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After she’d returned from the bathroom, they’d played cards until late. Noelle was herself, laughing with her sister and even teasing him, but the air between them had changed. It still crackled and sparked, but he could sense she had no idea what to do about it. Neither did Wes.
When he’d concocted the plan to invite Noelle to New York, he wanted it to be the two of them. She worked hard and deserved to be spoiled a bit, not to mention he was grateful to her for all her help with the Bake-Off. But then he decided to invite Jeff and Holly along on their little trip.
The instinct not to trust himself to keep things friendly with Noelle was a valid one. After the heat that ignited in his kitchen between them the night before, she was a temptation he couldn’t have resisted. If Jeff and Holly hadn’t come into the room, who knows how far things would have gone? Based on how she’d kissed him back, he didn’t think she would have resisted.
The waiter came and filled his water glass. He’d arrived at the restaurant early, wanting to go over things again in the file his dad had given him. He’d only met Ronald Spellman a handful of times, mostly at charity or social events. Not anything more than a hello and how are things going type of conversation. It wasn’t that he disliked the man, but Spellman was a roller coaster from hell kind of guy. He could change his mind anytime it fit his own agenda.
Wes wanted to make sure Spellman’s agenda stayed on course. If it did, Spellman’s deal could be good for Marietta. And not bad for Noelle. Those were things Wes could approve of. But word on the street was that Spellman himself could be an unmitigated disaster.
“Well, how are you doing there, young St. Claire?”
Wes looked up from the paperwork in front of him as Spellman approached the table. The two men shook hands then Spellman took a seat in the booth across from Wes. Spellman, or “The Ron” as his groupies called him, snapped his fingers at the waitress and pointed at the empty coffee cup sitting on the table.
“I’m doing fine, Ronald,” Wes replied, ignoring the young St. Claire title. He was thirty-five years old and his father’s shadow still followed him certain places. “How about yourself?”
“Couldn’t be better.” The man wore expensive jeans designed to look distressed and a black T-shirt complete with a picture of the band Linkin Park. In his mid forties, he’d already directed countless films and was one of the top five most known names in the business. The man was brilliant and he was already being compared to the greatest movie directors. But to Wes, there was also something about him that was distasteful. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he didn’t trust “The Ron,” but he did deem it necessary to be extremely cautious.
Of course, Wes approached all his business deals that way. There were good men in the world, lots of them. But money did strange things to people, made some of them crazy. The press liked to call crazy people “eccentric” when that person was wealthy or famous. And in Ron Spellman’s case, rumors suggested that his eccentricity could sometimes be better characterized as batshit crazy.
“Talked to your dad on the phone the other day; he sounds good. Real good, as a matter of fact.”
“He is doing well, yes. Montana seems to agree with him.” Wes wasn’t sure what his father and Spellman had said to one another, but his father’s new attitude toward life was apparent to others as well as the family it seemed.
“I’m glad. He’s a good man. I’m sure Montana will agree with me as well.” He motioned with his chin toward the paperwork in front of Wes. “I see your father showed you our plans.”
“Your plans.” Daniel wasn’t involved in the deal at this point other than suggesting Marietta for Spellman’s western. “He asked me to take a look at it.”
The waitress came over and they placed their orders. Not all that hungry, Wes ordered scrambled eggs and coffee. Spellman went for a full plate of eggs Benedict. “I wonder if the cook can properly poach an egg,” he said as the waitress took their menus and left the table.
He leaned his elbows on the table and looked at Wes. “So, what’s your two cents then, St. Claire? What do you think?”
“Well, I can see the black and white of it here on paper, but I wanted to meet today to hear you tell me just exactly what you have planned for Marietta.”
Spellman leaned back in the booth, his arms spread wide. “Oh, yes! My grand plan. I love it.”
He proceeded to share his idea with Wes, which included the purchase of several buildings including the one that held Noelle’s studio. Spellman believed the street would be an ideal location for his new movie, an old western, where he could change the facade of the buildings, and make it look like the Wild West. Once the film was done, he would have put Marietta on the map.
“But you aren’t planning on making any more changes than some cosmetic alterations to the front of each building?”
“No.” He shrugged. “I don’t see why I would need to. Why would that matter to you anyway?”
“It doesn’t. But it matters to the people of Marietta. If you’re just making some minor changes to the exterior appearance, why would you buy the buildings? Why not just pay the owners for their use?”
Shaking his head, Ron said, “I’ve been down that road before. I’ve rented buildings from owners, and then they proceed to get in the way of my vision. I need control of the spaces. Besides, after the movie, those owners and shopkeepers made money from tourists who came to see where my movie was filmed. Why shouldn’t I buy a building that’s available and profit from the publicity my movie will create? Besides, I see it as a way to keep a part of each movie I make. Some actors save a favorite jacket from a film they’ve worked on, some actresses a dress. Me? I keep my setting. I thought you were a New Yorker, St. Claire. Why is some small town in Montana important to you?”
Not the town, but a certain resident whom he was falling in love with.
“It’s important to my father.” An answer that was not an untruth by any means.
Spellman nodded. “I can understand that. I’m sorry about your mother.”
Eager to have the topic off his family, let alone his mother, Wes moved forward. “I’ve been looking things over. The movie could be good for the town. Any attention could bring in tourism, but many questions are still unanswered. How long will you be filming?”
“I’d like to wrap that one up in a few months’ time. We have quite a bit of it set to film on a sound stage, but I want the town to be as realistic as possible. That’s why I called your dad. I figured he could give me first-hand advice. Your father didn’t get where he is by making bad business decisions.”
“That’s true.”
“I could say the same for you as well. So, what’s your take on it, Wes? What do you think?”
