“And they’re lucky to have you,” Laura continued. “Children need all the loving adults they can find.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t think about that,” he said. “It just seemed to me that the cousins should know each other. Casey and Katie are the same age and in the same class. And Lila needs a friend.”
His mind wandered back to those years. A terrible, mixed-up time for everyone. The Sullivans, the Parkers, and Bart Quinn, who’d always adored Lila, his only granddaughter, and still did. Yeah, Lila had needed a friend, and Matt was Jason’s big brother, already married with one child and one on the way. His own parents had been devastated by their losses and could barely function. So Matt had done what he could.
“And despite everything,” said Laura, “here you are, raising two beautiful boys, watching out for your dad, keeping an eye on Katie and Lila, running a successful business and making it all happen.”
His ears started burning at her compliment. But she wasn’t finished.
“I wouldn’t call that a soap opera at all, Matthew Parker. I’d call that being responsible.” She dimpled up at him, her blue eyes twinkling. “It’s like baseball—stepping up to the plate when it’s your turn.”
He wasn’t sure her analogy really fit, but he’d follow her lead and keep the conversation light. “Do you women always have to analyze everything?” he teased, as he retrieved her coat from the closet.
She held up her hand. “Okay. I won’t say another word, except to say…I think you did everything right.”
His ears definitely were on fire now. “Get into the car,” he growled, “and change the subject.”
“Yes, sir!” she answered with a mock salute, scooping up the kitten and placing it in the tote bag for the trip home. She went back to the kitchen to say her goodbyes, her face animated, her voice sincere, and Matt was once again surprised at how easily his family accepted her. Including Brian. He was more surprised at how comfortable he felt having a woman in the house again. Maybe it was because that woman was Laura McCloud.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Laura deposited two large shopping bags on the kitchen table. “How could one little kitten need so much stuff and cost so much money when I got her for free?” She turned to the guilty party. “If you weren’t so cute…”
Perhaps she was losing her mind talking to a kitten who, according to Dr. Fielding, wasn’t even old enough to get her shots yet. Good of the vet to see her on a Sunday. Maybe because he was just starting the practice or maybe because she’d begged him so nicely. Anyway, he pronounced the kitten healthy and spent time teaching Laura about the care and feeding of cats.
And now she had two large bags of stuff! And a roommate whose life and welfare depended on her.
She started emptying the bags. New litter box with unscented paper—didn’t want to encourage allergies. Food bowl that she’d keep full of dried food at all times. Better for teeth and digestion than canned. Toys. Not too small or too big. A scratching post.
Laura shook her head in amazement. A week ago, her life was quiet and insular. She’d wanted to retreat and regroup and restart herself. At her own pace. In her own time. Following her instincts.
So much for Plan A.
And now she was headfirst into Plan B. Which was no plan at all. But flexibility would work for now. She was feeling stronger emotionally and physically.
“Is it all due to you, my soft, furry friend?” she asked, scooping the kitten into her arms. A contented purr was the answer as the kitten snuggled against her.
But Laura knew her sense of well-being wasn’t solely because of the cat. Being outdoors, running miles each day along the Atlantic coastline was part of it. And if she were honest with herself, she’d admit that Matt Parker was a key element. He could easily become dangerous to her peace of mind. The better she got to know him, the better she liked him. Not good in the long run.
“So, kitty, maybe I’ll be one of those eccentric spinster ladies who talks to her cat all the time.” Somehow, this joke fell flat and Laura felt her smile disappear.
“Shoot!” she rallied as she continued to sort out the purchases. “You need a name, and I need to get to work on my commercials.”
She picked up the phone and called Matt’s house.
The phone rang three times before she heard it being picked up. No hello greeted her. Only breathing came through the wires, and she made the connection.
“Hi, Casey,” she said slowly. “It’s Laura.”
“H-hi.”
“I have a favor to ask you and Brian.” In the background she heard Brian ask for the phone.
“No-o-o. It’s L-Laura. I’m talking.”
Laura grinned. “Can you and Brian think of a name for the kitten? We can’t just keep calling her ‘cat’ all the time. Right?”
“Right.”
“If you guys come up with a list, then we’ll vote on it. What do you say?”
“I—I—I say yes!”
“Great. And thanks a lot, Casey. Tell Brian thanks, also. Okay?”
“Yes. Bye.” Dial tone.
She replaced the receiver in its cradle, knowing she’d go with whatever name they suggested, happy about Casey’s enthusiasm for her little project. Heck. She couldn’t take any credit. Casey was enthusiastic about everything in his life!
She’d give the kitten to Casey next week when she went to Boston to record the two commercials. She’d be staying at her own home in the city overnight, and the cat was too young to be left alone at Sea View House for that length of time. So, one problem was solved. A win-win for everyone, including the kitten! Hmm. Maybe she’d give it to the boy for keeps when she left Pilgrim Cove at the end of May.
LAURA STOOD at the ferryboat rail watching the big city loom toward her and delighting in the novelty of a boat ride to work! The thirty-minute commute was exhilarating in the fresh air and bright sunlight. She opened the buttons of her coat, thinking that Matt had been on target. Spring was just out of sight. Another week, and she’d need only a sweater.
The boat would dock at Rowes Wharf, and then she’d hop a bus to the recording studio. A lot better than spending almost two hours on the road, fighting for a parking spot, and then feeling half-drained before starting to record.
From the moment she walked into the studio, she knew she’d be on her mark. The familiarity of the environment—both the larger area where the technical staff worked and her sound isolation room—was like slipping into a favorite old bathrobe. The quiet chatter of the production team was familiar to her ears. She also knew one of the techs at the controls, had worked with him before. She felt confident. She had the talent to develop. And just as important, she now had the energy. Her depression was lifting.
She owed her agent a big thanks for not abandoning her during the past two years when she’d only accepted assignments on a limited basis. He’d proved his loyalty and his friendship. And he’d never lost faith in her ability.
The two tapings went well. The rep from the ad agency who was monitoring the travel service account was happy with Laura’s effort.
“Great job, Laura,” he said, shaking her hand when it was over. “We’ll be in touch if anything has to be reworked, but I doubt it.”
“Thanks,” said Laura, happy to hear praise from the client.
As she sat in the cab taking her to Norman Cohen’s office, she realized that the whole week preceding her trip to Boston had gone well.
Her regimen hadn’t changed because winter had stayed longer than usual. As soon as the slush of the ice storm melted, Laura had returned to her walking schedule. Matt had made a habit of stopping by when he was in her neighborhood. Most of the time she was on the beach a mile or more from the house. But if he saw her car in the driveway, he’d walk around the back and wait on her porch. She found herself scanning the distance to see if he was there. If he was, she’d make them both a cup of tea, and then he’d be off again. Yesterday, he’d taken the kitten with him.
Their relationship wa
s strictly platonic, she reassured herself. The way it was supposed to be. The way each of them wanted it to be.
Norman was waiting for her when she reached his office, and greeted her like a long lost daughter before getting down to business. “You have an appointment tomorrow morning with the voice-over director of the Filene’s commercials. I’m going to take you there. Tell me again, why don’t you have a car?”
“Like you don’t know!” The man’s memory was phenomenal, and she’d already clued him in. “The ferry, Norman. The ferry.” She leaned forward over his desk. “I love it. Maybe I’m a seashore girl at heart, but never knew it before. Maybe I enjoy living at the water’s edge.”
He leaned back and smiled. “Maybe you do. You look damn good, Laura. A hell of a lot better than when I last saw you. So how are you doing? Really?”
A kaleidoscope of images flipped through her mind like a slide show. The beach, Matt, the kitten, Sea View House, Matt, The Diner, Casey, The Lobster Pot, Matt, the ocean, Sam, the ROMEOs, Matt, Brian, the van, the ice storm, Matt.
“I’m doing fine, Norman. Better than I expected.” Memories of her mom were constant companions—tears welled at odd times throughout the day—but new memories were being born, too, giving relief to the loss.
“Glad to hear it. Even gladder to see it with my own eyes.” The agent paused, studying her, and the silence that followed took on a mysterious quality. Laura’s spine straightened.
“What’s on your mind, Norman?”
He rolled his chair closer to his desk, closer to Laura. “A new opportunity.” He held his hands wide apart, palms facing each other. “Big.” He didn’t say more.
“Breakthrough?” Laura asked.
He continued to stare at her. “Definitely. You’d have to audition.”
She could handle that. She’d gone on plenty of auditions when she was just starting out, and she understood that they were normal for new projects, particularly for clients she hadn’t worked with before.
“And it’s very competitive,” added the agent. “A really hot project.”
She sat straighter if that were possible. “Tell me.”
“If you win this assignment and perform successfully, big doors will open, Laura. Let’s just say, any money worries you have will be over.”
Why was he holding back? She asked him.
“Because this is a huge commitment,” said Norman. “Full-time work. Long recording sessions. Total concentration. A challenge to your vocal and physical stamina. I didn’t know if you were up to it, or frankly, if you even wanted so much work.” He was silent again, this time his voice trailing off in question.
A moment of decision, but it wasn’t hard. She had to move forward with her life.
“Tell me,” she repeated.
Norman Cohen folded his hands over his stomach, leaned back, his demeanor relaxed now, and quietly said, “A series of audio books.”
She whistled under her breath. Books on tape had become big business, and the number of books available was increasing exponentially. Contemporary lifestyles had contributed to this explosion. People now listened to books while commuting to work because they had less time to read at home. Opportunities for narrators like herself, also called readers, had exploded in this field. But only the most talented were hired. The listening public had quite an influence on who got the work. They voted with their dollars.
“You’re auditioning to narrate the first set of children’s fairy tales being published by Sunrise Books, a division of…” The agent quietly named one of the New York publishing giants.
Laura’s heart started to thump hard, and once again she recognized why she’d never changed agents. Norman Cohen not only knew the business and had his fingers in many pies, he also knew his clients and how to make successful matches. She trusted his instincts, maybe more than her own, and now she wanted to hear more.
“You’d be starting with the second book,” Norman continued, “and you’d be in exalted company. Julia Roberts has agreed to read the first one. Sunrise wants to make a splash, but they can’t afford Ms. Roberts for all twelve releases.”
Laura gulped, trying to temper her excitement. “Frankly,” she said, “the children won’t know the difference, or at least won’t care as long as the narration’s good.”
“Exactly,” said Norman. “But their mothers will. So you’ll have to be good. You’ll be vocalizing all dialogue with unique characters’ voices as well as the narrative.” The man looked her full in the face. “You can do this, Laura. It’s an opportunity to use everything you’ve got—acting skills, speech arts, creativity—and to derive satisfaction from your work. Not to mention a decent paycheck.”
“There must be a lot of voice-over actors who would jump at this. The competition will be stiff.”
Norman shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m not concerned about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because Sunrise is looking for a verbal performance—voice and talent—accompanied by intelligence,” replied the agent, pointing a finger at Laura. “And that’s you.”
Whoosh. She collapsed against the back of the chair.
“And then,” continued Norman, “the publisher has plans for children’s classics on tape. For elementary school level as well as the older kids. Who knows? You might wind up reading your own favorites from childhood…if Sunrise goes through with the second phase of the project.”
“Could we just take one step at a time, Norman?” Laura could barely manage a whisper.
“Absolutely.” The agent got up and walked to a big file cabinet. He reached in and pulled out an accordion-type folder.
“Here’s your homework,” he said, giving the folder to Laura.
She looked inside. Three scripts for the Filene’s ads. And an unbound copy of Snow White.
“They’re not making the audition easy, are they? Seven dwarfs! Seven voices! Just for starters.”
“Six,” Norman offered. “I think Dopey’s silent.”
“And I think,” Laura said between gulps, “that maybe I should practice reading to real children before I audition.”
“Great idea, Laura! Excellent. Do they have a library in that place you’re living?”
She almost whacked him with the file. “As a matter of fact, one of my friends is a retired school librarian.” An image of Lou Goodman and the ROMEOs flashed through her mind. “The residents of Pilgrim Cove have a multitude of skills and talents. It’s a wonderful town.”
He eyed her with interest. “Maybe it is. Seems to be doing you good.” Then he winked. “Just make sure the boat doesn’t sink. I need you in Boston.”
“I’ll be here whenever I’m needed, but I’m not cutting back on my time in Pilgrim Cove.”
“That’s fine. As long as we’re on the same business page.” He paused. “You’re sure about the commitment, Laura? Is it too soon for you?”
“I’m sure, Norman, and even if I weren’t…well, I have to pay bills. Hard work can be therapy, too.” Repeating this philosophy was becoming second nature to her.
He looked at her with avuncular affection. “Smart girl. So call me after your meeting tomorrow morning with the Filene’s people, and let me know when the department store tapings are scheduled.” He stood up behind his desk. “And now I’m taking you to dinner,” he pronounced. “The best food in the city.” His eyes twinkled. “Phyllis cooked up a storm. In fact, when she knew you were coming to town, she gave me orders to bring you back with me. And then we’ll drive you home.”
A sweet gesture, and Laura was touched. “If you were a little older, Norman, you could qualify for ROMEO status.”
“Huh?”
She chose not to enlighten him.
LAURA WAVED GOODNIGHT to Norman and his wife, and let herself into the home she’d shared with her mom. Instantly she was transported to her other life. She walked slowly through each room, expecting to see her mom rise up from a chair, expecting to hear Bridget McCloud’s voice in greeting. She
leaned against the wall between the kitchen and dining room and tried to catch her breath.
Why hadn’t she anticipated this reaction? Why was she so surprised? Two and a half weeks in Pilgrim Cove couldn’t erase a lifetime of love and memories. The heavy silence, however, reinforced her new reality. She was alone. A feeling that seemed much stronger here than at Sea View House. And not because of the kitten.
Laura walked slowly to her bedroom and automatically began to undress. During her time in Pilgrim Cove, she’d gotten involved with people. Funny, how she seemed so connected to the town after such a short stay. Her own illness and her responsibilities of the past few years had put limits on her time and energy for fostering friendships.
A layer of dust covered her bureau and she retrieved a cloth and bottle of furniture polish. She started polishing in her room and then rubbed every piece of furniture in the house, leaving her mom’s bedroom for last. When she finally walked in, she inhaled the faint aroma of Bridget’s favorite cologne, which lingered in the air. One whiff and she was deluged with memories and surrounded with love. She grabbed a handful of tissues and let her tears fall.
Until the phone rang.
Laura rubbed her tears away as she picked up her mother’s extension. Maybe her sister had beaten her to the punch. Calling Alison had been on Laura’s agenda that evening.
“Hello.” She barely managed the greeting after blowing her nose again.
“Laura? Is that you?” Matt’s deep voice resonated in her ear. Her spirits picked up.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“You sound funny.”
“I’m in my mom’s bedroom.”
“Oh…” A world of understanding came across in the one syllable. “I can be there in two hours.” He hadn’t hesitated. His caring voice, his warm tone…right in character for the honorable man she knew so well now.
For the man with whom she was falling in love.
The thought left her breathless. Falling in love? More like catapulting! Despite her best intentions.
Pain slashed through her. New tears erupted at the admission. Men, as Laura had learned, do not stay with women who’ve had breast cancer. She’d absolutely have to find a way to fall out of love.
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