Her heart stuttered as their gazes met. A moment before, she’d prayed about the danger she believed Tom posed, and now she reacted with pleasure because Liam walked into the shop. It was wrong. All wrong. And yet—
“Morning,” he called.
“Good morning.” She rose from the window seat and slipped her phone into her back pocket as she stepped to the railing. “How goes the research?”
“Good, I think. I drove down to Boise yesterday to get a look at the original plans for the mansion. They have a set of them at the museum. Not the original drawings, but copies of them. Some historical preservation expert showed them to me. I was afraid to breathe the whole time we were in that small room. He really didn’t want to show them to me.”
“That bad?” She moved toward the stairs.
“He didn’t like me before I met him. I’m a Chandler, and we—as in my family—allowed the old mansion to fall into disuse, and then we tore it down after it was damaged in the storm. Those Chandlers who are left—meaning me and my dad—should be taken out and shot at dawn.”
“You’ll be missed.” She tried to keep a straight face.
He grinned. “Thanks a lot.”
How easy things were between them. It surprised her how much she liked Liam. It surprised her how she wasn’t leery of his charm and good looks, as she’d been when they first met. In her quieter, solitary moments, she could admit it wasn’t wise for her to feel this comfortable in his presence. Comfort meant her guard was down. A lowered guard meant she could be in danger. And yet she couldn’t seem to care when he smiled up at her the way he was now.
Lord, make me wise.
“Hey, how was your violin lesson yesterday?”
She shook her head as she walked down the stairs. “Not quite as screechy as before. But I’m a long way from playing real music.”
“I’ll bet you’re not as bad as you make it sound.”
“I wouldn’t test that theory with Aunt Rosemary. She’s a very honest woman. She’ll tell you what my practicing sounds like.”
He chuckled before asking, “Speaking of which, where is she?”
“Aunt Rosemary said she had some bill paying to catch up on, so she sent me over to the shop on my own.”
“Ah.” He looked around. “She told me to come by. She has some more books she wanted me to look at.”
“Oh, that’s right. They’re over here.” Chelsea led the way toward a back corner of the store. “I poked through them this morning. There’s one that was written in the early part of the twentieth century. Aunt Rosemary said it should be of particular interest to you. It’s by a minister’s wife who knew both Preston and Cora Chandler when they were new to Chickadee Creek. That’s what the author said in the foreword. It’s mostly another history of the area, but there looks to be quite a bit about your family too. And there’s a photograph of your great-great-grandmother holding a violin.” She hesitated before adding, “I’m sure it’s the violin.”
“Your violin?”
Something relaxed inside when he confirmed, once again, that the violin was hers. “Yes.”
“That should be interesting.” He picked up the indicated book and opened the cover.
“The photo with the violin is on page 270.”
He nodded as he flipped the pages.
Unable to resist, Chelsea sidled closer to his side so she could look at the book along with him. When he arrived at the page, she reached out and placed her index finger next to the photograph. “I think I can see some family resemblance. Same dark hair. Same dark eyes.”
He glanced at her with a bemused expression. “It’s a black-and-white photo,” he replied dryly. “Everything looks dark.”
“I know.” She laughed. “But the resemblance is still there. Cora Chandler could have been an actress. She’s beautiful.” And so are you, she finished silently.
* * *
Liam felt the warmth of Chelsea’s body through the cotton fabric of his shirt. The hair on his arms stood on end, as if he were near an electrical charge. His mouth went dry, and his brain felt fuzzy. It would have been easy and natural to turn and take her into his arms. The strength of the desire to do so caught him unawares.
Did she feel it too? Perhaps, for she took a quick step away from him. Then, as if that wasn’t enough space, she moved to the opposite side of the table.
Cora Chandler. He needed to think about his great-great-grandmother and not Chelsea Spencer. Learning more about his family, about Cora and her violin, about the Chandler mansion. Those were the reasons why he was at the antique shop.
Besides, a romantic involvement wasn’t a good idea, no matter how attractive the woman in question was. His life was too uncertain. He wasn’t sure if he would stay in Idaho or return to California. He didn’t know if he would keep acting or start over in a totally different career. He was trying to get his faith life back on track. He didn’t need another distraction. Sure, he could admit he was drawn to Chelsea. She was nice. She was pretty. As a bonus, she had that beautiful ginger hair. Why wouldn’t he like her? But pursuing those feelings could derail him on more than one front. And it might not be good for Chelsea either.
Just look what happened to Mom. She got derailed too.
He winced at the thought, unwilling to remember that his mom had a lover. She’d always seemed strong in her faith. It would have been easier to believe his father, the workaholic, would have an affair. All those hours in the office, away from his family. That would have made sense to Liam, even if he wouldn’t have liked it. But not his mom. She—
“What’s wrong, Liam?”
He met Chelsea’s gaze. “Nothing.”
She tilted her head slightly, her eyes saying she didn’t believe him.
“Okay, you’re right. Something’s wrong.” He gave her an apologetic smile, along with a slight shake of his head. “But I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”
“Fair enough.” She nodded. “But if I can help, even by just listening, I’m game.”
He cleared his throat, lifting the book in his hand. “I’d like to take this with me. How much for it?”
“Oh, Aunt Rosemary meant for you to have it. No charge.”
“Not a very sound business model. Giving away what’s in the shop.”
“She would say you gave us—me—a lot more than that book is worth.”
“Okay. But you can tell her this is the last time. We’re square from here on out. I won’t budge about that.”
Chelsea’s smile lit up her face. “I’ll tell her, but don’t go holding your breath. She can be way more stubborn than you ever thought of being.”
“Really?” He grinned. “Sounds like a challenge to me.”
“If you like.” She gave a little toss of her head.
How had she done that? How had she managed to chase his dark thoughts into a corner? Not that it mattered how. It only mattered that it happened.
Liam's Journal
Mom is having an affair.
I write it, but I don’t want to believe it. Haven’t wanted to believe it from the moment I realized what was going on.
His name is David Harris. When I saw him at Mom’s house, he looked familiar. He was at Jacob’s funeral, so that must be where I saw him before. Takes guts to show up like that. Why would he do it? Some kind of sick way of supporting Mom? I don’t get it.
I wonder if Dad knew it was going on even before that. From some of the stuff Jacob said, I’m guessing he did.
Should I tell Dad I know? He said I should ask Mom what went wrong between them. Now I know why. But would he want to know that I finally know too?
At least his mood makes more sense to me. Not all of it but some.
God, how does a son react appropriately about something like this? How do I honor my mother when she’s having an affair? And while still married to my dad.
Funny. The prayer in my last entry was similar but about my dad.
I know people divorce at the drop of a hat these
days. One actor I know has been married three times already, and he’s my age. But I never thought my parents would divorce. They seemed solid, most of the time. Or maybe I wasn’t looking for the signs.
Show me how I need to respond, Lord. I sure don’t know on my own.
Liam's Journal
I dreamed about Jacob last night. The old Jacob before cancer. The strong and healthy one. I’m not sure where we were. The house felt familiar, but it wasn’t the old cabin, and it wasn’t the house where we grew up. But we both seemed at home there. We were joking and laughing. TV was on. There were snacks on the coffee table. Jacob’s favorites. Junk food. Nothing healthy.
And then all of a sudden he looked at me, real serious like, and said, “Thanks for lovin’ me, bro. Despite everything.”
Right then I woke up. I was disoriented at first. The dream seemed so real, and what he’d said kept echoing in my head. It didn’t make sense to me. Jacob and I were close. Always. I don’t remember any time I didn’t love my kid brother, because from my first memories, he was right there beside me. Everybody loved Jacob. What was that “despite everything” business? Why would my mind even come up with a dream like that?
Funny thing is we used to talk about how Jacob was Mom’s favorite. There was never any doubt about that. If anybody felt unloved sometimes, it was me. And maybe I said or inferred that I was glad Jacob loved me. But I wouldn’t have said “despite everything.” What everything?
And I know Jacob never said anything like that to me. Not ever. I would remember.
So why did it seem real? Like it was something important. Like it was something I needed to hear or know or think about?
If I was writing this dream for a film, it would be a turning point in the plot. But I’m not a writer. My brain doesn’t work that way. Sometimes I’ll get an idea for a script for a movie I’m in. I’ll think I would do a scene a different way if it was up to me. And sometimes the director and writer agree with me.
But I don’t see how this is a turning point.
Chapter 14
Wentworth pursues Chandler for lead in next film.
Liam stared at the tweet, unsure if he wanted to follow the link to the article or not. But he couldn’t resist the impulse for long. He clicked it and quickly scanned the post.
An unconfirmed source at the studio reported that Grayson Wentworth is not giving up on his first choice for the lead role in his next film . . . Liam Chandler hasn’t been seen in Hollywood for more than a year due to a reported illness and subsequent death in the family . . . When questioned, Chandler’s agent, Kurt Knight, had no comment . . . Where is Liam Chandler?
Liam closed his laptop. Was it true or just words needed to fill up space? Was Grayson Wentworth determined to have him star in his next movie? What was the role? He hadn’t asked when Kurt mentioned it last month. Maybe that was proof he didn’t want to go back to acting. Maybe his lack of curiosity showed that he no longer belonged in the Hollywood scene.
Jacob’s voice whispered in his memory, “Don’t you want to go deeper?”
“Yeah,” he answered aloud. He would like a role that wasn’t about escaping from aliens or prehistoric beasts, roles where he wasn’t running for his life or making a move on a female costar. Maybe a role he could play with his shirt on, as Jacob suggested. Maybe he would like to be in a film that moved a viewer to tears. Or at least to feel something more than an adrenaline rush.
He frowned as he reached for the phone. Kurt took his call within moments.
“You heard about what’s online?” his agent asked without preamble.
“I read a piece.” Liam gave Kurt the name of the source.
“The news is picking up speed. Been forwarded a lot on Twitter and Facebook. Many people in the business wondering where you are and why you don’t have another film in production. And that’s good for your career. Trust me. It’s all positive chatter.”
“Is it true? What the writer said. Wentworth still wants me?”
“It’s true.”
Liam got up and walked to the living-room window. “I didn’t ask before. What’s the part?”
“The starring one. Top billing.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. What kind of movie?”
“It’s a drama.”
“Set where?”
“On Earth.” Kurt laughed at his own joke before adding, “Oklahoma during the Great Depression.”
“The Great Depression,” Liam echoed. He’d long been drawn to the history of the thirties, particularly the cause and effect of the Dust Bowl.
Kurt continued. “The script’s based on a bestselling book that came out a few years back. Focuses on a family who’s caught up in the Dust Bowl. But instead of heading for California, like so many did, they stuck it out.”
Liam’s pulse skittered. Did his agent know his interest in the subject?
“Don’t you want to go deeper?”
This was it. This was what Jacob meant when he’d asked that question. A role like this could be Liam’s chance to go deeper. He felt it in his gut. He didn’t have to read the script to know, not with Grayson Wentworth at the helm.
God, is this what I’m supposed to do? Is this what I’ve been waiting for?
Despite his quickened pulse, he felt calm embracing his excitement. “Kurt, tell him I’m interested. See if you can set up a time for us to talk.”
“Really? You sure?”
“I’m sure.” Even as he spoke the words, he felt his certainty increase.
“You want him to come to you?”
“Are you kidding?”
“No. No, I think he’d be willing to fly up to Idaho, if that’s what it takes.”
“You know, if he’s willing, that is what I’d like. Maybe for him to see me in my own environment, in my own home.”
His agent was silent for a moment. “Home, huh?”
“Yeah. Looks like I’m ready to work again, but when I’m not filming, this is where I want to be.”
“I’ll see what I can set up and get back to you.”
“Great. Talk to you soon.”
“Will do.”
“Wait. Kurt, can you remember the name of the book the film is based on? I’d like to read it.”
“Can’t think of it right off. I’ll have my assistant find out and text it to you.”
“Perfect.”
The two men exchanged a few more words, then ended the call. Liam remained at the window, staring out at the forest while trying to wrap his mind around the decision he’d made. It seemed to have happened in seconds. Or had it been weeks and months in coming?
Chipper came to sit by his master, placing his head beneath Liam’s hand. He took the hint and ruffled the dog’s ears.
“And here I was thinking I might be done with acting.” Liam looked down at the dog. “Looks like I might be headed back to California, boy. What do you think about traveling a bit?”
Chipper licked his hand.
There was no denying his dog loved to go places in the truck. But what would Chipper think of being locked in a crate in the belly of a plane? How much would he hate being stuck in a strange place while Liam was at the lot, filming? Of course, they might work on location. Would they allow Liam to bring his dog wherever that was?
Liam sat on the sofa and resumed petting the dog’s head.
“We might have to make other arrangements.”
He couldn’t ask his dad. The man was no fan of pets and pretty much lived at the office anyway. And he wouldn’t ask his mom. This was no time to be asking her for favors. Not when just thinking about her made him angry.
I could ask Chelsea.
He didn’t even wonder what her answer would be. She would agree to look after Chipper. He pictured her, smiling, nodding in agreement, then turning her attention immediately to the dog, bending over Chipper, patting his back, talking to him.
The urge to call her was strong. Crazy, since he didn’t have the role yet, despite what
Kurt said. He didn’t even have a meeting set up. Besides, deals fell apart all the time. Wentworth might want him now and change his mind tomorrow after meeting a guy who was even better for the part.
Then again, Liam didn’t need to be going out of town before he called Chelsea. Did he?
* * *
Aunt Rosemary had made a lot of progress since her return to Chickadee Creek. She’d improved so much that Chelsea felt superfluous. Her great-aunt took a brief nap each afternoon, but otherwise her energy level seemed greater than her own. When Aunt Rosemary was in the antique shop, she stayed busy, for the most part. Chelsea would tell her to sit and rest, but the rest never lasted long. Perhaps because customers had finally begun to enter the shop after a long absence. Mostly it was townsfolk coming by to see what changes Rosemary had made, but summer tourists had also discovered Rosemary & Time.
“I let this place go to pot long before my fall,” Aunt Rosemary said after a customer left the store, the soft chime of the bell still echoing. “Years before. I should have asked you to help me long ago. You’ve done wonders with it, downstairs and up. People can find things to buy, even if they didn’t know they wanted to take something home. It all looked like junk before you came. Now it looks like valuable antiques.”
“Not everything looks valuable.” Chelsea slid a book onto the waiting shelf. “And not everything looked like junk before. When I came to stay with you as a girl, I remember the shop as wonderful and . . . and cozy.”
“You were a little girl. We see things differently when we’re young.”
“Maybe.”
The telephone rang and her great-aunt answered it. “Rosemary & Time. How may I help you?”
Chelsea riffled the pages of another thick book, this one about the Napoleonic Wars. Pausing to look at a drawing of a battlefield, she thought of Liam and wondered if this history book would interest him or if he only cared to learn more about his family’s history in Idaho.
“Chelsea,” Aunt Rosemary called, intruding on her thoughts. “It’s Liam Chandler.”
Make You Feel My Love Page 14