The Cottage

“I was telling Jimmy that tonight. He has to trust that things are going to work out for him. Even if differently than he once thought they would.”

“And what about you, Valerie? Are things working out for you?” he asked her gently, as they held hands, sitting in two chairs by the pool. He could see her blue eyes in the moonlight, and her dark hair shone.

“I have everything I need,” she said, content with her fate. She didn't ask or expect a great deal from life. She had Jimmy. He had lived. That was enough for her for now. She didn't dare ask for more.

“Do you? That's a rare thing. Most people wouldn't say they have everything they need. Maybe you're not asking for enough.”

“I think I am. Maybe someone to share it with. But if not, that's all right too.”

“I'd like to come to Cape Cod to visit you, if you really meant what you said at dinner,” he said quietly.

“I did. And I'd like that too.”

“I love old houses. And I've always liked the Cape. It has a wonderful old-fashioned quality to it. It doesn't have the grandeur of Newport, which has always seemed a little out of place to me, although the houses are magnificent.” He would have liked to see the Madison place, although that was not to be, for now anyway. Maybe one day, when he and Alex had become friends as he hoped they would. But he liked the idea of visiting Valerie on Cape Cod. He was ready for a simple holiday in a comfortable place, with a woman he could talk to, and whom he liked. He couldn't think of anything nicer than visiting her. It was easy for him too, knowing he wanted nothing from her, nor she from him. Whatever they gave each other, if they did, would be from the heart and nothing more. There were no motives to question, nothing to be gained. It was all very clean and very pure.

They sat in silence for a little while, and then he walked her home. He left her at her front door, and smiled down at her. He wanted to go slow this time. He was in no rush. They had a lifetime ahead of them, and she smiled up at him. She felt the same way too.

“I had a lovely time, Valerie. Thank you for having dinner with me.” He meant every word of it and more.

“I had a lovely time too. Goodnight, Coop.”

“I'll call you tomorrow,” he promised, and she waved and walked through the front door. It was a development she hadn't expected, and a friendship she hadn't anticipated. But one she was grateful for. She didn't need more than that just now, and didn't know if she ever would. But for now, this was something special for them.

Chapter 25

Coop had meant to call Valerie, as he'd promised to, the next day. But he got a call from his agent at nine in the morning instead. His agent asked him to come to the office as soon as he could. Whatever it was he had to tell Coop, he didn't want to say on the phone. Coop was irritated by the mystery and cloak-and-dagger of it all, but he turned up at eleven anyway, and the agent said nothing to him, and handed him a script.

“What is it?” Coop looked blasé. He'd seen a million scripts before.

“Read it, then tell me what you think. It's the best damn script I've ever read.” Coop expected another walk-on, or a cameo where he played himself. He'd seen too many of them by now, but it was all they'd offered him in years.

“Are they willing to write me in?” Coop asked.

“They don't need to. This one's written for you.”

“How much are they offering?”

“Let's discuss it when you've read the script. Call me back this afternoon.”

“Who do I play?”

“The father” was all he would say. Not the leading man. But Coop didn't complain. He was in no position to.

Coop went home and read it, and was duly impressed. It was admittedly a potentially extraordinary part, depending on who the director was, and how much money they were willing to put into it. Having read it, Coop needed to know more.

“Okay, I read it,” Coop said when he called back. He sounded interested, but he wasn't leaping for joy yet, there was too much he still didn't know. “Now tell me the rest.”

The agent reeled off the names. “Schaffer is the producer. Oxenberg directs. The leading man is Tom Stone. Leading lady either Wanda Fox or Jane Frank. They want you for the father, Coop. And with a cast like that, you'll win an Oscar for sure.”

“What are they offering?” Coop said, trying to sound calm. He hadn't been associated with names like that in years. It was one of the best films he'd ever been associated with, if he took the part. But he was sure they weren't going to pay him much. It was all for glory, but even at that, it might be worth it. They were shooting in New York, and LA, and he assumed, given the size of his part, it would be a three-to-six-month shoot. He had nothing else to do, except a bunch of commercials he didn't want to do anyway. “How much?” he repeated to the agent, bracing himself for bad news.

“Five million dollars, and five percent of the box office. How does that sound, Coop?” There was a long, stunned silence from Coop's end.

“Are you serious?”