by Cindy Myers
Inside the Last Dollar, Danielle and Janelle, wearing matching Betty Boop T-shirts, ushered the welcoming party and their guest to a long table in the center of the room. “How perfectly quaint,” Amesbury said, looking around the room. “You’ve gone all out with the rustic theme.”
Danielle’s smile grew strained. “It’s not really a theme,” she said. “It’s just things people have given us to display.”
Amesbury’s grin widened as he surveyed a trio of singing trout mounted on the wall behind his head. “I know designers in Hollywood who would kill for this kind of kitsch.” He handed back the menu Danielle gave him. “Just serve me whatever you have that’s local, organic, fresh, and a specialty of the house.”
“Vegetarian or carnivore?” Danielle asked.
“I’m not afraid of meat. What have you got?”
“The elk steak is fresh, and you can’t get much more local and organic. Junior took it off his lease up near Garnet Mountain. It comes with home fries and the soup of the day or vegetable. We’ve got broccoli from our garden.”
“It sounds divine.” He looked her up and down wolfishly. “I can see I’m going to be eating here a lot while I’m in town.”
“We have the best food in the county.” Janelle set a glass of water in front of him. “Save room for dessert. Danielle’s a wizard in the kitchen.”
“I’ll just bet she is.” He looked around Janelle to watch Danielle as she walked back toward the kitchen.
“Uh-oh,” Maggie whispered to Lucille. “He’s going to be disappointed if he goes after Danielle.”
“Let’s hope Janelle doesn’t dump a pot of hot coffee in his lap first.” Lucille leaned toward the director. “We’re all very curious to know more about the movie you’re planning,” she said.
“It’s not a movie,” he said.
“Oh?” Across the table, Reggie raised his eyebrows.
“It’s a TV series.”
“So you have to film a pilot and sell the network on the idea?” Barb asked.
“That’s how some people do it, but in my case the network’s crazy about the idea, and they’re familiar with my work, so they’ve already given me the green light. I just have to find the right location to film—and the right cast, of course.”
“Who do you have in mind for the cast?” Katya asked.
“I prefer to use unknowns in a project like this.” He smiled up at Danielle as she set a bowl of vegetable soup in front of him. “Did you make this yourself, darling?” he asked.
“Janelle makes the soup.”
“I get it. And you’re in charge of the hot buns.”
Maggie, who sat on Lucille’s right, made a choking sound and reached for her iced tea.
Danielle ignored him and moved down the table to serve the others. “So I gather your proposed television series is set in a small town in the mountains?” Barb asked the director.
“It doesn’t have to be in the mountains, but I’m looking for a small village with a slower pace of life, removed from life’s modern conveniences.”
“If you mean things like movie theaters and fast-food chains, Eureka doesn’t have those,” Lucille said.
“I noticed my 4G smartphone connection doesn’t work at the bed-and-breakfast,” he said. “I can’t tell you how happy that made me. And I didn’t see a single Starbucks downtown.”
“Some people consider that to be one of Eureka’s advantages,” Junior said.
“Oh, it’s ideal for my purposes.”
Janelle arrived with his steak and he took a moment to contemplate the large slab of meat. “That’s certainly impressive,” he said. “I’m sure a vegetarian would choke.”
“We serve vegetarian food also,” Janelle said. “And vegan, if you like.”
“Well, we won’t tell anyone about that. Why ruin the tension?” With this strange statement, he cut into the meat.
Lucille picked at her chopped salad. She ought to be thrilled at the idea of a television show setting up home in Eureka. If the show was a hit, they could look forward to years of filming, not to mention an influx of tourists who’d want to see the real town behind the series.
But Amesbury’s glee at Eureka’s “quaintness” annoyed her. He acted as if they were backward, or a bunch of hicks.
He was finishing up the last of his steak when a strident voice from the front of the room destroyed any appetite Lucille might have had left. “I don’t need you to show me to a table, Danielle,” Cassie said. “I see exactly the person I need to talk to right over there.”
The librarian made a beeline for Amesbury at the head of the table. Lucille noted Cassie had pulled out all the stops today: She wore her grandmother’s pearls and matching drop earrings with a wide-collared white blouse, gray pencil skirt, and sensible pumps, and she’d added pink lipstick and two spots of pink blush to her normally pale face. Call it librarian chic, as only Cassie knew how to do it. “Welcome to Eureka, Mr. Amesbury,” she said.
Still chewing, Amesbury regarded Cassie. He swallowed. “Thank you, ma’am. And you are?”
“Cassie Wynock. Town librarian and president of the Eureka County Historical Society.”
Amesbury wiped his hand on his napkin and offered it. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Wynock.”
Cassie shook his hand, then just stood there, staring at him. The others looked on, too stunned—or perhaps too afraid—to say anything.
“Is there something else I can do for you?” Amesbury asked.
“Yes, I want to audition for a part in your movie.”
“It’s not a movie. It’s a television show.”
“Even better. A continuing drama allows much more opportunity to truly develop a character.”
“Uh, yes.” His mouth twitched. “Have you acted before Ms., uh, what was your name again?”
“Wynock. Miss Cassie Wynock. And yes. I was the lead in our town’s Founders’ Day Pageant, which I not only starred in, but wrote and directed. You can ask anyone and they’ll tell you the program was a popular triumph.”
“Well, I’ll definitely take that into consideration when I sit down to cast the production. Thank you for stopping by.”
“Here’s your dessert, Mr. Amesbury.” Danielle inserted herself between Cassie and the director. “Linzer torte.”
“It looks almost as delicious as you.” He beamed at her.
Cassie frowned at the slab of sugar-dusted pastry. “She stole the recipe from my grandmother,” she said. “I don’t know how she did it, but I swear it’s the same.”
“Well, I’m sure it will be delicious.”
Reggie stood. “Cassie, perhaps Mr. Amesbury can stop by the library later to continue this conversation.”
“That would be lovely.” She gave him a thin smile, pink lips pressed tightly together. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
She had been gone a full minute before Amesbury looked up from the crumbs of his torte and noticed the rest of the table was staring at him. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
“I apologize for Cassie interrupting like that,” Lucille said. “She can be a little eccentric at times.”
“Is she really the town librarian?”
“Oh yes.”
“She looks like she could be a real tartar.”
“Yes, she can be,” Lucille agreed.
“Then she’ll be perfect. I’ll have to find a way to work her into the show.”
“You think Cassie would be right for your show?” Lucille felt a little light-headed. “But you don’t even know if she can act.”
“It doesn’t matter. She thinks she can, and people like that are some of the best participants. I want real characters who will rub up against the other cast members. The more unique, the better.”
“Yes, Cassie is unique,” Reggie said.
“So you think you might choose Eureka as the location for filming?” Maggie asked.
“Nothing’s certain yet. I’ll need to see more of the town, and there are a lot o
f logistics to work out. We’ll need somewhere for the cast to stay.”
“I’m sure I could accommodate some of them at the B and B,” Barb said.
“Oh, no, we’ll need something much more rustic. An old barn, maybe. Heated by a wood stove, with an outdoor privy. Is there anything like that around here?”
“Well, I don’t know . . .” Lucille stopped trying to hide her confusion.
“I knew it—this is a historical show.” Reggie slapped his knee. “You want period authenticity.”
“Oh, no, it’s a contemporary piece. I just want to be sure I convey the primitive nature of the surroundings to the audience.”
“Mr. Amesbury, Eureka has indoor plumbing and has for over a century.” Lucille couldn’t quite keep the snippiness out of her tone.
“Well, yes, but our viewers don’t have to know that.”
“What kind of show—exactly—is this going to be?” she asked.
He smacked his lips over the last of the torte, then dabbed at the corners of his mouth with the napkin. “The idea is to take a group of twenty-somethings from the city—attractive, hip up-and-comers—and dump them off in the middle of nowheresville America, and show them struggling to cope without their iPads and skinny mocha lattes and hipster hangouts. It’ll make for some fantastic drama and comedy. The network’s crazy about the idea.”
“You want to shoot a reality TV show in Eureka?” She had trouble getting the words out.
“Killer, isn’t it? We’ll make the kids chop wood and eat elk steak and interact with people like Miss Wynock—audiences will eat it up.”
“And we’ll come off looking like a bunch of dumb hicks.” Junior threw down his napkin and stood up. “I won’t be a part of it.”
“On the contrary,” Amesbury said. “You could all come off looking like heroes—the salt of the earth simple people who make this country great.”
The only answer was the sound of Maggie’s pen as she furiously scribbled in her reporter’s notebook. “What do we do now, Lucille?” Reggie asked.
She swallowed. Once again, she was responsible for putting the town in a predicament. “If everyone is finished eating, we’ll show Mr. Amesbury some more of the town,” she said. “After all, that’s what he came to see.” Even if he viewed everything through a filter that alarmed her, he might find something positive to showcase. Or maybe he’d choose some other town to play host to his spoiled hipsters.
Chapter 14
“He wants to film a reality TV show about a bunch of hipsters who have to survive in a small town without coffee shops and sushi bars.” Maggie wedged another pillow behind her back and tried to decide if that helped or not. At this point in her pregnancy, no position was truly comfortable.
“Who would want to watch something like that?” Jameso climbed into bed beside her.
“Apparently a lot of people. He said ‘the network’ was excited about the project.”
“Then let him do it. His money spends as well as the next guy’s.” He arranged his own stack of pillows and picked up a suspense novel from the bedside table.
“He wants to stick these people from the city in a barn with a wood stove for heat and an outhouse, and let viewers think that’s how we all live in the mountains.”
“It’s almost how you lived when you first came here, up in Jake’s cabin.”
“I had indoor plumbing!” She punched the pillow and wedged it more firmly against the small of her back. “And that’s not the point. He wants to make Eureka the butt of a joke. He even wants to cast Cassie in the show.”
“Cassie Wynock?”
“Yes, she interrupted lunch to introduce herself and tell him she wanted a part in the show. You know how Cassie is—she can’t help but come off as abrasive and, well, weird.”
“That’s because she is. Abrasive and weird.”
“Yes, but Chris Amesbury wants to exploit her weirdness and play it up. He’ll make her think she’s going to be a star or something, but she’ll end up looking foolish.”
“Cassie doesn’t need his help to do that.” He opened his book.
She hated it when he was so calm and reasonable when she was annoyed. He was supposed to get incensed right along with her. “It’s not right to use people that way,” she said.
“If people get pulled into a scheme like this by their own vanity and greed, why not let them go?” he asked. “I might even tune in to see Cassie confront a bunch of hipsters who want to use the library computers without first jumping through all her hoops. It would be hilarious.”
“Lucille is so upset. She wanted to do this to help the town.”
“If this guy brings in money, and tourists who want to come here and spend their money, it will help.”
“Not if it turns Eureka into a joke.”
He set aside the book and turned on his side toward her. “Since when do you care so much about what people think of Eureka?” he asked.
She smoothed the blankets over the mound of her belly. “This is my home now. Of course I care about it. Or I care about the people in it. No one likes to be made to look backward or ignorant or foolish—and that’s what this director wants to do to all of us.”
“I’m supposed to take him on a Jeep tour tomorrow. Should I dump him off a cliff?”
The offer surprised a laugh from her. “That might be a little bit extreme.”
“If Jake were alive, he’d regale the guy with stories about people who had gotten on the wrong side of folks around here and disappeared down a mine shaft. He’d have him packing to leave before nightfall.”
“Amesbury would have made Jake the star of his show. He’s just the kind of ‘character’ he’s looking for.”
“And Jake would have loved it,” Jameso said. “He’d have gone out of his way to make the director and the hipsters look foolish. And it’s what we’ll do if he tries to come in here and manipulate us.” He squeezed her knee. “This could still work out good—we’ll get Amesbury’s money and a little notoriety, but he won’t get the best of us.”
He sounded so certain. So reassuring. Maybe he was worth keeping around after all. “I suppose you’re right. I worry too much. Rick’s happy anyway. He’s putting the story about this possible reality show on the front page.”
“It will be hard to top the picture of Cassie up on a ladder on the front page of this week’s issue.” He laughed. “I cut it out and pinned it on the wall behind the bar at the Dirty Sally.”
“Your niece was in that picture, too. I don’t think Sharon was too happy about that.”
“Sharon worries too much, too. Alina’s a good kid.”
“You’ve been spending more time with her lately, haven’t you?”
“I have. I thought at first I wouldn’t know what to say to a kid, but she’s smart and fun to be around.” He rolled onto his back again, eyes focused on the ceiling. “She reminds me of hanging out with Sharon when we were younger.”
Did she imagine the wistfulness in his voice? A longing for old connections that had been severed? He’d probably say she was being too sentimental. “It’s good that you can be there for Alina now,” she said. “She needs another adult besides her mom whom she can talk to.”
“Did you have someone like that when you were her age?”
“No, it was just my mom and me.” She’d had plenty of conversations with her imaginary father—a man as different from the reclusive, troubled Jake Murphy as he could be.
“Jake shouldn’t have walked out the way he did.”
“No, he shouldn’t have. But that’s old news.” In this last year, as she’d learned more about Jake, she’d been able to forgive him for leaving her and her mother. She didn’t fully understand his reasoning, and she’d never condone his behavior; she wasn’t even sure she’d have liked the man much if she’d had the chance to know him. But he was her father, and she believed he’d tried to do right by her. Not hard enough, and he’d ended up missing the mark by a wide margin, but he had tried. “I
don’t know what kind of man Alina’s father is, but I’m sure she misses him,” she said.
“She does. She misses her brother, too.”
The mention of Sharon’s missing boy set up an ache in Maggie’s chest. Was it because she was so soon to be a mother herself? “I hope they find Adan soon,” she said. “For his sake, but for Sharon’s, too. This must be so hard on her.”
“Alina talks to me more than her mother does. Sharon just says she’s fine when I ask her if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“That’s because there’s nothing you can do. Some things even tough mountain men can’t fix.”
“I’d fix Joe, if I could find him.”
“What do you think happened to him? Do the police have any idea?”
“I think Joe wanted to retreat even farther from society and he took Adan with him,” Jameso said. “They’re hiding out in the Great North Woods somewhere, living off the land and stockpiling ammunition for the end times.”
“That’s no way for a teenager to live. Can you imagine?”
“Adan probably thinks it’s great—he doesn’t have to go to school or clean his room or any of that stuff. But one day he’ll get tired of being under Joe’s thumb, and there’ll be trouble.”
“Is that what happened to you, with your father?” She held her breath, waiting for his answer. Jameso so seldom talked about his family, only that his father had been an abuser and that Jameso had left home as soon as he could.
His expression darkened, closed off. “I finally got big enough that he couldn’t hurt me anymore,” he said. “That’s when I left. Sharon left later that year, too. Maybe without me around she felt like she had to marry Joe in order to be safe.”
Guilt was such a powerful, terrible thing. She heard the shame and regret behind Jameso’s words, though he’d probably never admit to those feelings out loud. “She stayed with Joe a long time,” she said. “I think there must have been something there besides fear.”