by Nina Lindsey
They started toward the front of the store.
“After I’m done with you, Jake, people will look at you differently in all areas of your life.” Conrad extended his hand. “I’ll have the contract sent to your agent, and I’ll be in touch about the script and screen tests. I look forward to working with you.”
“Thank you.” Jake gave the other man’s hand a firm shake. “I look forward to working with you too.”
“Now I’m going to get a bowl of this world-famous artichoke soup that I’ve seen advertised around town.” Opening the bag of candy again, Conrad trudged out the door and shut it behind him.
Tom Dillon. The role was his. Either this would be the best or the worst thing to happen to his career.
“Conrad Birch, huh?” Sam asked.
Jake jerked his attention to his boss. “You know him?”
“I know of him.” His eyes darkening, Sam picked up a pen and returned to his crossword. “It was big news when he optioned the Atwood book. So do I have to dust off the Help Wanted sign again?”
“I guess so.” Jake picked up a pair of scissors and split the tape on an unopened box. “Or you can put me on temporary leave.”
Sam lifted his head. “You plan on coming back?”
“Maybe.” Because making movies was temporary. It could take months, but there was always an end in sight. After Truth was done filming, Jake would have to go somewhere again. Why couldn’t that somewhere be Bliss Cove?
Right. As if a woman like Callie would sit around for six months or even a year waiting for him.
“I’m not making any promises.” Sam shrugged and filled in a word on the paper. “I can easily find another deadbeat willing to work for shit pay. You’re not exactly irreplaceable.”
“So I’ve been told.” Jake set a stack of books on a table. “I’ll have to take my chances.”
He sure as hell had been doing a lot of that lately.
Chapter 17
“Oh, Jake, congratulations.” Callie threw her arms around him, loving the way their bodies fit together as he hugged her close. She didn’t even care that they were right outside her campus office. “I’ll bet not even Destiny could have predicted how perfectly this would work out for you. But you’d better come in before someone sees us out here.”
He set her on her feet, and they went into her office. Her delight over his news about the role of Tom Dillion was dimmed only by the knowledge that Jake’s success confirmed that he would leave Bliss Cove soon. Not until that moment did she acknowledge she’d been nurturing a tiny hope that he might somehow decide to stay.
“I’m on a break from work, but I wanted to tell you in person, and I totally forgot to bring lunch.” He closed the door, his blue eyes as bright as a summer sky. “Can you take a few minutes to go out?”
“I have a lecture in forty-five minutes, but sit down and tell me everything.”
She indicated a chair, and they both sat. He recounted the entire meeting with Conrad Birch, energy and anticipation radiating from him.
“I don’t know the details yet.” He scrubbed a hand through his thick hair. “Like the rehearsal schedule and when they plan to start shooting, but I know the story. The character.” A hoarse laugh rumbled from his chest, and he shook his head. “Even when I auditioned, I didn’t think I stood a chance.”
Though Callie smiled, her heart constricted at his words. Compared to Blaze Ripley, the role was small, and he’d make only a fraction of the money he’d passed up on the next Fatal Glory movie. But she hated hearing about his self-doubt.
“You have to stop selling yourself short all the time.” She rested her hand on his thigh. “You deserve this. You’re going to be phenomenal. I am so proud of you for going after what you want.”
He leaned in to kiss her. Callie’s heart hitched as she let herself sink into him. She’d come to terms with her undeniable love for him, but she’d have to seal that knowledge away and pull up the drawbridge.
No one, least of all Jake himself, could ever know how intense her feelings had grown in such a short time. Even if he did suddenly declare his love for her in return, Callie would not instill the tiniest hesitation in his mind about Truth.
And he would hesitate—of that she had no doubt—torn between his loyalty to her and his urge to play a challenging role that he’d once only dreamed of.
She would not force him to choose.
Easing away from him, she rose to her feet and smoothed down her skirt. “So I guess this means you have to leave soon?”
His eyes darkened. “I have to screen test on Monday, but that shouldn’t take more than a day. I’ll come back after it’s over.”
“But you’ll have to—”
“Hey.” He stood and kissed her forehead. “Los Angeles is less than an hour away by plane. We can easily work this out, okay? I’ll come back as soon as I can. In the meantime, we’ll talk on the phone and make video calls that may or may not result in dirty talk and quite possibly stripping.”
Callie smiled and suppressed her unease, not wanting to encroach on his happiness over the role. He’d try hard to keep his promise—Jake was nothing if not honorable.
But after the movie details were finalized? When rehearsals and production kept him away for longer periods of time? When he returned to the glitter and spotlights of Hollywood? Bliss Cove would seem very small to him then.
“I have a present for you.” He stroked her hair back from her face.
“Yes, you do.” She arched an eyebrow and placed her hand on his groin.
A chuckle rumbled from his chest. He pulled reluctantly away from her. “You can have that present all you want later. This one is just for you.”
He pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his jeans pocket and handed it to her. Callie smoothed out the paper, faint confusion rising as she read it.
“It’s for a painting class at the Bliss Cove Arts Center.” Expectation radiated from him.
“I see that. Um…thanks for the flyer?”
“No, I signed you up for it.” He pointed at the weekly meeting time at the bottom of the page. “You’re a great artist, but I think you could do a lot more. This class is an intro to painting styles and techniques. It’ll give you a chance to explore a whole new medium.”
Callie stared at the flyer. “How much is it?”
“I already paid. It’s a gift.”
“Oh. Well, thank you. That’s very generous.”
A crease appeared between his eyebrows. “You don’t seem all that thrilled.”
“I just…I’ve never thought about taking painting classes.”
“So why not start now?”
She shrugged. She liked drawing in private, in sketchbooks no one would ever see, but a class…?
“Hey.” Jake tilted her chin up so she had to look at him. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d appreciate it. I didn’t think you wouldn’t want to take a class.”
“No, I do want to.” How ridiculous was it to be scared of a little hobby class when he’d just made risky decisions that would change his entire career? She put her hand on his jaw. “It’s a lovely idea, and thank you. It wasn’t what I expected, that’s all.”
He kept his gaze on hers, a strange light entering his eyes. A second passed before Callie realized he might be thinking she’d been expecting an engagement ring. Horrified embarrassment scorched her face.
“Oh, no!” She shook her head and managed to laugh, though it came out rusty. “I wasn’t thinking that, Jake. Not even close. My God, we’ve been dating for…what, three weeks? And me a professor and you a movie star…that would be completely crazy.”
She laughed again and turned away so she wouldn’t have to look at the sudden hurt and darkness descending over his face. Her heart was beating too fast, her stomach knotting.
“Thanks again for this.” She placed the flyer on her desk. “I should get over to the lecture hall now.”
“Yeah.” He backed toward the door. “I gotta get back to th
e bookstore. See you later.”
“Congratulations again.”
“Thanks.”
Then he was gone, and the air temperature dropped by several degrees. Or a few dozen.
Pulling in a breath, Callie picked up her satchel and hurried to the lecture hall. She put questions about her and Jake out of her mind as she delivered her lectures and led discussion sections.
This was how it should be, right? A comet like Jake fired through the sky, brilliant and blinding, before disappearing into a vast galaxy of luminous stars. Callie, comfortable and safe in her little town, her little job, her little world, stood there exhilarated for a brief moment. Then she watched him go.
Were comets like rainbows ending in a pot of gold? Did people ever leave home and follow them? If so, what did they find where the comet landed? Was it a coveted treasure like diamonds or stardust?
Her heart ached. Even if people did find something precious on a comet’s journey, they would still have to go back home at some point. And the glittering comet would fly back toward the sun and spiral across the sky, far away from everything ordinary.
Chapter 18
The sight of her parents’ house, nestled in a little cul-de-sac near downtown, gave Callie an unexpected pang of nostalgia. Her mother and father had purchased the house shortly after they were married, intending for it to be their “starter” house until they could afford something bigger and more upscale. Instead, especially after having three daughters in five years, they’d become deeply attached to the house with the fenced-in backyard and massive oak tree.
Callie’s childhood memories were all about growing up in the little house where her solid, secure father sequestered himself away with his books, her mother experimented with baking recipes in the kitchen, and she and her sisters argued, played, and laughed an awful lot.
Those moments, she was certain, had been amazing. She just hadn’t realized it at the time.
After parking in the driveway, she knocked on the front door and pushed it open. “Mom?”
“In here, honey.”
Callie stopped in the living room doorway and stared. All of the furniture had been moved to the center of the room, and drop cloths covered the floor. Her mother was standing on a ladder, dressed in jeans and an old shirt, painting one of the cream-colored walls a bright robin’s-egg blue.
“What’s going on?” Callie stepped into the room.
“Oh, I’m redecorating.” Eleanor smiled and set the brush down. “This room…heck, the whole house…is long overdue for a makeover. I can’t even remember the last time we painted. I’m brightening it up.”
“Mom, you shouldn’t be on a ladder when you’re alone in the house.” Callie couldn’t stop herself from pointing out the obvious. “Especially when you’re painting.”
“I’m fine.” Eleanor descended the ladder and took off her bandana. “Do you need help with groceries?”
“I didn’t bring anything. Why? Do you need to go shopping?”
Chuckling, Eleanor wiped her hands on a rag. “No, but you always bring something when you come over. Groceries, cleaning supplies, recommendations for a new HVAC company.”
Callie shrugged, a little embarrassed that she’d arrived empty-handed. “Today it’s just me.”
“That’s the best offering of all.” Eleanor smiled. “Would you like tea or coffee?”
“No, thanks.” Callie opened one of several home-decorating books on the coffee-table. “When did you decide to redecorate?”
“A few weeks ago. I’ve been researching and planning the interior design scheme. I’m going to get new furniture too, after I finish painting.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all this?”
Eleanor arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize I had to.”
“It’s just…” She indicated the furniture, her insides twisting. “You’ve had that furniture forever. This room hasn’t changed in as long as I can remember.”
“Exactly my point.” Eleanor pursed her lips and studied the walls. “It’s become stale.”
Stung, Callie closed the book. “Our home isn’t stale.”
“No, but the décor is like two-week-old bread.”
“What are you going to do with Dad’s chair?” Callie put her hand on the back of the old, comfortable leather wing-backed chair covered with a plastic tarp. Her father had spent countless hours reading in that chair. When he hadn’t occupied it, Callie curled into the indentation left by his body and read her own books about history and myths.
“The Salvation Army said they’d pick everything up before the new furniture is delivered,” Eleanor said.
Callie’s heart stuttered. “You’re giving away Dad’s chair?”
“Honey, it’s just a chair.” Eleanor took a step toward her, concern rising to her eyes.
“It’s Dad’s chair.”
“It was Dad’s chair. Now it’s just a chair with broken coils and torn leather.”
Tension threaded Callie’s spine. “Do Aria and Rory know about this?”
“Yes, I told them. They thought redecorating was a great idea.”
Of course they did. They also thought sending their mother off to New York for her birthday was a great idea.
Callie wished she could think the same thing. But changing her convictions wasn’t as easy as wishing.
“You should have told me sooner,” she finally said. “I can come and help.”
Eleanor’s expression softened. “I know you can, my love, but I wanted to do this on my own. It feels good to take charge, you know?”
Callie nodded, though she wasn’t sure she did know. She’d mastered the art of taking charge of her work and her students—and her family, even if they didn’t appreciate it—but had she “taken charge” of herself and her life? She was disciplined, an excellent scholar, dedicated to her career, but lately all of that had begun to seem very…unamazing.
“On second thought, I will take a cup of coffee.” She went into the kitchen and reached for the coffee carafe, then stopped to let her mother do the task. “Decaf, if you have it.”
A smile quirked Eleanor’s mouth as she picked up the carafe and began filling it with water. Restraining herself from putting out the mugs and spoons, Callie sat at the table and fiddled with the napkin holder.
“I haven’t seen you much this week.” Eleanor measured coffee into the basket and glanced at her daughter. “You’ve been busy with your book?”
“Yes.” Callie twisted her head to ease the tension in her neck.
She didn’t want her mother or sisters to think of her as controlling or uptight. She didn’t mean to be that way, but the vivid memories of the aftermath of her father’s death were still jagged and sharp. Then they’d been blindsided by Eleanor’s breast cancer scare that would remain a frightening specter for all of them.
Callie sighed. None of them would ever “get over” the concern or the loss of Gordon Prescott, but maybe Jake had been right. Somewhere along the way, Eleanor had discovered that she wanted to live fully again. She wanted to travel, visit old friends, redecorate her little house, laugh. Maybe she even wanted to fall in love again.
Callie’s throat tightened. She didn’t want her mother to think she was letting life pass her by. She didn’t want life to pass her by. But if she didn’t do something soon, she’d wake up fifty years from now in her beige house and put on her beige suit, and she’d tell her students exciting, powerful stories about historical figures and otherworldly beings…while she continued to live the same dull life.
“So tell me what you’re planning for the living room,” she said.
“I’m going with a French country theme.” Eleanor disappeared back into the other room and returned with the decorating books. “Toile upholstery, distressed tables, maybe a big antique clock over the mantel. I found this catalog of chinoiserie pottery that has some nice flower vases.”
“It sounds lovely.” Callie looked at the photos of the pottery. “Is there a reason yo
u’ve decided to do this now?”
“Oh, it just seemed like a good time to brighten things up.” Eleanor returned to the kitchen to pour the coffee, but not before Callie caught a faint blush rising to her mother’s cheeks.
She tore a napkin into little pieces and called, “Does it have something to do with the man you’re seeing?”
Silence.
Callie’s heart pounded.
Eleanor rounded the corner and approached with two coffees, her expression closed. She set a mug in front of Callie and sat down. “The man I’m seeing?”
“I saw you at a restaurant in Rainwood.” Callie lowered her gaze to the mug.
“What were you doing in Rainwood?”
“I was with a friend.” She glanced at her mother with a slight frown. “But this isn’t about me.”
“Isn’t it?” Eleanor arched an eyebrow and took a sip of coffee.
“Mom.” Frustration simmered in her chest. She flattened a hand on the table and leaned forward. “Who were you with and how long have you been seeing him?”
Eleanor’s mouth tightened slightly. “Not that I owe you an explanation, but his name is Henry. We met at a volunteer event about two months ago. He lost his wife five years ago, and he’s a lovely, kind, funny gentleman who treats me incredibly well. And before you ask, I didn’t tell you because, to be frank, my social life is none of your business. I especially didn’t want to deal with your disapproval.”
“What makes you think I would automatically disapprove?”
“Honey.” Eleanor set down her mug and put her hand on Callie’s arm. “If you disapprove of me getting rid of your father’s old chair, it’s not a stretch to think you’d view my seeing Henry as a way of getting rid of your father.”
Shame rustled in Callie’s chest. She rubbed her finger over a crack in the table. Her mother’s grip tightened on her arm.
“Believe me,” Eleanor said gently. “I thought the same thing for weeks before I finally agreed to have dinner with Henry. And the chair…let’s just say my decision to get rid of it didn’t happen overnight.”