“No.” He held her gaze. “This is their story. Imagining if he’d sent the letter. Imagining an answer to his question... ‘Do I really still love her?’”
“But was he asking that question?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. There has to be a reason he never sent the letter.”
Chloe scooted down into the couch cushion, propping her bare feet against the table, her bridesmaid’s gown flowing over her legs to the deck boards. “Truth is, we never know the how or why of our ancestors’ decisions. We only know our present reality.”
“Frightening, isn’t it? That something I decide today impacts future generations. Beyond my own flesh and blood. This movie, should it have any success, could change my life, thus my descendants’. Should there be any.”
“Why wouldn’t there be any descendants?” Chloe said. “Don’t tell me you’re down on love, Jesse Gates.”
“I’m not down on love.”
Why didn’t she believe him? Chloe sat forward. “So, what’s for dessert?”
“Dessert? Good question.” He finished the crust on his last slice of pizza and gathered the empty box. “When I think of this movie, I picture a guy taking a girl on their first date to seeBound by Lovebecause, you know, Super Hero Movie Number Twenty-Five is sold out, and they get to talking, realize they have a lot in common, fall in love... For dessert, I have some M&M’s left over from last week.” Jesse patted his belly. “But I’m trying to get into movie shape.”
“He said after a fourth slice of pizza.”
“Nobody’s perfect.”
While Jesse disappeared inside with the pizza box and plates, Chloe moved to the edge of the deck and leaned on the railing. Sheliked him. A lot. He was fun. Easy to be around. Old soul to old soul, uniting.
“Success.” She turned to see Jesse holding up a convenience-store bag of M&M’s. He looked cute, wiggling his eyebrows, the collar of his shirt open sans tie, his bare feet thumping over the deck.
“You’re the best date, I mean, friend ever.”
Jesse reached for her hand and filled her palm with a half dozen M&M’s. Chloe popped the first small piece into her mouth and let it melt. Chocolate was good for the soul.
“I don’t know anything about our ancestors,” she said. “My dad has a crest on his office wall, but he can’t tell you anything about it. It’s Irish or Welsh, I forget. The colors are yellow and black with the name Hobart underneath.”
“Who’s Hobart?”
“Our ancestors, I guess. Way, way, way back.”
“Funny to think in a hundred years our descendants most likely will not remember us. Unless they have their own Aunt Pat.”
Chloe popped another M&M into her mouth. The sweetness of the candy, the salty breeze, and Jesse’s company settled into her memories. She would always remember Violet and Dylan’s wedding for this.
“Makes you wonder why people work so hard for immortality. More people have lived on this earth than any of us remember.”
“Thatiswhy people strive for immortality,” he said. “They don’t want to be among the billions forgotten.”
“Not me. I just want to work, have a family, live a—” She stopped, glancing toward the lights of the pier, then back at Jesse. She almost said too much. He was easy to be around, but he didn’t need to hear the intimate thoughts of her heart. If they were going to be working together, she needed to forge a professional relationship, not one that included her deepest yearnings.
“Here, I think I’ve had enough.” She handed back the last three M&M’s, slapping her hands clean. “So, what kind of acting have you done?”
“Romcoms. Commercials.” Jesse tossed the candy in a nearby trash bin. “About ten failed sitcom pilots. I was on the rebirth of theDark Shadowssoap for the one year of its life. That paycheck kept food in the fridge and the lights on. My parents finally stopped bugging me about giving up acting and going home.”
“So, they don’t want a starving actor for a son?”
“They want me to do what I love, but that doesn’t mean they understand. They saw me going another way. A different field.” He finished the last drop of his water and tossed the bottle away. “What about you? How was it growing up in Tinseltown as the daughter of Raymond Daschle and Rachel Hayes?”
“Great. Horrible. Especially as an actress. You’d think I’d get extra consideration, a bit of favoritism, but nope. Neither does my sister. We almost have to work harder. Prove ourselves. But then again, when I got your script and fell in love with Esther, I had the ability to call Jeremiah Gonda and ask to read for the part.”
He turned to her, arm resting on the flat top of the railing. “You really think it’s a good screenplay?”
“I do, Jesse. I’ve never called a director and asked to read for a part before.”
