“Let me finish. If you remember, I was trying to turn around a revised proposal about the summit at Victor’s request. And when the CEO of the festival asks for something, by golly, I want to get it to him in a timely fashion.”
By golly? Oscar was known for his frequent F-bombs.By golly, my ass.
“You asked me to complete it after hours and turn it around that night,” said Marlow, trying to stand her ground. “I unfortunately had plans that evening for my daughter’s graduation.”
“If you’re unable to fulfill your duties in a timely fashion, even if it involves overtime, I’m not sure you’ll be able to be promoted to manager of the industry office. Further, I’ve asked repeatedly since you’ve been in France to put best efforts into getting us Yves Barrat to anchor the September Summit, but to my knowledge you haven’t even reached out to him.”
The point of no return. Lie? Be honest? She wanted to be anywhere but here. She wanted to be hauling storm detritus to the Nenier bins. Drinking Guillaume’s wine from his vineyard. Posing for Luc. Getting Sabine home to eat a simple dinner at Maison Perdue.
“Marlow?” asked Helen, “did you have thoughts?”
Oh she had plenty.Tread carefully.
“It feels unfair to penalize me for one missed deadline, as if it were the sum total of all my years at Renegade. You asked me for an overhaul of a PowerPoint and a budget minutes before five o’clock, the day my daughter graduated from high school.”
Marlow decided not to answer the Yves question. Her stomach was doing flips. Gurgles, even. Dangerous.
“I did ask a lot of you in that moment,” said Oscar, “but it’s not just one moment. The next day, you asked for a week off, starting immediately. Then you asked to work remotely for the summer, which put the summit in jeopardy. I had to reduce it to one day. Your trip has forced me to change how the department works, not to mention the time difference.”
“It was Victor who reduced the summit to one day. That had nothing to do with me.” She knew she sounded defensive but—
Silence. Gurgle. Was she losing this fight?
“I’m sorry,” said Marlow. “I complete all my tasks in a timely manner. I put in overtime, even if you don’t see me. I’ll be back in three weeks, and we’ll be in the same place and time zone.”
“Shall we move on to the ‘future’ section of the review?” asked Helen. Marlow suspected Helen was on her side, and she was feeling very thankful for the support at this moment.
“I did have a few more obstacles,” said Oscar, “but I can specify those in my report if that’s helpful.”
“It is,” said Helen. “I have another review in fifteen. So, thoughts?”
Marlow smiled awkwardly at the laptop camera, and, momentarily distracted by the vineyards under a blue sky with puffy white clouds, was unable to answer Helen’s question.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sabine, Aubin, and Yves walked along Rue Norvins as Yves answered a flurry of texts.
“Sorry,” he said, “I’m finishing what I hope will be my last low-budget film—this is the one you will be in—and then I won’t have to do everything myself.”
“Why are you going to stop making them?” asked Aubin. “They’ve been a big success.”
“Because being poor is no fun. I hope to get one of three films greenlit. They are all much higher budget, so the stakes are higher, too. One film will be shot in the US, one shot here in France, and one in Ireland. It’s hard to know where my life will be.”
“Sounds exciting,” said Sabine. “But then anything’s more exciting than high school.”
“True. Have you seen my films?”
Sabine hesitated. Aubin jumped in, “I’ve seen a bunch. They’re great.”
“I haven’t seen them all,” Sabine confessed. “I guess I didn’t know how I’d react to seeing your work. How it would make me feel. We haven’t been exactly—I mean—”
“We haven’t been close,” said Yves. “That is my fault. And I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not a fair question.”
“No, it is. You’re my father, aren’t you?” Dangerous territory.
“Yes. I am,” said Yves. His voice caught in his throat as he said it.
“Your films are your life’s work,” she said. “I want to see them.”
