smiled. “I think we can eat and talk, as I’m starved, if that’s fine with you.”
“More than fine,” he assured her, looking again at the menu and back to Madison. “What do you recommend?” He was curious to see what her taste was in food.
“Hmm...” She looked over the choices, sensing she was being tested. “How about filet mignon, mashed sweet potatoes and mixed vegetables?”
Stuart grinned at her across the table. “Sounds good to me.”
“Me, too,” she said.
They ordered as the wine came.
Madison saw that as an excellent opportunity to get started and take mental notes in lieu of her iPad for the moment. “So what made you want to become a writer?” she asked.
Stuart had been asked this question often enough, and his response was usually pretty much the same. “I don’t think there was ever a time when I wasn’t a writer to one degree or another,” he said over his wineglass. “I started writing stories as a boy and have never let up to this day.”
Madison smiled. “Well, it looks like you found your calling early in life.”
“I did. Of course, it took years to hone the craft and find the genre that worked best for me.”
She sipped her wine. “That would be the mystery-thriller genre?”
“Yes,” he said. “Before that I tried Western, science fiction and even mainstream before settling into thriller fiction.”
“So what do you feel is the key thing that makes you such a great thriller writer?” Madison asked curiously.
“Good question,” Stuart said, and thought about it. “I’d say the main thing has been reading lots of high-quality thriller fiction over the years to get a sense of what’s being published successfully. This gave me a pretty good idea of what to do and what not to do in the genre.”
“So you credit your contemporaries, at least in part, for your own success?”
“Yes, along with those who came before me,” he pointed out. “Writers such as Dashiell Hammett, Robert Ludlum and Mickey Spillane, among others, influenced my own writing of crime fiction.”
Madison took out her iPad and jotted this down. “You were inspired by some of the masters of mystery novels.”
“Exactly.”
“And now you’ve become a master in your own right.”
Stuart laughed. “Well, I’m not sure about that. I think I’ll probably always be a pupil of the genre. There’s room to grow for every writer.”
“And modest, too.” She smiled.
“Just calling it like I see it,” he insisted.
The food arrived and they both dug in.
“So what was it like to see two of your books go from print to the big screen?” Madison asked, taking a bite of mashed sweet potatoes. “I’m sure you must have been thrilled.”
“To be honest with you,” Stuart told her, “I didn’t think either movie quite hit the mark of the books.”
She arched a brow. “Really?”
He nodded. “When a 350-page book is turned into an hour-and-a-half movie, the integrity of the story is bound to suffer.” He sliced through the tender filet mignon. “But I understand the nature of the business called Hollywood and, as such, am thankful that someone thought enough of my books to want to make them into movies. My sister certainly loved them.”
Stuart remembered as soon as he mentioned Holly that it was a sore spot with Madison. “I didn’t mean—” he started.
“It’s all right,” Madison broke in. “I’m glad Holly enjoyed the movies.” The last thing she wanted at this point was for him to feel that the subject of his sister—or Anderson, for that matter—was totally off-limits. Especially when they were meeting in a professional capacity and it was she who had brought up the movies.
Stuart felt relieved that this hadn’t put a damper on the interview. “My guess is that she would’ve loved the movies even if they were total crap, because they were based on my novels.”
Madison chuckled. “You’re probably right.” She sliced into her steak thoughtfully. “How long does it take you to write a novel?”
“It depends on how much of a handle I have on the plot and what else is going on at the time,” he explained. “But, in general, I’d say about four months.”
“Wow. That’s a pretty quick turnaround,” Madison said. “No wonder you’re so prolific.”
He shrugged. “I guess it’s easy when you don’t have much of a social life outside of your kids.”
“I’m sure they can be a handful at times, though adorable day in and day out.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Stuart said, dabbing a napkin at the corners of his mouth. “I can’t imagine what I’d ever do without them.”
Though Madison suspected this would be a difficult subject, she felt obligated to bring it up anyway. “I read about your ex-wife abandoning you and your daughters.”
“It’s true.” He knew it had made the local news at the time because of his celebrity. It hadn’t helped that his ex seemed perfectly willing to exploit the situation for financial gain and attention. “She met someone passing through and decided to run off with him and that was that.”
“Ouch!”
“Yeah, I know.” Stuart finished off his filet mignon, frowning. “Never saw it coming till it was too late to do a damned thing about it. But I did file for divorce as soon as possible.”
“I can’t say I blame you. For a woman to do such a thing—especially to her children—is unconscionable.”
“You’re right, it is,” he said. “But we’re managing to get by on our own. Her loss.”
Madison was inclined to agree now that she’d had a chance to talk to him. Still she wondered if his girls were really doing that well without a mother in their lives. Or had he been able to make up for her absence through his own love and devotion?
“It’s quite impressive that you’ve gone it alone these past years raising your daughters, yet you still managed to keep churning out bestsellers,” she said. “How have you done it?”
“You do what you have to do,” Stuart responded candidly. “As a father, I owe it to my daughters to let them know I will always be there for them no matter what. I also know that I have to keep up my career to provide for them and myself. It has been a juggling act at times, but I wouldn’t have it any other way right now.”
Madison took that to mean he wasn’t interested in romance at this point in his life. Or was she simply implanting her own thoughts into his? “Maybe someday you’ll find another woman who can give you that balance in life and who can be a mother figure your daughters look up to.”
“That’s certainly possible,” he allowed. “I’m in no hurry, though. If it happens, it happens. If not, well, I won’t have to worry about yet another disappointment.”
“Good point,” she had to agree. “Even if it’s terrible to have to think in those terms.”
“I wish it weren’t the case,” he said. More than she knew. But the baggage of betrayal and abandonment did that to you, no matter how much you tried to erase it from your mind totally. Stuart regarded Madison, remembering that she could relate in some ways. “Now that we’ve gone through my life and times, I’d like to know more about yours—”
Her eyes widened uncomfortably. “I’m not the one being interviewed.”
“I’m