introduced them with a bit of trepidation, but mom practically fawned all over him. The two of them huddled together on the couch talking about screenplays and writing as I called the security firms.
I was dialing the second one when my mother announced, “I’ve always wanted to write a novel. A romance novel, with a medical mystery element.”
“Then you should. Talent needs to be fostered and honored,” Dick said with all sincerity.
“How do you know I have any talent? How do I know I have any talent?” my mom asked. It was weird to hear my mom, the poster child for self-assurance, asking that kind of question.
“I’ve read your daughter’s work. She’s brimming with it. And I’m sure the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. She must get that sort of gift from somewhere. I’m guessing you.”
My mother shot me a speculative look, and I concentrated on dialing and pretending I didn’t overhear their conversation though I was actively trying to listen.
All I managed to hear was my mother saying, “Well, she is amazing, isn’t she?”
I felt myself choke up as I got passed from desk to desk, trying to find someone who would answer my question. I finally hit on Mr. Peterson, and said, “Hold for Mr. Macy.”
Dick took the phone.
“He’s a very nice man,” my mother said.
“He is. He really believes in the script.”
“He said you’re the most talented new writer he’s ever worked with.”
“I think he’s exaggerating for your benefit, but still, that’s nice to hear.”
At that moment, Dick hung up. “Nothing there either, but they said they’d talk to the security crews and see if anyone noticed anything that didn’t fall into the criteria for reporting but simply felt weird. He’ll get back to me after he talks to them.”
“I’m sorry, Quincy,” my mother said. “I guess that’s it for my short-lived detective career.”
“Oh, mom, don’t write your career as an investigator off just yet. I can’t tell you how many dead-ends I’ve bumped up against. This wise mentor I have,” I shot Dick a smile, “talks about writing crap drafts . When I work on the script, I don’t have to worry about it being perfect. As a matter of fact, I have permission to write utter crap because—”
Dick interrupted. “Because you can fix crap, but you can’t fix a blank page.”
My mother laughed a teenaged girl sort of giggle that felt oddly disconcerting coming from her.
“I’ve decided that investigating is sort of like that,” I said, wondering what alien pod-person had taken over my mother’s body. First Peri, now Dick. “You have to give yourself permission to follow leads that take you to a brick wall, because eventually, you might find a clue that creates a door in the wall, or you might find an entirely different path.”
“That makes sense,” my mother agreed.
“And who knows, the security companies said they’d talk to their employees. Maybe someone will have something for us.”
We talked about other ideas, none of them were overly inspired. Then all talk of the investigation was cut short when the boys came in after dinner.
“I said everyone needed a night off to mentally prepare for tomorrow,” Miles said.
“Yeah, everyone but Miles.” Eli elbowed his brother. “He’s going to worry and fret all night.”
“How about a game of Trivial Pursuit,” my mom suggested. “Maybe everyone here could use some time to not think about what’s going on in their lives.”
“Only if it’s Disney Trivial Pursuit,” Miles said.
Eli turned to Dick and stage-whispered, “Grandma kicks everyone’s butt at the regular kind.”
The doorbell rang and I went to get it. I got that shivery feeling when I saw who was there.
It had been so many years since anyone inspired that kind of feeling. It was a warm, mushy feeling that was mixed with a healthy dose of lust.
“Cal. I wasn’t sure I’d see you tonight.” I thought my voice sounded sort of husky.
Rather
I was dialing the second one when my mother announced, “I’ve always wanted to write a novel. A romance novel, with a medical mystery element.”
“Then you should. Talent needs to be fostered and honored,” Dick said with all sincerity.
“How do you know I have any talent? How do I know I have any talent?” my mom asked. It was weird to hear my mom, the poster child for self-assurance, asking that kind of question.
“I’ve read your daughter’s work. She’s brimming with it. And I’m sure the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. She must get that sort of gift from somewhere. I’m guessing you.”
My mother shot me a speculative look, and I concentrated on dialing and pretending I didn’t overhear their conversation though I was actively trying to listen.
All I managed to hear was my mother saying, “Well, she is amazing, isn’t she?”
I felt myself choke up as I got passed from desk to desk, trying to find someone who would answer my question. I finally hit on Mr. Peterson, and said, “Hold for Mr. Macy.”
Dick took the phone.
“He’s a very nice man,” my mother said.
“He is. He really believes in the script.”
“He said you’re the most talented new writer he’s ever worked with.”
“I think he’s exaggerating for your benefit, but still, that’s nice to hear.”
At that moment, Dick hung up. “Nothing there either, but they said they’d talk to the security crews and see if anyone noticed anything that didn’t fall into the criteria for reporting but simply felt weird. He’ll get back to me after he talks to them.”
“I’m sorry, Quincy,” my mother said. “I guess that’s it for my short-lived detective career.”
“Oh, mom, don’t write your career as an investigator off just yet. I can’t tell you how many dead-ends I’ve bumped up against. This wise mentor I have,” I shot Dick a smile, “talks about writing crap drafts . When I work on the script, I don’t have to worry about it being perfect. As a matter of fact, I have permission to write utter crap because—”
Dick interrupted. “Because you can fix crap, but you can’t fix a blank page.”
My mother laughed a teenaged girl sort of giggle that felt oddly disconcerting coming from her.
“I’ve decided that investigating is sort of like that,” I said, wondering what alien pod-person had taken over my mother’s body. First Peri, now Dick. “You have to give yourself permission to follow leads that take you to a brick wall, because eventually, you might find a clue that creates a door in the wall, or you might find an entirely different path.”
“That makes sense,” my mother agreed.
“And who knows, the security companies said they’d talk to their employees. Maybe someone will have something for us.”
We talked about other ideas, none of them were overly inspired. Then all talk of the investigation was cut short when the boys came in after dinner.
“I said everyone needed a night off to mentally prepare for tomorrow,” Miles said.
“Yeah, everyone but Miles.” Eli elbowed his brother. “He’s going to worry and fret all night.”
“How about a game of Trivial Pursuit,” my mom suggested. “Maybe everyone here could use some time to not think about what’s going on in their lives.”
“Only if it’s Disney Trivial Pursuit,” Miles said.
Eli turned to Dick and stage-whispered, “Grandma kicks everyone’s butt at the regular kind.”
The doorbell rang and I went to get it. I got that shivery feeling when I saw who was there.
It had been so many years since anyone inspired that kind of feeling. It was a warm, mushy feeling that was mixed with a healthy dose of lust.
“Cal. I wasn’t sure I’d see you tonight.” I thought my voice sounded sort of husky.
Rather
Similar Books
