I noticed then there were, indeed, some logs burning in the fireplace, which surprised me for I had assumed immortals didn’t feel hot or cold. Maybe I was wrong. Or maybe Becquer had lit it for us.
I shook my head. “I’m fine,” I said, although I wasn’t. But it wasn’t the fire I wanted to get closer to. And I wasn’t cold either.
The contract was typed this time and simply written. It covered all the points I wanted covered and some I had not considered. I handed it back to him when I was finished and thanked him for his hard work for the contract was clearly in my favor.
“Shall we proceed then?” There was a hint of relief in his voice.
As I nodded, he produced a black fountain pen and signed first, above his printed name. Then Richard got up and, coming to the table, added his signature below.
“I hope our partnership continues,” Richard said handing me the pen, “after these two books are done and sold. And I hope — ”
What he hoped for I never knew, because just then, Becquer reached forward to take the contract I had already signed, and as he did his pen rolled out of his reach. Richard jumped forward and grabbed it as it fell. His eyes on Becquer, he set it on the table. Becquer glowered at him.
Before any of them spoke, there was a knock at the door. Following Becquer’s invitation, Rachel came in and, taking the contract from the table, moved to the copying machine by the farther wall.
Soon she was done and, after handing a copy to each of us in a black folder, she left as silently as she had come.
Richard looked at his watch. “I better go,” he said, getting up, “if I want to catch the five-thirty train.”
He bent over the desk as he spoke and shook Becquer’s hand — with both of his — for a long time and with an eagerness that betrayed his deep affection for him and made their previous silent confrontation even more puzzling.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Richard said.
Becquer nodded, his face unreadable, but when Richard asked me if I could give him a ride to the train station and I said yes, Becquer’s eyes, once more, flared with anger.
“That won’t be necessary,” he told Richard. “Rachel will take you, as agreed.”
“I really don’t mind,” I said. Both because I had time to do so and because it was obvious to me that Rachel was too upset to drive. She had not uttered a word while she was in the room, and her hands had shaken when handing us the copies.
“But I do,” Becquer said. And as I looked at him, nonplussed, he added, “I need you to stay a moment longer so we may discuss the termination of our contract.”
“Another time, then,” Richard said brightly, shaking my hand. He had turned his back to Becquer so Becquer couldn’t see his face, and, as he spoke, his eyes sent me a message I failed to understand. I frowned; Richard sighed in frustration, and turning toward Becquer, repeated his goodbyes.
“Please, sit,” Becquer told me as the door closed behind Richard.
“My job as your agent is done,” Becquer continued after I complied. “I sold your manuscript. Our contract is now finished, and so according to your wishes I have prepared a termination clause to end our partnership. Just take your time to read it and let me know what you think.”
I swallowed hard and took the paper he offered. The clause was short and simple and took only two minutes to read. I looked up.
“Is everything as you expected it?” Becquer’s eyes held mine, challenging me to argue. A challenge I didn’t take for there was nothing to argue.
“Yes,” I said, my mouth so dry that saying that single word hurt.
He handed me a golden pen. “Would you sign then?”
I didn’t move. Becquer was right. It had been my wish to terminate the contract. And the reasons for my request were still as valid now as they had been a week past. Being around immortals will always pose a threat to my children. Yet, if I signed Becquer would disappear from my life as though he had never existed. And I was not ready for that.
“Carla!”
I blinked and averted my eyes for I realized I had been staring at him.
“I’ve already signed,” he added.
Forcing myself to move, I took his pen and signed my name beside his.
“Great,” Becquer said. Then he smiled sheepishly. “Would it be too much to ask that you make a copy for your records? Rachel is not here at the moment and I’m afraid modern technology eludes me.”
“My pleasure,” I said, trying hard not to roll my eyes in disbelief. I was by no means a technological genius, but being unable to make a copy sounded lame even by my standards.
“I took the liberty of contacting Sarah,” Becquer said while I set the paper on the glass and pressed start.
“Sarah?”
“Sarah Lindberg,” Becquer said. “She interned with me some years back. She runs her own agency, now. You may have met her at the party.”
I grabbed the original and the copy still warm from the printing and walked back to his desk.
“She was quite pregnant,” Becquer continued, and when I nodded, he continued, “I thought she would be a good match for you and she agreed. If you want, I’ll give you her phone number so you may contact her at your convenience.”
Once more, I was having trouble concentrating under his stare and, again, I failed to answer.
Becquer frowned. “Unless you have another agent already, of course.”
“Of course,” I repeated, then, realizing how little sense I was making, I quickly added. “No, I don’t. And thank you for talking to Ms. Lindberg on my behalf.”
Becquer nodded. “Sarah will be on maternity leave for several months starting soon. If that is a problem I could suggest somebody else.”
I smiled. The idea I could finish another book in a couple of months was quite laughable considering I was still struggling with the sequel I had just agreed to produce for Richard, because my outline kept changing between the happy ending I had planned when I started and a darker apocalyptic one that fit my somber mood of late. As for the hypothetical novel Ms. Lindberg would be representing, I had not even started it.
“No, that won’t be necessary. I can wait.”
I grabbed my purse, readying myself to leave, but Becquer didn’t move.
“One more thing,” he added, motioning me to sit again. “I would appreciate if you don’t mention to Sarah the real reasons for our parting.”
“Of course. I couldn’t possibly tell her that — ”
“That you mistrust me?”
I flinched at his directness. “Well, yes. No, I mean, what did you tell her?”
“The official story. That I’m retiring.”
“But it’s not true.”
“Actually, it is.”
“But you weren’t, were you, when you signed me?”
“Things have changed since.”
“Because of Beatriz?”
“Among other reasons.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I have been an agent for over ten years. Ten great years. Good things are not meant to last forever.”
“What will you do now?”
“Something exciting, I’m sure,” he said lightly. But his eyes avoided mine.
I waited for he hesitated as if he were about to add something. But just then, the phone rang.
Becquer looked at the number on the caller ID and scowled. “Would you mind?”
He grabbed the phone when I said no, and after the required greeting was over, put the caller on hold. “I apologize but I do have to take this. David will walk you to the door.”
