AJ could fix this. She had to.
She stood slowly, blood siphoning back into her limbs as she made her way to the window. All was quiet in the yard; Noah was inside somewhere below.
She had to think. He’d been wrong about Bud, and he was wrong about this—there must be a way to make him see that. But how? He wouldn’t talk to her and with each passing second, that dome was becoming more real, more permanent.
AJ needed to slow this down before it calcified. She needed to suggest a new premise.
She needed more time.
She walked over to the bureau and looked at her reflection. Her face and neck were splotchy, her eyes sunken. Just as Eudora’s had been that awful day in her pink silk bathrobe.
It’s not too late.
Despite Noah’s vitriol, AJ felt convinced that Eudora had put her name in the will for a reason. Eudora did everything for a reason. Slowly, AJ began to turn Eudora’s words over in her mind.
AJ can reach him in this bond they’ve forged where I cannot.
A dawning awareness crept over her. Eudora hadn’t been able to get through to Noah, but she believed AJ could. She believed that AJ could convince him that his life was worth saving.
Last night, I had them finish our play as it was intended.
AJ wiped her cheeks and turned toward Eudora and Ezell’s papers. She heaved open file box after file box, systematically riffling through their contents.
There was one place Noah could not shut her out. One place he could never have a plan.
She came upon it after an hour, a smushed white box, now jaundiced with age. She knew the document by its typewritten font even before she read its title.
Eudora had left her one last bright move.
AJ found Noah waitingfor her in the drawing room. He stood when he saw her.
“You haven’t packed,” he said irritably. His emotions were still roiling.
“No, I haven’t packed,” AJ forced out.
His eyes shone in anger. “I wasn’t kidding,” he said. “You have to leave.”
AJ nodded. “I agree,” she said. “But not yet.”
For the first time, Noah glanced down at the box under her arm. He rolled his eyes and stalked back toward Errol’s office. AJ gathered her courage and followed.
By the time she entered, he was seated behind the desk, a six-foot oak barrier separating them. All remnants of the model plane had been cleared away.
“AJ, I’m not fucking around,” said Noah, busying himself with a pile of papers.
AJ advanced into the room. “Do you know what this is?” she asked, holding out the box.
He stacked one script atop another. “The book forFire & Water,” he said without looking up.
AJ lowered her hands to keep them from shaking. “Eudora left it to us together,” she said. “We owe it to her to stage it, at least once.”
Noah stared at her. “You’re offering to perform it with me.”
AJ swallowed. “Yes.”
The muscle in his jaw was working. “This is incredibly manipulative,” he said reproachfully.
“I know,” said AJ. Then, “Is it working?”
