Free $10,000,000 Marriage Proposal by James Patterson Page B

remind you to please respect his privacy and the nondisclosure that you signed. If he does choose anyone, there will be no announcement of a winner, in the hope that the two of them can continue to lead a private life.
    Again, it was a delight to meet you. I hope I have the chance again.
    Your filter,
    Tony
    “I’m sorry,” Elody said. “You came so close. I’m sure you’re disappointed.”
    “A little, but at least I got a good reality show idea out of it.” Janey put the letter down on her still-clean desk. The night before, when she couldn’t sleep, she had made a list of show ideas—writers she wanted to approach, areas that might appeal to them. On that list, somewhere in the middle, was the ten-million-dollar marriage proposal idea.
    “I must admit I kind of got my hopes up,” Elody said. “The type of guy who would go big, risk it all—I could see him falling for you. Things always work out for you. Look how this job fell into your lap.”
    “I’m bummed,” Janey admitted. “It’s not that I wanted it to work out for me—I mean, it would have been nice. But as a producer, I wanted the fairy-tale ending most of all. All those women who responded to the billboard were so hopeful that this would be the beginning of the rest of their life. The interviewers were so invested. They seemed to really want it to work out for this guy. The mystery man himself was willing to invest so much to search for his one true love. I really want one woman to emerge from all that effort and expense. Out of all those women, there had to be a Cinderella ready for her Prince Charming. I want it to work out. I want a happy ending!”
    “You never stop being a producer, do you?” Elody said teasingly.
    “I’m afraid not,” Janey chirped, but when Elody turned away, Janey felt a lump in her throat. Being a producer got her only so far. Elody was wrong. Things didn’t always work out for her. At work, maybe, but not with men. Sebastian, that cheating bastard. In hindsight, all the signs had been there, and she’d felt like such an idiot when she stumbled across the texts to other women on his cell phone.
    Janey walked out onto the lot. Little golf carts drove around, and over by the soundstages workers were unloading an enormous fake snowman, dragging it between tall palm trees. She headed toward the New York street, the outdoor set that was used whenever something took place in New York. Most of the buildings were facades that could be dressed to be a hardware shop today, a deli tomorrow. Janey sat down on the stoop of one of the buildings, looking over subway stairs that led down to a flat wall. This was the place where stories were born and made out of nothing. This street was full of promise—the blank slate for everything she’d worked so hard to achieve. She’d better get to it.
    She walked back toward her office, passing the huge murals of classic movies that were painted on the vast, windowless walls of the sets. Across from the door to Janey’s office were Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman, cheek to cheek, three stories tall, with Casablanca painted in cursive below them. Janey slipped inside, embarrassed that she cared. It was ridiculous to be disappointed by a man she’d never met. But she did care. How could she be such a go-getter in her career and such a failure in her love life?
    Back at her desk, Janey picked up the envelope and studied the label. It had a processing stamp, presumably from the messenger service. “Elody?” she called out. Elody popped back into the office as if she’d been waiting just outside the door. Janey handed her the envelope. “Let’s track this. I’m not quite ready to give up.”

Chapter 27
    Suze assumed the letter she’d received was the end of it. She and Meredith went out for a postgame happy hour.
    “Miguel was so down-to-earth—not at all what you would expect from a millionaire. He was a good conversationalist, a good listener. I’ve never told anyone so