Nick scanned the well-stocked minibar and selected a tiny bottle of vodka from the refrigerator shelf. He poured the clear liquid over a few ice cubes and brought the glass to his lips. Walking across the hotel room, he took a seat in the comfortable armchair, kicked off his shoes, and picked up the carefully stacked pages he had placed on the coffee table. Even in the age of the computer, he made hard copies of everything he wrote. He’d learned his lesson the hard way. Hitting a key by mistake could wipe out a day’s work.
Nick read through the pages again and was satisfied. He got up, walked over to the computer on the desk, and with a few clicks of the mouse, sent the reworked screenplay scene to the director. Then he returned to the minibar and took out another bottle of vodka. Going back to the armchair, Nick sat and stared at the images on the television screen.
This project had been a long, hard slog. He hoped these latest changes would be the last he’d have to make. At this point, he knew the movie that was being shot was far different from his original vision. Over the years, he’d gotten used to the reality that his screenplays could dramatically change at the whims of the director and the producers. He’d sold his screenplay and his talents, and in the end, though he tried to keep some artistic control, he had to accommodate changes if he wanted to see his work appear on the movie screen. That didn’t mean he had to like it, though.
Two summers ago, when they’d had that first reading on the Warrenstown stage, he’d had such high hopes for this screenplay. The actors had read the lines just as he’d written them, without throwing in any of their own improvisations. It had been an hour and twenty minutes of pure bliss as he watched his work come to life in the voices of the skilled professionals. At the end of the reading, when he came up to take his writer’s bow and answer questions from the audience, Nick had felt the deepest satisfaction. That was what he tried to remember, not all the unpleasantness and upheaval that had followed.
Swallowing the last of his drink, Nick put the glass next to the sink and went into the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked. Emptying his pockets and tossing his wallet and some coins on the dresser, he looked at himself in the mirror that hung on the wall. Looking good for forty-six, he thought, though he acknowledged the last few years had taken their toll. His face was more lined, and there was much more white in his black hair now. In fact, white was predominant.
He turned to the side to get a profile view. Those trips to the gym were keeping a lot of the softness at bay, and the golf games ensured he had a tan that accentuated his blue eyes and white teeth. All in all, it was about as good as you could expect at this stage of the game.
Nick figured he was more than halfway through his life. He’d never really planned ahead, just trusted that things would work out and that he would be able to handle whatever came along. That strategy had served him nicely. He’d married well, had a child, built a successful career. Maggie had died, but within a year he’d met Caroline Enright at a movie premiere party.
He had been attracted to Caroline the moment she walked over and introduced herself. She’d been working for the newspaper then and wanted to know if she could schedule an interview with him. Nick had had no real desire to be interviewed, but he did want the chance to spend some time with the first woman who had interested him since Maggie died. He’d suggested lunch at the Four Seasons. As they sat beside the reflecting pool in the dining room, the conversation had quickly shifted from the movies to their personal lives. He’d told her about the amazingly short amount of time between Maggie’s cancer diagnosis and her death. He’d shared that his college-age daughter was having a tough time of it.
Caroline had reached out across the table. “You must be having a hard time, too,” she’d said, as she rested her hand on top of his. She had pulled her hand away, flustered, thinking that she might have made too forward a gesture. Nick supposed that was when he really fell for her.
Now, he had an accomplished and attractive new wife, twelve years his junior.
He got into bed, but sleep would not come.
In less than twenty-four hours, he’d be experiencing the rolling, green Berkshire Mountains with Caroline. He hadn’t thought it was a good idea to return to Warrenstown last summer. There were things he didn’t want to be reminded of. What had happened to Maggie after their summer there together, and what he’d done to her, weren’t things Nick let himself think about.