“Good point,” Izzy said. “That sounds like the kind of thing Marta would do. I mean, obviously, I still want to surprise everyone and come back to New York waving a manuscript in my hand. You know, the one that Beau Towers has been hiding and decided to turn in only because I managed to talk him into it.”
Priya laughed and raised her glass. “Cheers to that,” she said.
So Wednesday morning, Izzy left the hotel to drive to Santa Barbara. At first, the journey was boring: freeways, traffic, etc. Whatever, she didn’t mind; she had her favorite playlist to keep her company, and her rental car had a sunroof that she took full advantage of. But then all of a sudden, the freeway went around a turn, and the ocean was right there, in front of her. She looked out at the ocean, sparkling in the sun, and smiled. This was the California she’d hoped to see.
She got off the freeway and followed the slightly confusing GPS directions toward Beau Towers’s address. There were palm trees everywhere, huge mountains in the distance, and all the buildings had terra-cotta tiled roofs, even the convenience stores. As she drove up into the hills, the houses got bigger, and had lots of cacti and other enormous succulents in their front yards. Later she should make sure to take pictures for Priya, who was obsessed with the three tiny succulents she’d kept alive on her desk for the past year.
Finally, her phone trilled, “You have arrived.” She pulled up outside a big pink stucco house and threw her car into park.
She checked the address, just to make sure she was in the right place. Yes, this was it. It didn’t look anything like she’d expected, though now she didn’t know what she’d expected. Maybe something forbidding, a little scary, surrounded by, like, a creaky gate and dying bushes or something. But no, this seemed like all the houses she’d driven by on the way here: huge and sprawling, with a terra-cotta roof, a green vine with bright red flowers growing over the gate, palm trees and succulents out front. It was even kind of…charming?
And now she had to walk up to that house, knock on the door, and just…ask for Beau Towers? She was suddenly nervous about this. She’d been fine up until now.
She took a deep breath. Okay. She was going to do this.
She got out of the car and walked along the uphill path toward the house and the red tile front stairs to the big wooden front door and rang the doorbell. When the door opened, Izzy steeled herself for Beau Towers to yell at her.
But a woman opened the door. She had long dark hair, a smile on her face, and appeared to be around thirty or so. Was she Beau Towers’s girlfriend or something? She looked too normal and friendly for that, especially given the models that Beau usually dated, but you never knew with guys like him.
“Hi,” she said. She glanced at the street, then back to Izzy. “Is it a delivery?”
Izzy knew she had only a few seconds before the woman closed the door on her. She talked fast.
“Hi! No, not a delivery. My name is Isabelle Marlowe, I’m an editorial assistant at Tale as Old as Time publishing house, and I’m here to talk to Beau Towers.” The woman’s smile faded, but she took the business card Izzy handed her. Thank goodness she’d brought them along with her to the conference. “I work with Marta Wallace; she’s the editor of his forthcoming memoir. He’s a little…behind on it, and Marta asked me to come here to chat with Beau about his book, find out what’s wrong, figure out how we can help.”
The woman shook her head. “Hi, Isabelle. I’m so sorry you’ve come all this way, but I don’t think Beau will talk to you.”
Izzy had expected that. “If you could just check, see if there’s a way I could chat with him for a few minutes? I just want to make sure he knows how much we care about getting this book out into the world, and that we’re willing to assist him in any way he needs. We’ll do anything we can to help him succeed.”
The woman looked at her closely, a faint smile still on her face. Izzy couldn’t figure out what she was thinking. For some reason, even though she’d thought of this whole mission as pointless, now that she was here, she wanted to win this thing. Granted, she didn’t think she could deliver an actual manuscript, like she’d joked to Priya, but she still wanted some sort of win. She hadn’t had a win in so long. She wanted to get into the house, talk to Beau, convince him to let them hire a ghostwriter so they could get the book done. If she could even just convince him to reply to one of her emails, it would be huge. And then she could go back to New York triumphant, and with something to show Marta.