Chapter 9
FROM: Theo Travers
TO: Anne Elliot
SUBJECT: Production Docs
Hey, Anne—Thanks for your thoughts on the budget!
I added some info re: equipment rental—would you mind plugging some numbers in?
And maybe you can look over a few other changes I made?
See attached. Also, I would love to get your eyes on the production schedule—that’s attached, too. Thanks, partner!
Theo
Anne read over the email again, looking for some point she might have missed.
Then she went back to the documents Theo had sent.
Maybe he had made a mistake? The budget spreadsheet had only a few more lines filled in than when she sent it earlier in the week, and even those were just links to different equipment rental houses around the city.
Did he expect her to call and get quotes herself?
Meanwhile the supposed eight-week schedule was largely blank, with only blocks set aside for pre-production, shooting, and post. There was no information about the size of the crew, the location—even what this mystery show was about.
“This is fine,” Anne murmured to herself.
She had trudged across Tompkins Square Park to Monkford Café a half hour ago, hoping to get a few minutes to herself—and away from the sounds of Taylor Swift echoing through her bedroom wall—to scour job listings, but apparently, now she would be spending her time single-handedly orchestrating another television show.
She picked up the mug next to her laptop and downed the remains of her latte like it was a shot. This shouldn’t have been so hard. Theo knew what was required for most shoots. He could handle this on his own.
Maybe he has a lot on his plate, the rational part of her brain whispered.
That was true. Starting a production company from scratch was no easy task, and if he needed her to do a bit more legwork with these documents to ensure that she was a part of it, so be it. After all, she didn’t exactly have any other option.
She needed a job. She could barely afford her small room in apartment 4B without one.
And as much as she disliked the idea of another job in television, she had been over her bank statements, she had systematically worked through the list of pros and cons.
Partnering with Theo was the best option, not to mention the only one.
Her gaze drifted back to the half-empty spreadsheet in front of her, the hours and hours of work she knew lay ahead. Suddenly Freddie’s words from the party echoed in her head.
You were in the Columbia Business School to C-suite pipeline. How’d all those big plans work out for you?
Anne glared at the computer screen in front of her.
“Not great,” she murmured under her breath.
She slammed her laptop shut. There was no way she’d be able to focus now.
Anne knew she shouldn’t have followed Sophie up to that party.
But no matter how many times she replayed the moment in her head, she couldn’t find any way around it.
She had been so shocked to see Freddie’s sister she hadn’t had a chance to think of an excuse in time to avoid the elevator up to the eighth floor, and then she was there, in her old apartment, except a new version of it.
The view was so disconcerting that she barely had time to get her bearings before she turned around and there he was, standing in the middle of the room in a starched white shirt and navy blazer, like he was always meant to be there.
But it wasn’t really him, was it?
Her Freddie had been passionate, alive with empathy and frustration and humor. Now there were only glimpses of that, faint whispers behind a stark mask that was as alien as it was apathetic.
Suddenly, the catalyst behind so much of her old hurt and confusion began to make sense.
She had always tried to equate the person she knew in college with the one who had so quickly blocked her number, the man who’d chosen to cut her out of his life completely instead of remaining friends.
It was something she never would have expected from the old Freddie, but this new version… it wasn’t so hard to believe.
He had treated her like a stranger. No, worse than a stranger. She had felt insignificant, like her decision to give him up wasn’t the one reason he had this shiny new life in the first place.
Yeah, but he doesn’t exactly know any of that, does he? the voice in her head chided.
Anne glowered at her empty coffee mug. Sometimes she really hated being so rational.
A ping from her phone broke her train of thought. She reached into her bag, expecting to find another text from Theo on the screen, following up on his email.
But when Anne pulled out her phone, it wasn’t a text from Theo but from Sophie Wentworth.
SOPHIE
HEY! So good seeing you last weekend! I’m in the neighborhood today—want to grab coffee?
Anne’s heart did an odd stumble. She had almost forgotten that she had exchanged numbers with Sophie at Freddie’s party. She had been so anxious to get out of there, the steps in between had fallen through the cracks in her memory.
She unlocked her phone and opened the message, ready to reply, but her fingers hovered over the screen.
Was it wrong to renew her friendship with Sophie?
She had spent so much time distancing herself from that part of her life that it felt dangerous to contemplate revisiting it.
But it had been eight years, right? Surely if Sophie was reaching out, she felt comfortable getting together. Anne should, too.
ANNE
You too! I’m actually at a coffee shop nearby now. Monkford Café? It’s right off Tompkins Square Park.
SOPHIE
STOP IT! I’m literally just one block over. Will be there in like 5 seconds!
Anne smiled as she slipped her phone in her bag.
The fact that Sophie genuinely wanted to catch up felt like a lifeline she didn’t know she needed.
Over the past few years, Anne had been so busy working to keep Kellynch alive, she hadn’t kept any friends close, even though she desperately wished she had.
Now, if there was a possibility she could rekindle her friendship with Sophie, it felt almost unfair to deny herself a second chance at it.
A minute later, the bell above the cafe door rang out, and Anne looked up in time to see Sophie swing through it, her shock of pink hair almost glowing under the lights and her quilted coat a blur of color as she moved toward Anne’s table.
“I’m telling you, it’s kismet!” Sophie announced, leaning forward and enveloping Anne in another one of her signature hugs. “What are the odds that you’d be here at the exact same time I’m in the neighborhood!”
Anne considered pointing out that the odds were actually quite high, considering she lived just across the park, but instead she smiled.
“Do you live nearby, too?” she asked.
“No,” Sophie said with a rueful sigh. “Still out in Queens. But my floral shop is off Twelfth Street and First.”
A warm sense of pride grew in Anne’s chest. The first time she met Freddie’s family, she quickly learned that their mother Jean passed her green thumb down to both her children.
Jean Wentworth had a vegetable and herb garden that had taken over their entire backyard.
Freddie helped take care of it—in fact, ensuring the plants survived a particularly harsh winter was what drove him to create his hydroponics farm in their basement.
Their father helped, too, thanks to his plumbing business and extensive knowledge about irrigation.
But Sophie’s love had gone the other way.
She loved flowers the way that Anne loved math: not for any utilitarian function, but because of the beauty in the details.
They bonded over finding the mathematical Fibonacci sequence in dahlias and applying the golden ratio to bouquets.
Sophie had voiced a dream of opening a shop in the city one day, too, and even though her fiancé, Jimmy, was supportive—he offered to manage the future shop’s finances—Anne had always worried about the lack of a concrete plan in place. It was a Wentworth family trait.
“That’s great, Sophie!” she said. “When did you open?”
Sophie let out a dry laugh. “Not open yet. The rate I’m going, I’m not sure I ever will be. I can create an amazing wedding bouquet, but apparently organizing invoices is my kryptonite.”
Anne’s smile faltered. “Isn’t Jimmy handling all of that?”
Her friend shrugged, pretending like the sudden flash of sadness in her eyes wasn’t there. “We broke up.”
The news was so shocking that Anne was struck dumb. Jimmy Bruno had been Sophie’s childhood sweetheart. He had been at the Wentworth house for every Sunday dinner. Anne had even attended their engagement party. “Oh, Sophie. When?”
“Six months ago,” Sophie replied. “But things hadn’t been good for a while.
I stupidly thought the flower shop would help fix things.
Jimmy had been there while I dreamed the whole thing up and he got a degree in business management, so it made sense that he would take over that side of things while I focused on the creative.
But it just led to more fights until we were barely even speaking. ”
“I’m so sorry,” Anne said, reaching across the table to squeeze her friend’s hands.
“It’s okay,” Sophie said with a sigh. “I’m just glad the whole thing is over.
The divorce was awful, dividing everything up.
I had to move back in with my parents, but I got the shop, which is great.
Or at least I thought it was great. We’re supposed to open next month, and I have no idea how to actually run it. ”
The waiter appeared beside their table to take their order—an oat milk matcha flat white for Sophie and another skim latte for Anne. When he left, Sophie leaned both elbows on the table and smiled.
“Enough about me. What about you?” she asked. “The last I heard you got into Columbia Business School. What are you doing now? I always pictured you running a hedge fund and breaking men’s balls for a living. And, honestly, if that’s what you’re doing, I’m so jealous.”
Anne nearly laughed. It was almost funny hearing the impression she had left on Sophie eight years ago. She might not have known what the hell she was doing with her life, but at least she had looked like she did. It was a mantle Anne was still carrying.
“I tried the finance thing for a while, but it wasn’t for me. Then my dad’s TV production company ran into some budgeting issues, so I took over the finances for a while.”
“How long is a while?”
“Five years.” The words came out so quickly that it was only when Anne heard them aloud that she processed them. Had it really been five years? How depressing.
Sophie watched her expression as the realization struck. “It’s crazy how fast the time goes, huh?”
Anne let out a long breath. “Yeah.”
The waiter returned with their drinks, and the conversation moved on. But no matter what topic came up, there seemed to be an unspoken understanding that Freddie would not be one of them. Anne was relieved, even as the temptation to ask about him grew.
The bill finally came, and they split it, still talking as they gathered their things and started toward the door.
“What are you doing for the rest of the day?” Sophie asked as they walked out onto the sidewalk.
“I have to finish going over some production documents for a friend,” she said, working to not roll her eyes as she buttoned her peacoat to ward off the new chill in the air. “Then I promised to help my roommate hang up some posters for her play. What about you?”
Sophie gave the bloated canvas bag over her shoulder a pat.
“These invoices and bills need to be paid and I have to figure out a way to keep track of the fact that I paid them. Then, according to an accounting video I saw on YouTube, I should use them to project my outgoings for next year. Then I need to look into green business incentives, since I installed this gray water recycling system…” She sighed.
“So, yeah, I’ll probably spend the next week drinking and crying. ”
Anne smiled. “Do you need help?”
“With the drinking?”
“No, the accounting,” she replied with a laugh.
Sophie’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
Anne nodded. Sure, she had a mountain of work ahead of her with Theo’s production budget and schedule, but none of it triggered the same curiosity and excitement that had been stoked alive by Sophie’s shop.
“I know it sounds overwhelming, but once you set up a system to keep track of everything, it’s easy. Then you can use that to feed projected cash flow.”
“I don’t know. That feels like a lot to ask…” Her friend’s eyebrows knitted together.
“Let me help, Sophie. I want to,” Anne said, surprised by the giddiness already growing in her chest.
“Okay,” Sophie said, though she still looked unsure. “You have to let me pay you, though.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Anne said. Then she held out her hand. “Deal?”
Sophie narrowed her eyes, as if considering. After a moment, she took Anne’s hand and shook. “Deal.”
Anne smiled, more excited about the projected budget for Sophie’s floral shop than she had been about anything in months.