34. Nora
34
NORA
W hat is it about phone calls that is so intimidating? I’ve been busy all morning cleaning, baking, running errands—anything I can think of to keep from dealing with the voicemail I mentioned to Alex last night. I am intrigued, though, because why would anyone be calling about the show? When I’m finally out of excuses and pushing up against the time I need to leave for work, I dial the number and wait.
“Miles Brenner speaking.”
“Hi, Mr. Brenner, this is Nora Beckham returning your call.”
“Nora! So glad you got my message. And please call me Miles.” I can’t determine much about this man from his voice. He sounds neither young nor old and doesn’t have any kind of distinctive accent.
“I bet you’re wondering why I called you yesterday,” Miles continues. “I’ll cut straight to the chase. I saw a few episodes of your show online, and I think you and your partner have a good thing going. I want to be a part of it. Have you two ever considered being on television?”
“Television?” I repeat.
“Yes, television. Specifically, a cooking show.” He doesn’t seem bothered by my one-word response. “I think you two and your concept have a lot of potential. Your audience seems to like your chemistry, and I like the way you give instructions for your recipes. It’s simple and easy for people to understand and follow along at home.”
“Th-thank you. That’s exactly what we were going for.” I pause for a second, trying to catch up. Surely he didn’t contact me just to tell me he liked our show. “But I’m still not sure I understand why you called.”
“I want to talk about the possibility of moving From Couch to Potatoes from YouTube to a network or cable TV channel. Is that something you and Alex would be interested in?”
My mouth drops open, and I sit in frozen silence. Be on TV? Me and Alex? And our little show?
“Nora, are you still there?”
“Yes, yes,” I stammer. “I’m still here. I’m just not sure what to say.”
“Well, don’t say anything yet. I’ll do the talking for a minute, and then you can tell me what you think.” Miles goes on to explain that he works as a TV producer and that he’d like to pitch the idea for our show, with us as the hosts, to a handful of network executives. If the pitch garners enough interest, we might be offered a provisional contract, at which point Alex and I would go to L.A. and shoot a pilot episode.
“So tell me, how does that sound?”
My mind is racing as I try to wrap my head around everything he just said. “I’m not sure, to be honest with you. It kind of sounds too good to be true.”
“Just keep in mind,” he says, “this isn’t a sure thing. There are still a lot of hurdles that would need to be cleared before you would have a running TV show. But I think it’s a good idea, which is why I reached out to you for permission to try pitching your concept.”
My instinct is to shout “Yes!” but I hold back. I clear my throat and focus on being my most professional self. “I am interested in your proposal,” I tell him. “But I would need to discuss it with my partner before going any further. Could you send the information we discussed today to my email so I can show it to him this week and get his opinion?”
“Certainly. I’m glad you’re open to considering it.”
I give Miles Brenner my email address and promise to get back to him in a few days. I hang up the phone and let it drop to the couch beside me.
Well, that was unexpected.
Just yesterday I was thinking how great it would be to turn the show into a full-time job and now this? It doesn’t seem real.
I glance at my watch and jump to my feet. That call took longer than I anticipated and even leaving right now, I might still be late for work. I send up a prayer for light traffic and dash out the door.
It feels like an eternity before I get my first break and the opportunity to call Alex. He picks up on the second ring and my already racing pulse picks up at the sound of his voice.
“Hello there, Rose. To do what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I called the guy who left me a voicemail back this morning and he says he’s a TV producer. You’re not going to believe this.” I give him a quick recap of my conversation with Miles Brenner, speaking so quickly I’m out of breath by the time I finish. “So, what do you think of that?”
“I think that’s amazing, Rose! Your hard work and creativity are paying off.” He sounds nearly as excited as I am. “What are you going to tell him?”
“I’m not sure. I wanted to talk to you first, but I don’t have a lot of time left in my break. Just tell me this—are you interested in being on TV?”
Alex hesitates for a long moment. “I mean, I think it would be fun to host a cooking show like we’ve been doing but bigger. But I have a lot of questions, like how much experience does this guy have? If the pitch turns into a show, will it require a full-time commitment? Would we have to move? I’m not sure I want to leave my job and Nashville, you know?”
I feel the needles of anxiety that I’ve been trying to ignore pricking more sharply as he voices some of my own concerns. “I’m not sure. I think it depends on who likes his pitch and wants to develop it. If anyone even does. It’s not a sure thing that it will get made just because he pitches it,” I echo what Miles told me.
“That’s a good point.” Alex blows out a breath and thinks for a minute. “Let’s do this. Give me a day or two to do some research on this Miles Brenner guy and see if he’s legit. If so, I think you should tell him yes to the pitch. Let him work on it and see if it goes anywhere. This could be a really great opportunity, but we won’t know unless we take the next step and find out more.”
“Okay, yes, that makes sense,” I say, nodding even though he can’t see me. “I’ll wait to hear from you, and if he checks out, I’ll reply to his email and tell him to proceed with the pitch and keep us in the loop. If it doesn’t go anywhere then that’s the answer. And if someone is interested…”
“Then we can cross that bridge when we come to it,” Alex finishes for me.
“Okay,” I say again.
“Okay,” Alex affirms. “And Rose? Whatever happens, I hope you know I’m so proud of you.”
My eyes fill with tears, and I can barely squeeze a reply past the lump in my throat. “Thank you, Xander. That means a lot to me.”
I have to get back inside, so we say goodbye and hang up, but Alex’s encouraging words bolster me throughout the rest of the afternoon.
I’m still floating along on a cloud of cautious hopes and dreams when I knock on the door to Alex’s office Friday at noon, pushing it open when he calls, “Come in.”
“Rose?” Alex’s face lights up with a smile. I hope he looks twice this surprised this evening when he walks into an unexpected party.
“Happy birthday!” I close the door behind me and meet him in front of his desk, setting down the bag of takeout I brought and wrapping him up in a hug. “I brought you lunch since I won’t be able to go to dinner tonight.”
He squeezes me tightly, then takes a step back, his hands resting on my shoulders. “You didn’t have to do this, but I’m glad you did. It feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”
“I know what you mean.” Each day has felt like a week since our chowder date on Monday.
“Whatever you got smells delicious,” he says, dropping his hands and turning to the bag.
“I got us Philly cheesesteak sandwiches with house-made potato chips.” I reach for the bag and pull out two Styrofoam boxes and bottles of water. “I’ll have to owe you a birthday cake.”
“Maybe I can cash in on that this weekend.”
“You got it,” I promise, snickering inside as I think about the huge cake Maddy had me bake and deliver to his house this morning for his party tonight. She’s been texting me all day asking questions and confirming details. It’s a good thing I took the whole day off.
I slide my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and set it on Alex’s desk, then tug a chair up close and sit down. Alex pulls his swiveling desk chair around to sit on the same side as me, and we dig in. “Are you having a good birthday so far?”
Alex nods and wipes his mouth. “I thought I was going to have to fire someone this morning, but it turned out to be a misunderstanding, so that was good. I hate to fire people.”
I smile. “I’ve never had to do that, but I can imagine it’s not very pleasant.”
“Definitely not. It’s one of the worst parts of working in HR. I have a list of tips and tricks to make it easier, like don’t terminate employment while the employee is holding food.”
“Uh oh.” I raise my eyebrows. “Sounds like there’s a story behind that one.”
“Let’s just say the sandwich wasn’t bad, but I’m lucky I don’t have a scar from that apple.”
I laugh, covering my full mouth with one hand and trying unsuccessfully to adjust my face back to a more serious expression. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t at the time, but I can laugh about it now,” he says with a grin.
Just then, my phone buzzes on the desk, and Alex reaches for it since it’s closer to him than me. “Looks like you got a text.”
Alarmed, I lunge forward and snatch the phone out of his hand before he can see who it’s from or read the preview on my home screen. I’m positive it’s Maddy with another party question, and I’ve worked too hard this week for me to blow the cover on this surprise party at the last minute.
“I’ll take care of that later,” I say, tucking the phone under my leg and giving Alex a cheery smile. “Right now, we’re celebrating your birthday.”
But Alex isn’t smiling. In fact, he looks like he’s not feeling well.
“Are you okay?” I lay a hand on his arm. “You look a little pale.”
He leans away from me and fixes me with an appraising look. “Why didn’t you want me to see your phone? I was just trying to hand it to you.” He sounds hurt, his voice low and his brows pulled together.
“No reason,” I say with a wave of my hand. I try to keep my tone nonchalant. “I just didn’t feel like dealing with whatever it is right now. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s a big deal to me. It reminds me of…It’s just very important that I’m able to trust you. Who was that?” His voice is harsh and I feel a touch of defensiveness rise up in me.
“Why is it any of your business who it was?” I ask, irritated by his high-handedness. I might not have anything to hide, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy being interrogated.
“It just seems like you should be open with your boyfriend about who you’re talking to.” He lowers his chin and stares me down.
“And it seems to me like you should trust me and not force me to justify myself or give up my privacy.”
“So you’re not going to tell me who that was?” His voice is hard, challenging.
I lift my chin. “No. I’m not.”
“Then I think you should leave,” he says so quietly I almost don’t hear him. In fact, I’m sure I couldn’t have heard him correctly.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I said, I think it’s time for you to go.” Alex’s gaze rips away from mine, and he stands pulling his chair back around to the other side of the desk.
I stare at him, paralyzed. My mind is spinning, trying to make sense of what’s happening here. “Are you serious?” I finally choke out.
He jerks his chin down in a sharp nod, his arms crossed and expression stony. “I don’t think I can date someone who is okay with keeping secrets.”
I couldn’t be more shocked if he slapped me. My legs feel numb as I push myself up. “If that’s what you want.” I stand there before his desk for a moment, giving him a chance to change his mind. I’m not going to beg, especially since I have no idea what just happened, but I’m willing to let it go if he’s willing to talk it out. Say something to indicate that this is a misunderstanding. That he cares about me enough to ask me to stay and try to work it out. But he’s totally silent.
And so I duck my head to hide the tears that are threatening to overflow and walk out the door without a backward glance, lunch forgotten. Pulling the door closed quietly behind me, I pause for a moment. I press a trembling hand against the door and take a deep breath, trying to push down the ache pulsing from my chest into every extremity.
“Happy birthday,” I whisper before I walk away.