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Chapter Eight
Penny’s blond curlsbounced down her back as she hustled toward the third line of seats in the little plane. Elise watched as her capable daughter shoved her backpack in the overhead compartment, turned, and sat at the window. Bradley joined her moments later and said, “I packed some Halloween candy. You want some?”
Penny contemplated this for a moment. Her face reminded Elise of those long-ago days when Penny had been an overly-thoughtful child, sometimes prone to panic attacks because she just couldn’t decide on what to do or say.
“Well, the play is over...” she said finally. “What do you have?”
Elise and Wayne sat in the aisle across from the twins. Wayne clicked his seatbelt into place as Penny tore open a bite-sized Butterfinger.
“These were always my favorite,” she told Bradley.
“I know,” he said as he scrunched his nose. “I never understood why.”
Elise’s phone buzzed in her purse. She hunted for it, rifling past receipts, her wallet, a bottle of water. Finally, she found it near the bottom and dragged it out to find an email from Courtney.
Girl,
You won’t believe this.
We sold the screenplay! Five hundred thousand dollars. Not bad, right?
Call me when you can so we can fine-tune the details, have you sign the contract, and get started on the next steps.
When I took you on, I knew this day would come. It took a bit of a winding road to get here, but now that we’re here, I don’t even remember the bad parts.
Cheers to you, beautiful!
Courtney.
Elise full-on screeched at the email.
She dropped her phone back into her purse and cupped her hands over her lips. Wayne looked at her, aghast, as her heart banged away in her chest.
“What happened? Mom? What’s up?” Penny demanded.
Slowly, Elise removed her hands from her lips. She exhaled and whispered, “I sold it. The screenplay.”
“Oh, my God!” Penny cried.
“Are you serious? Mom!” Brad said.
Wayne’s lips found her cheek as his arms wrapped around her and hugged her tight against him. “You did it,” he boomed. “Every time I saw you typing away in the corner at the coffee shop, I thought to myself—that woman has it. Whatever it is.”
Elise shook with laughter, with fear, with excitement. Before she could find the words to respond, one of the stewardesses arrived to look at them with a disdainful expression and demand that the rest of them put on their seatbelts.
“We’re preparing to take off,” she informed them.
“Okay. But the second we’re in the air, we need to make a request,” Penny said. “Two bottles of champagne. Please. We have a toast to make.”
The plane erupted off the airstrip ten minutes later. Wayne clutched Elise’s hand powerfully as the wheels cranked back into the belly of the metal beast.
“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that,” he told her.
“If we’re going to go between California and Michigan a lot more often, I guess you’ll have to,” Elise told him.
Finally, the stewardess arrived back with four flute glasses and two bottles of champagne. Her face was sour as she popped off the tops masterfully, ensuring that no bubbles were lost. As she poured, Penny said, “My mother sold a screenplay today. She hasn’t sold one of her own in over ten years.”
“Is that right?” the stewardess said coldly.
