“Olivia?”
“I don’t even go to the movies.”
“You’ll be at this one.”
“Is MGM the company that optioned it ages ago?”
“Four years in January. They want to start production the first of the year. Before their option runs out.”
She leaned forward, stunned. “They’re going to make an actual movie from one of my books?”
Clinton laughed as if he were Jolly Ole St. Nick himself, spreading Christmas cheer. “They are, and because you’re the expert on this story, they want you on set as a consultant.”
“I don’t know anything about movies.”
“They’ll teach you all you need to know. And they’re paying for everything. Your plane ticket. Hotel. A chauffeur for transportation.”
Her head began to swell like she was a star, not a care in the world except to see her film in theaters. “I might have to celebrate this.”
“You better celebrate, maybe with that new fella of yours.”
“I’m much too old to have a fella.”
“Dr. Farrow didn’t seem to notice any age difference when we had lunch.” Clinton paused. “You wouldn’t happen to be working on another manuscript, would you?”
“I just might be.”
“This phone call costs too much for you to be coy, Olivia.”
This time, she laughed. Grateful her books were earning him an income again. “It’s a manuscript about a college professor who travels abroad each summer to London until the Germans begin dropping their bombs.”
“It better have a romantic sort of thread.”
“He falls in love with a former student whose apartment was bombed, but her body was never found. Now he’s determined to locate her.”
Soon, Olivia would also discover where the student went.
“Does your professor know you’re writing about him?”
“I’m not writing about him!” And she would tell Simon that very thing if he read this story. Her ideas might be inspired by real life, but the fiction promptly took over.
“Think you can have it to me by March?”
She opted for coy again. “Depends on how long I’ll be in Hollywood.”
He huffed. “Don’t let that Hollywood mess go to your head.”
“I’m quite certain you will keep me humble, Clinton. Between you and Hattie—”
“I’ll mail you the air ticket when I get more details.”
The doorbell rang, and she glanced toward the foyer. “Speaking of the professor.”
“Now don’t you go off and do something silly, Olivia.”
“I don’t have a silly bone in me.” Even the giddiness that came in waves petered out before it reached shore.
“Fame can do nasty things to one’s bones,” he warned.
