The Promise of Change

Chapter 2

When she arrived in London, a car waited to take her to the rented flat that would be her home off-and-on during the film’s production. She couldn’t believe production would get underway this week. She also couldn’t believe she’d get to see her manuscript come to life on the proverbial silver screen. It was times like this when she needed to pinch herself.

The flat was spacious and inviting, and more importantly, it was on a quiet side street in the exclusive Knightsbridge district of London. Tastefully furnished, with clean lines, neutral colors, and little clutter, it was decidedly masculine.

On the foyer table sat a basket of fruit and a bottle of champagne with a note attached. It was from Michael Williams, the film’s director, welcoming her to London and explaining that a detailed schedule was on the desk in the study.

She already knew her first meeting would be tomorrow afternoon to review the casting decisions, followed the next evening by the introduction party, where she would meet most of the actors and crew.

The schedule was on the desk in the study where Michael said it would be. It looked demanding. Didn’t they believe in sleep? Placing the schedule back on the desk, she noted the study’s floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were lined with books, mostly great works of literature from Austen to Wordsworth. The owner was well-read, or at least wanted to appear so.

Picking up the basket and the champagne, Sarah carried it into the well-equipped kitchen. Clearly the apartment belonged to someone who loved to cook. The cabinets and refrigerator were thoughtfully stocked with the essentials.

There were also some of her favorite foods: fresh strawberries, grapes, mascarpone cheese, seven-grain bread, fresh juice, stilton cheese, English Breakfast tea, and of course chocolate. She didn’t recall providing a list of her food preferences but perhaps it was the work of her fabulous agent. At least she didn’t have to go out for breakfast in the morning.

Michael, or most likely his assistant, had been attentive to every detail. The phone rang. Other than the studio, who else knew the number there?

“Sarah Edwards,” she answered, just in case the caller expected the owners to answer.

“Sarah? It’s Michael.”

“Michael, hi. I was wondering who would be calling me here.”

“How was your flight? Is the flat to your liking?”

“My flight was fine, and yes, everything is perfect. Thank you for the fruit and champagne.”

“How about dinner tonight?”

She gave a mental groan. All she wanted was a hot bath and a comfortable bed. “That would be fine . . . if you don’t mind making it an early one. I’m afraid if I wait too late, jetlag will descend and I’ll fall asleep in my plate.”

“Seven then?

“Seven is fine.

“See you then.”

The doorbell buzzed. The luggage she’d had shipped over had arrived. Perfect timing. Now she had something to wear to dinner.



After years in the business, Michael Williams had a lot of insight into what makes a memorable romance on paper an even more memorable movie. And he didn’t mind telling Sarah that. She was lucky to have gotten such a great director, especially since she was an unknown entity. And he didn’t mind telling her that either.

He wasn’t bad looking. In his mid-fifties, he had thick salt and pepper hair surrounding a tanned face with chiseled features. Tall and fit, he had a confident bearing that commanded attention when he entered a room.

They sat sipping after dinner drinks in a trendy restaurant not far from the apartment.

“I can’t believe I haven’t thought to ask you before, but how did you come up with the plot for your very first book? What inspired you?”

That would be because you’re too busy talking about yourself, she thought. They’d spent weeks together and this was the first interest he’d shown in her craft. Not that he hadn’t shown an interest in her.

“Um, I’m not sure I could point to any one thing, but the inspiration to actually write came from a friend’s very wise words about doors.” If she could still count Alex as a friend. She didn’t want to go into the whole Bitchkrieg-unemployment-college-manuscript thing.

“I don’t follow.”

“I needed a change, and he helped me see that.” She shrugged, as if it were that simple.

“Well, whatever it was, I’m glad for it. I’m excited about this project, and I haven’t been this excited since I directed From Cairo with Love.” He laughed, his blue eyes sparkling, while laugh lines formed parentheses around his mouth.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she’d never seen the movie. Before he could ask, she jumped in, distracting him with another question. “Are you pleased with the cast?”

At present, the cast was an unknown to her, but the big reveal would be tomorrow. She’d been involved in many aspects of the pre-production, with the exception of the cast. It was to be a surprise. What was it with men and surprises?

“The cast is top-notch. You’ll be pleased, I’m sure.”

Of course she would. She was mortified when she could no longer stifle a yawn. Between the jetlag, the wine at dinner, and the glass of port with dessert, she was suddenly wiped out. “I am so sorry. It’s not the company or the conversation, I assure you,” she laughed sheepishly.

“I shouldn’t have kept you out so long. Please forgive me.” His voice was kind, but he looked mildly annoyed. “Would you prefer that I call the car, or would you care to walk back?”

“No, a walk would be nice.”

He walked her to the door of the apartment building. “Thank you for dinner, Michael, I had a very nice time. I look forward to working with you.” She added the last as an afterthought, hoping to reinforce the label she put on their relationship.

“Good night then.” He waited until she was safely inside before walking away.