Finding Mr. Write, page 9
The execs loved it. “More of this!!!” they messaged Sofia. More of what? Wander the forest looking for wildlife Zane could stare into submission?
Luckily, Sofia didn’t suggest that. Sure, she’d panicked over a porcupine, but Daphne wasn’t holding that against her, having seen plenty of tourists do the same.
Daphne kept hoping Chris might find time to get away from the crew so they could plot their new Zane strategy, now that she understood he was someone she could plot with. Which was a huge relief.
He wasn’t an actor. Wasn’t an asshole. Wasn’t someone who never read anything longer than a fortune-cookie message.
Chris was an accountant. A sweet and smart guy who wasn’t afraid to get a little silly.
He was someone she could work with. As for getting time alone, when Chris suggested helping Daphne clear up after lunch, Sofia put her foot down. Look what happened the last time he left her alone. No more of that. If she was braving the wilderness, she needed her protector.
In the afternoon, there was a book-talk interview by the lake. After the porcupine incident—when he’d proven he’d read the book—Daphne had no problem leaving that in Chris’s hands. She took some downtime, prepping muffin batter for tomorrow and, yes, doing a bit of stress-cleaning.
Soon it was time for an afternoon break. Then there’d be another film segment before the crew left for the evening, and she could grill up some bison burgers while she and Chris talked.
She loaded up the coffee tray and added a plate of freshly baked cookies. Then she headed outside to the patio table where Sofia was telling the story of her first celebrity interview.
“I get home, so proud of myself for getting him to answer tough questions, and the recording was gone.”
“Did you have a backup?” Chris asked.
“I was so nervous I couldn’t even be sure I’d hit Record. So here I am, this amazing interview with zero proof it happened—Oh my God, do I smell cookies?”
Daphne thrust out the tray.
“You’re the best, Dana,” Sofia said as she snatched a cookie.
Daphne smiled. While she suspected Sofia was overdoing her enthusiasm, it was in a genuine way that didn’t make Daphne feel like she was being patted on the head. Daphne might be uncomfortable playing cookies-and-coffee-bearing assistant, but the truth was that she would personally love a “Dana” of her own.
Daphne was playing a legitimate role, and Sofia’s happy coffee slurping reminded her of that. It was just awkward because, well, she should be the one with a Dana. But the role reversal was her choice, and she honestly preferred hiding in the kitchen and baking cookies and mentally working through revisions. That was the weird irony of being a published author. She didn’t want to entertain and charm a film crew. But she did want the recognition that came with having written the book.
Can’t have it both ways, kiddo.
Or, maybe you could, if you’d found a way to do it that didn’t involve hiring an actor-who-is-actually-an-accountant to play you.
“Sugar and caffeine to tide us all over until dinner,” Chris was saying as she roused from her thoughts. “And on the topic of dinner, as your host, I should recommend a restaurant. I was thinking of…”
He trailed off, brow furrowing as he turned to Daphne. “What’s that place I like, Dana?”
Ooh, nicely done. “Which one, sir? The Mexican or the Caribbean?”
“They’re both excellent.” He turned back to the others. “I heartily recommend either, depending on your food preferences. I think one requires reservations.” Another glance Daphne’s way.
“I’d recommend reservations for either, and I can do that, having the numbers—and the restaurant names—on my phone.”
He smiled. It wasn’t a Chris smile, she thought, with a pinprick of surprise that she could tell them apart. There was the Chris Ainsworth smile and the Chris Stanton one, and this one was pure Zane Remington. For a guy who insisted he wasn’t an actor, he had his parts down pat.
Zane’s smile was perfect for the role, with just the right touch of self-aware self-deprecation. The guy who pretended to be a little abashed that he couldn’t remember a restaurant name, when really, he was proud of the fact he didn’t have room in his brain for such trivial data.
“What would I do without you?” he said.
“Accidentally wander into that burger joint because you remember it, when the only reason you do is because you got food poisoning there the last time?”
The others laughed, and Chris added the perfect I am such a hopeless genius heavenward eye lift.
“So true,” he said with a sigh. “Now if you could make reservations for three for, say…” He checked his watch. “Six?”
“Actually, no,” Sofia said. “We are getting such good footage. I thought we’d stay and catch the sunset.”
“That would be past my bedtime,” Chris said. “It is the Land of the Midnight Sun, after all.”
“Also the sunsets aren’t great here,” Daphne said. “With the mountains and all.”
“Then we’ll skip the sunset but use the extra hours of daylight for more filming. Let’s get dinner delivered.” Sofia pulled out her phone. “What app service do you use here?”
“Uh, Dana Express,” Daphne said.
“Unfortunately for Dana, yes,” Chris said with a smile. “We’re outside the city limits. So Dana will need to order and pick up. I’ll ride along with…”
He trailed off and didn’t finish that sentence. Which was good. Yes, she’d love to have him along to talk, but it made no sense for him to join her. Also, she wasn’t keen to leave the house with a film crew in it. While she’d hope they wouldn’t snoop, she’d only done the most superficial rearranging. Her bathroom drawers still held most of her toiletries and her closet still held most of her clothing.
“Let me pull up a menu, and you can tell me what you’d like,” she said. “I’ll arrange pickup for six.”
CHRIS
It was now eight. Dinner was eaten, and the film crew were playing the guests from hell, lingering on the flimsiest of pretenses. Sofia had said they wanted to film more, but they were still at the table, with poor Daphne inside washing dishes.
Time to be more proactive. Give them one last video opportunity, and then they could be on their way. And he knew just the thing. Oh, it wouldn’t make for great television, but that was the point. Not only would it be so boring they might decide to leave, but it would give him Daphne time without excusing himself from the shoot.
“See those ripples on the water?” Chris said, pointing at the lake. “Fish are jumping. Perfect for a little fishing. I often do that after dinner. Dana and I row out, and we fish for tomorrow’s dinner while I contemplate nature and imagine my next scenes. We could get footage of that.”
“That sounds…” Sofia began tentatively, as if hating to tell a bestselling novelist that his idea sucked.
“Sounds like a riveting segment?” Chris rose. “Agreed. You can get footage of me out on the empty lake, with the mountains reflected in the water. It’s a beautiful sight, isn’t it?”
“It is lovely,” Sofia admitted.
“Once you have that, you can head off to your hotel without needing to wait for us to row back. Get your footage and then relax in your rooms and come tomorrow for lunch—”
“We’re actually coming before breakfast. I want the morning light on the lake, and the forecast calls for mist. I thought we’d get some footage of you hunting.”
He thought fast. “That’s an excellent visual. However, this isn’t the place for shooting more than snowshoe hares and grouse, and they’re both out of season.”
“There’s a season for rabbit hunting?” the female half of the camera crew said, sounding rightfully dubious.
“Not officially, but people in the Yukon are very conservation minded, and this is breeding season.” Did rabbits have a breeding season? “Now, I could take you caribou hunting, which we see Theo doing in the book, or even go after a Dall sheep.” He pointed at the mountain, squinting into the sun. “Keep an eye up there for white dots. Those are the sheep.”
“Sheep hunting in the mountains?” Sofia said. “That sounds incredible.”
“It is, but it’s also highly illegal at this time of year. Same as caribou or moose hunting. Which is why we can’t do, well, any hunting, really. Now, if you really want pictures of me hunting in the morning mist, we can do the visuals. But I can’t actually shoot anything. That would be wrong. Conservation is key, whether it’s me or Theo in the book. Imagine what would have happened if people had hunted all the game before the zombies came. There’d be no bountiful refuge for Theo and the others. It’s all about resource management. Which means we can stage a hunt, but I’m not actually going to fire a gun and risk my neighbors thinking danger’s afoot.”
“Fire a gun?” Daphne said, sounding alarmed as she hurried out the patio doors.
“I was saying I will not fire a gun,” he said. “I will only pose as if I’m firing one. Tomorrow.”
“Tonight he’s fishing,” Sofia said.
Daphne slowly turned to him.
“We’re fishing,” Chris said. “The two of us.”
Panic touched her eyes, and he tried to indicate that it was okay, he knew how to fish, but that apparently wasn’t a message easily transmitted in looks and gestures, because she motioned that she needed to talk to him.
“Don’t worry about the dishes,” he said. “The crew will be leaving as soon as they get some footage. I’ll meet you at the dock after I grab life vests.”
“They’re in—”
“—the shed,” he said with a smile. “My memory may be scattered, but I do remember that.” Mostly because he’d seen them there earlier, when he’d done a frantic survey of the shed’s contents. “Meet you on the dock in five.”
She still hesitated, but he made little shooing motions that would be incredibly condescending coming from anyone but Zane Remington. He tried to add a reassuring smile from himself.
She was obviously worried that he was getting into something he couldn’t pull off. He’d explain once they were out. He’d been on hundreds of fishing trips with his family, the last being just this past weekend. They had unlimited access to his grandparents’ prized boat, and someone went out at least every other weekend in the summer, with Chris joining when he could.
After one last anxious glance, Daphne retreated into the house.
“All right,” Chris said in his Zane voice. “Two life vests coming up.”
He started down the stairs.
“Is that really necessary?” Sofia asked as they descended.
“Hmm?” Did she mean was it necessary to take Daphne with him? He opened his mouth to claim the boat required two people.
“Life vests,” she said. “I know, safety first, but they’re not exactly photogenic. I hate to be shallow but…”
“A bulky life vest will not do me any favors, especially if you’re shooting from a distance. I’ll look like I’ve been eating too many of Dana’s cookies.” He laughed at his own joke, even while secretly wincing. That veered dangerously close to fat-shaming, but Zane would make the joke.
“Exactly,” Sofia said. “Unless you can’t swim.”
“I helped bring home the gold for my team in high school.”
That wasn’t a Zane boast. Chris had been on the gold medal–winning high school team. Okay, he’d barely made the cut, but he was a strong swimmer. Credit all those years of jumping off his grandparents’ boat to paddle around when the fish weren’t biting.
While the Chris part of him wanted to argue that they shouldn’t show Zane boating without a life vest—he was writing for teens, after all—Zane wouldn’t say that. Chris didn’t need a life vest, and the lake was so small and calm that Daphne would only have them for guests. This was something he could agree to, suppressing only a small pang of discomfort.
“All right then,” he said. “We will forgo the vests tonight.” He peered out at the lake. “She’s a sheet of glass, and there isn’t another soul on her. Perfect.”
He still needed to go into the shed for the fishing rods and tackle. He might not understand the differences between different guns, knives, and axes, but here he could point out that “Zane” had equipment for fly-fishing, regular angling, and deep-sea fishing. He took the correct gear box and felt rather Zane-smug for not needing to hesitate.
With the box and rods in hand, Chris strode toward the dock. The path took him to a small beach-like area, with a tiny bit of sand and a gradual walkout. The dock was off to the right, and he hadn’t been that way yet, but he’d seen it, along with a kayak moored on this side and another small boat on the opposite side. It wouldn’t exactly be his grandparents’ cabin cruiser, but on a lake this small, you wouldn’t even get up to speed with that.
Chris reached the dock and saw the second boat… which was… a canoe.
He turned to see Daphne walking over, carrying two paddles.
“You forgot these, sir,” she said.
“I thought we’d take the motor boat tonight.”
She laughed, the slightly-too-loud laugh that he’d come to know was her “on-screen” laugh for the crew. “Oh, you’re very funny, sir.” She turned to the others. “It’s an in-joke. The lake is for nonmotorized vehicles only. Every now and then someone tries to get that changed to allow motorized fishing boats, but Mr. Remington leads the charge to oppose it. He’s such a conservationist.”
“Yes,” he said quickly, puffing up with self-importance as he launched into Zane-pontificating mode. “No one likes the sound of motors on a quiet lake, but they also disturb the local ecosystem, particularly nesting waterfowl. The best way to enjoy streams and lakes is”—he waved at the kayak and canoe—“silently gliding along and truly enjoying nature, in all her glory.”
Which presumes you have some vague idea how to operate either of those vessels.
He thought he was keeping his expression Zane-confident, but a little of his panic must have leaked out, because when she passed over the oar—paddle?—she lightly squeezed his hand.
“Now, sir,” she said. “Tell me you’re going to let me take the back tonight.” She glanced at the crew. “The person in front just has to paddle. The one in back steers. It’s the driver’s seat, so to speak, and Mr. Remington really likes being in the driver’s seat.”
“I do,” Chris said with a blazing smile that was relief. “However, having written a book with a very capable female protagonist, I would be the last person to suggest that I should drive by sheer dint of being male. Dana is, dare I admit it, an even better paddler than I am.”
“You’re too kind, sir.” Daphne looked around. “Seems like the paddles weren’t the only thing you forgot. Weren’t you getting the life vests?”
“We decided against them,” Sofia cut in. “Now, if everyone is ready…”
Chris moved past Daphne, who was holding the canoe steady. As she’d pointed out—allegedly for Sofia—the front person got in first.
As Chris moved past Daphne toward the bow, he whispered, “I really can fish, D. And swim. It’ll be okay.”
She still looked worried. Maybe she hadn’t heard him? They’d talk more once they were out of the crew’s earshot.
He sat on the front seat and glanced back. Daphne gave a tight nod, which he hoped meant he was sitting correctly. Had he ever been in a canoe before? He wasn’t sure. If he had, it was so long ago he didn’t remember anything about it.
As Daphne arranged herself, the crew switched on the cameras. Chris had requested they film Dana only from the back or a great distance “for her privacy.”
Chris looked at the nearest camera and said, “Like many lakes in the Yukon, this is a glacial one. That means a glacier eroded the land and then melted. You may have noticed in Edge that Theo usually camps along a lake like this, for fishing and fresh water and, if it’s not winter, a quick swim for bathing.” He reached over the side to touch the water. “And I do mean quick.” An exaggerated shiver. “Glacial lake, glacial temperatures.”
It actually wasn’t that bad. He wouldn’t exactly be leaping off the dock for a morning dip, but he wouldn’t die of hypothermia if he fell in. And on that note, the entire purpose of his little speech had been to avoid falling in… because talking to the camera gave him the chance to watch how Daphne sat and how she used her paddle.
“I suppose I should help,” he said, loud enough for the cameras to hear.
“Heaven forbid,” Daphne said. “You just sit there and talk, sir. You’re better at that anyway.”
He rolled his eyes dramatically, took one last look at how she operated her paddle before he twisted around in his seat.
Hold it like this, one hand above the other, with a gap between them. Move from the shoulders and waist, dipping the paddle in and out.
Soon they were flying through the still water, and he’d love to think that was him, but he wasn’t the only one in this canoe with some serious muscles.
They were about a hundred feet from shore when Sofia shouted, “We forgot to mic you!”
Her voice carried easily in the silence of the lake, but Chris pretended he couldn’t hear and only waved, as if she were wishing them bon voyage.
They kept paddling until they were finally far enough, and Daphne slowed her strokes.
“Time for a little demonstrative fishing?” he said, reaching back for the rod. “If you keep her steady, I’ll handle this part. I really can fish.”
“That’s great,” she said. “However, you’re missing a key component of the required equation, sir.”
He glanced down quickly. No, he had the rod and the tackle box, and he’d confirmed the box contained hooks and lures.
“Fish,” she said.
“Hmm?”
“You need fish. That’s what I was trying to tell you. There aren’t any game fish here.”
