Always Be Mine: Sweetbriar Cove: Book Nine

by Melody Grace

  “What’s his story?” she asked casually. “I saw some photos of him with his wife.”

  “Ex-wife,” Alice corrected her.

  “Did you know her?” Lila asked, wondering about the chic, fashionable woman she’d seen. Somehow, it didn’t match up with the scruffy guy currently up to his knees in dirt in her backyard.

  Alice shook her head. “That was all still when he was back in the city. I don’t really know what happened, it’s not exactly his favorite topic of conversation,” she said wryly. “I think he moved out here to get away from all that. Start fresh.”

  So Lila wasn’t the only one.

  “He’s a good guy,” Alice added, as if Lila had seemed dubious. “We’ve known each other since high school. He can be a Grinch, but he’s got a good heart.”

  “Was he into plants even then?”

  “Nope.” Alice shook her head and gave a mischievous grin. “Heavy metal music.”

  “No!” Lila gasped.

  “Yes!” Alice laughed. “He walked around all day with his headphones in. Dyed his hair black and wore those baggy jeans, you know the ones with a massive wallet chain.”

  “Oh my God!” Lila giggled. “Tell me there’s a yearbook photo.”

  “I’ll dig it out,” Alice promised. “It’s around here . . . somewhere.”

  The sound of a phone ringing came from the next room. Alice checked her watch. “Crap, I forgot I have a call scheduled.”

  “That’s OK.” Lila polished off the last of her cake and got to her feet. “I can get out of your hair. We should get drinks though,” she added spontaneously. “Or lunch. Whenever you’re free.”

  “I’d like that!” Alice beamed. “Wait, I don’t suppose you’re free tonight? My friend Jenny roped me into this local book club, it should be a lot of fun.”

  “OK,” Lila agreed, surprised. What were the odds that this was the same as Brooke’s group? “Where is it?”

  “I have it written down in my day planner . . .” Alice looked around, then frowned.

  “Let me guess, it’s around here somewhere?” Lila joked.

  “I hope so. I’ll text you the details.” The phone kept ringing, and Lila shooed her out.

  “Go! I’ll see you later.”

  “Bye!”

  Alice ducked through to answer the phone, and Lila showed herself out. It was warmer now, the sun bright in the clear spring skies, so she decided to take the long way back along the beachfront road. Gulls circled overhead, and she watched the soothing crash of the waves against the empty shoreline. The horizon seemed to stretch forever, and maybe it was just the sugar rush of that carrot cake talking, but Lila felt a swell of peace rise up from somewhere deep inside.

  It was starting to feel like home here.

  Little by little, piece by piece. She was sleeping more soundly, not braced to read her publicist’s emails with the latest scandalous gossip columns. Lila woke in the mornings feeling hopeful about what the day would bring, and even that run-in with the frat boys the other day couldn’t spoil the sense of calm she felt in this little corner of the world.

  Maybe she could make it last.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she found that Alice had sent her an address. See you there! 7pm.

  Book club.

  Lila paused. It may have seemed normal to most people, but the thought of walking into a roomful of strangers—however nice—still made her nervous. What should she wear? What should she bring? And would these women treat her like an alien Hollywood species, or a real live person?

  There was only one way to find out.

  5

  Lila arrived at the address that evening with butterflies in her stomach, a Tupperware container of quiche, and an apologetic last-minute call from Alice.

  “I’m so sorry!” her new friend wailed down the line. “I hate bailing at the last minute, but one of my clients needs a restraining order.”

  “Oh no.” Lila stopped on the front steps. The house was painted bright pink, with ceramic flamingos set on each side of the door. “I hope everything’s OK.”

  “His neighbor left trash in his yard. Believe me, it’s a whole thing.” Alice sounded exasperated. “A feud stretching back generations, I kid you not. Anyway, it’s going to take me all night if we’re rushing to court in the morning. But on the plus side, it’s a ton of billable hours.”

  “Well, have fun,” Lila told her.

  “Say hi to everyone for me!” Alice said before ringing off.

  Lila paused. As if she wasn’t nervous enough, now she had to walk in without her wingwoman. She almost turned around and slipped back to the car before anyone had noticed she was there, but she caught herself just in time.

  What was she doing? She had charmed snooty journalists, and pompous directors, and even the stone-faced Princess of some minor European country at a film festival once, she could handle a group of book-loving women.

  But those had all been a performance. Lila Moore, movie star. She’d spent her life pretending to be herself. Lila didn’t want to have to sparkle and entertain that way, not anymore. But what if plain old regular Lila wasn’t enough for them?

  You can do this.

  Taking a deep breath, she rang the bell. There was no answer, but she could hear laughter coming from inside the house, and when she tried the door, it was open.

  Here goes nothing . . .

  She stepped inside. It was a warm, homey space, with bare wood floors and brightly colored sherbet walls. Lila followed the narrow hallway towards the noise and found a cozy living room. There were half a dozen women already settled on couches and chairs, chatting away, but when they saw her, they fell silent.

  Every jaw in the room dropped.

  Oh boy.

  “Umm, hi.” Lila gave an awkward wave. “Sorry to intrude. Alice can’t make it,” she added. “She sends her regrets.”

  The silence lasted a couple of seconds too long, before Brooke emerged from the kitchen with a massive plate of cookies. “Lila, you made it!” she beamed. “Welcome! Everyone, this is Lila. Yes, she’s a massive, luminous star, but no, we’re not going to be stammering idiots about it.”

  Everyone laughed, and it broke the tension. Lila let out a whooshing breath of relief. “Hi,” she said again, calmer this time. She held up the Tupperware. “Where should I put this?”

  “I’ve got it.” Brooke set down the cookies and took the box. “Ooh, quiche, perfect.”

  “Summer is on a cookie kick,” one of the other women added. “So, prepare to fall deep

  into a sugar coma.”

  “My favorite place,” Lila quipped, and she smiled.

  “Then you’ll fit right in.”

  “What am I thinking?” Brooke exclaimed. “You haven’t met anyone. This is Poppy, Mac, Eliza, Jenny, Paige . . .” She pointed them out in turn, and Lila tried to fix their faces in her mind. She’d learned a few tricks, trying to keep track of the hundreds of people who worked on her movie sets, and now, she silently repeated their names as she looked around the room. Mac with the wild, curly hair . . . Eliza’s chic all-black outfit . . . Paige’s friendly smile. . .

  Another woman came in from the kitchen with yet another plate of cookies, and this one, Lila already recognized. “Summer,” she greeted her, smiling. “The woman with the incredible peach cake.”

  Summer laughed. “Go ahead and put that on my gravestone if you want.”

  “It is amazing,” Mac agreed from her perch on the couch. “How does it feel to be so young and have already achieved your masterpiece?”

  “Young?” Summer joked. “Not according to my mom. Apparently, I’m cruelly robbing her of precious years with her future hypothetical grandchildren.”

  “Borrow Emma, if you want,” Poppy spoke up through a mouthful of cookie. “She’s in a fussy phase. I’ve never been so happy to take a night off.”

  “How’s Cooper faring?” Summer asked, and Poppy gave a grin.

  “No idea. It’s officially
not my problem for the next . . . two hours.”

  They laughed, and Lila felt her tension ease. She found a free spot on the couch and took a cookie, happy to just blend into the background as the conversation skipped around from the baby’s teething issues to Mac’s new gallery show to the plans for the upcoming town festival.

  “I don’t know why I agreed to organize it!” Mac groaned. “I used up my share of town spirit on the last one.”

  “You love it really.” Brooke gave her a nudge.

  “Yes, but I’ve been helping out practically my entire life. Why can’t one of you newbies step up for a change?”

  “Because we’re smart enough to run when Debra comes looking for volunteers.” Eliza gave a wicked smile.

  “Meanie.” Mac tossed a piece of popcorn at her. Eliza lunged and caught it in her mouth.

  “Did you see that?” she cheered, raising her hands in victory.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Mac grumbled, but she was smiling all the same. “You just can’t bear to see any carbs go to waste.”

  Lila giggled. “I can’t blame her. What’s in this, anyway?” she asked, taking another handful. “It’s amazing.”

  “Secret family recipe,” Summer replied, then she winked. “Cinnamon and BBQ rub. I know, it sounds disgusting. My brother invented it when we were kids, but it turns out great.”

  “When are we going to meet this famous brother of yours?” Paige asked. “I’m beginning to think you’ve made him up.”

  Summer gave a shrug. “Who knows? He’s off shooting some documentary somewhere. Not giving my mom any grandkids, either, but does she complain about him? Nope!”

  The others laughed. “She should get together with our mom,” Paige said, sighing.

  “Are you kidding?” Eliza spoke up. “Their power of nagging would only grow! Divide and conquer, baby, it’s the only way.”

  “You mean how you shift the conversation to me and Declan every time she starts asking about babies?” Paige shot back.

  “Exactly.” Eliza grinned. “Anyway, you’re the soft and mushy one in the family, you’re way more likely to get married first.”

  “I don’t know . . .” Paige smirked. “You’re pretty mushy yourself these days. I mean, just look at all these happy photos everywhere . . .” She plucked a polaroid from the coffee table and waved it. Eliza just grinned.

  “What can I say? Small-town life agrees with me.” She met Lila’s eyes across the room and winked.

  Lila smiled back. This was fun, just hanging out, following their gossip without having to field any uncomfortable questions of her own. There was an easy, relaxed tone to their teasing, and she could tell they were all genuinely good friends—not like some of the “girl squads” in LA, where every other comment was a sly insult and she left brunch feeling like she’d just gone three rounds with her worst critics.

  “Umm, is it OK I haven’t read the book?” she asked Jenny in a low voice.

  Jenny smirked. “What book?”

  Lila blinked. “I thought . . . isn’t this book club?”

  Brooke heard and gave her a grin. “In name only. Really, it’s just an excuse to come hang out.”

  “And eat,” Poppy piped up.

  “Most important of all,” Brooke agreed.

  “Oh,” Lila exhaled in relief. “So you don’t have a reading list?”

  “We did.” Brooke frowned. “What was it supposed to be this week?”

  “Whatsitsname,” Eliza replied. “I tried reading it, but it turned out the woman died halfway through!”

  “Spoiler alert!” Paige covered her ears.

  “Don’t waste your time,” Eliza told her. “I was just getting into her story, and then it turns out she was only there to make the guy learn and grow and appreciate his life!”

  “I hate that,” Lila agreed. “Ninety percent of the scripts I get sent are the same thing.”

  “But you’ve gotten to be in some good things, right?” Summer asked, then she blushed. “Not to be a total fangirl, but I really love that movie you did with Blake Callahan.”

  Lila smiled at the memory. “That was a fun project,” she agreed. “The director, Dash, he’s different to a lot of those guys. He actually cared that I had a story, and not just a scene where my T-shirt gets wet,” she added with a rueful eye-roll.

  Lila joked about it, but she’d had too many meetings with directors who only wanted to know her measurements—not what kind of actress she was. And as for those invitations to talk about the script back at their hotel . . . Well, she’d wised up to those moves early in her career.

  “Dash is a good guy,” Mac agreed. “His girlfriend is from here, you know. Ellie.”

  “Really?” She was surprised. Lila hadn’t seen him in a while, but back then, he was every inch the Hollywood hotshot.

  “Mmmhmm,” Mac nodded through another handful of popcorn. “He came on some kind of writing retreat a couple of years ago, fell madly in love.”

  “Good for him.” Lila took another cookie to hide the pang she felt. There had been a time when she’d been madly in love too, right here in Sweetbriar Cove.

  Poppy met her eyes across the coffee table. “I know we’re not being stammering idiots,” she said, looking embarrassed. “But I have to know . . . Chris Carmel: dreamboat or asshole? The hero in my new book may or may not be inspired by him, and I really need to know.”

  Lila winced. “No comment?”

  “No!” Poppy gasped. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  “He dated a friend of mine,” Lila continued. “But when I say dated, I mean he would call her for late-night booty calls and then ghost her when he saw her in public.”

  “Ugh. OK, I’m changing the whole book!” Poppy declared. “And picking a Hemsworth instead. Unless . . . ?”

  Lila smiled. “No, you’re safe there.”

  “Phew. I can’t take much more disappointment.” Poppy opened her mouth to say something more, but then shut it again. “You don’t have wine!” she exclaimed instead, getting to her feet. “Let me find you a glass.”

  “And then we have a very important matter for you to weigh in on,” Eliza added.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Bangs or no bangs?”

  * * *

  Lila spent the rest of the afternoon wrapped up in the cozy warmth of cookies, good wine, and even better conversation. By the time Summer sent her out the door with a plate of cookies and an invitation to come by the bakery for a pastry lesson, Lila was feeling more at home than ever in Sweetbriar Cove.

  Until she arrived home, emptied her purse, and saw her voicemail icon flashing on her phone.

  “Lila, babe, it’s Mindy.”

  Lila’s happy mood faded. Mindy was her publicist—just about. She was cutthroat and red-lipped and kept threatening to drop her if Lila didn’t “see the light” and get started on Mindy’s 15-point plan to rehabilitate her image.

  Lila had asked once how many steps it had taken Susie Halliday to get back on top after she’d gotten drunk, crashed her car into the valet stand at the Chateau Marmont hotel, and flashed the paparazzi while ordering room-service fries brought to her on the curb. Apparently, only ten.

  Public indecency and a DUI had nothing on blowing up a fairytale romance the way Lila did.

  “Matt tells me you’re still AWOL, out in the boonies. Well, in case you care at all about your career, I should tell you that I’m working overtime keeping a lid on things here. Justin’s hired Hartley and Wilkinson, and you know what piranhas they are. I’ve had five calls this week alone asking if it’s true you swore you would never have kids because it would wreck your figure. They’re spinning hard, babe. I don’t know how much longer I can keep a lid on all their lies. Are you sure you won’t get on plan yet?”

  Lila sat down on the edge of a chair with a thud. They were saying that about her?

  The irony sliced through her, sharp and hard enough to draw blood. They really had no idea . . .

  The voicemail
continued, Mindy’s usually forceful voice turning plaintive. “I understand waiting it out to build your value, make them hungry for your side of the story, but you’ve waited long enough. We’ve got to do something. Otherwise . . . I can’t have my name attached to this; my other clients will wonder if I’m the one steering us straight off the cliff. Call me!”

  Dial tone.

  Lila exhaled and looked around. The cottage around her was still just the same—sunny, and warm, and full of vintage finds—but suddenly, it felt like a movie set. Not quite real. A picture from a life that didn’t belong to her that she was just trying on for size.

  Because no matter where she went, the same memories haunted her.

  Would she ever be free from her past? Or were the lies and gossip just the price she had to pay, her karmic score to settle for all her years riding those same headlines to fame and success?

  Lila didn’t have an answer, but she caught a glimpse of color outside the window and went outside to look—and escape those uneasy questions. She found a row of pink rose bushes were set in plastic planters on the overgrown patio, their petals just unfurling, delicate and fragrant. There was a note tied to one of them.

  Smell.

  Lila smiled, despite herself. Typical Griffin, barking his orders even in writing. But, craving distraction, Lila was more than happy to obey. She sniffed each bush in turn, inhaling the sweet scent. Some were delicate, floral, and others had an almost fruity tone. She would happily have filled the garden with all of them, but she narrowed the selection down to two of the options, and tugged them out of the lineup. Peace and Love, the tag read. Well, she could certainly use plenty of both.

  She looked around the garden. Griffin had apparently been working there all day, but she couldn’t see a dent in the weeds and undergrowth just yet. He had his process, she guessed. Maybe it was like her with her acting roles: she had to spend some time just thinking about the character before she even looked at the script. They weren’t on a deadline here. And despite the voicemails piling up in her inbox, Lila wasn’t going backwards, not again.

  She had all the time in the world.