A servant came in holding a fresh comforter, waiting for instructions.
He spoke.
"Yes, that's the one. Make up the bed again for Mr. and Mrs. Fox."
"Put two extra people on duty tonight, in case they call for someone and you don't hear them."
"They came a long way to see their daughter. It isn't easy for them, so take good care of them."
"Yes, sir. But the director of the new project is visiting tonight as well, and that guest room they're in—"
Brendan thought about it for less than two seconds.
"Just tell him the room's being renovated and book him a hotel. I'll go over and talk to him there. Unless it's important, don't disturb the two of them."
"Understood."
My fists clenched so tight they trembled.
I went downstairs.
My parents' luggage, bags large and small, had been dumped by the front door.
No need to spell it out.
I already knew whose idea it was.
They'd changed into the new clothes I'd bought them.
They stood beside their luggage.
Looking at the pile the servants had stacked outside the door, saying nothing.
"Dad, Mom, I'll book you a hotel tonight."
"All right."
They picked up their bags.
Then smiled.
"When you go out on a trip, you're supposed to stay at a hotel. If you stay at someone's house, is that even a vacation?"
My eyes stung as I reached for their hands.
"Right. I'll get you the best one there is."
By the time I'd gotten my parents settled and come back.
It was already dark.
Brendan had finished the day's visitors.
Yet the light in his study was still on.
I'd just walked past it.
When I heard a girl's soft, gentle voice from inside.
"Brendan, is it okay if I write it like this?"
My steps froze.
Through the gap in the door.
I could see Libby Fox sitting beside Brendan.
The two of them under the same desk lamp.
Shoulder against shoulder, reading over the same script.
"Oh no! I got the male lead's name wrong again! Let me fix it!"
"It's fine, I'll fix it for you."
Brendan clicked his pen and patiently drew two neat lines through it, then rewrote the male lead's name.
Then, following that line, he kept reading down the page.
Crossing out the next misspelled male lead's name and correcting it again.
"I'm sorry, Brendan, I've made so many mistakes."
"Not that many."
Brendan turned to the next page.
Another error.
He crossed it out again.
Wrote it out again.
Page after page went by.
Brendan corrected a hundred and sixty-three of them.
"It's all my fault."
Libby tapped her own head.
"I wrote it up all night, and somewhere in there I typed the male lead's name wrong."
"Take your time, there's no rush. A script always needs a long time to polish."
In that instant.
It hit me like a thunderbolt.
I could still faintly remember three months ago, when I'd begged him to look over my original script.
He'd only glanced at it.
Then pointed at a single printing error in the male lead's name and said coldly.
"If you can't even remember your own character's name, then I'd suggest you stop profaning this industry."
But now.
Brendan picked up the pen once more.
Patiently crossing out the female lead's name Libby had gotten wrong.
Carefully correcting it to the right one.
Libby pouted.
"I'm sorry, Brendan, I should have checked everything properly before coming to you."
"If you'd checked everything properly, then what would you need me for?"
I bit down hard on my lip.
From inside the room came Libby's aggrieved voice again.
"Brendan, I've made mistakes this many times. There won't be anyone who refuses to buy my script, will there? Am I really just that bad, not cut out for this path…"
"Of course not."
Brendan gave her a soothing smile.
"No one succeeds right from the start. What matters is being bold enough to try."
