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Gradually, she realized that the original script hadn’t been as flawless as Bram had led her to believe, and that Bram was the person who’d polished it, sometimes making only minor tweaks, but also adding new scenes while still remaining faithful to the original book. Knowing Bram could write so well added another crack in the foundation of her old convictions about him.
Bram downed the last of his coffee. “You’ve given me some good ideas. I need to make a few notes.”
It was long past time for her to get down to the gruesome business of being honest with her father, and she reluctantly waved Bram off.
As a predictably uncomfortable silence fell between them, another fragment of memory slipped through her. She’d only been four when her mother died, so she didn’t have a lot of memories, but she remembered a shabby apartment that seemed perpetually filled with laughter, sunshine, and what her mother called freebie plants. She’d lop off part of a sweet
potato or the top of a pineapple and stick it in a pot of dirt, or suspend an avocado pit with toothpicks over a glass of water. Her father hardly ever talked about her mother, but when he did, he described her as a well-meaning but disorganized scatterbrain. But they’d looked happy in their photos.
She curled her fingers around the napkin in her lap. “Dad, it’s about tomorrow…”
“I know you’re not entirely enthusiastic, but don’t let Greenberg see that. Describe how you’ll put your own spin on the character. Get him to offer you that part. It’s going to take your career to the next level, I promise.”
“But I don’t want the part.”
She could see his frustration, and she braced herself for a pointed lecture on her stubbornness, lack of vision, naïveté, and ingratitude. But then he did the oddest thing. He said, “Why don’t we play some cards?”
“Cards?”
“Why not?”
“Because you hate cards. Dad, what is wrong with you?”
“There’s nothing wrong with me. Just because I’d like to play cards with my daughter doesn’t mean anything’s wrong. We can do more than talk about business, you know.”
She wasn’t buying it, not for a minute. Laura had spilled the beans about the canceled meeting, and instead of confronting Georgie directly about it, her father had decided to change his strategy. The fact that he believed he could manipulate her with these clumsy attempts at being a “pal” devastated her. He was dangling what she most wanted in front of her to make her do his bidding. This was his newest tactic to keep her from slipping away.
Her pain morphed into anger. It was time she let him know she was no longer letting him control her life in the futile hope that he’d throw a few crumbs of genuine affection her way. This past month had changed her. She’d made mistakes, but they’d been her mistakes, and she intended to keep it that way. “You’re not going to talk me into rescheduling the meeting,” she said flatly. “I canceled it.”
Her heart started to pound. Did she have the guts to hold her ground, or was she going to give in to him once again?
“What are you talking about?”
A lump formed in her throat. She spoke quickly, working around it. “Even if Greenberg offered me the part with my name over the title, I wouldn’t take it. I’m only doing projects that excite me, and if you’re not okay with that, I’m sorry.” She swallowed hard. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t keep going on like this, with you and Laura making decisions behind my back.”
“Georgie, this is crazy.”
“I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I know you only want what’s best for my career, but what’s best for my career isn’t always best for me.” Oh, God, she couldn’t cry. She needed to be as businesslike with him as he was with her. She dug deeper into her growing reservoir of resolve. “I need you to step aside now, Dad. I’m taking over.”
“Step aside?”
She gave a jerky nod.
“I see.” His handsome features didn’t show even a hint of emotion. “Yes, well…I see.”
She waited for the coldness, the condescension, the scathing arguments. Without her career holding them together, they had nothing, and if she didn’t back down, they’d have no relationship at all. It was so ironic. Half an hour earlier, she’d been enjoying her father’s company for the first time in longer than she could remember, and now she was about to lose him forever. Still, she wouldn’t retreat. She’d emancipated herself from Lance. Now it was time to free herself from her father. “Please, Dad…Try to understand.”
He didn’t even blink. “I’m sorry, too, Georgie. I’m sorry that it’s come to this.”
And that was all. He walked away. Without another word. Out to the guesthouse to get his things. Out of her life.
She resisted a nearly overwhelming urge to go after him. Instead, she dragged herself upstairs. Bram must have been too lazy to go to his office because he was sitting on the couch in hers, an ankle resting on his knee, one of Aaron’s legal pads propped on his thigh. She stopped in the doorway. “I think I…fired my father.”
He looked up. “You’re not sure?”
“I—” She sagged against the doorjamb. “What have I done?”
“Grown up?”
