“I’ll do that, but I suppose I should check with Nigel and Alistair first.”
Noah laughed and agreed, although he confessed that he thought it would be much more hilarious if they all just showed up on his front doorstep unexpectedly. “Hilarious for us,” he acknowledged. “Maybe not so much for Nigel and Alistair.”
After they hung up, Julia took a cleansing breath and dialed Chance’s number, bracing herself for another refusal. She had considered Noah the more likely of the two to sign up, since through the years Noah had occasionally asked questions about the quilting process and had admired particularly striking quilts on the set. Chance, on the other hand, had never expressed the slightest interest in quilts except for their usefulness in keeping him warm on location in wintery Kansas. Sure enough, after playing phone tag for the rest of the weekend, when Julia and Chance finally connected late on Sundayafternoon and she made her most dazzling pitch, Chance’s first question was “Is Noah going?”
“No,” Julia admitted reluctantly. “He’ll be busy preparing for the whole college application rigmarole.”
“In that case, I think I’ll pass too, but thanks for asking. I should probably stick around here and prepare for my new role.”
Julia closed her eyes and muffled a sigh. “Oh, so you landed the part in the supernatural ghost chasers series? That’s fantastic, Chance. Congrats.”
“I don’t actually have the part yet, but I made it through to the final round. My agent says I’ll probably be called in for a chemistry read next week. Hopefully I’ll have good news not long after that.”
“I’m sure you will. I’ll congratulate you again when it’s official.”
After they hung up, Julia pressed a hand to her forehead, inhaled through her nose, and exhaled in a sigh, rolling her shoulders to work the tension out of her back and neck. She wanted to encourage Chance and she honestly believed he had an excellent shot at the part, but it pained her to imagineA Patchwork Lifewithout him. Well, perhaps not all was lost. Noah had said he would defer college if the series continued, and perhaps Chance would return for a few episodes if they could work their filming around his new show’s schedule. It wouldn’t be the same, but it would be something, although even that wouldn’t be an option unless she convinced the majority of her castmates to stay.
So much depended upon persuading Nigel, in particular.
For such a dear friend, only a request made in person, preferably over a delicious meal, would suffice. She called him on his cell. “Do you have dinner plans?” she inquired when he picked up just as she thought voicemail would beat him to it.
“I’m insulted,” he said, amused. “Do you really imagine me to be so dull and unpopular that I would be available on such short notice?”
“Not at all. I assumed that you’d been invited to a magnificentparty somewhere, and I was going to beg you to let me tag along as your plus-one.”
“Then you’re out of luck, because my only plans were to order takeaway and curl up with a good book. Or a merely acceptable book. I’m currently reading my way through the Harry Potter series.”
“I assume you’re compelled by your renowned devotion to your craft?”
“Indeed. I’m pleased to report that my character is a lovable rogue, but I can’t breathe another word. No doubt I’ve already said enough to reveal my secret.”
“Your secret’s safe with me. I haven’t read the books.”
“Then you probably won’t be offended if I observe rather cattily that the author appears to have borrowed heavily from Tolkien.”
“If it doesn’t bother Tolkien, it doesn’t bother me. Would you care to bookmark your page and come over for dinner and a chat instead? My chef has some delectable entrées on offer in my fridge.”
“Let’s go out instead. It’s been ages.”
Julia laughed. “It’s been, what, two weeks?”
“As I said, ages. Geoffrey’s? Moonshadows? Duke’s?”
“Moonshadows,” Julia replied. “Never Duke’s, never again.”
“Oh, darling, I’m sorry. I’d forgotten.”
“It’s really okay. It was years before you and I met. I wouldn’t have expected you to remember.” Regrettably, the tabloid photos of her second husband necking with a young starlet at a table for two on Duke’s oceanfront lanai were indelibly seared into her memory. He had told her he was meeting his agent for drinks, and she had believed him. They had been married only three months.
“Moonshadows it is, then,” said Nigel warmly. “Our favorite table at seven?”
“Marvelous. I’ll meet you there.”
Quickly Julia freshened up, changed into slacks and a long-sleeved top, and tied a light sweater around her shoulders in case sheand Nigel decided to stroll on the beach after dinner. After stopping by her office to collect a few favorite snapshots of Elm Creek Manor, she jumped into her car and made her way down the winding hillside road toward Zuma Beach. When she turned onto the PCH, it suddenly occurred to her that she couldn’t have chosen a more appropriate setting for such a portentous conversation. Years ago, soon after she and Nigel had first met, they’d had dinner together at that same iconic Malibu beachside restaurant, getting acquainted over drinks and hama hamas on the half shell, shielded from eavesdroppers by the soothing, invigorating crash of waves on the beach below.
After a whirlwind shoot in the fall of 2000,A Patchwork Life, the series, debuted its thirteen-episode first season in early January 2001. The premiere garnered warm reviews, and the second episode brought in twice as many viewers as the first. As critical acclaim and ratings soared, the network, pleased with the unexpected success of the modest drama they had acquired on the cheap, promptly ordered two more full seasons and significantly increased the studio’s budget. Ellen was absolutely thrilled; her decision to quit the movie had been vindicated, and she would be able to share her great-grandmother’s story fully and authentically just as she had hoped. As for Julia, she was relieved and thankful that her decision to accompany Ellen off the movie set had not ended her career, as she had assumed it would, but had instead set her on an entirely new and promising artistic path.
But the show’s success and their more generous budget inevitably meant more scrutiny from studio and network executives. Ellen had shouldered the tasks of both head writer and showrunner for the first season, but soon after the second was green-lit, she was replaced as showrunner by a studio executive’s nephew or cousin-in-law or whatever, with more advantageous connections than actual experience. With Augustus out of the picture by the end of season one, Ellen and Julia had expected season two to chronicle Sadie’s hardships and triumphs as she raised her two orphaned grandsons and struggled to build a homestead, all on her own. The new showrunner, Mitchell,had a different vision: A romance for Sadie would appeal to their two largest demographics, women ages thirty-five and up, while a strong male lead could extend their audience to more men in that same age group and to younger women.
