6
Another late afternoon thunderstorm had blown through, drenching the island and breaking the humidity. It was now pleasant enough to eat outdoors on the veranda, Bruce’s preferred spot in the rear of his cherished Victorian home. When the table was cleared they moved to the side and settled into cushioned wicker rockers. Frogs and crickets began a loud chorus. The old rattan ceiling fans rattled above and kept the air moving. Bruce fired up a cigar and offered one to Thomas, who waved him off. They were finishing a bottle of Chablis.
The topic of the evening was the quandary over Mercer’s book proposal. Etta, always the agent, had suggested the amount of $500,000 for an advance against royalties. It was an aggressive opening and she justified it by the performance of Mercer’s last book, Tessa. The success of that novel, plus the compelling story at hand, was more than enough to support such an advance. Mercer was thirty-six, an accomplished writer with three books to her credit and many more to come. As usual, Etta had implied that if Viking couldn’t handle such up-front money, then Mercer might be forced to shop around.
The vague threat went nowhere. Lana Gallagher was a tough editor who gently deflected such warnings as just another part of the agent’s routine. She countered with $200,000, and showed barely enough enthusiasm to placate the author. Viking had two major concerns: nonfiction was something new for Mercer and, in the broadest of terms, paid less than popular fiction; and the near certainty of protracted litigation could delay the project for years.
To make the offer even less attractive, Viking proposed to string out the payments over the next several years: one-fourth at signing, one-fourth upon delivery of the manuscript, one-fourth upon hardback publication, and the last check when the paperback came out. If the book sold as well as hoped, and the advance “earned out,” the prospect of royalties might kick in even further down the road.
Mercer was disappointed with the offer but did manage to find humor in the fact that she was disappointed with a contract worth $200,000. She still had the fresh memories of being the impoverished grad student, then the adjunct professor with a one-year contract. Her future was far from certain. She did not have tenure at Ole Miss. Her salary was a wonderful cushion but budget cuts were always hovering. She dreamed of writing books for the rest of her life but lived with the fear of not having the next story. Only a few years ago she would have fainted if Etta had called with a $200,000 offer.
Bruce commiserated with her and, as always, sided with his writer. But he knew the offer was reasonable. He also remembered that four years earlier, Mercer had been delighted with the $50,000 advance she had received for Tessa. He also knew from years of observation that new writers needed two or three bestsellers in a row to establish themselves and expect bigger contracts. Mercer wasn’t quite there yet.
She said, “Etta wants to shop it around. What do you think about that?”
Since most of the writers on the island confided in Bruce, he knew the ins and outs of the business. They trusted his advice and spoke openly to him about money. He was discreet and fiercely protective of their business.
He replied, “That always sounds good, but the problem is that it could damage your relationship with Viking, and the bigger danger is further rejections. What if you shop around and get less, or nothing, from other publishers? Lana will be ticked off, and she’ll also be proven correct. Don’t run from happiness, Mercer. If you’re happy at Viking, stay there. I’ve seen so many writers hurt themselves by hopping from one publisher to the next chasing a few extra bucks. You don’t want that reputation. Lana is a great editor and Viking is, well, it’s Viking. One of the legendary houses.”
“What would you do?” Thomas asked.
“Counter at three hundred and push hard. Tighten up the schedule and get more money sooner. One-third at contract, same at delivery, same at hardback publication.”
They pondered this for a moment as Bruce poured more wine. Noelle excused herself and retired for the evening.
Mercer asked, “And what about Lovely?”
Along with the disappointment of Viking’s offer was the complicating and quite sticky issue of Lovely’s expectations.
“How much does she want?” Bruce asked.
“We didn’t get that far, but it was obvious she expects to be compensated. And I’m fine with that, to a point.”
“Ten percent?” Bruce said.
“That seems low. I don’t want to insult her and I don’t want to give the impression that us white folks are once again taking advantage. On the other hand, I could reach a threshold where I ask myself if the whole project is worth it. If she wants too much and I walk away, then she gets nothing.”
Thomas said, “We’ve talked about this endlessly. Mercer is basically taking her story and relying on her memory and history. Let’s say that’s half the book, and much of the work has already been done. The other half is the fight to save the island. There, Mercer will do all the heavy lifting.”
“You’ll help,” she said.
“Of course I will.”
Bruce blew a cloud of smoke at the creaky fans and said, “Look, why not just talk to Lovely and see what she wants? She’s never had a dime. She spent her life working here on the island, first in the canneries, then in the hotels, cleaning rooms and doing laundry. Now she lives on Social Security. She has no family to support, and as far as we know there’s no one looking for a handout. It’s hard to believe she’s expecting a big windfall. Keep in mind she knows something about publishing and selling books, although hers has yet to top a hundred copies.”
Mercer said, “I know. I just want to be fair.”
“Then talk to her. Meet her at the store tomorrow. Use my office. I’ll make sure you have some privacy.”
“Thanks, Bruce.”
“And when are you guys leaving? Myra wants to have a proper send-off, a small dinner, one final booze-up before you have to go back to work.”
“Saturday. She called today and said she and Leigh are having a party. Didn’t ask if we wanted to be included, just assumed so.”
“I’m sure you agreed.”
“Of course. Who says no to Myra?”
“No one in this town.”
7
Since the first two meetings with Lovely took over a week to arrange, Mercer was surprised when Miss Naomi called back and said they would be at the bookstore at ten o’clock the following morning. Mercer suspected the granddaughters wanted some more books. A clerk welcomed them to the kids’ section and showed them some new arrivals. Thomas managed to occupy Miss Naomi in the cookbook section with a discussion about Low Country recipes. Bruce turned off his desk phone and locked the doors.
When they were alone, Mercer explained what was happening with the book proposal in New York. Etta had wrangled $250,000 out of Viking as an advance. Miss Lovely absorbed this figure without a reaction.
Mercer was saying, “This sounds like a lot of money, but it’s really not. Fifteen percent goes off the top to the literary agent, then about thirty percent goes for taxes. The money will be spread over four years, maybe five, depending on how long it takes me to write it.”
“How long will it take?” Lovely asked.
“It’s hard to say. A lot depends on what happens to the island now, and that’s tied up in court. With court cases, it’s difficult to predict anything.”
“But you have an idea.”
“Yes, in two years I should be finished with a draft that is publishable. How long did it take you to write your book?”
“Oh Lord, Mercer, I worked on that book forever. I have some old notebooks that go way back to when I was a kid in high school. I did finish school, you know? Wasn’t easy but I was determined to finish. We went to the colored school back then. It’s gone now. Been gone.”