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Chapter Six
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THAT AFTERNOON, RHONDAknocked on Elise’s door to report that one of the larger rooms toward the other side of the bed and breakfast, the one with the huge bay window, had been cleaned and was fully unused.
“I just thought of you while at my desk and wondered what the heck? Wouldn’t she rather have another office, all for her writing?” Rhonda said with a big-toothed smile.
Elise thanked Rhonda profusely and headed toward the other room. Although it was another rainy day, the room was steeped with light. She set up shop on the desk, opened her laptop delicately, and then fell back into the scene again. Occasionally, Rhonda appeared beside her with a platter of cookies, a cup of coffee, or a cup of tea. As Elise was the only guest, Rhonda seemed overly willing to dote on her.
“Dean Swartz told me point-blank to make you as comfortable as I could,” Rhonda said. “He’s been the kindest boss I have ever had. I don’t know where I would be without him. And because of that, I guess I have to overdose you with cookies until the sun goes down.”
Elise fell into a daze of writing. When she blinked up again, it was late afternoon, and she had written more than five new scenes. She cracked her knuckles and looked at her page count.
Already, she had written more than eighty pages, which translated to eighty minutes, approximately, for a film she wanted to be around one hundred minutes in length.
“Wow,” she breathed.
Elise turned back to her computer to send a message off to Courtney, her agent from LA. They hadn’t spoken at all since the incident back in August, when Rex had slighted her, told her they didn’t plan to make her movie but wanted to buy her screenplay for pennies, anyway. Courtney had been angry when Elise had turned him down. “We should have talked about this!” she’d said.
Courtney,
Long time, no speak!
I wanted to touch base with you and let you know I’m nearly finished with a new screenplay. It kind of just fell out of me. I’ve never felt more inspired in my life. I guess what other writers always say is true. When I changed my environment, I felt all these new sides of my creativity come alive.
In any case, I wondered if you would be interested in reading my manuscript as early as mid-October. It’s women’s fiction again, the same kind of thing with a little more spice to it, I think. You were the one who told me that middle-aged women need more stories out in the world and I couldn’t agree more. I do hope we can continue to work together, as we discussed in August. In my mind, August feels more than a million years ago.
Elise Darby
Courtney emailed back about five minutes later. This was typical LA: everyone was attached to their phones.
Elise,
Oh my god! I was worried that I would never hear from you again. Yes, of course, I’d be happy to read your screenplay when it’s finished. I’ll start putting out feelers for potential buyers.
Let’s get this thing sold and filmed!
Courtney
Elise jumped from her chair. She felt like she could fly. She glanced again toward the window, where the ominous storm clouds of the previous days began to part, revealing a bright blue sky beneath.
I’m back. I feel alive again.
Elise grabbed a bottle of Merlot from her room and poured herself a celebratory glass. She tilted it up toward the sky and whispered, “Thanks for bringing me here, Mom. I wouldn’t have written any of this without you. Heck, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without you.”
Just as she sipped it—a dry and layered variety from a nearby winery, Rhonda rapped her knuckles on the door. When she opened it, she beamed and said, “You look happy!”
Elise laughed. “I guess I am.”
Even though it seems like Wayne has decided not to text me back.
Maybe he’s just busy with work?
“Nothing as beautiful as a happy woman,” Rhonda said. “And it’s a good thing, too, because a very handsome gentleman has arrived to say hello.”
Elise’s heart jumped into her throat. “Is that right?”
“Indeed.” Rhonda rubbed her palms together, clearly excited. “I’ll tell him you’ll be right downstairs?”
