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Even more irritating, all day Sunday she’d expected some feeble apology from him, but nothing. Not a phone call she could have ignored, not an email she could have deleted, not even a text message she could have refused to open. He hadn’t even given her that satisfaction.
And she felt like the world’s greatest fool for checking her phone every five minutes just so she could ignore him.
To take her mind off it, she and Buzzy had gone for a long walk on Sunday that turned into a six-hour hike, exhausting the pair of them. She’d thought about calling Mila and suggesting they go out for dinner, but she would have blabbed the whole story to her sister and, as mad as she was at Jay, she didn’t want to do that. Maybe it was to protect herself from embarrassment. Maybe it was also to protect Jay. Because she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was right about him—that he was a good guy, deep and caring and thoughtful. And sometimes he was an idiot. A great big idiot.
And then she got angry all over again.
After her long hike, she’d cleaned her apartment from top to bottom, cooked herself dinner, and sat and watchedFour Weddings and a Funeralfor the umpteenth time. At least romantic comedies never let her down. Even if they were fantasy. She went to bed exhausted, but found she slept badly.
Now she was at the office, tired and irritable, trying to get her Dog of the Week feature finished according to her own high standards. But as she finally made it to the last line, the newspaper’s receptionist, Stacey, called, “Erin?”
She sighed in annoyance, her concentration broken.
“Something’s just been delivered for you. It’s from Jay Malone.”
Even the sound of his name filled her with fury. Whatever it was, it was too little, too late. She didn’t even turn around. “If it’s flowers, please take them to the library so everybody else in town can enjoy them.”
“It’s not flowers.” Stacey sounded puzzled. “Um... I think these are movie scripts.”
That got her attention. She spun around in her chair. “What?”
Since Stacey obviously had no intention of bringing them to her, Erin got up and stomped to the front desk.
Stacey held up a sheaf of papers with a big, fat binder clip holding them together. Bemused, she took the packet and glanced down. A handwritten note lay on top.
From the desk of Julius (Jay) Malone
CEO, Exceptional Talent Ltd.
Dear Erin,
I really screwed up on Saturday night. I knew that if I sent you flowers you’d just give them to somebody else who’d appreciate them more, so I thought about a way I could show you how sorry I am. I’m sending you half a dozen romantic comedy movie scripts from some of the top writers in Hollywood. You said I never put my actors in romantic comedies. Well, thanks to you, I’m willing to do that. Pick the one you like best. Whichever you choose, I will get it made. You have my word. This is my way of saying sorry.
Sincerely,
Jay
Erin stood there in the middle of the busy office, too stunned to move. He’d done it. He’d actually done it. Better even than a sincere apology on bended knee, his agreeing to make a romantic comedy showed that he got it. That he gother. She wasn’t sure how long it took to make a movie, but that was a lot of grovelling he was prepared to do.For her.
Her anger drained away. In fact, she was more than a little bit charmed. She read the note again and appreciated how he wasn’t too proud to actually say sorry. That was a hard word for anyone to get out, but he had let his guard down and had apologized to her in the most genuine way he knew how. It was so much better than flowers. She also couldn’t help but be impressed that he knew her well enough now that he’d guessed she would give any flowers away.
At last, he’d scored another point on her internal emotional scoreboard, which was good, because after Saturday night, she’d been tempted to take away all of his points forever.
Chapter Twenty-One
Erin had to wait a whole tantalizing afternoon before she could go home and read the pile of scripts. She began the first one over dinner, then moved to her favorite armchair.
She started out full of anticipation, but by the end of the evening, she was horrified.Thiswas what people thought was romantic comedy these days? The scripts sucked. She was going to message Jay, or maybe just email him—she didn’t want to seem too eager. But then she decided that the personal and yet formally couriered note had a certain distance to it that she liked. She didn’t want Jay to think she’d completely forgiven his appalling behavior. Still, he’d managed to get her interested enough to want to respond.
She went to her desk and retrieved some of beautiful stationery her mom had given her one Christmas, but which she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to use. The paper was cream, with a small posy of pink wildflowers at the top. Perfect, Erin thought, for correspondence about romantic comedies. She sat for a good while, chewing on the lid of her pen, before she finally committed ink to paper.
Dear Mr. Malone,
Thank you for your correspondence and the attached screenplays. I have to say that each one was more trite, lackluster, and disappointing than the last. I cannot recommend that any of these be made. Only someone who has no idea of romance would think these could be made into decent romantic comedies.
Sincerely,
Erin Davenport (Ms.)