As she lay arguing with herself about getting up, her breakfast came, and with it The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal. And by the time she was drinking coffee, and eating oatmeal and croissants with jam, and glancing at the newspapers, the prospect of a day in New York seemed almost exciting. The literary agency where she was going was on Madison Avenue, and the law firm where she had meetings later that afternoon was on Wall Street. And somewhere between the two were a thousand stores, at least as many art galleries, and a plethora of fascinating people. Sometimes just being in New York was a heady experience. There were so many people doing so many interesting things, a myriad of cultural events, opera, concerts, exhibitions of all kinds, theater. It made even Los Angeles seem provincial.
She wore a black suit and a heavy coat and boots to the meeting she had at ten o'clock that morning. She arrived by cab, holding on to her handbag and her briefcase, and by the time she got inside, she was sorry she hadn't worn a hat. Her face was tingling from the cold, and her ears were frozen.
The elevator stopped at the top floor, which the agency occupied in its entirety, and on the walls were an impressive collection of Chagall, Dufy, and Picasso, some pastels, one small oil, and a series of drawings. The agency was clearly doing well. And in the center of the room was a small Rodin sculpture.
Allegra was quickly ushered in to see the head of the agency, a small, round man with the faintest of German accents. His name was Andreas Weissman.
Miss Steinberg? He extended a hand, looking her over with interest. Her fine, blond, Anglo-Saxon looks couldn't help but catch his attention. He thought her very beautiful, and he was intrigued by her throughout their meeting, before the arrival of the author. And then finally, an hour later, he arrived, a man of perhaps some eighty years, but as sharp as anyone half his age. Jason Haverton was quick and witty and very shrewd, and Allegra suspected from looking at him that he had once been very good-looking, and even at his age he was still very attractive. They talked about the film industry generally for about an hour, and Jason Haverton very calmly asked her if by any chance she was related to Simon Steinberg. And when she admitted that she was, Haverton told her how much he admired his movies.
The two men invited her to lunch then at La Grenouille, and it was only when the main course came that they finally got down to business. Jason Haverton admitted to her that he had done everything possible to avoid this deal, and he had no interest whatsoever in having one of his books made into a movie. He thought it was prostitution at his age, but on the other hand he wrote less often than he had in the past, his readers were no longer young, and his agent felt strongly that selling a book for film was an ideal way to expand his audience again and appeal to younger readers.
I'm afraid I agree with him, Allegra said, smiling first at Haverton, then at Weissman. It doesn't have to be a bad experience for you, she went on, outlining several possible avenues to minimize the stress for him and make the deal more appealing. He liked what she had to say, and he was impressed with her. She was a smart girl, and a good lawyer. And by the time the chocolate souffl+¬ came they were fast friends, and he told her he wished he'd met her fifty years earlier. He'd had four wives, but he claimed to no longer have the energy to acquire a fifth one.
They're so much work, he said with a twinkle in his eye that made Allegra laugh, and she could easily see why he had been so successful with women. He was intelligent and amusing, and incredibly charming. Even at his advanced age, there was something totally appealing about him. He had lived in Paris in his youth, and his first wife had been French, the next two had been British apparently, and the last one American. And she, too, had been a famous author. She had passed away a decade before, and although he had been involved with several women since, none of them had succeeded in luring him to the altar. They take so much energy, my dear. Like fine racehorses, they're far too delicate, but so lovely to watch, and unbearably expensive. But they certainly do give one a great deal of pleasure. He smiled at her, and she could feel herself melt as she looked at him. He made her want to put her arms around him and hug him. But she suspected easily that if she had, he would have pounced on her with glee, like a cat on a mouse who had been overcome with trusting emotions for the feline. Jason Haverton was clearly no pussycat. He was still very much a lion, even at eighty. And a very attractive one. It amused Weissman to watch him pursue her. They were old and dear friends, and he couldn't disagree with Jason's opinion of her. She was an extraordinary girl, and he wouldn't have been at all surprised to hear that Jason had at least tried to woo her. But she seemed too smart for him, and although she wore no ring on her left hand, she managed to convey, from small things she said, the impression that she was taken.
Have you always lived in L.A.? Jason asked as they sipped their demitasse and played with the last of their souffl+¬s. It would surprise him if she had, there was something far more sophisticated about her, which suggested Europe to him, or the East of the United States at the very least. But she did, in fact, surprise him.
I've lived in L.A. all my life, except when I went to Yale.
Then you must have remarkable parents, he complimented her and them, and she smiled. He already knew who her father was and he thought, looking at her, that, spiritually in any case, Allegra was very much like him. Sensitive and sincere, direct and spare with words, but not with feelings.
My mother is a writer too, she explained. She wrote fiction when she was very young, but she's been writing for television for years. She has a very successful show. But I think she always secretly regrets that she never went on to write a novel.
They must be very talented, he said, far more interested in her than them, but still greatly intrigued by this beautiful young woman.
They are talented, she smiled. And so are you, she said, cautiously turning the conversation back to him, which pleased him most. Weissman watched her handle Haverton with both admiration and fascination. She was both wise and artful. And he said as much to her when the elderly author was finally picked up by his driver and taken home. He left, waving fondly at Allegra as though they were old friends, having agreed to most of the deal she had proposed to him. And the agent and attorney went back to Weissman's office in his limousine to discuss the fine points of the contract.
You're very good with him, he said, intrigued by her, and amused too. She was very young, but she was quick, and she had a natural instinct for people.
That's what I do for a living, she said without artifice. Handle people like him. Actors are like children most of the time.
So are authors. Andreas smiled at her; he liked her.
They spent the next two hours working out the deal, and what they both thought Jason Haverton should get. After they worked it out, Allegra said she'd call the movie company, and let him know their reaction. Hopefully they could finish the deal that week, possibly before she left New York on Friday. In the meantime, she had several other meetings scheduled on other matters, but she would be in touch with Andreas as soon as she heard something from California about Jason's movie.
How long will you be here? he asked her again.
Till Friday, unless I get everything done before that. But I think it might be a good idea for me to be here while we work this out. I'm sure we're going to be getting some answers on this deal by Wednesday, at the latest.