“Well, it isn’t all true—only the important part. You’ll both read it, won’t you?”
“Of course we’ll read it. That’s what we’re being paid for, isn’t it, Pauline?”
The book was a revelation. Dale had made a murder mystery out of the very thing that had happened to Irene. Jasper Crosby’s scheme to wreck the tower had worked in the story, killing the grandmother instead of Irene. The names were different. But for that Judy saw herself moving through the pages of his story, playing the part of the clever girl detective. She saw Pauline’s faults depicted. All the petty jealousies she had felt were revealed, used to cast suspicion upon her and then excused, baring the real girl underneath. The Golden Girl of Dale’s story was Irene in her mother’s dress. Dale, himself, was the narrator and the suspense, the worry and, finally, the romance of the story were things he had felt and written with feeling. Judy found a new and lovelier Irene in Dale’s description of her. She marveled that he understood every one of them so well. The boys came, appropriately, at the end and, through it all, the spark of humor was the literary agent.
When Emily Grimshaw came in neither Judy nor Pauline looked up. They did not hear her enter the room. Finally she stood over them and spoke in a sharp tone.
“What’s this you’re reading? Didn’t I tell you to get done with your typewriting first? Letters are important but manuscripts can always wait to be read.”
“This one can’t,” Judy replied, smiling up at her employer. “This is Dale Meredith’s new detective story. Irene is the heroine, Pauline one of the suspects and I am the detective.”
“So! And I suppose I am the criminal.”
Judy startled the old lady by kissing her.
“You are your own sweet self, Miss Grimshaw. It will surprise you what a lovable person you are. Why don’t you read the book and get acquainted?”
Turning pages broke the silence in the office all that day. Clients that came in were hastily dismissed. Other work waited. Dale Meredith had written life itself in the pages of a book that would make him famous.