Page 7 of Between the Lines

“She’s great,” Blaise said. “And she knows how much I need this.”

“No responses yet?”

“I only sent out a group of query emails the other week,” Blaise said. “It’s probably too soon to have heard anything back yet.”

“You will.”

“I hope so.” Blaise looked out at the water. A pelican skimmed the surface, wings outstretched, impossibly graceful. “It’s a little scary,” she admitted. “I don’t mean about getting published. About writing it at all.”

Brick nodded but stayed silent.

“When I write it,” Blaise said. “I have to relive things I shelved a long time ago. Decisions I made. Things I decided to ignore. Events that I shouldn’t have had to endure. It’s not easy going through all that again.”

Brick’s voice was quiet. “That’s what happens when you tell the truth.”

“Yes,” Blaise said. “And it’s even harder to do when I’m not sure yet whether anyone’s even going to care.”

“They will.”

They walked slower now, their feet sinking slightly deeper into the sand.

“What made you start this?” Brick asked.

Blaise hesitated, but it wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. “Money, pure and simple. That sounds awful, but I could really use some.” Then she added, “I’m tired of being careful all the time. Checking prices, sticking to my budget. Having to cut corners when something comes up. Having to think about money all the time. Worse, having Evan worry about me like I’m a child that needs taking care of.”

Brick grunted. “I get that. Money is a necessary evil. Although having it doesn’t mean instant happiness.”

“I know that.” Blaise exhaled a quiet breath. “But losing it? That was almost as bad as losing Jay.”

Brick glanced at her but didn’t interrupt.

“I still hate admitting how it happened,” she said. “I trusted the wrong person at the wrong time, and it cost me most of what we’d saved. The worst part was feeling like I’d let Jay down.” She shrugged, trying to shake off the embarrassment of it all. Her late husband had done such good things with their money. Only for her to lose it to a scammer. “That’s a hard sentence to say out loud.”

Brick was quiet for a moment, the sound of the surf carrying the silence.

“That kind of thing carries a lot of unnecessary shame,” he said finally. “Mostly because people don’t like to admit it could happen to them, too.”

Blaise nodded. “Very true. Which doesn’t make it any easier.”

They walked on, the silence returning for a few minutes.

“I’m not just writing the memoir because of the money,” Blaise said, feeling the need to clarify. “I’m writing it because maybe telling that part of my story will keep it from happening to someone else. And because I need the income.” She glanced at him. “I can’t pretend that part doesn’t matter.”

Brick’s mouth curved slightly. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“If a publisher wants it, great,” she went on. “If they don’t, Cece’s offered to help me get it out there myself. Either way, the book’s getting finished.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Brick said.

“It is.” Blaise paused, then added, “I just don’t love that money is the thing pushing me.”

Brick shook his head. “Money isn’t pushing you. Reality is.”

She considered that. Then she nodded. “That’s a better way of looking at it.”

They turned back toward the Colony, the quiet morning gone as more people showed up to claim spots on the beach.

Blaise glanced down at Beau, who had finally tired himself out and was trotting along contentedly, tongue lolling.