Within the Storm EBOOK

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CHAPTER 1

What was it about webcams? Bethany Meland angled her laptop screen so her nose wouldn't resemble a bulbous alien growth on her scheduled video call.

She combed her fingers through her dark brown bangs. Few people knew she wore a full wig, but it was a must unless she wanted to expose her bald head to the world. To hide her advanced androgenetic alopecia, she’d gone for a pixie cut with her new made to measure hair piece. She was still getting used to the way the cropped style accentuated her bone structure.

At least her skin looked good on camera. Her ochre complexion, still dewy in her early forties, was the one feature of which she was proud.

Around her, the newsroom of the Berghaven Post was deserted, as it always was on Tuesday mornings. Today’s edition of the bi-weekly paper was out, delivered to the doorsteps and corner stores of Berghaven. All around the coastal town in the far north of Norway, people were taking in their paper to enjoy with their morning coffee.

It was the perfect time for Bethany to have an important professional conversation that had nothing to do with her day job.

The call came through at half past seven on the dot, and Pernille Johansen’s face filled Bethany’s laptop screen.
The editor with Forest House Publishing wasn’t smiling, but she rarely did. “Good morning, Bethany. Thanks for making the time to talk to me.”

“Not a problem at all,” Bethany said. As if she’d not move heaven and earth to schedule this call.

Forest House was publishing her biography of her late husband, Espen. She’d started writing it as a way to work through her grief over his unexpected death five years ago and had been stunned when it became the subject of a bidding war between three major publishing companies.

Espen Meland was one of Norway’s most famous actors and his life had been cut short just as the world was recognizing his extraordinary talent. Bethany wanted her book to cement his legacy.

Forest House had held onto the manuscript for several months. Hopefully the feedback was good.

Pernille adjusted her half-moon glasses. “Before we get into the notes on your book, I have some news.”

Bethany held her breath. Pernille’s face was impossible to read at the best of times, but through a screen it was impossible to tell what was coming.

Pernille cleared her throat. “Have you heard about Craig Carstone?”

The name rang a bell. A deep, ominous toll. “He’s a celebrity biographer, isn’t he?”

“Yes. They call him The Undertaker because he buries people’s reputations. We have it on good authority that he’s working on a biography of your late husband, and his chief source is Annika Elberg.”

The tolling bell in Bethany’s head took on the tone of a death knell. Annika Elberg was the leggy blond actress who’d played alongside Espen in two of his most successful movies. She’d been present at the boating accident which killed him. Fans and the media hailed him as a hero for saving the lives of Annika and two other passengers, although scandal sheets questioned the nature of his relationship with her.

Bethany never paid attention to the kind of muck raked up by bottom feeder gossip sites. As the wife of a celebrity, she’d soon learned that ignoring the gutter press was the best way to hang on to her sanity. But she couldn’t overlook a book by a well-known author.

“Let me guess,” she said. “You don’t think it’s going to be positive?”

Pernille’s mouth curved upward, but her smile held no humor. “Judging from his past work, he’s probably not nominating your husband for any accolades. The word from upstairs is they want to make sure your book comes out before Carstone’s. We suspect his will be published in November. So, yours has to come out in October at the latest. We’re bringing your publication date forward.”

Bethany’s chest felt like a buffalo stampede. She inhaled slowly. “Okay. That should be fine, right, since the manuscript is complete?”

“That brings me to my next point.” Pernille brushed a strand of pale blond hair behind her ear. “There are some issues with your manuscript as it stands.”

The buffaloes thundered louder. “What issues?”

“Carstone has made a name for himself with controversial biographies. So, we think your book will need to be more than a sentimental memoir. We want it to have a harder edge to it.”

“You think my book is a sentimental memoir?” Heat crept up her neck. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

Pernille raised her hand. “Hear me out. Your manuscript is great, and we all love it. But it’s a bit too rosy a picture of Espen’s life. We want more shades of gray if it’s to have credibility. Especially when it sits on the shelf alongside Carstone’s book.”

Bethany pressed her lips tightly together. It sounded as though they wanted her to sling some mud on Espen’s name. She forced herself to take three breaths before she spoke. “Okay. How am I supposed to make the book less rosy?”

“I know this is hard to take, Bethany. Believe me. One of the great things about your book is how you’re not just a good writer but Espen’s widow. You can bring something really special, which is why the guys upstairs were so keen on the story you have to tell.”

Were. In the past tense. They “were keen.” Did that mean they weren’t anymore?

“Think of it from their point of view,” Pernille said. “They’re thinking about potential movie options from this book, which is a real possibility. Who do you think Hollywood would approach for source material for an Espen Meland biopic? I’d love it to be your book and not Carstone’s. But Hollywood likes life stories with a bit of grit. We’d love to reach readers beyond Espen’s fan base.”

Bethany knew she needed to force herself to think clinically about this book. She had to consider it as a publisher and not like a widow writing about the love of her life, whom she’d lost. She bit down on her lip.

Pernille leaned forward. “I’m being frank with you because I want to make sure this book gets published. The guys upstairs are wondering whether you’re not too close to this project. So, I have to ask you. Can you do it? Can you make the changes we need?”

Bethany sighed. “Okay. What kinds of changes do they want?”

“It’s all in the notes I’m going to send you. But for one thing, your manuscript is a bit thin on what Espen’s life was like before he was a movie star. We’d love more on how he got his start. What was his childhood like? Who was Espen Meland the boy, the man, before he became Espen Meland, the A-list actor? You’re uniquely placed to tell that part of his story. Carstone can’t do that. And don’t be afraid to make the narrative more nuanced. No one gets to Espen’s level of success without stepping on a few toes, or without being a driven, maybe even obsessive person. We’d love to see more of that side of things, if it’s there.”

The key word was if. “And what will happen if I can’t find any gritty stuff on him?”

Pernille stared over the rims of her glasses. “Try. Try hard. I’ll be frank with you, Bethany. I’ve seen projects pulled when they were already well down the pipeline for publication. If the guys upstairs think the manuscript can’t compete with Carstone’s, they’ll shelve it. Perhaps permanently. And right now, there are serious questions.”

Bethany clenched her fists in her lap. So, because of a guy who made his living trashing the reputation of people more successful than himself, she had to go looking for dirt on her husband. But what choice did she have? Pernille was a straight shooter. She’d never have told Bethany all this if it weren’t true.

Bethany gritted her teeth. “Okay. I’ll do everything I can.”

“Excellent. I’ll send you my notes. Do you think you could deliver a revised manuscript within the next two months?”

“Just two months? That’ll be tight.”

“I know,” Pernille said. “But it has to be if we’re to get it out in English and Norwegian and produce the audiobook for release alongside the hardbacks. So, will you do it?”

Bethany did a mental run through her commitments. To deliver the level of revisions Pernille wanted, she’d have to cancel her plans for the summer. If she didn’t do it, Carstone’s hatchet job would come out before her book. There was no other option. She had to meet that deadline. Somehow.

Sending a silent SOS heavenward, she looked into her web cam. “Okay. I’ll do it.”