But Duncan wouldn’t hear of it.
“I know it might not seem like it,” he said, “but this has happened fast. And I wanna leave like I wanna cut off a limb, but I think it’s smart, at least for a while, we take it slow.”
He was right, of course. Although it took twenty-eight years to get to that place, it had only taken a couple of days to get back to us.
“And anyway, I need to get my ass home to make sure Coco hasn’t covered my den in florals and chintz,” he finished.
This meant our goodbye kiss was through me laughing.
Now, Patrick had finished with my breakfast, and he was rolling out.
I gave him his tip and went to the bed to retrieve my phone.
I’d already fed Cookie (she was a love, but she didn’t put up with delayed breakfast), brushed my teeth and washed my face.
Then, I’d gone back to bed.
Now, I was very ready for coffee.
So I grabbed my phone, and then settled in at the table with Cookie in what she’d decided was her place when I ate (and Duncan wasn’t there).
Sitting on the seat next to me, peering over the table, watching me.
Sienna Sinclair definitely had it together. Not only was her staff professional, obviously discrete, and friendly, and every inch of her hotel that I had seen was amazing, the layout of my breakfast honest to God reminded me of the times I’d spent at the Ritz in Paris.
The butter was molded into flower shapes. The bowls of jam and little pitchers of cream were crystal. The coffee pot was silver. The china was, well…china. They covered the table with a fresh, crisp linen before placing the food, and they always included a little vase with a flower.
Today’s was a cluster of pink sweetheart roses.
And the croissants were perfection. The jam homemade. And the bowl of Greek yogurt and blackberries, sprinkled with granola and striped with local honey was rich and delicious.
I tucked in and was through my first croissant, half the yogurt and pouring my second cup of coffee when my phone rang.
I looked to it and saw it was Stephanie. Stephanie Giron. My friend.
And agent.
Even if I rarely worked, we spoke often. Because now was the time when work was less, so after the fifteen years we’d been together, we could concentrate on being friends.
I picked up the phone. “Hey, Steph.”
“You…will not…believe this.”
I tensed, thinking it might have to do with Duncan and me.
As far as I knew, no one had gotten another picture of us since El Gato, and I was no longer the hot topic I used to be, so I would assume that had died.
But you never knew.
“Teddy is putting together a new series. He’s been shopping it around, and unsurprisingly with one of Teddy’s vehicles, two networks and three streaming services are very interested. But they want to know what name is attached. And he wants it to be yours.”
Frozen, I stared unseeing out the window.
Teddy was Theodore Mankowitz, the creator of Rita’s Way.
He had, since then, done another long-lasting, popular, acclaimed series. And as such, now his name was synonymous with sensitive, thoughtful, high-quality television that tackled real-life, real-people issues.
Back in the day, we’d hit on unplanned pregnancies and cancer, but also homosexuality, including the ravages of AIDs through that community, mixed race relationships, addiction, and my favorite storyline, when Rita met a younger man.
Rita, whose character was only a few years older than the age I was now, met a man in his early forties. They fell in love. It was beautiful and so well portrayed by Maggie Mae, the actress who played Rita, and Gordon Fuller, the man who played her love interest, Troy.
However, it was unpopular.
So much so, it was the first time Teddy caved.
He’d intended them to mix families (Rita with full-grown children, Troy with early teenagers) and marry them off so Rita could finally have some happy.
In the end, Teddy broke them up because the public saw Rita as a cougar and was turning on this beloved matriarch who, by that time, for eight seasons had the adoration of our viewers.
It had infuriated me, and Maggie, not to mention Gordon, who was then written off the show.
But even though Rita’s ex, Kenny, had married a woman in her freaking thirties (before he’d died in that terrible car accident), and they were okay with that, Rita could not have her man.
I always thought we’d all reacted poorly to that and it was one of the reasons the show wound down. Teddy felt like a failure that arc didn’t work. And the rest of us were disappointed at the reaction of the fans.
“And before you start in,” Steph said in my ear, “he sent me the pilot script, and Gen, it’s phenomenal. Think Thirtysomething but with a fifty-somethings cast and Sex and the City.”