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And by “need for changes,” she’d meant scenes would likely need to be removed or added, secondary characters removed or added, backstories tweaked, whatever worked better on-screen. If they walked in and said they wanted to discuss another setting or changing Theo’s ethnicity or making Finn or Atticus a girl, she’d have been fine with that. Instead, what they’d suggested told her they didn’t want her story—just the barest trappings of her concept plus the growing audience.
As number four left, Daphne leaned over to whisper, “Would you kill me if I wanted to sit this last one out?”
“I would completely understand.”
“Thank you.”
Daphne slid into the hall to find a man and a woman talking in hushed voices as the woman checked her watch.
“Ms. Begum?” Daphne said.
The woman turned, and her annoyance smoothed out. “Yes?”
“I work with Mr. Remington. So sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Oh, I know why we were waiting.”
The man rolled his eyes and mimicked, “Oh my God, you wouldn’t believe the traffic.” He shook his head. “You’d think they flew in from Kansas. No disrespect to Kansas. That’s my home turf.” He extended a hand. “Colin McKay.”
“My partner,” Ms. Begum said. “I wasn’t sure Colin could make it or I’d have let your agent know.”
“Daphne McFadden,” she said, extending a hand.
“We are looking forward to meeting with your boss. I enjoyed his book very much.”
Daphne tried not to sag and plastered on a smile. “That’s good.”
“I have a question before we go in. I know Mr. Remington lives in Canada’s Yukon. Any reason why he set the book in Alaska?”
“That… might not have been his idea.”
Ms. Begum laughed. “Ah, appealing to the wider market. I wondered, especially when the book didn’t seem to be set near the coast.”
“Mmm, yeah. Consider it inland Alaska.”
“Do you think he’d object to a more coastal Alaska setting? I know the perfect place—we’ve filmed there before. When I was reading the scene where Theo and Finn get stranded on a raft during a storm, I kept imagining it in the ocean instead of a lake. Rocky coasts, crashing waves…”
“I think Mr. Remington would be quite open to changes like that.” Daphne reached for the doorknob. “Let me take you in.”
She ushered Ms. Begum and Mr. McKay inside and introduced them.
As Ms. Begum shook Chris’s hand, she said, “I very much enjoyed your book, and I’m happy you had the time to see us today.”
Mr. McKay extended his hand. “And I haven’t had a chance to read it, but I’m looking forward to doing that. Today, I’m just here to listen.”
Chris looked over at Daphne, his brows raising in unspoken question.
“I think I’ll stay,” she murmured, and took her seat beside him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHRIS
They were finally in the hotel. The meeting with Begum and McKay had run until nearly seven, and by then, they were both wiped out. It felt like a week’s worth of frustration and disappointment and hope all crammed into a few hours.
They hadn’t discussed the film meetings yet. Chris could tell from Daphne’s expression that she was, once again, a million miles away. This time, though, it wasn’t disengaging to protect herself; it was sinking into a whirling mass of thoughts, sorting through them all. Happy thoughts… or so he hoped.
As for him, he’d felt all that frustration and disappointment and hope along with her. Once in the car—another hired town car—he texted Gemma to see how her day had gone.
