“Use my lovely new room,” Billy said. “Did I tell you thank you?”
“A time or two.” She headed down the hall but then stopped. She couldn’t resist listening to what Troy had to say. As she would have thought, the son of a famous movie producer, and an even more famous actress, wasn’t shy. He was a born performer. He introduced himself as Troy Adair and said the movies were made by his father.
“Wait a minute,” a man said. “Wasn’t he married to Barbara Adair?”
“Yes.” Troy spoke with a perfect blend of humility and pride.
“She’s your mother?”
Troy nodded. Modestly.
“Can we—?” about six people said in unison.
Troy raised his hand to cut them off. “Yes. You help with this, and I’ll get Mom to come here, sign autographs, take photos, and do the monologue fromTomorrow is Forever.”
There was a moment of shocked silence, then a man said, “When do we begin?”
Sara leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes for a moment. She could see Jack in the young man. But it was a Jack who hadn’t been subjected to a childhood of abuse and degradation. This young man hadn’t had enormous responsibility dumped on him when he was still a teenager.
Sara started to go to Billy’s room but then Troy began to explain what was needed. She listened.
“Here’s the true story: Two young men got into an argument and one killed the other. The killer walked out and was never found. We believe there was a movie made about this or maybe a script was written. The problem is that the original story seems to have been hidden. Maybe it was changed into being about two women, or a couple. It could be a subplot of a larger story. Or maybe it’s just one of multiple murders. The possibilities are endless, but underneath, it’s the same story. We want you to watch the movies and see if it’s in there in some form. The same goes for the readers who want to go through the scripts. I can attest that what is written is often different from what goes on screen.”
Pleased with what she’d heard, Sara went to Billy’s room. It was now much larger and filled with good furniture and linens. She shut the door and gave a sigh of contentment as she sat down in a plush chair.
A funny thing about writing is that it doesn’t understand the concept of time. A lot of writers say, “If I don’t have the whole day, I don’t even begin.” That was understandable. The self-hypnosis of writing, where your mind goes to another world with settings and people, hearing them talk, seeing them move, took massive amounts of time. And being interrupted during a scene could make it disappear in a second.
Sara wrote what had been percolating in her mind since her dream. Her first question was whether or not to physically transform the not-pretty young woman. She could make it so someone loved her the way she was, but that brought outside problems. People weren’t kind. A handsome husband with a less-than-pretty wife would set off every Mean Girl they met.
Or did Sara sell out and fix the girl’s face?
She couldn’t come up with a solution, so she began writing background on the young men who looked alike. Were they half brothers? No! First cousins.
Sara delved deeper into that. The mothers were sisters. Twin sisters. It was almost as though she could see them. Pretty girls but with very different personalities. One was a real hot pants. She was in love with a... A what? A criminal of sorts. He—
“Here you are.” Kate was standing in the doorway.
It took Sara a few moments to come out of her trance and realize where she was. She closed her notebook. “Is it time for the meeting?”
Kate sat down on a chair. “You missed it. The boys didn’t mind. Dad ran off with Lea, and Jack strapped on a tool belt and went to help Gil. Lenny told me where you went. So who’s the kid outside?”
Sara smiled. “Roy’s son. Jack’s half brother. Cal’s grandson.”
Kate’s eyes widened. “Is that all?”
“Heather’s stepson?”
Kate laughed. “Does he have a mother?”
“Barbara.”
“I see,” Kate said. “And she’s been hiding his existence from us. But he escaped his playpen and came here. I take it Jack hasn’t seen him.” She smiled. “He’s the guy Jack thought was Evan.”
“You are a clever girl,” Sara said proudly. “So how’d your interview with Reid go?”
“Very interesting. Did you see the texts I sent?”
“Of course. Another barroom murder, but this one ended in a hanging. And Greer is a suspect. Randal agrees with that.”
