop calling her.
Which was just as well, since she’d told him she was never going to speak to him again. The last time she’d told him that, it had taken him over a month to get her to talk to him. He didn’t have that kind of time to waste on any woman, let alone one who was a career assassin.
After an hour passed without Tess saying anything, Nick stole a glance at her. She was frowning into the distance.
“What’s wrong now?” he said.
“I need to do something about Lanny.” Tess sounded distracted. “I need to help Gina, too. You were right—she’s leaving the road and trying to get a job at the Charles Theater. I don’t know anyone there, so that’s a problem. But first I need to go home and make some phone calls. I need to try to find Lanny or at least the manuscript, or nobody is ever going to listen to me about this.” She looked over at Nick and all the anger was gone from her eyes. “I know you hate this because of the partnership. I understand. I even understand that you can’t do anything about this just on my word alone. I’m not telling you that I’m going to find that manuscript just to make you mad. I’m not even mad myself anymore. But I want you to know I’m going to find that manuscript. I have to. It’s really important to me.”
“Why is it so important?” Nick asked. “What is this guy to you?” He tried to keep the jealousy out of his voice because it was ridiculous to be jealous of a guy that Tess had known when she was a kid, especially since he was never going to see her again.
“Because I loved him,” Tess said, and Nick felt his jealousy flare in spite of his good intentions.
“You were six—”
Tess interrupted him. “I was eight,” she said. “Not that it matters. At first I just adored him the way kids do movie stars. He was so big and so f
ull of life and so…full of ideas and stories. Wonderful stories. And then after a while, he was a lot more. Like a big brother and a father and a mother and a best friend. He paid attention to me. And he listened to what I had to say, like it was important. He’d ask me questions and listen to the answers. And he made more sense than anybody else around me. He was always really gruff and acted like he was exasperated to be spending time on me, but he wasn’t, and he taught me useful things. I mean, Daniel would tell me it was important to live a peaceful life in harmony with all things.”
“Daniel?”
“My father,” Tess said. “But the thing was, the gang of kids at the commune could be pretty nasty, and it’s hard to live a peaceful life when you’ve got little Nazis pushing you around. And it wasn’t so much that I was afraid to fight back but that I didn’t know how. So I asked Lanny about it, and he said the key to fighting was never to fight unless the cause was so great that you couldn’t bear not to defend it and the losses you were going to suffer were things you could afford to lose. And then he said, if I did decide to fight, the thing to remember was that I was going to get hurt, because that was what happened in a fight, so I might as well get myself reconciled to it in the beginning and then it wouldn’t matter when it happened.”
“Great advice for a kid,” Nick said, trying not to sound as grumpy as he felt.
“It was great advice for anybody,” Tess said. “I actually ended up walking away from most fights because I didn’t care that much about what they were hassling me about. And when I did fight back, I went in no-holds-barred because I knew I was going to get beat up, anyway. After a couple of times, the other kids pretty much left me alone. That was always the way it was with Lanny. He told you good stuff, true stuff that worked. Like the CinderTess story. No matter how many changes he made in it, it always ended with the real happily-ever-after coming from trying to make the world a better place. And that’s what Welch made fun of. He made fun of Lanny. And when he did that, he made fun of everything I believe in.” Tess turned to face Nick again. “I have to fight this one. And I know I’m going to get hurt. I know Welch is tougher than I am and richer than I am and more powerful than I am. And I know you’re going to help him, not me. But I can’t walk away from Lanny. I can’t walk away from everything I believe in.”
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