“In ten minutes you have your first meeting with a potential author. This is what you came for. This conference is not about you. It’s not about Jake. It’s about your job for Terrison Publishing. You are here to instruct and to acquire new manuscripts. Get a grip, Meri Jane. Go back down there with your head held high, and do your job.”
Meredith accomplished everything she told herself to do in her pep talk. But she wasn’t prepared for all the questions the conferees threw at her, not about Jake, but about getting their books published with G. H. Terrison. Never before at a conference had she been so inundated with questions. She guessed it was because only one other acquisitions editor of children’s books was attending this conference, and he didn’t arrive until tomorrow.
Fortunately, she was passionate about what she did because the eager-to-learn conferees kept talking with her long after the last appointment ended. Not until she was back in her room late that night and slipping into bed did she realize how exhausting all this was, even without the confusing emotional outbursts with Jake.
Why in the world did this guy think he had the right to use her as a bodyguard to escape the auditorium? He could have left easily without her so-called protection. By exiting with his arm around her, he had given everyone at the conference the distinct impression that she and Jake were together. That may have been a convenient camouflage for him, but it was unfair to her.
In the dark and silent room, Meredith lay on her back and wrote imaginary letters to Jake on the ceiling. She told him he was unfair, inconsiderate, and cruel to use her the way he had. She used the word defraud and wrote with her invisible ink in bold letters, “You had no right to use me in a way that benefited you but gave me false impressions and put me in a compromised position. Now it’s up to me to explain to all these people that there’s nothing between us.”
As the fire from within her dispelled with each hot word she penned across the ceiling, a timid question rose to the surface. “That is the truth, isn’t it? There is nothing between us, right?”
She had a fitful night. Her business association with Jake meant she would be in contact with him a lot more in the months to come. Why had she jeopardized all that by saying she would never forget him and then telling him he was crazy about her but too legalistic to admit it?
Sleep came only in ragged patches. If she had had enough time to gather the patches through the night, she might have been able to stitch them all together and have sufficient covering for her weariness. As it was, she got up at seven and stayed in the hot shower long enough to develop wrinkled toes. It helped to perk her up only a little.
When she finally made her appearance for her first appointment with a conferee at nine o’clock, she was once again assaulted with questions about every detail of publishing. For some reason she felt stronger this morning than she had last night, so she had no trouble giving shorter answers to the inquiring minds that wanted to know.
Meredith found she had a break for an hour and a half before her next round of interviews. She retreated to her room, ordered a chef’s salad, and pulled a chair out on the tiny balcony so she could start to read her stack of stories.
The peace and quiet did her good. This was what she was used to, burying herself in mounds of stories. Refreshed and ready for round two, Meredith returned to the general meeting area, where she had several more meetings before she had to teach her first workshop.
It felt funny standing in front of a roomful of curious faces. One hundred twenty people attended her workshop, twice the number she had been told to expect. She didn’t know how many of them had come to learn about writing and how many were Looky Lous who wanted a closer view of the woman who put her arm around Jake Wilde.
Before she started her workshop, Meredith decided to make one of her bold moves. She assumed many of them wanted to know about Jake. “As you know, I left the auditorium last night with Jake Wilde. Let me make a few comments just so we can get on with this workshop. I am a business associate of Jake’s.”
She wanted to scold her audience and say, “The reason he had to have protection when he left the auditorium last night was because of the way you people chase him.” But she knew that didn’t sound professional. It also meant she was defending Jake, and she refused to do that.
“If I’ve learned one thing from Jake, it’s that actors are no different than anyone else. They have their strengths and weaknesses like all of us. Jake has also taught me that being an actor is something you do; it’s not who you are. In the same way, I hope many of you who haven’t published yet will become authors. When you do, please remember that being an author is what you do. It’s not who you are.”
The conferees silently checked those around them. None of them seemed prepared for her opening statements, but a few of them began to take notes.
“Now, if you’ll check your syllabus, you should find the outline for this workshop on page seventeen in the yellow section.” Meredith switched into instructor mode. Teaching workshops was something she loved to do, and she had taught this class, “Getting Your Foot in the Door,” three times.
The hour zipped along, with the last fifteen minutes used for questions, which this group had lots of. When she finished, a long line of conferees waited one after the other to have a chance to talk to her. They stood there listening to her pointers on how to get published. Then one of the organizers came up and diplomatically let Meredith know that the next class was scheduled to start in this room in five minutes and the instructor was waiting outside for her to finish.
Meredith apologized and took the opportunity to gather her briefcase to return to her room. She made it as far as the lobby, where a group of six continued to ask for her advice and describe their projects to her. She listened patiently and made suggestions, which they thanked her for.
Four of the conferees who were asking questions entered the elevator with her and followed her down the hall to her room, still talking. They would gladly have come in, if she hadn’t tactfully let them know she needed to read manuscripts.
Closing the door behind her and taking a deep breath, Meredith was shocked to see that it was already six thirty. A phone message was waiting for her.
When she pushed the button to play back the message, Jake’s rich voice greeted her. Meredith found herself smiling when she heard it.
“Hi, this is Jake. I’m just checking in to let you know I’ll be a little late for our cheesecake break tonight. I hope it’s okay with you if we meet out front at seven thirty. If not, here’s my cell-phone number.”
There was a pause, typical of Jake’s phone conversations. Then he added ever so cautiously, “I’m looking forward to seeing you. Good-bye, Meredith.”
She pushed the button to replay the message. Leaning closer to the phone as if she could better capture the meaning of his words by hovering near the source, she listened carefully. “I’m looking forward to seeing you,” his voice repeated. “Good-bye, Meredith.”
That “good-bye, Meredith” got her every time. How did he do that? Good-bye seemed like the saddest word a man could say to a woman. It wasn’t that way with Jake. Was it the tone of his voice or how he drew out her name that melted her heart?
At least he still wants to go out tonight. And he said he was looking forward to seeing me. Did he slip and say that? Or is he allowing himself to feel something for me?
Meredith hurriedly decided what to wear. It was an outfit she had ordered last summer from the closeout section of a catalog. She had never worn it, partly because of the color. It was turquoise. But this silk pantsuit with a sleeveless, embroidered top seemed perfect for a night on the town in southern California with Jake Wilde. When Meredith saw how it set off her blond hair and ocean green eyes, she felt confident.
If this doesn’t turn his head, I give up.
Chapter Twenty-four
Hurrying to the lobby at seven twenty-five, Meredith was about to rush out to the curb when someone called her name. One of the conferees s
he had talked with earlier had spotted her.
“This is my friend Marsha,” the conferee said. “I told her what you said about sending in the entire manuscript if it’s short, but she had some more questions for you.”
Meredith listened carefully and gave a few pointers before checking her watch. It was seven thirty.
“I need to go. I have an appointment.”
“Just one more question,” the woman said. “In your workshop you told us to watch for trends and send in ideas when they’re current and not after everyone else has already done them.”
“Yes,” Meredith looked past the woman out the front of the hotel. She thought she saw a tan Explorer pull up.
“Can you tell us how we’re supposed to find out what these trends are?”
“You can see trends develop by reading and listening to what people are talking about. Read books, magazines, newspapers, and even the ads that come to your house in the mail.” She looked past the woman again. “I mentioned all this in the workshop.”
“I know, but my friend wasn’t there, and I didn’t remember.”
“Perhaps you would like to get the tape. I understand they’re taping each of the workshops.”
The lobby door swung open, and Jake walked in, wearing a pair of tan casual slacks and a light blue, striped, short-sleeved shirt. He took off his sunglasses and looked around. When he spotted Meredith, a spontaneous smile spread across his lips.
He must like turquoise. This is good.
“Ms. Graham?” A man came up behind Meredith with an envelope in his hand. “I have a manuscript here I didn’t submit during registration because I didn’t think it would be a match for your house.”
Two older women were with the man, and suddenly Meredith had a crowd keeping her from Jake.
“After I went to your workshop, I felt certain this would be a good match for G. H. Terrison. I know they asked us not to do this, but would you consider taking this manuscript from me now? You can call me after you have a chance to read it, since I know you have to read all the other manuscripts first.”
Meredith looked at Jake, who stood a few feet away, covering his grin with his hand. No adoring fans were flocking to him as they had both expected. All the action was around Meredith.
“Actually, they made it clear that we’re not to take any of what are affectionately called ‘black-market manuscripts.’ The conference director needs to keep a tally of how many manuscripts come in. It helps them gauge how many people they’ll need for staff next year.”
“It’s only one story,” the man said. “And it’s short.”
“You can ask at the information booth,” Meri said. “I’m not able to take it from you.”
Her firm words apparently discouraged all the conferees gathered around Meredith, and the crowd dispersed. Jake approached her with a grin. “Maybe I should ask for your autograph now before you become too popular and forget you ever knew me,” he teased.
“Look who’s talking!”
“That’s why I know what I’m talking about,” he said dryly.
Dozens of people were in the lobby. Not one of them seemed interested that Jake Wilde was in their presence. Either that or no one had discovered it yet.
“Let’s go,” Meredith said, walking quickly toward the door. “Hurry, before anyone discovers you’re here.”
Jake walked a little faster and reached the door in time to open it for her. He also opened her car door. They drove off into the balmy California evening with a comfortable quiet nestled between them.
After Jake entered the freeway he said, “The only place I know that has cheesecake that might compare with the one you served us is the Cheesecake Factory in Hollywood. I hope you don’t mind that it’s a bit of a drive.”
“No, that’s fine. It’ll give me a chance to apologize and yell at you,” Meredith said.
Jake turned to look at her with surprise. “Do I get to pick which one I hear first?”
“No. You get to hear the apology first. I was a little too mouthy last night. I shouldn’t have said a lot of the things I did.”
“None of them bothered me,” Jake said calmly.
“That brings me to the yelling part. It didn’t bother you to walk out with your arm around me, but it did bother me. It made me feel used. I was the one doing all the flirting last night, but you set me up.”
“I didn’t see it that way.”
“How did you see it?”
“Acting, maybe. I don’t know. I honestly wasn’t trying to use you, Meredith. I guess I shouldn’t have involved you in my exit. I apologize.”
“Apology accepted,” Meredith said, leaning back and appreciating that Jake had the air conditioner on low and the windows rolled up. The radio wasn’t even on. This ride was a peaceful change from being carted around by Chad.
“It feels good to get away from the convention,” Meredith said, changing the tone before they became bogged down in evaluating anything else.
“I can see why.” Jake looked over at her. “Your adoring fans won’t leave you alone, will they?”
“How do you stand it?”
“I don’t like it very much.”
“I got that impression in Glenbrooke,” Meri said.
“I think because Glenbrooke is such a quiet little town I caused more of a stir than usual,” Jake said thoughtfully. “Here it’s not such a rush, you know? Lots of actors and actresses are around town. You notice I didn’t get any attention in the lobby this evening. They were all flocking around you.”
“That’s because they want something from me. They want their books published, and I’m the gatekeeper.”
“You handled it with ease, I noticed.”
“Oh, you think so?” Meredith laughed her magnificent, light, airy laugh. “That’s because you don’t know what I was thinking.”
Jake laughed along. “Don’t be so sure of that! I’ve hidden many an unkind thought while signing autographs. There’s something about being presumed upon that I have a hard time with. It’s as if some people think I owe them something simply because they recognize me.”
“That does seem to be how it is,” Meredith agreed. “I never thought much about it before.”
“A year ago I was in a small coffee shop in Pasadena. After I finished my coffee and pastry, I realized I’d left my wallet at home. It’s a mom and pop place run by a German couple. The Frau literally took me by the arm into the kitchen and commanded me to wash dishes.”
Meredith laughed. “What did you do?”
“I washed dishes,” Jake said with a shrug.
“I can’t believe that.”
“That was a year ago. Then Falcon Pointe came out, and a few weeks later I stopped by the coffee shop again. The same woman recognized me. Can you guess what happened?”
“She wanted your autograph.”
“That was only the beginning! She had her husband take our picture, which is now hanging on the wall in a nice eight-by-ten gilded frame. She loaded me up with her freshest rolls and coffee cake and told me anytime I came in the coffee would be free.”
With more silvery laughter, Meredith said, “You did tell her you were the vagrant who washed her dishes, didn’t you?”
Jake shook his head. “I couldn’t bring myself to remind her.”
Meredith looked at Jake thoughtfully. She again noticed his birthmark below his right ear. It was sort of shaped like a bird’s nest. At least that’s what it looked like to her. But then, she realized she was a person who saw the portrait of Elvis in the wood grain of her kitchen cupboard. In a sweet, silly way, the bird’s-nest birthmark comforted her. Jake was not only one hundred percent human but he also had a God-given tattoo that represented to Meredith all that was free and safe in her forest. She was beginning to let herself feel that way with him.
“I have a friend who made it big in Hollywood,” Jake continued. “And he got smart. He carried around business cards with his name embossed on one side and his signature preprinted
on the other side. Whenever he was approached at shopping malls or restaurants, he pulled the cards from his pocket, and people walked away happy.”
“Are you going to buy some cards like that?” Meredith asked.
“I don’t think I’ll need to. My popularity seems to be waning. And I don’t mind a bit. Did you notice last night that nobody followed us out of the auditorium? I think that’s a pretty good indication that I’m on the way out.”
“Is that what you want?”
Jake nodded and looked over his left shoulder to change lanes. “I’m much more interested in directing and producing at this point in my life. Acting is hard work. I don’t think I have the stomach for it.”
Meredith was surprised at his words. “It seems producing and directing would be hard, too. Lots of long hours, tons of responsibility.”
“True, but something about the creative process energizes me. With acting you have to take someone else’s idea and create a character that reflects what others had in mind. I guess I like the creating side of it more.”
“Because you have an imagination,” Meredith suggested softly.
Jake thought a minute. “Maybe that’s it. I also have an interest in seeing kids stretch their imaginations. That’s why I wanted to write this screenplay. What Clive Staples did for opening up imaginations more than fifty years ago has yet to be duplicated, in my opinion.”
“Clive Staples?”
Jake glanced at Meredith and smiled. “That’s what I affectionately call Lewis. C. S. Lewis. Didn’t you ever wonder what his initials stood for?”
“No, I guess I never did. I always thought his name was Jack.”
“That’s what his friends called him. I looked it up when I was in junior high when I did a report on one of the Narnia tales. I decided then that anyone who could be christened ‘Clive Staples’ and find a way around such a name was my hero.”
Meredith asked cautiously, “Is that because of your last name?”
“Yes,” Jake answered quickly. “Being a ‘Wartman’ was about the worst curse a kid in junior high could have. That and having red hair.”