Chapter Thirty-Eight Savannah
| Thirty-Eight |
Savannah
Savannah was reading through Bennett’s notes again, this time comparing them to the first ones he’d given her.
His second notes contradicted his first. She’d changed the opening line to be more provocative as he’d suggested, and then he made a comment that it was overdone.
If she didn’t know better, she would think he was trying to derail her writing.
But why would he do that? She was pouring herself another cup of coffee before taking Finn to the park when Bennett came into the kitchen.
“I just got off the phone with Marion,” he said.
“Oh, how is she?” Savannah hadn’t spoken to her old boss since she’d left. She felt awkward calling her. It wasn’t as though they had exactly been friends.
“Fine. But she wants me to go to Europe for a tour.”
“When?”
“Next week. The foreign sales have been strong, and they want me in London, Dublin, Munich, and Rome.”
“That’s amazing! Sounds fantastic.” What if he wanted her to go with him? She hadn’t had time to get a new passport yet.
“It’s not the best timing. I’m way behind, and it’s going to be tough to write while I’m touring, but I’m going to have to. It’s going to be killer.”
“Can’t they give you an extension on the next book?”
“No. Marion says it’s essential I stay on track for a new book each winter. Plus, if I stop then I’ll lose all my mojo. I’ll have to suck it up. If circumstances were different, I’d love to bring you, and we could see all the sights. But I’ll be sleeping, writing, and speaking.”
Relieved, she smiled. “Of course. I understand. I’ll keep the home fires burning.” That was a corny thing to say, she thought. But he smiled and kissed her on the head.
“That’s one of the many things I love about you. No drama. You get me.”
She nodded. “Listen, I was going through your notes again, and I had a question.”
“Oh?”
“It just seems…um…some of your notes contradict each other. I changed things how you suggested, and then on the second round, you say something different.” She pointed to his notes on the first page.
He sighed. “Yeah. I did suggest you make that line more compelling, but you went overboard. I mean, I don’t know what to tell you, Savannah. I don’t think I’m the right person to edit you. You’re taking it personally. A professional knows how to take criticism.”
She blew out a breath. “Maybe you’re right. I should work with someone else. It’s just—”
“Just what?”
“Well, you bought into a gallery for Poppy. And I feel like you’re not doing much to invest in my art. I guess I feel a little hurt about that.”
He gave her a scathing look. “Are you kidding me? What, should I buy a publishing house for you? Poppy was already an accomplished artist. I’m beginning to wonder if your interest in me is more professional than personal.”
Her throat tightened, and she fought back tears.
She had to fix this. Everything she’d said had come out all wrong.
“That’s not true at all. I’ve loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you.
I’m sorry for bringing Poppy up. I can’t help but feel jealous sometimes, and I know that’s wrong and unreasonable.
But I hate the thought of you loving anyone else.
It seems like you wanted to do everything for her, and I couldn’t help comparing that with how I thought you’d be with my writing. ”
“Savannah, you can’t seriously be jealous of a dead woman!”
She had to make him understand. “Don’t you get it? I’m jealous of your feelings for her. Her sculptures are still in the house. You wanted me to wear my hair like hers. I think you’re still in love with her.” Now she was sobbing.
He pulled her to him. “Babe, no. I love you. Poppy and I had our issues, especially at the end. I promise you, I’m not still in love with her.
I’m crazy about you. I’m sorry if you feel like I’m not supporting you.
From one writer to another, I’m simply telling you there’s no shortcut.
In the end you’ll thank me for making you do the work.
” He pulled back and wiped the tears from her face. “Also…”
“Also, what?”
“I’m not sure your premise is all that original. It’s been done to death. I think you should start fresh with something new.”
“Seriously? I’ve got almost forty thousand words. You’re telling me to trash it?”
He shrugged. “I’m not telling you what to do, but if you want to break in, I think you need something more original.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said, doing her best not to break down again.
He stared at her, his hand lifting her chin. “We’re good?”
“Yeah. We’re good,” she said, her mind grappling with what he had suggested.
He smiled at her, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and his grip on her chin was a fraction too tight. “That’s my girl,” he whispered, and Savannah felt a shiver of something she couldn’t name go through her.