She’d been a part of Dancelight Productions for five weeks and so much had happened, but she hadn’t been able to video-conference in to their weekly Thursday meeting yet because of her schedule at Mac’s. This week, she’d switched her half-day with Deena to be able to call in. Even though she was just observing via Skype, and it really didn’t matter—she’d warned Greg that she would be cutting it close, getting back to her place after the lunch rush—she still wanted to make a good impression with her co-workers, such as they were.
In the last month, Greg had filled the online folder with more information about the film project. A new sub-folder had appeared that morning,Accommodations, that she had a feeling would be discussed today. It was a question she’d been meaning to ask her boss for a while, given that there weren’t any hotels within an hour’s drive and the motels and B&Bs between Pine Harbour and Wiarton weren’t exactly used to Hollywood types.
She sprinted up her steps, dried leaves crunching underfoot, and wrenched her screen door open. A small white envelope fluttered to the ground, having lost its purchase between the outer and inner doors. She pinched it up off the ground and flipped it over. Rafe’s familiar scrawl spelled out her name and a warm ache tightened her chest. She didn’t have time to read it, and maybe that was a good thing. It was the third note he’d left in the last few weeks and each one had undone her in the most bittersweet way.
Inside, her computer was already powered on, the program loaded, so she clicked on the profile for Ashley@Dancelight and waited for the call to connect. Enough time to trace her fingers over his handwriting and wonder what was inside. She placed it just behind a blank pad of paper she’d laid out that morning in anticipation of this meeting. And now she was totally distracted by the thought of her ex-husband squirrelling secret notes for her to find.
She hadn’t seen him in almost four weeks, not since the morning after his drunken episode. He’d backed off completely at first, but then these notes started appearing. Like he’d come by exactly when he knew she wouldn’t be around. The thought made her breathless, which she both loved and hated. This new tactic of his was totally working, which made her a sucker.
The screen changed in front of her, revealing a small meeting room. She recognized Greg, and when the young woman closest to the camera spoke, she connected the voice as Ashley, the PA she’d talked to a couple of times. Greg started the introductions as she waved. When it came time for him to introduce Olivia, she was genuinely surprised at some of the words he used.
“You guys all know how helpful she’s been, dashing out to get us more information as we fill in the filming schedule and figure out what contracts we need to have on offer when I head up there next week. I’m quite thankful Trey and I stumbled across her at that diner, and hopefully we can convince her to do even more for us, because I think Olivia’s quite the rare gem. So welcome to the team, Liv.”
She blinked at the nickname. Only Rafe called her that. She thought about correcting him but then a hipster in thick black glasses leaned in and the moment was gone. “You’ll probably regret joining the call by the end of the meeting, but nice to put a face to the voice.” She realized this man—John, Greg had called him—was the Johnny who’d called her the week previous with questions about Wilson Island.
And then they returned to the agenda she’d interrupted with her call. She had a copy of that printed out, Ashley had emailed it the day before, and she scanned the page. It took a minute to orient herself to the conversation but once she did, she had no problem following along. She found the entire process fascinating and more than once she had something small but substantive to offer.
Once they’d concluded all their planned discussion, Greg brought up the question of accommodations. “So we’d planned to use mobile homes for everyone, but it looks like we’re going to run into service overloads if we go that route. And if Hope Creswell and Joshua Pearce don’t have electricity when they wake up one morning, there will be hell to pay.”
Olivia blinked hard.Joshua Pearce?Holy crap. This wasn’t just any movie if one of Hollywood’s most mercurial A-list bad boys was one of the stars. And Hope Creswell…achingly beautiful and super aloof, according toPeoplemagazine. She lifted her hand tentatively, unsure how to break into the conversation that John and Ashley were having about seasonal temperatures. “Uhm…”
Five curious faces turned toward her and heat crawled up her neck and around the side of her face. “How many rooms do we need? And how much privacy?”Do they come with entourages that also need to be put up in prime space?She grabbed the pad of paper and started jotting down questions and answers as they fired more information at her.
“Olivia, what are you thinking?”
She nibbled on the tip of her pen for a moment, then pointed it at her web cam. “I think I might know of a set of cottage rentals that would work for the primary players.” She glanced down at the short list of names she’d made down the left margin of her pad. “Will Trey be commuting or bringing his family up here?”
“I think that’s up in the air, but you might want to plan on him needing a house for himself—but his wife might have already looked at some options online.”
Olivia frowned. “Do we know if anyone else will have family with them? Is that a list someone could put together for me?”
“On it!” Ashley moved to the desk in the corner of the room and started typing.
“There’s a certain standard…” Greg cleared his throat. “I’m not sure cottages are the way to go.”
Olivia laughed. She was pretty sure that Lynn Howard’s parents’ place was only called a cottage because it was on the lake. “I think I know what you need. I’m going to take a run out to the properties I’m thinking of right after this. I’ll have pictures for you before the end of the day.”
— —
Blue Heron Lane was just outside the village, on the far side of the ridge that hemmed in Pine Harbour to the south. Ryan and Lynn lived in the house at the top of the lane—her parents’ old property. Between them and the lake lay five rental cottages, each one nicer than the last. The house at the very end of the lane was their retirement home, and it was truly breathtaking. Lynn’s father, Mike Fenich, had been a contractor before selling the remains of his business to Jake Foster. Now their only business interests were the cottage rentals. Olivia was pretty sure they spent most of the winter down south and they might not even be around, but she could start with Lynn.
The trees here were mostly pine, but around the Howard house there were a few tall oaks and the leaves had all fallen on the lawn. Three unlit jack o’lanterns smiled ghoulishly at her from the wide front porch, a reminder that she needed to pick up candy on her way home. Halloween was only five days away. Olivia parked her little Civic next to Lynn’s navy blue minivan.
As soon as she knocked at the front door, it swung open. Maya, the youngest Howard, gazed up at her with super solemn eyes but didn’t say anything. Behind her came Lynn, laughing as she wiped her hands on her jeans. Tall, thin and blonde, Lynn Howard had a timeless beauty that shone through no matter what—even when she was tired or sad. Today she looked both, despite her ready smile.
“Olivia, this is a surprise!” They hadn’t seen each other since the night Rafe insisted she come home from the bonfire with him and Dean. She hadn’t explained the change of plans to her friend, and suddenly she was reminded of the fact that she didn’t talk to Ryan about Lynn disappearing into the woods.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No, not at all. Come in, I was just catching up on dishes.”
The living room was neat and tidy, but through the open kitchen door Olivia saw a stack of plates and dirty pots on the stove and a row of glasses on the counter, like it had been a couple of days since anyone had filled the sink and done any scrubbing.
“Ryan at work?”
Lynn nodded. “Last day of four in a row. The kids will be glad to have him home for the weekend.”
Like Rafe, Ryan worked out of Wiarton. The EMS station was located at the regional hospital. Olivia remembered how a twelve hour shift basically meant he’d be gone for everything but sleeping with the commute back and forth. “That must be hard, having him basically gone for a bunch of days when he’s working.”
