For Qwilleran, finding a subject for Friday's "Qwill Pen" was a problem. Clarissa's four-part series had said it all! The auction's charitable purpose, its organization and implementation, the enthusiasm of the student volunteers, and the generosity of the unnamed donors. Anything the "Qwill Pen" might say would be redundant, and yet readers would be disappointed if he overlooked the auction completely.
His solution: a nostalgic piece on the first auction he ever attended - and how he succeeded in outbidding an antique dealer for a historic roll-top desk. Purposely he neglected to mention the name of its famous, or infamous, owner - Ephraim Goodwinter. He knew the omission would bring a flood of mail from curious readers, keeping the office manager overworked for a week. Arch Riker would go into a rage over the "sly trick," although, Qwilleran knew, the editor in chief liked enthusiastic reader response.
When Qwilleran went to the paper to file his Friday copy, he passed the feature department and Clarissa caught his eye. She jumped up and joined him in the hallway. "Could we talk for a minute, Qwill?" She waved toward the empty conference room.
"I'll meet you there as soon as I throw my copy on Junior's desk."
"Aren't you a little late?"
"With malice aforethought," he explained. "When we're close to deadline, he doesn't have time to change anything. Editors like to edit."
In the managing editor's office, Junior grabbed the copy and rang for the copyboy. "Looks as if your girl's turning out all right, Qwill."
"She's not my girl. She applied for a job, and Arch hired her."
He joined Clarissa in the conference room.
In the empty room they sat at one corner of the long table.
"First let me compliment you on the auction series," he said. "You tackled the subject in depth without being stuffy."
"Thank you. It's my training. Did you have R and R when you were in J school?"
"It depends what you mean by those initials."
"Research and report. Each semester we were assigned a topic and had to explore it in depth and then write a report."
"What sort of topic?"
"Oh . . . the Volstead Act . . . the anatomy of cats . . . the naming of the original forty-eight states . . . mold as an environmental concern. The rule was: Collect all the available information - and then ask one more question."
"Did you have a favorite?"
"The naming of states was fun. Did you know that individuals react psychologically more strongly to state names beginning with a vowel than those beginning with a consonant? Texas is not only bigger than Ohio but has three strong consonants in the spelling."
"Hmmm. Under the circumstances, I'd say little Ohio has done quite well, despite all the vowels. Eight American presidents have come from Ohio, not to mention Thomas Edison and the Wright brothers." He could have mentioned Clark Gable, Doris Day, Cy Young, and Irma Bombeck, but Clarissa was rattling on.
"Are you from Ohio?" she asked.
"No, but the ?Qwill Pen' ran a series on nearby states called
"I'd love to be a columnist," Clarissa said wistfully.
"Don't be too sure! A reporter gets an assignment and writes the necessary coverage, but a columnist always starts with nothing but a deep hole to fill."
Suddenly Arch Riker appeared in the doorway. "You two clear out! I'm having a meeting in this room."
"But I won't keep you, Qwill. I just wanted to give you some good news."
"You've had an offer from
With great joy she announced, "My best friend in California is coming for the Fourth of July weekend to attend the cat auction and bid on a kitten!"
"Good! Be sure to tell Maggie Sprenkle. It'll sound good in the publicity. Would he . . . or she . . . like to see
"She's my classmate from J school, but she went into advertising. She also writes short stories and has sold a couple to crime magazines. She's hoping to find some juicy plot material while she's here."
He huffed into his moustache. He said, "Does your friend have a name? I hear the situation is so crowded on the West Coast, they're resorting to numbers."
On Friday night Qwilleran was sprawling in his lounge chair and reading to the Siamese. Yum Yum liked to sit on his lap and snuggle up to his ribs. The baritone vibrations reminded her, he had been told, of her mother's heartbeat while in the womb. Koko sat tall on the arm of the chair. Suddenly the phone rang, and Koko fell off. Yum Yum disappeared.
It was Polly, too excited to wait for his eleven o'clock call. "Qwill I have the most thrilling news! Orders are pouring in for the books you'll be signing next Wednesday. Already I've reordered twice."
"How do you account for that, Polly?"
"People tell me they're going to send books all over the country - to friends who grew up here and knew rumours of the enchanted castle in the woods. And Bushy's photos of the interiors will add to the excitement. Aren't you thrilled?"
