Chapter 21
Maggie jumps onto the plush bed in her five-star hotel on Sixth Avenue.
She’s so thrilled Ingrid liked her idea for Summer Rain!
There’s still hope for her book, despite Ingrid abruptly switching the subject after Maggie asked her for a literary agent.
Maybe she just didn’t hear her. Or if she did, it caught her off guard.
Which is understandable. They’ve only known each other for a minute.
Maggie needs to be more patient. She just needs to keep on proving herself.
She gets up from her bed and goes to her balcony.
Her room has a view of lush Central Park.
She snaps a selfie and sends it to her Williams Writers group chat.
I’m in town bitches!!! She presses Send, then worries.
Should she not have used bitches? She hasn’t really spoken to them in a while. Luckily, the responses come pouring in.
YESSSS! Let’s grab a drink!
I’m so in!
OMG Maggie, haven’t seen you in forever!
How’s tomorrow night?? 6:30? Where u staying?
1 Hotel Central Park, she texts back proudly.
Ooooh, fancy!
Can you come to the East Village? There’s a great place with happy hour till 8!
She types yes of course! and glances down at Manhattan. Somewhere on this island, her literary agent is walking around.
—
In the taxi the next morning, Ingrid instructs Maggie to just listen.
“Authors are very sensitive, mercurial creatures. Especially when it comes to discussing any changes to their babies.”
“Got it.” Maggie jots it down in her notebook.
“Rebecca is a true writer’s writer. You’ll like her.
She’s all about the work; there’s no ego.
Her first book sold eight million copies when she was only twenty-six!
Usually, when artists explode onto the scene like that, they tend to self-combust. But not Rebecca.
You know why? Because she’s disciplined.
She’s doing it for the art, not the attention. ”
Maggie soaks up all the little pearls of wisdom Ingrid’s giving her.
She tilts her head in the light, wondering if Ingrid notices they have on the same lipstick—City Dawn.
It’s a satin rose with a touch of plum. It took Maggie some effort to pinpoint the exact shade of lipstick Ingrid wears.
She finally found out when she peeked inside Ingrid’s bathroom at her house.
They get to the restaurant. Rebecca’s there with her literary agent, Stella Bardot.
Rebecca is a white sixtysomething New Yorker, with a chic blond bob and a soft-pink sleeveless tweed dress.
She looks like Candace Bushnell, and Maggie imagines the two of them getting drunk on cosmos, gabbing about New York men.
Stella is a fortysomething white woman in an imposing navy blazer, pecking away at an email on her phone.
“Rebecca! Stella!” Ingrid greets them, hugging them and giving them two kisses on the cheek each. “So good to see you ladies! This is my associate Maggie.”
Maggie shakes their hands, complimenting Rebecca, “I’m a big fan of your work!”
They order. Ingrid keeps it simple with a bowl of fruit and some coffee. And even though Maggie’s famished, she orders the same.
“We have some really exciting news,” Ingrid says.
Maggie sneaks peeks at Stella as Ingrid talks, still processing the fact that she’s sitting mere inches from a real literary agent. Maybe Stella could be the agent for her? Would it be weird to email her after this and mention they met here?
“You’re finally ready to start shooting?” Stella asks. “Because after having the option for so long, that’s the only thing we can think of as being exciting.”
Damn. OK, so maybe not Stella. Maggie glances at Ingrid.
“Well, not yet.” Ingrid folds her hands. “But I wanted to bring you a new take that I’m very excited about.”
“A new take? Here we go again…” She sighs dramatically and turns to her client. “I’m so sorry, Rebecca. If I’d known they completely squandered their time with this and they’re still at square one, I wouldn’t have suggested a meeting.”
They start getting up.
“Stella, you have to understand, we’ve been on strike. The entire industry was shut down for six months. But, Rebecca, once you hear this take that I’ve been working on, you’ll see why I’m excited. This is the one we’ve been waiting for.”
Rebecca’s agent tells her, “You really don’t need to hear it. It’s like a house. They had their chance to sell it. Now it’s someone else’s turn.”
But Rebecca sits back down, curious.
“What is this riveting new take of yours that makes you think, at my age, I’ll feel it’s worth waiting for your movie?”
Ingrid’s eyes glitter with anticipation.
—
No one moves when Ingrid finishes.
It really was the mother of all pitches. Ingrid took Maggie’s idea and made it rain. Made it shoot fireworks in the sky. Made it ache. Made it classic. Made it new.
“Well,” Stella says, glancing over at Rebecca. “That’s certainly…quite a take. We’ll have to discuss it, of course—”
“I love it,” Rebecca says, cutting her agent off.
“You’ve just articulated everything I’ve been searching for since I wrote the book at twenty-four.
What is next for feminism? I always knew it wasn’t about a man.
But I didn’t know what it was. No book or movie or society ever told me.
You just put your finger on it—it’s decentering romantic relationships.
Focusing on companionship instead. On friendship!
It’s that warm hug from your mother, without the complications of your mother. ”
Maggie’s heart is beating so loud, she wonders if everyone else at the table can hear it. Does this mean…?
“Will you please give us some more time? So we can bring this version to the screen?” Ingrid asks Rebecca.
“We’d have to think about it,” Stella answers for her client. “It’s a bigger departure from the book, which’ll impact sales for the book once the movie is out.”
“Forget the book sales,” Rebecca says decisively.
“Well, no, wait a minute,” Stella cuts in. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be a complete departure. Couldn’t Isabella be seeking both a fling and a friendship…?”
“No,” Ingrid says. Maggie turns to her, fascinated by her conviction. There’s no hesitation. It’s like the movie’s already shot in Ingrid’s head. “We have to pick one or the other, or it dilutes everything.”
They look over to Rebecca. Maggie squeezes the napkin in her lap. She has to physically push her legs together to keep them from shaking.
“I agree. It’s one or the other.” Rebecca pauses for an obscenely long time. “And I pick this new version. Kinda wish I had thought of it myself all those years ago.”
Maggie is floating. As Rebecca reaches across the table and shakes Ingrid’s hand, Maggie extends her own under the table. It’s only met with air, but still!
“We’ll be expecting a considerable increase in the option fee,” Stella adds as she shakes Ingrid’s hand, too.
“Thank you for trusting me.” Ingrid beams. As Ingrid and Stella chat about the latest gossip on the literary scene, Maggie smiles to herself, celebrating the small detail that everyone glossed over.
It’s tiny, really. So insignificant that it’s not worth mentioning.
But she wishes the esteemed author and her agent somehow knew that the radical take that Rebecca likes so much was… hers.