June put the car in gear, backed out the driveway, and disappeared down the hill.
24
Nicky had long since nodded off on the sofa cushions June had arranged on the floor of her bedroom, but she felt wide awake.
A sense of finality had fallen over her when she’d driven away from the desert hours earlier with all the props in play inside the bungalow. It was almost as if Elwood had died all over again when she left. The next time she made the trip to Palm Springs it would be because Max had gone out there with the intention of finally speaking to Elwood face-to-face but had found instead the note.
Elwood would die a third time then, and she would have to pretend it was the first.
When June had returned to Malibu, she’d gone first to Melanie’s for borscht that Eva had made for Christmas supper—the invite had been left for her on an entry table just inside her front door. She surprised herself by consuming two bowls. June had tried to eat what she’d made for the pretend early dinner with Elwood, but she had no appetite then. She instead scooped out enough of all the dishes she’d made for two servings each, dumped it all into a shopping bag, and then tossed this into a gas station trash bin onher way back to Los Angeles. The rest of the meal she put into containers and placed in the fridge as staged leftovers for Elwood.
Except for the music playing on the radio and Nicky’s occasional questions, their Christmas supper had been quiet. Melanie and Eva had seemed lost in thought, just as she was. Tomorrow was going to be different for all of them.
Blissfully unaware of any of their concerns, Nicky had been perfectly happy to head next door to June’s after they’d eaten. Not only was he intrigued with the idea of a sleepover, but he adored Algernon, and for some unknown reason the cat seemed to have the same affection for him. Melanie had stayed with him until he fell asleep on the makeshift bed, and then she returned to the Gilbert house to get to bed herself. She and Eva would be rising before the sun to drive over to Eva’s. Eva would sleep in Melanie’s guest room since Nicky wasn’t in it.
June now turned over in her bed and watched the curtains fluttering at her open window. The night was warm, oddly dry, and nearly electric with portent. It was as if the very air in the room crackled with anxiousness.
There was nothing she could do about the impending loss of her source of income, nor was she completely confident Ruthie Brink’s sons would be willing to sell the house to her. She could only hope they would be. Elwood had been generous with those young men; even their grandparents had said so. How could they not return the kindness and let her buy back her home?
Those boys were getting everything else.
They just had to sell to her.
With her savings and the money from the last script, she would surely have enough to make a down payment. All she had to do was find a bank willing to give her a mortgage for the rest.
Which depended on getting her old job back. Or any job.
And she needed to finish that script. She was close. If she could just concentrate on the story and not be distracted by these other pressing matters, she could have it done in a few days, surely.
But what if she couldn’t get it done before MGM asked about it?
What if she couldn’t manage all these things?
Stop imagining the what-ifs,June heard Melanie saying in her ear, but she couldn’t stop. She fell asleep pondering the worst possible outcomes.
And then June was suddenly yanked out of her hard-won slumber by a hard knocking on the front door.
She sat up in bed, her first waking thought that the police had somehow discovered what she’d done and had come for her.
The pounding continued and her next, more lucid thought was that she’d forgotten to give Melanie the keys to her car the night before. Melanie and Eva needed to leave early for Los Angeles.
But then she smelled a whiff of smoke from the open window. Something was on fire.
Good Lord, could it be Melanie’s house? Is that why she was banging on the door?
She sprang from the bed despite the lingering pain in her back to let Melanie and Eva in.
But Max stood on the threshold, not Melanie.
Before she could register this, he stepped onto the entry rug just inside. “Why haven’t you answered the phone? I’ve been calling!” he exclaimed.
“I was having trouble falling asleep last night. I took the phone off the hook,” June sputtered, still unable to grasp the fact that Max was inside her house.
He stepped farther in, past June and toward the staircase. “You and Elwood need to get out of the house. There’s a wildfire headed right in this direction. Can’t you smell it?”
Max had his hand on the banister. He called Elwood’s name.
The acrid odor of burning brush somewhere off in the distance was now wafting in from the open front door. Dawn was arriving with a ghostly pallor. June could barely make sense of either fact: Max with his foot on the first stair calling Elwood’s name, and the harsh stink of torched earth.
