Every once in a while, Madeline raised her head from her work to take in a few seconds of the baseball game. Brick was playing first base, smacking his glove, trying to get Calgary McMann, who was pitching, to pick off the Vineyard base runner. Rachel was a few feet to Madeline’s right, wearing a navy-and-white-striped sundress with a giant navy N on the front, which it seemed Rachel had applied herself with an iron. Rachel had brought her pom-pom. She cheered away, stopping every so often to apply SPF 50 to her face, even though she was wearing a large-brimmed straw hat.

Despite her keen interest in the game, Rachel, too, noticed Madeline writing.

“Look at you, scribbling away!” she sang out. “I see ‘A Room of One’s Own’ has worked! You’re a writing machine! I fully expect a mention on the acknowledgments page now.”

Madeline nodded while finishing her sentence. It was the top of the seventh inning; she needed to head back over to the picnic area. But just then, her cell phone rang, and Madeline climbed down from the bleachers to answer it, believing that it might be Eddie, calling her back.

It was Redd Dreyfus.

He said, “You got the e-mail from Angie, yes?”

“From when?” Madeline asked.

“This morning.”

“No,” Madeline said. “I’ve got something else going on today, and I’m not near my computer.” Normally, Redd liked to hear vignettes about “island life,” and Madeline might have launched into a description of the Nantucket–Martha’s Vineyard all-star baseball game, but right now, he sounded all business.

“Well,” he said, “it appears the editorial board of Final Word made an executive decision on the title of your new novel.”

“Oh God,” Madeline said. “But wait a minute, I thought…”

“They’ve gone completely mad,” Redd said. “Or completely postmodern.”

“What’s the title?” Madeline asked. From the stands, there was enthusiastic cheering, indicating the end of the game. Madeline plugged her ear.

“They’re calling it B/G,” Redd said. “How would one even refer to that in spoken language, I wonder? ‘B slash G’? It’s reminiscent of what Prince did with that ludicrous symbol.”

“B/G?” Madeline said. “No. We can’t use that.”

“It’s been decided, I’m afraid,” Redd said.

“Angie said she would run it past me first!” Madeline said. “She said I would have final approval.”

“Welcome to the wonderful world of publishing,” Redd said. “Angie and her superiors are in the business of selling books. They seem to think this absurd title will break new ground or, at the very least, create interest from a publicity standpoint.”

“They can’t use those initials!” Madeline said. “We have to change the initials. I don’t care what to. Any other two letters will work.”

“But those are the names of your characters,” Redd said.

“For now!” Madeline said. “This book still needs a lot of editing!” She watched the crowd rise from the stands and make their way en masse toward the picnic tables. “Ask them to change the initials, Redd, please!”

“They think it’s evocative of ‘boy meets girl.’ I don’t think they’ll look fondly upon changing the initials. Their company isn’t called Final Word for no reason, Madeline.”

“Listen, Redd, I have to go,” Madeline said. “Please… do everything you can!” She hung up. B/G? They might as well have decided to call it Benton and Grace!

Madeline raced to the concession stand to get the Gatorades and waters on ice. Soon, Cathleen Rook showed up and began pulling side dishes out of the big cooler.

“Where’s Rachel?” Madeline said. “Did she bring serving spoons for the potato salad or the pasta?”

“She’s still in the stands,” Cathleen said. “She started reading your book, and she said she couldn’t put it down.”

“What?” Madeline dropped a bag of ice in the grass and darted through the hungry and expectant crowd until she reached the bleachers.

Sure enough, there was Rachel McMann, bent over Madeline’s legal pad, eagerly reading.

Madeline all but ripped the pages from Rachel’s hands. “What are you doing? This is my work!”

Rachel beamed. “I can’t get over how good this is!” she said. “It’s sexy stuff, Madeline, but smart sexy, seductive sexy. Look at me, I’m flushed!”

“Rachel!” Madeline said. “This is not for public consumption.”

“I’m not the public, silly,” Rachel said. “I’m your friend.”

Madeline was so angry and embarrassed that she couldn’t even meet Rachel’s eyes. Instead, she focused on the N ironed on the front of Rachel’s dress. N for nosy!

“This is going to fly off the shelves!” Rachel said.

Madeline hugged the notebook to her chest. “We are friends, Rachel, and for that reason I know I can trust you to please not tell anyone what the book is about… or that you even read it.” She swallowed. “It’s in the very early stages. Probably, everything you just read is going to change.”

“If I were you I wouldn’t change a word,” Rachel said. “But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell a soul.”