Page 40 of The Second Chance Cinema
“Are you hiding something from me?” He went for another bite.
“No.” She was jumpy.
“I’m kidding.” Drake laughed. He pulled her closer into him until they were one snuggly human.
Halfway into the movie, Ellie took a breath and pressed pause. “Actually, Drake, there is something I wanted to tell you—”
His snore landed next to her on the couch. He was already asleep. Ellie tossed a blanket over their legs and set her head on his shoulder.
The news, she decided, could wait a little longer.
19
The restaurants Nolan picked felt the same to Ellie. There were always fresh-cut flowers, pressed white linens, and brown sugar cubes tucked inside decorative dishes fit for royalty. The hostess led Ellie toward a small, round table next to a trickling fountain. Ellie was too preoccupied to enjoy these luxuries—even the ornate menu descriptions, which leaned into words likeforaged. Instead, she waded through what Melinda had said over drinks: “You know how he is.”
The table rattled. Nolan had landed, frazzled in a navy suit that likely cost a fortune.
“First off, I want to give the air a spritz and say, I’m sorry for our last meeting,” he told her after they ordered. Two juices and local biscuits with marmalade were set down for each of them. They hadn’t asked for either of these things. “I shouldn’t have said that your work wasokay. Artists go through phases. It’s a part ofthe process.”
Ellie spread some marmalade onto a biscuit. The first warm bite crumbled apart in her mouth. “Thanks,” she said. “But you were right.”
Nolan tugged at the sleeves of his shirt. “This new stuff … the piece about the dress shop. It’s compelling. You found something you’re obsessed with.”
Ellie wiped the marmalade off her mouth. “I’m not obsessed with Melinda.”
“Who?”
“The … owner.” Ellie took another bite of the biscuit. Nolan wasn’t eating his. He slid it over her way. “The owner of the dress shop.”
“Right. Well, whatever you did, it worked. This was the best thing you’ve written since Finn’s.”
Warmth coursed through Ellie in response to a compliment. She’d missed those.
“Your timing was perfect. You sent me the draft. Then, you were fresh on my mind when a friend brought up a new project over lunch yesterday. It’s a little different, this thing. Something that could be great for you, honestly.”
There was a holiday home show, he explained over his egg whites with foraged herb salad. The producer was casting a host in advance for next year’s winter season. Finding the right person and having time to build chemistry around them was important. Normally, casting would turn to the morning-show hosts, followed by people from interior-design shows or reality stars, but this project called for someone more avant-garde. “Turns out, you’re very avant-garde, in a network television way.”
Hosting a holiday show on its own wouldn’t have interested Ellie, but the show’s premise intrigued her. Old houses were going to get revived, Nolan explained as she wolfed down her chocolate crepes with organic berry mélange. “Revived and decorated in lights.” For free, or the cost of playing along, a home that would normally be turned over or flipped got to stay with its rightful owner. “The same bones in better form.” It wasn’t a guarantee that they would choose Ellie, but the producers had trouble finding a host to fit the bill. They were eager for her to come in for a meeting.
“I don’t know,” Ellie said. “My last show was a disaster.”
“The last show wasn’t your fault. You were great! What wasn’t great was the screenwriter they hired right out of college.” Nolanpushed his plate away. “Look, Ellie. The thing about this gig is that, if we get it—which I believe we will—we can easily land another book. You’ll pick up lots of fans. Then, we go where the wind takes us.”
Ellie had to admit there was something enticing about being on television during the holidays. “I’m afraid,” she told him. She was surprised to say that out loud. “Of failing yet again.”
Nolan softened. “Look around the room,” he instructed. Ellie did. “Everyone in here is afraid.”
“Not you.”
He moved closer and pushed the small vase of greenery between them out of the way. “Sure I am. I’m scared that if I don’t dress this way—and eat at places like this—people won’t take me seriously. He pulled the corner of his shirt up to display where some red fruit punch had left its mark. “Or if they see the juice stain on my sleeve. We’re all a little messy.”
“Wow, Nolan.” His candor was refreshing. “Thanks.”
He shrugged and brushed the bread off his hands. “I guess I’m softening as a dad. And also, I really want you to go for this. Because you’re good. You’re a perfect fit. And, I do like money.” Money. Ellie had barely considered the money. The thought of having a network television budget to do what she loved was alluring. How many homes could she save—and people could she help—with a big crew on her team?
It was a dream job, the kind of thing Ellie couldn’t have even imagined existing. And yet, she couldn’t shake the reason she was in consideration: Melinda. The story about Melinda was the reason for the call, the reason for this breakfast. Drake’s past had made Ellie relevant in the present. After being in a creative rut for such a long time, she wasn’t about to throw away this newfound relevance.
By the time Nolan snatched the bill and ordered a pastry to go, Ellie agreed to put her name into the hat. On the walk to thecar, she texted Drake. She reminded herself that it was good news she had to share, albeit with a challenging layer.
