The Guests on South Battery (Tradd Street #5)(108)
I stepped back. “What did Button do?”
Rebecca shrugged. “I don’t know. The little girl is very faint when she comes through, and I don’t always hear her clearly—like she’s being blocked.”
“Well, if that’s all . . .” I said, unimpressed and impatient to get away from Rebecca.
“One last thing. She also said that you should listen to Sarah.”
“Sarah?” Sophie said in surprise before I could. “As in her little girl Sarah?”
“Unless you know another one,” Rebecca said. “I’m guessing she’s inherited the family gift. Is that right, Melanie?”
I kept my face expressionless, not wanting that little nugget of information to be confirmed and used relentlessly as Sarah got older. Whatever had gone wrong between my mother and me when I was little was not going to happen with Sarah and me. It was the only thing I was sure of right now.
Eager to change the subject, I said, “You mentioned something about an apology.”
She looked down at Pucci’s head and began playing with the pink bows clipped onto the furry ears. I wondered if Pucci liked wearing them any better than Sarah did and realized suddenly that they were the same bows I put in Sarah’s hair. I made a vow right then and there that I would never put them on her again.
Without looking up, Rebecca said, “I know I’m partially responsible for this thing between Marc and Jack—”
“It’s not a ‘thing,’” I interrupted. “It was Jack’s idea, his book, and his career that Marc stole from him—with your help, I might add.” As angry and hurt as Jack had made me, the whole scenario still burned.
“I know. That’s why I’m here. Because I know something that Marc doesn’t that I believe will help you and Jack.”
I sent her a skeptical look. “Why would you tell me, Rebecca? And expect me to trust you?”
“Because we’re family, Melanie, even though sometimes I know I don’t act like it. And we share this gift, or whatever you want to call it, and feel no need to question when we talk about dreams and seeing dead people. I love my husband, but Marc can never understand that part of me.”
I met her gaze, wanting to tell her that Jack did understand. That he wasn’t even disappointed to know that his daughter had inherited the same gift. Instead I said, “So, what do you know that Marc doesn’t?”
“Marc knows that Jack is having money issues and that his next book isn’t going to help. When Marc first approached Jack about using your house to film the movie, Jack said absolutely not, even after Marc told him some of the inside juice he’d received from his agent about how word in the publishing world is that Jack’s career is on the way out.”
I swallowed, wondering why Jack hadn’t mentioned it to me. Wondering if he’d been trying to protect me from an unpleasant truth.
“But the second time Marc approached Jack, he knew Jack was getting a little more desperate. Jack had made the mistake of telling another writer that his publisher wasn’t thrilled with the book he just turned in, and even if they don’t cancel the next book in the contract, they probably won’t take the option book, and the news got back to Marc. That’s how Marc knew he might be more willing to listen.”
I swallowed, wishing the lump in the middle of my throat would dislodge itself. “Is that when Jack agreed?”
She shook her head. “No. That’s the thing. He never officially agreed. But he did tell Marc that he was in the middle of researching a new book idea, and that it would blow everybody out of the water. That his agent was excited about it and had already approached several big publishers who were interested—assuming his current publisher drops him. The only problem was that the story could hurt people he knew and loved, and he needed to talk to them to get their permission. And if they said no, then he’d have no other option except to sign the agreement to use your house for filming our movie—for a lot of money, I might add. But only if you signed it, too. It was never his intention to do it behind your back.”
“So what was that announcement about at the launch party?” Sophie took a step forward, her hands on her hips.
I put a restraining hand on her arm, secretly pleased to have her on my side. Despite her New Age hippiness and her uninformed choices in apparel, she was the best friend I could ever hope to have.
Rebecca sent a worried glance at Sophie. “Marc got a little ahead of himself. Since Jack wasn’t returning his phone calls, Marc assumed that Jack’s hoped-for book deal wasn’t going to happen and that he was free to make the filming location official. Getting you to agree was going to be Jack’s problem, not his. The big announcement at the party was supposed to be that two Hollywood A-listers have signed on for the movie to play Louisa Vanderhorst and Joseph Longo. That’s it—I swear. I was as surprised as anybody that Marc said what he did.”
I stared at Rebecca, torn between hugging her and slapping her and then deciding to do neither. Jack wasn’t worth it. He might not have intended to enter into an agreement without me, but he was still an unfaithful jerk who’d broken my heart. “Thank you for telling me. It’s all a little too late, but I’m glad I know now.”
She gave me a tentative smile. “I hope this doesn’t come between us or ruin our relationship.”