“Well, you want to get the designers together in person but you need a place to do it. What about George’s ballroom?”
“Yes!” I shriek with excitement. That’s incredibly perfect! “Okay, so we’ll have the press conference at George’s. I’m sure he won’t mind.” Not that I’ll tell him. That would ruin our surprise.
“But that still doesn’t solve why the designers would want to come,” Billy says.
“Riiiight,” I say.
“Unless…” Billy sits up, his eyes shining mischievously the way they always do when he’s come up with something delicious. “Why don’t we have the designers submit proposals to re-do George’s ballroom. Sky’s the limit for price and creativity—this will give us an idea of their potential.”
“Yes! That’s amazing!” I cry, my mind a whirl with possibilities.
“Too bad George isn’t home though. It would be nice to introduce the client,” Billy says. George isn’t exactly the kind of client I want to showcase though. A crispy old man who swears like a trucker and couldn’t give a shit about design.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Liam sweep his hair off his face, and I stare for a sec, enthralled. I need a charismatic client like Liam.
Holy shit!
I jump to my feet and screech with exhilaration, while Billy and Liam gape at me.
“What are you doing?” Billy asks, surveying me with a bemused look.
“Liam!” I say, pointing to our new and lovely friend. “YOU will be the client.”
“Uh, I don’t really have an impressive pad—”
“No, no. Not at your place. You’ll be the lord of the manor—of George’s manor. Your job is to be the enigmatic, affluent, and dreamy client every designer yearns to work with.”
I bite my lower lip and raise my eyebrows, awaiting his reaction.
“Oh, that’s freaking fantastic, Lane!” Billy says, and we exchange a fist pump.
“I’ll do it because it’s for a good cause,” Liam says.
“Why? Because we’re both broke?”
Liam nods, grinning.
“Lane says you’re in business. What kind?” Billy asks.
Liam’s brow wrinkles, and he shakes his head. “I didn’t say that.”
“Yes you did!” I retort. “You said you were an entrepreneur.”
Liam gives a good natured chuckle. “No, no. An entreprawneur. It’s a play on words.”
“So, you’re like, a fisherman?” Billy asks.
“Well, just for fun.”
This is exasperating. Billy and I exchange a look. “So, what do you do?” I ask.
We lean forward in unified anticipation as Liam gives an unsatisfying little shrug.
“Oh, you know, this and that.”
“This and that?” I echo, dumbfounded.
“Yeah.”
Billy and I exchange another look. This one seems to say, “Well, he’s gorgeous, but I guess he isn’t perfect.”
“So what do you do right now?” Billy asks, twirling a curl of hair around his finger.
“I’m teaching Lane to cook.”
“That’s your job?” I ask? This is nuts. “But, you live in Kits. And George told me you were traveling through Europe for the last six months. How do you afford it?”
Liam physically shrinks back and mumbles something we don’t quite catch.
“Do you have a sugar mommy or something?” Billy teases, patting the chaise in an invite to Liam.
Liam accepts and leans back into the plush leather cushion. “Kind of. I have an…allowance.”
“A trust fund?” Billy and I say together, exchanging another look that says, “Okay, maybe there is such a thing as perfection.”
“I guess,” Liam says. “My family owns an aviation company, among others, and they set up a modest trust for me.”
“How modest?”
“Billy!” I scold. “You’re being rude.”
But we both lean forward and await Liam’s response.
“Ah, modest enough, as far as trust funds goes. I think I’m rather a disappointment to my family… And anyway, it’s not my money.”
“Yes, it is. It’s your family’s. And if you were my son, I’d be really proud.”
“Thanks, Lane.” Liam beams at me, and again I lose myself in his mesmerizing eyes.
“But anyway,” Liam’s face darkens, “I don’t care about money. I’m a minimalist. Really. I use the money to travel and learn and help people, but I couldn’t care less about buying things.”
“You only say that because you have money. I didn’t care about it either till it was gone.”
“That’s not true, Lane.” Billy is shaking his head, a rueful smile playing on his lips. “Money was a massive part of your day to day life. You liked it, admit it.”
“I did. But I realize how much happier I am now. I can’t believe how much I’ve changed, and I really don’t think money matters so much anymore. That is, if I can just get to a point where I don’t have to worry about it.”
“Well, hopefully our luck is about to turn around, and we won’t have to worry,” Billy says, leaning over to refill our glasses. We raise them in a toast together.
“To dreaming and doing,” I say, hoping so much for it to be true.
“To dreaming and doing. Cheers!”
Outside, I pull Liam’s sleeve to stop him from walking toward St. Paul’s. He turns around and gives me a curious look.
“I need to make a phone call. I’m just going to bus home and take a quiet walk on Kits Beach, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure Lane, whatever you need.”
“Thanks so much for coming with me today. You had some great suggestions, and I think the ballroom idea is going to be a major success.”
“I hope so.”
Liam and I hesitate, our eyes locked for a couple of beats longer than necessary. Then he dazzles me with a smile and a slight wink before turning in the opposite direction. I watch him stroll away, taking in his confident stride and beautiful form.
I catch a bus and wander into Kits Beach Park, past the seagulls on the now-dirty pool, and along the promenade. Though you can’t beat summer, I kind of like the solitude in colder months, when Kits Beach is nearly deserted, quiet, and serene. Though it’s cool outside, I slip off my knit UGGs along with my socks, and walk barefoot on the cold, damp sand.
I pull my phone out and take a steadying breath before making the call. The phone rings a couple of times before she answers. Her voice is brisk and stony.
“That was some stunt you pulled,” I say. My voice sounds amused, not scared or angry, which is what I was aiming for.
“Yes, and you somehow worked your way out of that one, didn’t you.”
“I always will. Your grandchildren have never been happier.”
Elsa snorts. I can hear ice tinkling in her glass. “What do you want from me, Lane? Is it money?”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking for a handout.”
“Of course you wouldn’t.”
“No, I want to know where my husband is.”
Again, Elsa snorts. “Why would you care?”
“How could you say that? Of course I care.”
“Well, Michael has a lot on his plate right now.”
“I realize he’s going through a lot; just, tell him to call me. Please.”
After a pause, she says with much conviction, “I’m sure you’ll be hearing from Michael very soon.”
“Oh, okay. Perfect.” I hang up on Elsa, my spirits soaring.
Christmas! Micky’s probably going to come home for Christmas! Well, of course he will. And my business is bound to take off. I can support us; I can take over the burden for a change. My smile widens just thinking about it. I take a seat on a nearby log and stare out at the tranquil ocean. My thoughts are consumed with the happy reunion with Micky—his surprise at how well I’ve managed and his passion after being apart for so long. We’ll be a happy family, close and united for the first time—I
can’t stop beaming just thinking about it.
I pull out my phone to check the time and realize it’s ringing but on silent mode.
“Hello?”
“Is this Lane?”
“Yeah.”
“Hi Lane, this is Jay. You did an audition for me a while back and, well, I know this is last minute, but my actress is sick and can’t make the shoot tomorrow. I’m wondering if you might be interested.”
No way!
“Really?” I squeal.
“Yeah, I’ll email you the sides. It’s only one scene, and though your audition was…perplexing, I think your acting was good. Plus, you have good humor.”
“I can’t thank you enough. This is amazing!” I giggle just from sheer joy. I’m going to be in a movie!
“Great, I’ll send you the contract, sides, and call sheet. See you tomorrow.”
I ring off and actually do a happy dance all by myself, right on the beach. I don’t give a rat’s ass who sees me. It just goes to show, “no” does not always mean “no”! I was told I didn’t get the part—“No!”—and then, I did! Just like that. All my life I had this dream, this secret dream to act, and all I had to do was put in a little effort to spin the wheels in motion and it all fell into place. I’M GOING TO BE IN A MOVIE!
22
The movie shoot was fabulous! Dad couldn’t look after Rory because he and Louisa had plans to visit wedding venues, so Juliet was able to help me out. The biggest disappointment was there was actually no pay! Because it’s a non-union, independent production, they can do that. There goes the dream of the big payout. Also, though there was hair and makeup, we only had a sad, little trailer to share—another bummer about low-budget productions. But aside from that, our scene set outside in a park was amazing. I loved getting into character and interacting with the other actor. Suffice to say, I think I’ve caught the acting bug!
Back at home, Juliet and the girls greet me with huge smiles.
“How’s our favorite movie star?” Juliet asks, carrying Rory over to say hello.
Margo bounds up and jumps into my arms, laughing “Hi, Mommy. Can I watch your movie now?”
“No, they have to edit it. It’ll take a while but it was so fantas— Aghhh.”
Juliet follows my gaze and gives me an apologetic smile, as I gape at her wide eyed.
“What the hell is Riley doing here?” I ask. “Is my dad in the bathroom, or something?” I look around, half expecting to see Dad.
“No.” Another apologetic look. “Your dad asked if he could leave Riley for the day while he and your aunt do their wedding appointments. Your aunt thought he might be…well…distracting.”
That’s one word for it. I shudder slightly at the unsettling sight of Riley sitting on a chair and grinning freakishly right at me.
“Sweetie, I don’t mean to rush off, but I’d like to make a yoga class, if you don’t mind.”
“No, please. Of course.”
“So, I’ll see you here on Thursday?” Juliet asks, her eyes bright.
“That’s right. And don’t forget the maid outfit.”
“Absolutely! Bye, babes.” Juliet kisses the girls and flings herself at me for a squeeze, then she’s out the door. I turn around and survey Riley with trepidation.
“Isn’t it great Uncle Riley came to visit?” Margo asks, beaming up at me with her vibrant little face.
“Uhhh…” Ugh. “Okay, what should we have for dinner?” I hunt in the fridge and settle on some salmon Liam gave me yesterday. He caught it himself and told me how to cook it. Rory fusses in my arms and rubs her eyes. “Did she not nap?”
“No, she wouldn’t sleep.”
“Oh no.” I wish I could call for pizza. This is the trouble with not having any money. “Sorry girls. You’re just going to have to play together while I cook.” I set Rory down beside Margo, and she starts crying. Why does this always happen when I’m trying to prepare dinner?
“Can Uncle Riley sit with us?” Margo asks.
“Why not?” I grab Riley by the arm and thrust him down beside the girls. Rory continues to cry, so I run and get her a bottle. When I hand her the bottle, my phone rings.
“Mom, can I have a drink too?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just a sec.” I answer the phone and it’s Dad. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, honey. I’m sorry for dropping Riley off, I should have asked you.”
“It’s fine.”
“Is everything okay? Is my boy behaving?”
“Yeah, sure, Dad. Listen, I have to go and cook dinner. The girls are starved.”
“Okay, well honey, if you don’t mind, Louisa and I are going to grab a bite to eat to celebrate our wonderful day.”
“Sure, Dad.”
“The thing is we’re in Langley, looking at a country wedding venue. It’s a bit far to Kits and then back east. Do you mind if Riley spends the night?”
“Ummm…” I glance at the ghoulish puppet and to my horror see Margo drawing all over his face. No! “Uh, yeah, okay Dad. I gotta go!” I throw the phone aside and hurl myself at Margo, shrieking, “Stooooop!” Margo jumps back, a guilty look crossing her face. “What the hell are you doing?” I demand through clenched teeth. I throw my arms up and dash into the bathroom for a cloth. Riley’s face is covered in green and blue marker, and so is his shirt.
Damn!
I scrub at his face, and some marker comes off, but his face is still stained. This isn’t good! Oh shit! The only saving grace is Dad won’t come for Riley till tomorrow. I rip his shirt off to wash it in the sink, and Margo scurries away. Rory is standing on her own now, and she gives me a triumphant smile. I can’t even muster a smile back. Dad is going to FREAK! I run back to the sink and get more soap and scrub some more. The problem is Riley is stained for good. He’s such a mess, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he looks pissed.
Somehow I manage to get dinner cooked, though I didn’t bother timing the salmon as Liam instructed, and overcooked it. Oops.
I pull the canopy back to coax Margo out of bed and find her curled up with Piper!
“Get off my bed!” I hiss at the cat, who gives me an indignant look and stretches. I go to swat at the thing, and she yelps back and jumps off my bed, ripping my canopy silk with her nails.
“BLOODY CAT!” I scream.
Dinner is getting cold, and I don’t even care. My phone rings again and I grab it. It’s Dad again. I answer in a panic. Dad says he thinks maybe he should pick up Riley. No!
“Actually, Dad, the girls are so excited to have Uncle Riley sleep over and Riley is equally thrilled. So if you don’t mind, we’d like him to stay.”
“Oh?” Dad sounds taken aback, but pleased. “Okay Laney. We’ll, I’ll come around first thing in the morning.”
“That’s fine.” I hang up and sigh.
I feed the girls, wash them, and read library books until they are both struggling to keep their eyes open. Then I sing a little lullaby prayer my Mom used to sing to me, and the girls drift off, each holding one of my hands. I smile and kiss them, feeling so grateful for my babies. I close the canopy and spin around to see a mountain of dishes, toys, and of course, war-painted Riley.
Why is he always looking at me?
I ignore the mess and madness, pour myself a tumbler of wine, and grab my phone. Then, I sit in front of the cold fireplace wishing I had wood, because it’s finally been repaired. I dial Billy and when he answers, I wail on and on about the mess of Riley.
“Try an eraser,” he suggests.
“You mean, like a Mr. Clean one?”
“No, I mean like a regular white rubber eraser.”
“You think?”
“Uh-huh, it always worked wonders removing flower dye off counters in my shop.”
“So, you miss it? Your flower shop, I mean?”
Billy pauses briefly, and to my surprise says, “Not really.”
“Honestly?”
“Nah. I think I was due for something different. I just didn’t real
ize it.”
“Well, I chose a home décor store in West Van that we could approach to share a booth with. I know the owner!”
“Nice! I can watch the girls if you want to go in person.”
“Sure, and I’ll try the eraser trick. Thanks a million.”
I hang up and go in search of a rubber eraser, then I attack Riley’s face with all my might to get the bloody marker off; and to my amazement, the eraser works! I’m laughing, from sheer relief! There you go, good as new. Well, sort of new. Riley is still grinning, and I realize I can’t sleep with this thing watching me all night.
“Here, why don’t you go outside and enjoy the moonlight.” I grab Riley by the hair and fling open the door to the fire escape. Then I plop him down in a heap on the balcony and slam the door shut. And lock it for good measure.
In the morning, Dad comes before I’ve even gotten out of bed. Much to his astonishment, he spots Riley through the french door window. I try to make something up but stumble and am silenced when Riley is brought back inside, shirtless and splattered with bird crap. I’m guessing I’m not going to be asked to babysit again, which is somewhat of a relief. Dad is so disheartened, though, I can’t help feeling bad.
Anyway, there’s so much to do to prepare for Thursday when the designers come. I leave Rory with Billy and drop Margo off at school. My plan is to visit the home design shop in West Van and then stop for a visit with George, before heading to Billy’s. It’s been so long since I’ve really dressed up, or at least it feels that way. But today my make-up is immaculate and my hair is twisted into an elegant chignon, and I’m rocking a navy blue Stella McCartney pinstripe pantsuit.
As my bus crosses the Lion’s Gate Bridge, my excitement nearly bubbles over. I am working for myself! It feels fantastic. Not to mention, this is my first deal, and the opportunity to get out from the endless notes, flip-charts, and plans, and actually make this happen is nothing short of glorious. In West Van, I bound off the bus and try to find my bearings. Really! I’ve only been gone a few months, but I still feel disoriented.
I spot the familiar black-and-white awning and march up to the door with all the confidence and professionalism I can muster. The door chimes as I enter the cozy shop. The intimate store is bursting with gorgeous pieces, but I don’t have an opportunity to browse because the shop owner comes from the back room and recognizes me instantly.
Riches & Rags: Things are seldom as they seem. Page 19