Coming Home

Elsie, Ms. Baxter, and Mr. Barrow all sit across a long wooden conference table from Harold Levinson and his team of lawyers and publicity managers. Harold is desperately attempting to coax Elsie into selling the motion picture rights to her book. She listens as he lays out all of the things that he can offer to her, to raise her book from the bestseller lists to the top of the box office and make her internationally famous. She listens as he natters on, his nasally New York twang sounding a bit harsh in her ears; she's made no secret that she is ready to return to London, ready to begin work on the new book. She is ready, anxious to see if what Beryl called to tell her is true. That something with Charles Carson has changed. That he came to the pub looking for her; that he has been back three times since she has been in America. That he is making friends with Bill; they are finding all manner of things in common from sport to fancying Beryl's cooking. Elsie does not want to read too much between the lines, knows that Beryl means well but might over exaggerate, a little. Nevertheless, she wants to hurry this business along so that she can find out for herself.

She thinks this whole meeting with Harold Levinson somewhat ridiculous. She hopes that he does not think that because of her fondness for Robert and Cora that she will automatically sign over her book to him. One of his minions passes a packet of papers across the table for her and Thomas to look over.

"I think that you will find our proposal very generous," Harold says confidently; but then everything he says, he says it confidently. "We've not just given you the standard package you'll see. Because you are family, we want to make sure that you are compensated well."

Elsie looks up from the contracts just as she hears the word "family" and is about to say something but thinks it better not to, to allow Mr. Barrow to say it for her and he does, right on time.

"If I might say so Mr. Levinson, I would hate to see how you treat those who are not your family members," Thomas drawls sarcastically, as he continues looking over the documents before him.

Affronted, Harold blusters and snorts under his breath before assuring Elsie that he is a fair man and open to negotiation. "I want to make you happy. We can make this very advantageous to all parties concerned."

Elsie places a hand over the papers in front of her; she reaches for the oversized mug with 'Harold Levinson and Associates' emblazoned across it, a shameless advertisement. She takes a sip and then another, carefully considering her words as she does. She does not want to offend Lady Grantham's brother, but she refuses to let him run roughshod over her either.

"Mr. Levinson," she says measuredly, placing the mug down, "How long have we known each other? Four years? Five?" Harold nods in agreement, as she continues. "That being the case, from what I've read, you simply want to give me a pittance for the rights to the book and nothing further. No, residuals, no offer to write the screenplay, or consult."

Harold leans in, steeples his fingers on the table. "Elsie, I am giving you the opportunity to become internationally famous. This movie will be successful. I guarantee it. Think of what that will mean for future book sales and motion pictures." Harold seems pleased with himself, pleased that he has explained to a woman the finer points of a business deal. The smugness oozes off him. No wonder Lord Grantham did not push Elsie to take the meeting, told her to make up her own mind. Elsie Hughes knows that she may not be a titan in the boardroom, but she is not going to allow this man to speak to her in this manner.

"Harold," she says, deliberately using his first name, after all he used hers and in a condescending way. "I know very well that a successful movie could make me internationally famous. However, I put too much of myself into this book than to simply turn it over for a quick profit and see my material turned into something that I don't recognize and would be ashamed of. And who needs fame like that?" Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Ms. Baxter's lips turn up, ever so slightly into a smile.

Harold slinks back into his cushioned leather chair. Elsie thinks that it looks a little too big for him, like a son who has climbed into his father's chair but is not quite ready for the responsibility that comes with it.

"Shall we begin again?" Harold offers and with a gracious smile, Elsie agrees.

"For starters, I think that a doubling of the payment to Ms. Hughes would be in order," Thomas begins, starts to scribble some things onto his notepad. "And I think that if she writes the screenplay there is an additional fee for that service. Moreover, I think perhaps, we would like to consult on the project. Perhaps as historical advisor, something of that nature."

Elsie is pleased with Thomas, knows that she has a gem in him. He can be abrasive from time to time and more than a little cock-sure but he is an excellent negotiator and has her best interests at heart. Elsie took a risk in hiring Thomas; she was his first big client, the first client he handled without supervision and over the past five years working together, they have become more than agent and client. They meet every other Saturday morning for brunch; sometimes Elsie cooks, tells him that he needs to put on some weight; other times, Thomas treats her to brunch out, tells her that she needs someone to pamper her. Thomas trusts her instinct when it comes to men he wishes to date, gets her advice on them. She is not judgmental like his mother, never told him that he is an abomination. Elsie approves of him, values him, something his mother never has.

Harold agrees to certain provisions, balks at others. Elsie is affronted at his casting suggestions. "That girl who is all teeth and hair? The one who played a prostitute in that movie last year? Oh, my lord," she sighs. The girl may very well be the latest thing, a box office draw but Elsie highly doubts that she can play her heroine. She doubts that Harold has read her novel, a story of a strong woman who left a repressive home to enter service in London, working her way through the ranks learning every job from lowest kitchen maid to assistant cook. Falling in love with the younger son of the Earl for whom she worked, she followed him to the Crimea when she joined with the Sisters of Mercy as a battlefield nurse. Serving for six months as a nurse, she then moved to the kitchens where she became head cook keeping hundreds of men and the women who cared for them fed. Her lover died in battle and she returned to London penniless. She devoted her life to the convent, spending her days helping others. Elsie highly doubts that the young southern actress with the wide smile and full mane has the chops at this age to pull off this strong English woman.

"And you want to pair her with him? The one who was in that baseball movie a few years ago? I'm all agog," Elsie flusters, folds her hands in her lap. Realistically she knows that the money generated can help her family, can help with Becky's care, and make things easier for her mother. However, her father always taught her that while money can make things easier, self-respect means so much more. Something well crafted, time honored will win out in the end. Elsie nudges Thomas' knee under the table and it is his cue to cut the meeting, leave the offer on the table, or ask for more time, she does not really care which. Thomas has told her of a small but prestigious company in London that has shown interest, that only makes one or two pictures a year but they do things right; their films are respected.

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Elsie is in the hotel lobby waiting for Thomas and Phyllis to tidy up the departing arrangements. They are due at the airport in an hour to catch the flight home. The deal with Levinson left sitting. In the end, Thomas did what he was supposed to do, protect the best interest of his client and Elsie made the ultimate decision to keep the integrity of her work intact. She and her mother have managed thus far to care for Becky and they would continue to do so. There will be other deals, other offers. And she is writing the new book already, scribbled on bits of paper here and there; other bits filed away in places in her memory.

As she waits, she has the hotel connect her with the Frolicking Fox in London. She always lets Beryl know when she is departing; it is an old habit of theirs, to connect just 'in case.' The telephone rings and rings before someone answers.

"Hello," Elsie calls.

"Um, hello. The Frolicking Fox. How may I help?" the voice on the other end answers, unsteadily.

"To whom am I speaking?"

"This is Charles Carson," he answers.

"Charles? Why are you answering?" Elsie asks in pleased astonishment.

"Elsie? Oh, Elsie, how nice to hear your voice," he says genuinely. "I was enjoying a bite to eat and well, no one seemed to be near the telephone and I happened to pick it up and…..I suppose that you want to speak to Beryl…let me get…."

"…no, no. That's all right," she says quickly, a smile spreading across her face. She does not know it, cannot see it, but a smile tugs at his lips too as he holds the receiver close. Beryl is right, he has been coming to the pub, visiting her friends, making them his friends. She feels something tighten in her breast, wonders if Beryl's hunch is correct, if he is rid of that woman, Alice. If something has changed between them; if he caught her out or if they simply called it quits. "We are just about to leave for the airport. I always call to let her when I am leaving and when I will be in."

"Ah. Well, I'll be sure to tell her. Bill told me that you had meetings. Did they go well?" he asks. He hopes that they did, wants her to do well.

"Well, I left the offer. It wasn't the right thing. But I will tell you all about it when I return. And you? Are you well?" She hopes that he is. Their night at the pub has been on her mind ever since; at night she can almost feel his hand on hers. She cannot understand why their brief connection has been so powerful; she is no schoolgirl, is not under illusions of love at first sight, but there is attraction to be certain.

"I have had a change, several changes, in fact, but if you will allow me, I'd like to tell you about those when you return," he asks, his voice low, suggestive. Elsie's stomach drops, she closes her eyes, worries her lip. He stops breathing until she answers.

"I should like that. Very much," she finally replies. They talk a few more moments before Elsie spots Thomas and Phyllis approaching. She makes her goodbye to Charles, tells him to take care. He wishes her a safe flight and tells that he will see her when she returns.

"My, my you seem happy all the sudden," Thomas says appraisingly, happy to see his friend smiling.

"We're going home," Elsie replies as she grabs her handbag and loops her arm through his. Going home indeed.

"I told you that she would call," Beryl says cheerily. "I know that woman like the back of my hand," she laughs.

"You gave up your telephone call for me," Charles replies, a broad smile still evidence of his happiness. "I appreciate that." Beryl pats his hand.

"Just don't hurt her, don't rush into anything," she urges. "Build a friendship slowly. If you do, she'll be everything you think she is. Now, eat your food before it gets cold."

Everything I think that she is, Charles thinks. Well, I'd best be ready. She's coming home.

TBC….Thank you for your continuing support. I appreciate it very much. I cannot say that I will be able to update close together like this for a while. Perhaps in a few days. I am anxious for them to go on their first real date. Let me know in your comments what you'd like to see. Restaurant? Charles cooking? Elsie cooking? Suggestions. Reviews are always appreciated.