Waterfalls (16 page)

“Of course,” Meredith said, sipping her coffee. “Can you tell me a little more about the stories? What age group are you targeting? What’s the length of each book? Is it written in third person or first person?”

Helen and Jake looked at each other and then returned twin blank stares at her.

Meredith dropped her gaze into her cup of cream-infused coffee.
They have no clue. This is going to be so much work!
Looking up and gathering her courage, Meredith started with the first question. After all, this was her area of expertise. She shouldn’t be intimidated by anyone, not Helen and certainly not the pragmatic Jacob Wilde.

“What’s your target group? What age?”

“I guess kids,” Jake said blankly.

“Kids, meaning two-year-olds to five-year-olds? Five to seven? Eight to twelve? Twelve to sixteen?”

“All ages, I think.” Jake took a sip of coffee. “This is good. What kind is it?”

Meredith shrugged. “You’re in Seattle. All coffee in Seattle is great.”

“Are you talking about the age group for the videos or the books?” Helen asked.

“The books, of course,” Meredith said. “Picture a kid sprawled out on his bed reading one of these books. How old is that kid? Can he read it himself, or is his mom reading it to him?”

“He can read it,” Jake said. “He’s about nine years old.”

“Will his five-year-old sister like the story as much as he
does, if he reads it to her?” Meri asked.

“She might. His eleven-year-old sister would like it better.” Jake leaned back, and a calm grin eased across his tanned face. “Helen said you were good. Now I see why. I hadn’t even thought of this angle. We have to know our audience before the curtain goes up.”

“Exactly,” Meredith said.

“I’m offering six books minimum with a contract option for six more,” Helen said firmly.

“I understand,” Meredith said. “But you’re on a close time frame with the videos going into production. You want these to be released with the videos, but they’re not written yet.”

“They’re nearly written,” Helen corrected her.

Meredith smiled. “You know exactly what we’re talking about timewise, Helen. It’s nine months minimum before we could get a job like this on the shelves.”

“Nine months is good,” Jake said.

Meredith held up her hand. “You realize everything I just said was hypothetical. We don’t even have a verbal agreement here. I’m only talking in generalities to let you know how the process works. I have to look over the proposal first. I’ll do that tomorrow and let Helen know what I think.”

Jake looked startled. Was this man so unaccustomed to being told no? Did it surprise him that Meredith didn’t swoon at his feet and beg for the opportunity to publish his stories?

What Jake probably didn’t know, but what Helen should have known by now, was that Meredith had earned the reputation of being good at what she did because she was cautious and used integrity in all her business deals. Helen should have known that Meri would treat a movie star’s book proposal with the same interest she used to consider the handwritten manuscript from the unknown grandma in Mississippi who had sent
in the only story she had ever written. All manuscripts were judged on their quality and how well they fit into the marketing plan of G. H. Terrison Publishing.

“I don’t suppose it would be of any value to talk advance money now, would it?” Helen said dryly.

“Talk all you want. My hands are tied until I take the proposal to committee and the budget is set. Then we can talk. More coffee?”

Meredith reached for the pot to fill their cups. A quietness hung over them. If Jake had managed to dash her hopes with his practical approach to love and commitment, she had just dashed his hopes of being published overnight. His earlier speech had nothing to do with the way she handled her end of this business conversation. This is what she did, and she wouldn’t turn soft for anyone. Not even a movie star.

“Cheesecake is on the menu, if either of you has room,” Meredith said, returning to the kitchen and pulling the box labeled “Rondi’s” from the lower shelf. “Raspberry cheesecake.”

“Sounds like a must,” Helen said. “Mind if we retire to the living room?”

“Good idea,” Meredith said. “I know these chairs aren’t the most comfortable.”

Helen headed for the couch with her coffee cup in hand. “Is this real?” Helen asked, nodding to Elvis in his bowl.

“Of course he’s real. Don’t you remember when I introduced you two on the phone? That’s Elvis.”

“Hello, Elvis,” Helen said, cocking her head to the side and gazing into the bowl. Then she called back over her shoulder, “Honestly, Meri, I don’t know why you don’t get a little poodle like normal people.”

“She doesn’t like dogs,” Jake stated. Before Meredith could stick her head back into the living room and acknowledge that he remembered something personal about her, Jake asked,
“Mind if we put on a little music?”

“Go ahead. The CD player’s remote is on the coffee table,” Meri said. She lifted the cheesecake out of the box. For one fleeting moment she wished she had some silly old numbered candles to stick on the top.

An instant later, the first CD began to play. It was
The Four Seasons
by Antonio Vivaldi. Meri turned her head to see Jake’s reaction. She hadn’t planned this; it was just the next CD in line.

Jake was sitting in the easy chair where Fred had been. He turned toward the kitchen and looked at Meredith, a glimmer of pleasant surprise on his face. She knew she couldn’t say anything about knowing he liked Vivaldi or his falling asleep on his only date with her sister. Men who don’t believe in love but who choose to make a commitment shouldn’t care about such things as common tastes in music, should they? And they also shouldn’t remember whether or not a woman likes dogs, unless they’re interested in that woman.

Meredith looked away and set about cutting her birthday cake. Before she cut the first slice, she silently sang,
Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Meredith, happy birthday to you
.

She stood for a moment, wondering what she would wish for if she did, in fact, have candles to blow out. But there were no candles, and she had no wishes. Only guests waiting in the living room for their dessert.

“You know what surprises me,” Helen said, as her fork slid into the cheesecake, “is that you haven’t said one word about Jake’s movie career. You’re the only one I know who seems to be able to ignore that side of his life.”

Meredith sat next to Helen and answered without looking at Jake. “Someone once told me that what you do is simply what you do; it’s not who you are.”

Jake caught her eye as she looked down at her plate. Once again he seemed pleasantly surprised.

“Turned into a philosopher on me now, have you?” Helen said.

Meredith kept her thoughts to herself and took a bite of birthday cheesecake.

“This is very good,” Jake said. “Another island specialty?”

“Yes,” Meredith answered without looking up.

“It’s marvelous,” Helen agreed. “Now let me do my job as Jacob Wilde’s literary agent and brag on him some. Jake’s success with
Falcon Pointe
didn’t come out of thin air as many of the critics want you to believe. He’s been working steadily in Hollywood for the past five years, but his break came a number of years ago with a pain-reliever commercial that ran longer than any other for that product.”

Helen took a breath, ready to go on with her praises of her client, when Jake cut her off. “It’s all in the bio. I’m sure Meredith can read it over when she has a look at the manuscript proposal.” He kept working on his cheesecake without looking up.

Meredith sensed tension in the air. And it wasn’t necessarily between the client and the agent. Was Jake embarrassed that Helen had gone over his résumé with Meri? Or didn’t he want to divulge anything that could be considered personal to her? Either way, she felt slighted. She could understand his desire to keep his career separate from who he was, and after seeing how he was mobbed in Glenbrooke, Meri honored that. But what good was such a division of life and career when he also chose to keep his life off-limits to others?

“One other tiny, interesting fact isn’t listed in Jake’s bio.” Helen went on bragging about her client the way an overly protective mother brags about her only son at his first piano recital. “Jake plays the bongos. Isn’t that fun? Have you ever
known anyone who plays the bongo drums?”

“No, I don’t suppose I have.”

Jake seemed to light up with renewed interest in the conversation. “Did Shelly ever tell you about the bongo fests Brad and I used to have in Pasadena?”

“No, I don’t think she did.” Meredith had casually met Jake’s gaze when he looked up, and now she was having a hard time releasing it. Sitting in the easy chair, he was the antithesis of Guard Man Fred. They were about the same size and filled the chair more or less the same way. But Fred only stared into oblivion. Jake’s eyes were warm, full of life, and, oh, so intriguing. It made her mad.

Why do I feel this way when I look at him? He might as well be a big inflatable dummy for all the heart he seems to have. Why, oh, why am I so attracted to him? It’s not because he’s an actor, is it? No, I was intrigued by him before I knew who he was. I’m just drawn to him. Or, as Jake would say, I’m experiencing a chemical reaction. According to him, I should be able to choose to turn it off right now. So why can’t I?

Jake spoke lightheartedly of the evenings in the backyard when he and Brad donned French berets and spontaneously beat their drums under the California night sky.

It really isn’t fair that I should be struggling with this chemical reaction while he isn’t having one. He’s more excited about playing bongo drums than about me. Is it me? Am I that unappealing?

Meredith knew that wasn’t the case. Dozens of men over the years had testified to her appeal and would have done anything to have her return their affection. She suddenly felt sorry for those men. Now she understood what it was like to be the one having the chemical reaction while the intended recipient of that interest, attention, and affectionate feeling was shut down, dormant, and unresponsive.

She considered for a brief moment sending a letter to each
of those men, apologizing for her lack of response when he had opened his heart to her. She would let them know that her aloofness was coming back on her tenfold at this very moment while she sat here with Jacob Wilde, knowing that, to him, she was nothing.

H
elen and Jake left in a flurry when they realized they had to scramble to catch the last ferry off the island. Jake had reservations at a hotel near the airport. He planned to fly down to Eugene at six o’clock in the morning and then drive to Glenbrooke for his early morning meeting with Jonathan and Kyle. Helen had reservations on a red-eye back to New York and left in a panic that she wouldn’t make her plane.

Their hasty good-byes consisted of a kiss on the cheek from Helen, a warm smile and happy-birthday wish from Jake, and a promise from Meri that she would look over the proposal first thing in the morning.

Helen’s rental car peeled out of the driveway, tossing gravel and sounding much louder than anything Meri was used to in her quiet corner of the world. With a sigh, she stood on the porch, watching the moon play peek-a-boo with her through the thin layer of pale clouds. The rain that had threatened to fall earlier was either holding off or had blown over. So the
phantom storm left the fainting spring flowers begging for one last drink.

Meredith knew exactly how they felt. It’s one thing not to have rain. You accept that. But when the scent of rain is in the wind and the air is heavy with the promise of moisture, hopes rise. Thirsty souls become expectant. Then the rain never falls.

Meredith had experienced disappointment tonight, too. The hint of romance had come billowing into her life, heavily spicing the air with intrigue. Then it all had blown out the door.

As she stared at the moon, Meredith thought again of the verse she had underlined a few days ago. “Hope deferred makes the heart sick,” she recited aloud. “And, boy, do I know that is true.”

Maybe it wouldn’t seem so overwhelming if I hadn’t just prayed again tonight for God to prepare and send a man into my life. I’m not trying to be selfish about this, Father God. It’s so that we can do what my dad preached all those years—work together for your kingdom. You said two are better than one. Did you really mean that? Is there really someone out there for me, or am I best suited to be single?

She thought she knew the answer already. To her, single meant Aunt Jane. That wasn’t the kind of person she wanted to become or the kind of life she wanted to lead.

All I have to say, God, is if Jacob Wilde isn’t the man for me, I dare you to find someone better
.

Meredith’s hand flew to her mouth and covered it tightly. One shouldn’t go around daring God to do anything, should one?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into the cool night air. “I didn’t mean that. I just don’t understand. Why did you wire us frail humans to have all these emotions and deep longings if they’re nothing more than a stupid chemical reaction? You made me
this way. Now what am I supposed to do with all this passion and hope?”