The Promise of Change (17 page)

Sam sat in her hotel room, a hard copy of Sarah’s manuscript on the desk next to her. She’d finished it about an hour earlier, but not soon enough. She’d hoped to have finished it in a day or two, as per her usual routine, but other obligations interfered.

She’d apparently fallen asleep with it on her lap. The plopping of the pages as the entire second-half of the manuscript slid onto the floor woke her. After the frustrating process of arranging the pages back into numerical order this morning, she’d finished it.

Drumming her fingers on the desk, she waited, impatiently listening to what was supposed to be soothing ‘hold music,’ but it only made her count the seconds as they ticked by. She had a flight to catch, and needed to get this ball rolling.

“Sam. Sorry for the delay. I couldn’t get off the phone with one of my more needy clients. What’s up?”

“Marlene, do you still have that client who’s in the market for an adaptable novel?”

“Sure. He’s always in the market for good option opportunities. What do you have?”

“I’m sending it to you now, and I’ll give you the synopsis in a hundred words or less.” Sam clicked ‘send’ on her e-mail and began her sales pitch.

Mr. Cheswick was already seated when Sarah arrived. She’d had a sleepless night, wondering and worrying over the reason for this meeting.

“Mr. Cheswick,” Sarah said, extending her hand for a shake. “Good to see you.” So far, anyway.

“Please, call me Albert.”

After taking her seat, and a sip of her water to clear her parched throat, she started to make small talk before he interrupted her.

“Sarah, I’ll get straight to the point, then we can discuss the more salient aspects of the topic.”

Sarah’s hand shook a little as she replaced her glass of water. “Okay.”

“Patricia resigned last week.” He wore a sour look on his otherwise affable face.

Shocked, Sarah blurted, “The Bitchkrieg resigned?” Mortified by her flub, she colored as Albert’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Feeling the heat rise to her face, she stammered, “Er, Patricia. Sorry.” She shrugged a shoulder. “It was a law school nickname,” she muttered, chagrinned.

“Well, apparently very apropos,” he whispered conspiratorially, a slight smile on his face.

Now it was Sarah’s turn to raise her eyebrows. There must be more to the story than he was willing to discuss. Kim would know the scoop. She always did. But what did this have to do with her?

“The board asked me to meet with you, well, to ask if you’d like to come back . . . as the General Counsel.”

“What?” Sarah never saw that one coming. A jumble of emotions collided in her stomach. Excitement. Resentment. Dread. Going back as GC would make her dad proud, but the fact that she was second choice didn’t endear her to the offer. Sensible Sarah would be jumping at the offer. It’s what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? But she was tired of settling. Tired of giving up her dreams.

“Look, I’m sure there are hard feelings, but the board realizes its mistake.” When Sarah didn’t say anything, he nudged, “We’ll double your salary . . . and the staff really wants you back.”

Oh sure, she thought, throw money at me, then jab me with a little guilt trip. “May I take time to consider it?”

“Of course, take the weekend.” He looked at Sarah with the sincerity of a father. “But I hope you’ll say yes.” Picking up his menu, he continued. “Now, what shall we eat?”

A few hours later, Sarah waited anxiously in the same restaurant for Kim. When Sarah had called Kim, she’d been more than eager to share the story with Sarah, but not at work. Thus, the clandestine meeting in the back booth.

Sarah waved her arm as soon as she spotted Kim. Her silky black hair was shorter, but she still looked great. After hugs and squeals, inspections and compliments, they sat down to share gossip that was juicier than any steak in the restaurant.

“Let’s have it. What happened to the Bitchkrieg?” Sarah asked, with uncharacteristic avarice.

“What goes around comes around. She was asked to resign before they fired her for ‘inappropriate use of hospital resources,’ which is a euphemism for sending naughty photos of herself via e-mail.” Kim snickered as she lifted her just-served cosmo for a sip.

“She sent a nude picture of herself . . . on the hospital computer?” Sarah asked, incredulous. There were a lot of things she wouldn’t put past Patricia, but that wasn’t one of them.

“Pictures, plural. Apparently she intended to send them to some guy who was sadomasochistic enough to date her, but the e-mail address that auto-populated was that of . . . drum roll please . . . Mr. Spalding.” Kim’s cool blue eyes glittered with amusement.

Sarah choked on her chardonnay. “Mr. Spalding!” she all but shrieked once she regained her breath.

“Shh,” Kim warned, looking around the restaurant to make sure no one took an unwelcome interest in their conversation. “Can you just imagine the apoplectic seizure? It’s a wonder he didn’t end up in our ER.”

“Good thing his wife didn’t see it.”

“No kidding. Anyway, the day she resigned, we all went around the office singing
Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead
.” Polishing off her cosmo, she added, “I know I have to be careful. Fate could come back to bite me on the ass, but I tell you, Sarah, I’ve never been so happy to see someone go. And that includes my mother-in-law after a recent two-week visit.”

Kim always knew everything, but Sarah wondered if she knew about her meeting today with Mr. Cheswick. “I had lunch with Mr. Cheswick today.” At the shocked expression on Kim’s face, Sarah gathered she didn’t have this tidbit of information.

“What for?”

“He came on behalf of the board to offer me the GC position.”

Kim squealed with delight.

“Before you start re-decorating the corner office for me, I haven’t made up my mind yet.” Sarah couldn’t help but laugh at Kim’s deflated expression. “You know me. I have to think about these things. Weigh the pros and cons.” At this point all she could see were cons.

“Okay. Well, let me say this . . . you’ll be the greatest boss ever, and I’m not just saying that because we’re friends.”

“Sucking up already?” She laughed. “I knew there was something I liked about you.”

The waitress came to take their dinner orders. Watching her walk away, Sarah leaned over the table, and asked, “So, these pictures . . . just how naughty were they?”

“Let’s just say they involved lots of bare skin with a hint of leather.”

The phone rang as Sarah jiggled her key in the lock. Dashing into the kitchen, she dropped a bag of groceries on her foot. “Ouch!” Grabbing the phone, out of breath and moaning, she said, “Hello.”

“Um, Sarah, did I, uh, interrupt something?”

“Sam! What? No. I hurt my foot running for the phone.” Oh God. Her heart thudded in her chest like a pile driver. This was it.

“Sarah, I’ll just get to the point, since I know waiting isn’t your strong suit. I’ve found a publisher for your book, or I should say Elizabeth Bouchier found a publisher . . . and I found someone who wants to option the screenplay.”

Sarah felt the blood drain from her face, and her ears began to ring. She thought she might actually faint.

“Sarah. Sarah. Are you there?”

“Yes. Yes. I’m here. Can you . . . can you say that again? I think I might have misunderstood you.”

“No you didn’t. I said what you thought I said.” Sam laughed. She loved giving this kind of news, especially to her dear friend. “You did it, kid. Congratulations!”

Sarah’s legs finally buckled, and she sank with a
thunk
to the kitchen floor, where she finally noticed the broken eggs among the pile of groceries she’d dropped.

“Grandmother, I’m home!” Alex shouted to the house as he stepped into the vast foyer.

“Lord Rutherford, welcome home.” The butler, Mr. Fletcher, greeted Alex. “Lady Clara is out, but I expect her back soon.”

“Oh, Fletcher.” Alex responded with pleasure. “How are you? How are the grandchildren? Timothy still tearing up the turf playing polo?”

“Yes, sir.” Fletcher blushed. “He’s doing me right proud.”

“Good, good. I’ll wait for my grandmother in the library, if you wouldn’t mind letting her know when she returns.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alex strode down the hall in high spirits for the first time in months.

Since Sarah left, the months of work on location had kept him busy, but they’d been dismal nonetheless. Once the project was completed, loneliness, something Alex had never experienced, had descended with a vengeance.

In search of companionship, he’d gone out with a couple of starlets, but they’d seemed such shallow, vapid creatures compared to Sarah’s rich intellect and depth of character.

When other previous relationships had ended, he’d look back on them with fondness, but never with the desire to renew them. Sarah was different. He looked back on their relationship, as short as it was, with longing. Longing to tell her how he felt, longing to feel her in his arms again, and longing for what the future could have been.

After pouring himself a snifter of brandy, he sat in his favorite chair in the library and looked around at the vast collection of books. To his shame, he’d avoided Rutherford. That one day when Sarah was there, that one day when he thought he could see the future, their future, and her subsequent absence, made what had once been a refuge, a prison instead.

But quite by happenstance, an opportunity to get her back just dropped in his lap. His agent had called to sing the praises of an unpublished novel for adaptation to the screen. Alex had been looking for a contemporary novel to produce, and possibly to star in, one that would reach a larger audience than the literary adaptations he’d previously undertaken.

At first Alex wasn’t too keen on the idea of an unpublished novel, but when his agent mentioned the author, Alex requested the manuscript immediately, reading it from beginning to end in one sitting.

Sarah had written her novel, and what a novel it was. He was enormously proud of her, not only for accomplishing her goal, but for doing such a stupendous job of it.

He’d told his agent to make an offer on the option, and they were off to the races. Alex wasted no time in getting a screenwriter and director, and, as part of the deal, he wanted the author involved from the start. And on the set to advise.

All involved were sworn to secrecy, although they didn’t know the reason for it. Sarah could not know anything about his involvement other than the coincidence that he was playing Christen. The stage was set, so to speak, for a surprise reunion between Alex and Sarah. Knowing her aversion for surprises, he couldn’t help but grin.

“Alex, what are you grinning about?” Lady Clara greeted Alex.

As Lady Clara walked into the room, the scent of Lilies of the Valley brought back warm memories.

“I should be angry with you for deserting me these months past.” She patted his cheek with just a little too much gusto.

“Grandmother.” Alex laughed as he rubbed his cheek.

“Ah. There’s the smile I’ve been longing to see. What is the reason for that Cheshire cat grin?”

“Just a new project in the works. Come sit and catch me up on all the news of Oxfordshire.” Knowing his grandmother’s attachment to Sarah, he didn’t want to put her in a difficult position by making her a co-conspirator. So for now, his secret would remain just that. A secret.

The holidays were a schizophrenic time for Sarah. Elated over the book and movie deal, she and Ann and Becca indulged in countless conversations over who would play Christen and Amelia, giggling and giddy over the possibility that Sarah might get to work with the likes of Colin Firth, Hugh Grant, or Hugh Jackman.

But even all the parties, family functions, and holiday preparations couldn’t keep Sarah’s loneliness at bay. She’d always been content with her friends and family for company, and with herself, as well. Not anymore. She felt it with an acuity she’d never before experienced, and it unnerved her.

The highs and lows were emotionally-dizzying, as if she could never quite get her mental feet under her before another dip or rise affected her.

She’d resolve to focus on the business at hand, then something would trigger her melancholy. Hanging ornaments on the Christmas tree, she’d wonder what Christmas at Rutherford was like. Seeing a luxurious smoky-blue cashmere sweater, she’d think how incredible Alex would look in it.

But she made it through the holidays, and then through the post-holiday doldrums. Her thirty-ninth birthday came and went, with Ann and Becca throwing a small party including close friends and family.

April ushered in Sarah’s favorite time of year. Spring. Snowy dogwoods bloomed, followed by showy azaleas then, redbuds and wild cherries. The oak trees wore a coat of spring green as they shed their old leaves for new. And coated every surface with pollen.

She would miss most of it this year, trading spring in Florida for sunny California to begin work on the pre-production phase of the movie. She vacillated between excitement, nervousness, and outright terror. Yet another challenge. Yet another change. The only difference, this time she welcomed it.