“Well, when you have good news—as in, I have good news, and I have good news—why wait to share?” Norma replied. “Besides, it’s not so very early. It’s eight thirty. So. First the good news: I have to be in court at ten on someone else’s case but wanted to give you a heads-up. Your divorce hearing is scheduled for one this afternoon, West Coast time. The judge’s clerk called a few minutes ago, wanting to postpone the hearing because they thought it might go on too long. I assured them this would be quick and dirty because we’ve come to an amicable agreement that all parties have signed and we just needed to have the judge sign off on it.”
“You mean, that’s it?”
“You signed and returned the papers I overnighted to you the other day, and Emilio’s attorney took them to the rehab center for his signature. Everyone’s signed on their respective dotted lines, so unless Emilio’s attorney comes up with something half-assed at the last minute, yes. That’s it. You’ll officially be a single girl again and you can put that whole nasty business behind you.”
Before Dallas could respond, Norma said, “And now for the other good news. I spent most of yesterday on a conference call with Victoria Seymour and her agent.” She chuckled. “I thought Kathy Eagan—the agent—was going to have a stroke trying to keep Victoria quiet. The author is thrilled to death that you loved her work, and was willing to almost give the rights to you. I promised her she would be well compensated, but she was so excited. Suffice it to say that Kathy had to all but put a muzzle on her to make her stop talking and to hang up so that we could negotiate the deal.”
“So we have the rights?” Dallas held her breath.
“Of course. I could have taken advantage of them and paid half of what you’re going to, but I gave her what you wanted to offer, so everyone’s happy.” Norma paused. “You are happy, aren’t you? You’re awfully quiet.”
“I’m delirious. I’m just stunned that you were able to work it out so quickly.”
“Victoria is a huge fan of yours—she was almost hyperventilating on the phone—but I have to tell you she was disappointed when I told her you wouldn’t be starring in the movie. Any chance you’ll change your mind about that? It might help to sell the project.”
“I have someone in mind for the role.”
“Well, in any event, the film rights for Pretty Maids are yours. Or will be, once the contract is signed.”
“Can you start working on that?”
“Dallas, you wound me.” Norma sighed. “I have my assistant typing the first draft even as we speak. The finished product will be on Kathy Eagan’s desk late this afternoon. As soon as we have the signed contract back from her, we’ll send it on to you.”
“Wonderful. You really are full of good news today.”
“Well, I still have to get the divorce decree signed, and you need to get that screenplay finished. And we have to get backing. But leave that to me. I don’t expect that to be a problem. With your name attached to it, we should be fine.” Norma paused again, then asked, “What are the chances you’ll be able to talk your aunt into returning to the screen one more time?”
“I haven’t discussed that with her. I wanted to wait until I knew I had the rights.”
“If I could tell potential backers that Beryl Townsend was coming out of retirement to play Rosemarie, and that you were writing and directing, that could seal the deal.”
Dallas thought it over. “I’ll toss it out there and we’ll see if she bites.”
After Dallas ended the call, she sat back in the chair and reflected on the news. If all went well, her marriage to Emilio would be officially over in a matter of hours. Regardless of how it had ended, she’d gone into the relationship with stars in her eyes, determined that she and Emilio would beat the statistical odds. She knew that the majority of Hollywood marriages didn’t last, but she’d been sure that hers would be the exception, that they would live happily ever after. She had been so happy on their wedding day, so certain that their life together would be wonderful and that their love would overcome any obstacle. Her optimism had lasted longer than Emilio’s resolve to keep his vows. She had endured years of emotional pain and betrayal, and it was hard to believe it was really coming to an end. Still, even when a marriage is bad, it’s often hard to put aside. She couldn’t help but feel sad that they’d come to this, after starting out with such high hopes.
Life can only get better, she thought, then realized that it already had: Pretty Maids was going to be a film, and she was going to make it.
She wanted to shout. Dance. Celebrate. She wanted to lift a glass and toast herself, but she’d never been one to drink alone. Restless, she wandered around the downstairs. The dogs heard her footsteps and came to investigate, then proceeded to follow her from room to room.
“You are great pups and I’m very fond of both of you,” she announced as she unlocked the back door to let them out. “But, Ally, you don’t dance and, Fleur, you’re way too young to drink.”
She checked the time and knew that Berry would still be in the library with Cody, so she couldn’t call her. She couldn’t call any of her friends in California because she didn’t want the word out until she had the signed contract in her hands, lest someone else decide to buy the book out from under her.
Damn, she thought. All this good news and no one to share it with. Even her new friend, Brooke, would be in class.
Oh, who are you kidding? she chided herself. You know there’s really only one person you want to celebrate with.
She went back into the library and searched her wallet for the card she’d tucked away, and dialed the number before she lost her nerve.
The call went right to voice mail.
“Grant, it’s Dallas.” She paused, not sure what she wanted to say next. She settled for, “Would you give me a call when you get this?” She left her cell number and hung up.
So, she told herself. That’s that. What came next, who could know? All celebratory activity would have to wait. There was still work to be done.
She brought the dogs in and went back to the library. The photo album was still on her desk. She returned it to the shelf, then grabbed the next one from the stack, thinking maybe the picture had gotten placed in a different book. She went through it, page by page, but there was no photo of Berry and her mystery guy.
On to the next album, and the one after that. In the fifth book she found a different snapshot of Berry with the same man. She took it to the window to get a better look. The camera had caught them in a private moment, one in which they were gazing into each other’s eyes and smiling secret smiles. Dallas was so absorbed in their expressions that she didn’t immediately notice the background, but when she did, she took the photo out onto the back porch. There, she told herself, there’s the tree, but in the photo it’s much smaller. The vines that now climbed the carriage house walls were missing, and the dock was much shorter, but clearly, the picture had been taken there at the house.
“Someone knows who this man is,” she murmured as she went back inside.
She slipped the photo into her bag and smiled with satisfaction. If Berry wouldn’t tell her, Dallas would find someone who would. And she had a pretty good idea of where to start. She grabbed her sunglasses and the keys to her rental car, and headed into town.
She parked out back of Simmons Spirits and went inside. Ten minutes later, she was on her way back to River Road with a magnum of Moët & Chandon that she planned on putting directly into the refrigerator to chill. On her way back through town, she stopped at the Gazette office.
“I was wondering if I might speak with Grace Sinclair, if she’s available,” Dallas said to the woman at the front desk.
“You just missed her by about ten minutes,” the woman told her. “She ran over to Bites to grab lunch. You can probably catch her there. Or if you’d rather leave a message, I can take one.”
“I’ll go across the street, thanks.”
Bites, the soup-and-sandwich spot where many local
folks gathered for a quick lunch, was directly across the street from the St. Dennis Gazette’s building. Dallas ordered an iced tea at the counter, then made her way to the side of the room where Grace Sinclair sat at a table for two, looking over the latest edition of her weekly paper. She glanced up when Dallas’s shadow fell across the table.
“Well, what a nice surprise. I had a note on my things-to-do list today to call you later,” Grace told her. “Would you like to sit …?” She began to clear her purse and a shopping bag from the other chair. “Did you order lunch? Are you by yourself?” Grace looked around to see who Dallas’s companion might be.
“No, I’ll be having lunch at home when Berry and Cody get back from the library, and yes, I’m alone. I don’t want to interrupt your lunch. I just wanted to say hi.”
“Sit, dear, if you have a moment.” Grace pulled the chair out halfway from the table, and Dallas turned it so she could sit facing the older woman.
“I stopped at your office to see if you had a minute to spare and they told me you were here. There’s something I wanted to ask you.”
“Oh?” Grace put down the half sandwich she’d been holding.
“It’s about Aunt Berry,” Dallas began. “You’ve known her for a long time, haven’t you?”
“Of course. We both grew up here. Now, keep in mind, she is ten years older than I am, but we’ve had a number of mutual friends over the years. Is there something wrong?”
“No, no. I just found this photo of her, and she seemed evasive when I asked her about the man who’s with her.” Dallas opened her bag and looked for the picture. “Actually, this is the second picture I found of her with this same man. I showed her the first one, but she more or less blew me off and the photo disappeared. I didn’t show her this one.”
Dallas placed the photo on the table between them.
“The background looks like the back of Berry’s property, so I thought there might be a chance he was from this area. And I figured if he was from around here, you’d most likely recognize him.”
Grace put on her glasses and held up the photo, then smiled.
“It’s Archer Callahan.”
“You know him.” Dallas couldn’t help but grin. She’d figured right.
“Of course.” Grace looked up from the photograph. “He’s my cousin.”
“He’s your cousin?” Dallas’s eyes widened. She’d expected that Grace would be able to identify the man, but hadn’t expected this bit of news.
Grace nodded. “On my mother’s side.”
“So what was the story here?” Dallas tapped the photo. “I’m thinking there must have been a story.”
“Oh, yes, indeed, there was. Archer and Berry circled around each other from the time they were about fifteen. Even after she left for Hollywood and he left for college, they were still an item. He never really discussed it with me, but when he finished law school, I think he expected Berry to put her career behind her and come back to St. Dennis and marry him and settle down. Obviously things didn’t work out that way, and she stayed in California. It wasn’t too much longer after that, he married someone else.”
“What happened to him? Where is he now? Is he still alive?”
“Still alive and kicking. His goal was to become a judge, and he did, eventually. Retired from the bench last year. I was speaking with his sister last month and she said he was selling the house in Annapolis to his oldest son.”
“He has a family?”
“Oh, yes. He and Mary Claire, his wife, had four children, and did a fine job raising them.” Grace stared at the photo for a while. “He was something, Archer was. Handsome, arrogant, brilliant—the perfect counterpart to Berry. He adored her, and it appeared she adored him in return. You can even see it here, in their faces.” Grace turned the photo to Dallas, who nodded in agreement. She’d thought that very thing.
“Everyone was shocked when Berry left that last time to go back to California,” Grace continued, “and shocked even more a few months later when Archer brought Mary Claire home and announced they were getting married. She was very quiet, reserved, just the opposite of him, and she couldn’t have been more unlike Berry if she’d tried.”
“Did you say she was quiet …?”
“Mary Claire passed on about a year and a half ago.”
“So, he’s a widower, then …” Dallas thought aloud.
“Yes, he’s …” Grace’s eyebrow rose slowly as if she’d read Dallas’s mind. She smiled. “Yes, indeed, he is.”
“I wonder if Berry knows that.”
“I imagine she does.”
“It’s a wonder they haven’t run into each other. St. Dennis is such a small town.”
Grace shook her head. “No, dear, he rarely comes back to town. Only for special occasions.”
“I suppose there are no special occasions coming up.” Dallas frowned.
“Well, perhaps there might be,” Grace said. “Perhaps …”
Dallas watched the woman’s face and studied the smile that grew and spread from side to side. “Yes, I believe there might be something special coming along quite soon.”
“Good.” Dallas nodded. “That would be good.”
“I’ll think on that,” Grace assured her. “Give me a few days to work things out.”
“Take all the time you need.” Dallas glanced at Grace’s unfinished sandwich. “I’ll let you get back to your lunch now. I’ve already taken too much of your time.”
“Not to worry, dear. And as I said, I was going to give you a call. We have the festival this weekend, which will bring thousands of people into town and just generally create havoc. But perhaps you could pencil me in for one day next week. Perhaps Wednesday?”
“Wednesday of next week would be fine,” Dallas agreed.
“Does eight in the morning at Cuppachino work for you? The breakfast crowd will have moved out by then, but if it’s still buzzing, we can take a walk down to the marina and chat on one of the benches near the water.”
“I like that idea.” Dallas leaned over and gave the woman a peck on the cheek.
“I’ll see what I can do about that other matter,” Grace told her.
“Great. Thanks. I’ll see you later …”
Berry and Cody were already home when Dallas returned with her bottle of champagne, which went right into the refrigerator. She chatted with Cody about the book they’d read at story hour that morning, then, after lunch, went back to work after sharing her news with Berry. Dallas wasn’t sure which bit of news—that of the imminent divorce or obtaining the rights to the book—had pleased her aunt more. For her part, it was all Dallas could do not to spill what she’d learned about Berry’s mystery man, or at the very least, use the word “archer” in a sentence, but since nothing fit into the conversation, she went into the library and returned to work.
It’s going to be mine, she gleefully reminded herself as she opened the last file she’d worked on. Pretty Maids is going to be mine, all mine … and what a glorious film it’s going to make.
Dallas’s phone rang later in the afternoon, shaking her out of her work zone. She found the phone in her pocket and checked the caller ID. Page One Animal Rescue Shelter flashed on the screen.
“Hi, Grant. Thanks for calling me back.” She forced a casual note.
“Hey, is everything all right? The dogs are both okay?” He sounded concerned.
“Yes, they’re fine. Sorry, I should have said that there was no emergency.”
“Glad to hear it. I got a little worried when I got your message.” He paused. “So what’s up?”
Dallas took a deep breath.
“I was wondering if you might be free this evening.”
“Depends on what you’ve got in mind. Flight to Paris might be tough—I have a full book tomorrow. On the other hand, I might be able to fit in hot monkey sex.”
“Could you fit in something that falls somewhere between the two?”
“Hmm. An entire range of possibilities �
�”
Dallas laughed. “I have a bottle of champagne that needs to be shared, and I thought if you weren’t busy …” She let the thought trail off.
“Oh? Special occasion?”
“Two special occasions, actually.” She spun a paper clip around on the end of her pen. “One, my divorce is supposed to be finalized today. And two, my offer for the film rights to Pretty Maids was accepted.”
“Wow. Doubleheader. Good for you.” He sounded impressed. “I’m not sure which one I should ask about first. And do I say ‘congratulations’? Is that the appropriate response?”
“We can talk about both, if you’re free tonight.”
“Ahh, actually …” Grant hesitated, and her heart sank.
“It’s okay if you’re tied up,” she hastened to say, and tried to keep it light and casual, as if it didn’t really matter. “We can get together another time. I’ll be here all summer.”
“Here’s the thing: I have some dogs that are being brought in from a kill shelter down south. I expect them around seven, and once they arrive, they’ll need to be walked and watered, and I’d like to examine them before I bring them inside and pen them alongside the dogs that are already here.”
“Well, as I said, we can get together another night.”
“Dallas,” he said with greatly exaggerated patience, “this is where you’re supposed to say, ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ ”
“Oh. Sure. Is there something I can do?”
“Now that you ask, yes, there is. You can walk the dogs when they’re let out of their crates. Paige usually gets that duty, but she’s working with Steffie tonight. There was some big group in town today and my sister couldn’t keep up with the crowd, so she called Paige in to help. They’re open till eleven, so Stef will drive her home after they close. Paige loves working at Scoop, but it means I’m shorthanded with the dogs. So what do you say? You’ve had some time to perfect your dog-walking skills.”
“If I were more of a cynic, I’d say that’s one hell of a line you’ve got there, Dr. Wyler.” She lowered her voice. “ ‘Want to come over and walk my rescue dogs?’ ”
The Chesapeake Diaries Series 7-Book Bundle: Coming HOme, Home Again, Almost Home, Hometown Girl, Home for the Summer, The Long Way Home, At the River's Edge Page 53