life, Marlie. And if you’re going to tell Aileen Quinn’s story, you need to tell the good parts along with the bad ones.”
“There are no bad parts,” Marlie said. “I’ve read her autobiography. She’s led an exemplary life.”
“Everyone has skeletons in their closet,” he said. “Our job is to find them.”
“No,” Marlie said. “I’m not going to turn this into some exposé.”
“I wouldn’t, either. I’m simply talking about discovering the truth of her story and making a movie about it. It’s all part of the person she is, and that’s the story we’re telling. The complete story. Can you do that?”
Marlie grabbed her laptop. “Yes, of course.” She could promise that. She knew that Aileen had lived a scandal-free life. Dex would discover that, and realize there were no skeletons to find.
“All right,” Dex said, getting to his feet. “I’ve got everything I wanted to know. Can I have some time to consider?”
“Sure,” Marlie said. “But not long. We’re scheduled to start shooting on Friday.”
“Friday?”
Marlie nodded. “I know it’s soon, but I didn’t think it would take this long to track you down and convince you.”
“Weren’t there any others on your short list?”
“No. Not really.”
“Well, if I decide not to do it, I’ll help you find someone else.”
“I don’t want someone else,” she said stubbornly. “I want you.”
“You’ve made that very clear,” Dex replied.
Marlie glanced at her watch, surprised to see that it was nearly 1:00 a.m. Getting to her feet, she wavered slightly, the effect of too much whiskey suddenly hitting her. “I should go. I’ve got a long drive back to Killarney.”
“You can’t drive. You’ve had too much to drink.”
Marlie ran her hands through her hair. “You’re right. Maybe I could call a car? A taxi?”
Dex stood and took her hand, then drew her back down onto the sofa. “I think it would be better if you stay here tonight.”
“No. I don’t have anything with me, and—and we would be asking for trouble.” She glanced down at their fingers, now tangled together so tightly that she couldn’t distinguish his hand from hers.
“I’d drive you myself, but I’ve had more to drink than you have. It will be fine. You can stay in one bedroom and I’ll stay in the other.” He placed her hand on her knee and drew his away. “If we’re going to be working together, we’re going to need to get used to hanging out together.”
“You’re going to do it?” Marlie asked, her heart leaping in her chest.
“I can’t think of a good reason why I shouldn’t. And I can think of one good reason why I should.”
“What is that? And please don’t say it’s because you like to kiss me.”
“No, I believe we could make a helluva good film.”
Still, Marlie wondered if his reason for accepting her offer had less to do with her proposal than what had happened when their lips met. But if they were going to spend the next few months working on the documentary, then they’d have to trust each other.
“Yes, the film will be wonderful,” she said. “So I guess I can have my people call your people and we’ll iron out the details of a contract?”
“All right. And tomorrow morning, we’ll get started.”
“I’ve put together a production schedule. Since I’ve already scheduled our first interview with Aileen for Friday, we have a lot of work to do before then. I think you should meet Aileen first so you can get to know her. You’re going to love her.”
“No, I’m not. And you shouldn’t, either,” he warned.
Marlie ignored him. It was ridiculous to think that she shouldn’t admire Aileen. “And Ian Stephens, her research assistant. He’s providing a lot of the background information on the search. I also have a contact who will digitize all the archival photos we want, and I’ve looked at a few spaces for a temporary studio.”
“I have a small studio in Dublin where I store all my equipment. We can use that.”
Marlie couldn’t believe it had all worked out so well. Earlier that afternoon, she’d thought the film—and her career—was ruined. But tomorrow they’d begin work on the project that would transform her into a real producer. She’d finally gotten her big break, and now that it was here, she couldn’t wait to get started.
“All right,” Marlie said. A wave of exhaustion came over her and she fought back a yawn. “I should probably turn in. I’ve been up since 6:00 a.m., and the whiskey is making me sleepy.”
Dex stood up and took her hands, guiding her to one of the bedrooms. “If you need anything, just let me know.”
“I could use something to sleep in,” she said.
“Wait here,” he said. He disappeared into the other room and returned with a faded rugby jersey. Dex held it out. “Will this do?”
“That will be fine,” she said. Marlie paused, fighting the urge to throw her arms around him and kiss him again. It was the only way she could think to communicate her gratitude. A handshake wouldn’t do. In the end, she pushed up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning, Dex.”
“Good night, Marlie.”
When she closed the bedroom door behind her, Marlie leaned back against it and took a ragged breath. This was all so strange, spending the night under the same roof as a virtual stranger.
Marlie crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the old iron bed. Now that he’d agreed to do the film, she’d thought the pressure might fade a bit. But instead, it had only become worse. If they didn’t develop a good working relationship, then the next two months would be very difficult.
But Dex was a strong personality, and she’d have to work hard to make sure he took her ideas about the film seriously. She had less experience as a producer and so much more to lose if this film wasn’t good. Her bosses at Back Bay already had high expectations for this documentary, and she needed to deliver. And if she did, maybe she’d finally be able to prove to her family that she’d made the right career choice.
It wasn’t easy being a Jenner. Both of her parents were surgeons at the best hospital in Boston, her father also serving as chief of staff. Her four older siblings, two sisters and two brothers, had also opted for careers in the medical field, but only after attending Ivy League colleges and prestigious medical schools. Boston Magazine had even done a feature article on the Jenners, calling them Boston’s first family of medicine.
Marlie sighed. They’d called her the black sheep of the family. She knew what they all thought, that she was somehow defective since she had no interest in the “family business.” She’d always loved art and books and movies and music. She’d played the piano and taken ballet lessons, and yet none of her successes as a child had made a difference because she hadn’t skipped a grade or two in school or gotten a perfect score on her college entrance exams.
Why was she still bothering to try? Marlie wondered. They’d never consider her work important. She wasn’t saving lives or doing critical research. In their eyes, she’d always be a failure.
“But I’m not,” she said as she stripped out of her clothes. She had managed to snag Dex Kennedy, one of the world’s best documentary filmmakers, and with him at her side, they’d create something everyone would finally be proud of.
The bedroom was damp and chilly, so she quickly