Page 38 of A Love Song for Dreamers

I sit back on my heels, the dress clutched in my hands, and wish forcaffeine.

I offered to take my half sister to daycare today before starting on my work, but it’s proving harder thanexpected.

I scan her room, looking at the white furniture, the rainbow bedspread, the corner box of toys and puzzles where she’s currently pulling things out, one afteranother.

“Hey, let’s play a game,” I decide. “If you can pick out all your school things, I’ll sing you a song in thecar.”

Miracle of miracles, itworks.

After dropping her off, I head to the café that used to be my favorite in high school and open mytablet.

When I emailed Miranda to say I’d be in Dallas a couple of weeks working, she agreed. I promised we’d email every day or two to talkprogress.

There’s another person I need to update, and I’m less optimistic about the response I’llget.

Most of the musical is scored, but some of the lyrics aren’t finished. In particular, there’s a song between the two main characters I can’t getright.

Back in school, it always seemed that emotions flowed through me, desperate to get out. All I had to do was put them on apage.

But writing a musical isn’t only about feeling—it’s about story—a narrative that was born to be told through song, one that can only be fulfilled in thatformat.

Even though I was involved in this show from the earliest days—the idea was Miranda’s and mine, and it started being crafted back the first semester we worked together on the other show—it’s not something you can half-ass like an assignment for course credit and cross your fingers for a goodgrade.

Getting a new musical to the stage requires millions of dollars, and while there’s not one way to get it right, there are so many ways to get itwrong.

Which is why I need to callIan.

He didn’t leave a message when he called yesterday, which is Ian-speak for “I’m too important to leave a message.” But I can’t put thisoff.

I hit his contact on my cell, my stomach clenching. The line rings, and I turn the coffee cup in myhand.

Voicemail kicks in and I take a breath beforestarting.

“Ian, it’s Annie. Elle said you were looking for me. I wanted to let you know I’m staying in Dallas for a couple of weeks while I finish the book for the musical. Once Miranda and I are satisfied with it, we’ll send it to you and the three of us can discuss it in advance of the reading. Despite…what happened between us, I assume you’re still interested in being a primary funder, which is why I want to keep you as informed as possible. If you have any questions or concerns, you know where to reachme.”

I click off, satisfied I got my pointacross.

It’s a moment before I realize someone’s stopped near my elbow. I glance up and nearly knock my tablet off thetable.

“Pen!” I squeal as my friend breaks into a grin. I jump up and hug her familiar form, dressed in a cute black jumpsuit and wedge sandals. “What are you doing here? I thought you were traveling to cover entertainment news at thenewspaper!”

“It’s my parents’ twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and a bunch of our family’s in town. So, I’m home for the week.” My friend cuts a look toward the menu, and I scan the pastry cabinet while she orders. “What are you doinghere?”

I tell her about my dad’s party, that I decided to stay. “But my dad and I haven’t really talked,” Ifinish.

“Which is why you’re here at the café, avoiding him and wearing clothes you bought junioryear?”

“Not avoiding. Working.” I glance down at my white tank top tucked into denim shorts. “And I didn’t really pack for an extended stay, so I raided my high school clothes. They’re tighter than Iremember.”

“Yes. And also, you lookamazing.”

Ilaugh.

Pen gets her drink, and I order acroissant.

“So, you using your dad’s new studio while you’re home?” she says once we’re sitting back at thetable.

“No, but Tyler’s working with mydad.”

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