The next day was January 16th, a Friday.
The opening day of the third Sundance Film Festival.
Simon had lunch at noon with Peter Butler, a reporter from the Los Angeles Times who'd made a special trip for the festival. Around twelve-thirty, they all headed together to the Egyptian Theatre in Park City, where the Sundance opening ceremony was being held.
In many years, the Sundance Film Festival would draw crowds to tiny Park City, buzzing with excitement. Fans wanting to see a film would have to scramble for tickets just to get in.
But now, after a day in Park City where Simon had visited various spots, the town felt mostly unchanged. Sure, there were more people due to ski season, but there was hardly any festival vibe.
From the screening schedule handed out, Simon saw that the films were only playing at three theaters total.
Still, it was the opening ceremony, so things were lively outside the Egyptian Theatre.
Of course, no red carpet.
Simon had just entered the theater when Robert Redford, personally greeting guests, stopped him.
After a quick introduction to Peter Butler beside him, Simon sensed Redford had something to say. He motioned for Janet and Peter to go ahead, while Redford pulled him aside.
"Simon, we watched your film yesterday afternoon—it's astonishing, even better than I imagined," Robert said, then added, "So, I just wanted to ask: Have you found a distributor? If not, maybe I can help."
"Thanks, Bob," Simon replied, appreciating the gesture. "Before coming to Park City, I already talked to Fox. They're interested in the film; we just haven't nailed down the terms yet."
"That's good. Fox is a solid choice. Simon, this is your first movie—don't sweat the gains and losses too much. Building your name is what matters most," Robert said, glancing around before lowering his voice. "And if you don't have anything pressing, stick around Park City these days—right until the end."
The hint was pretty clear.
After months of hard work, Simon had planned to relax in Park City anyway. He nodded. "I will, Bob."
Robert smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "Alright, head on in. The ceremony's about to start."
The Egyptian Theatre was an old-style single-screen cinema with over four hundred seats.
Simon entered the auditorium and scanned the room. There were plenty of people, but it was far from full.
Spotting Janet, Simon sat down on the aisle edge in the fifth row.
At 1 p.m. sharp, the opening ceremony began.
Robert Redford walked onstage with a smile, adjusted the mic, and looked out at the audience, his tone carrying a touch of nostalgia. "Two years ago, in this same theater, there were fewer than a hundred people in the seats. Over the next ten days, I stood outside this one and only festival screening venue, inviting folks in like a bar touting for business. Last year, Sundance successfully sold its first film, Circle of Friends. I personally called Columbia Pictures CEO David Puttnam multiple times to invite him to Park City, then dragged him into the screening room myself. Now, in our third year, still in this same hall, I have over three hundred of you before me. I'm thrilled with this progress, and I hope the momentum keeps building. One day, Sundance will be packed with guests."
Amid enthusiastic applause, Robert Redford scanned the crowd for a moment, not immediately spotting his target, but quickly continued: "A few months ago, something interesting happened. I was at Fox doing post-production on a film I'm producing when I ran into some old friends about to watch dailies for another movie. Curious, I stuck around. Then I saw this stunning footage—perfect cinematography, perfect lighting, perfect composition, perfect set design. So perfect, the rushes didn't even need much color grading to cut into a film. I was pumped and told the producer right then: Introduce me to the cinematographer, the gaffer, the set designer—I have to get them for my next project. And guess what happened?"
The audience fell quiet, most eyes filled with curiosity.
Some more seasoned filmmakers looked skeptical. They knew how tough it was to pull off what Redford described; many thought he was starting to exaggerate.
Simon wore a surprised expression too—he hadn't expected Robert Redford to bring him up. Janet, beaming with pride, leaned over and affectionately squeezed her boyfriend's arm, a flush on her fair face.
Robert paused for dramatic effect, then said: "Turns out, the cinematographer and set designer were the same person. Not only was he also the director, but after the original gaffer quit over his strict demands, he took on lighting himself."
As Robert finished, a murmur rippled through the crowd.
Who?
Robert, you sure Hollywood has someone like that?
And is the movie even watchable?
Hundreds of minds buzzed with questions as Robert Redford finally located Simon and pointed straight at him: "Hey, Simon, stand up and say hi to everyone."
Caught off guard, Simon rose quickly under hundreds of staring eyes, giving an awkward bow to the crowd.
Once he sat back down, Robert continued: "That's the young man right there, with a very unique last name: Westeros. Simon Westeros. I think you'll all get very familiar with that name in the future. Of course, about his film—Sunday morning at 9 a.m., right here in this theater. I guarantee you won't be disappointed. And when you do, check the end credits closely—you'll see Simon handled even more than you might imagine."
Simon wasn't exactly unknown in Hollywood anymore. Most in the audience were bottom-rung filmmakers desperate to break into the mainstream, so they kept tabs on industry buzz. After some whispering, word of his exploits spread fast.
Onstage, Robert Redford waited a moment before going on: "I brought up Simon to say this: Indie filmmakers have it rough. So many talented young people like him bang their heads against Hollywood's rigid walls, losing their dreams to the grind of time. That's why I hope Sundance becomes a platform for showcasing talent, a starting point for dreams. I'll pour everything into making that happen."
Amid another round of applause, Robert Redford raised his voice: "Finally, welcome to Sundance."
After the simple opening, it was time for the opening film.
Festival openers usually featured heavy-hitters from big names, but Sundance couldn't yet lure top Hollywood directors. This year's was the Coen brothers' new film, Raising Arizona.
The Coens' Blood Simple had won the Grand Jury Prize at the first Sundance. They'd risen to fame in recent years, so their latest as the third festival's opener was a nice hook.
Raising Arizona followed a hapless thief whose wife can't have kids, so he kidnaps a baby from another family to raise. The leads were big names: Nicolas Cage and Holly Hunter.
But neither star showed up, and only one Coen brother appeared.
It had just snowed, and Park City's nighttime temps dipped near 14 degrees below freezing. Janet hated the cold, so after the ceremony, she tugged Simon back to their resort cabin. He gave up on the evening party anyway—no stars he cared about were attending.
The next day, at first light, Simon drove out of Park City to Salt Lake City airport to pick someone up.
He'd mentioned it offhand, but Simon hadn't expected George Norman's niece, Jennifer Rebald, to actually come to Utah. Last night, the girl had somehow gotten his and Janet's resort phone number and called, asking if he could pick her up today. She'd never been to Utah before.
At Salt Lake City airport.
Simon had just arrived when Jennifer Rebald and another girl emerged in the terminal around the same time. Spotting him with the sign, they jogged over. Both were in winter clothes but had clearly underestimated Utah's chill—no hats, looking like a pair of shivering quail.
No time for intros, Simon pointed outside. "Let's get to the car first."
The girls nodded in agreement; it was too cold even to speak.
Once in the heated car, Jennifer's friend said, "So cold. I wouldn't have come if I'd known. Jenny, you liar—you said skiing, but something feels off." Then she suddenly stuck a small hand forward from the back seat, grinning. "Hi, handsome. I'm Lisa Collins."
"Simon Westeros," he said, shaking her hand and introducing himself. Glancing at the two in short women's trench coats in the back, he added, "I'll take you shopping for clothes first."
"Aw, what a thoughtful guy. No wonder Jenny braved this ghost weather to see you."
Jennifer, who'd been a bit shy seeing Simon, immediately protested, "Lisa, what are you babbling about?"
"Hee hee, you turned down Edward's confession lately—don't tell me it's not because of him?"
"No, it's not."
Simon started the car, hearing Lisa Collins say that. He glanced in the rearview mirror: Jennifer's fair, pretty face had turned beet red as she turned to stop her friend from blabbing, her golden ponytail swinging.
Watching the girls tease each other, Simon figured he should clarify first. "Lisa, Jenny and I are just regular friends. And I have a girlfriend."
Lisa Collins stopped laughing, mouth agape in surprise. "Huh?"
Jennifer looked over too.
Simon caught her eye in the mirror. "It's Janet. You remember her, Jenny?"
Jennifer recalled Janet staying by Simon's bedside in the hospital and nodded softly, even smiling. "Of course. She's my uncle's client."
"One more thing," Simon said, glancing in the mirror again. "Janet and I rented a cabin at a resort in Park City with two bedrooms. If you don't mind, you two can stay there the next couple days. It's too cold for hotel conditions—they won't be as good as the cabin."
Jennifer hesitated. "Would that be too much trouble?"
Simon shook his head, smiling. "Not at all. Your uncle's my personal lawyer now—if I don't take good care of you, I might lose a case someday."
Jennifer smiled at that. "Okay then. But Uncle wouldn't do that."
Lisa Collins, hearing them decide, didn't object. She leaned over to hug Jennifer. "Now it's really skiing time. But Jenny, you can't ski, can you?"
Jennifer wriggled, trying to push her clingy bestie away. "You can—teach me. Why else did I bring you?"
"But I'm no good at teaching," Lisa Collins said, turning to the front. "Simon, can you teach skiing?"
Simon thought about it. "I think so."
"Heh, then Jenny's all yours."