“I just want to tell the best story I can, rather than grafting in certain plot twists or characters to pander to a particular demographic,” Ellen lamented to Julia one day as they left a script meeting. “I’d prefer to stay true to my great-grandmother’s diaries as much as possible, and she never remarried.”
Julia had misgivings of her own. She understood Mitchell’s point about romance appealing to certain audiences, although she would argue that the show’s appeal already was much broader than he believed. But while she wouldn’t object to adding a love subplot, she had been looking forward to portraying Sadie as a strong and independent woman, bravely persevering without depending on a man. Julia could do so much with a role like that. Then again, complex, well-drawn romances between characters over fifty were scarce on television, and she’d enjoy the challenge of proving that there should be more.
“If you write the script, I’m confident it will be excellent,” Julia told Ellen. “I know you care deeply about historical accuracy, but maybe it’s more important to be true to thespiritof your great-grandmother’s diaries rather than to theletter. Haven’t you already taken liberties with the historical record to make Sadie a more believable role for someone of my wisdom and maturity?”
Ellen looked uncertain, but soon thereafter, she agreed to add a love interest for Sadie. “I’ve learned to choose my battles,” she confided to Julia, “and I admit Mitchell has a point.” As a compromise, she would develop Sadie and Ben’s relationship over several seasons rather than immediately plunging them into the thick of it.
When Julia read Ellen’s wonderful script introducing Benjamin Atherton, she marveled at how brilliantly Ellen had risen to a challenge she’d never sought. The tension between Ben and Sadie felt earned and compelled, and their banter was sharp and witty, but neverunkind. The scripts for the rest of the season were even more engaging as Ellen developed their relationship. Sometimes Julia laughed aloud as she read; other times she felt a pang of wistfulness to witness Sadie and Ben’s steadily growing affection. Sometimes she wanted to give them both a good shake and tell them to stop being so stubborn and just admit they were in love already. “Any story that captivates me this much will enthrall our audience,” she told Ellen. “You’ve outdone yourself. I can’t wait to start filming.”
“I can’t wait to cast Ben,” she said, smiling, her cheeks flushed from the warmth of Julia’s praise. “I’ll want your input at every stage. It’s absolutely essential that you feel a connection with whomever we cast. We’ll keep searching until we find the perfect person.”
Julia promised to attend as many chemistry reads as Ellen and Mitchell wanted, and she didn’t regret that promise even when the search dragged on much longer than she expected. A few actors Mitchell called in would have done well in the part, in Julia’s opinion, but oddly, the majority didn’t suit the character well at all. Once, when Mitchell stepped out for a juice break after observing Julia read with five candidates in a row, Julia made an aside to Ellen—not necessarily a complaint, more of an observation—about the unfocused nature of the search. Glancing toward the door to be sure Mitchell couldn’t overhear, Ellen explained that he had insisted upon speaking with the casting agents himself and deciding which of their clients to see without any input from her. “I would have weeded out most of them ahead of time based on their headshots and résumés, but Mitchell wanted to bring them all in,” she said. “I guess he has a particular vision for Ben, but I can’t quite figure out what that is.”
Julia’s theory, which she kept to herself, was that Mitchell had never cast a show before and didn’t know what he was doing. “Why don’t you pick your top five and bring them in next time?” she suggested. “Don’t bother running them past Mitchell first. Just put them on the call sheet. With any luck he’ll assume we’re working from his original list.”
Ellen agreed, and the next time they met, if Mitchell wondered why he didn’t recall having seen these particular men’s headshots before, he didn’t mention it. As before, he and Ellen were seated at a table in a conference room, and while there was a chair for Julia too, she rarely had enough time between auditions to sit. Her place was in front of the table, reading lines with each aspiring leading man, performing a scene, or perhaps two, if either Ellen or Mitchell liked what they saw and asked for more. A camera operator filmed each audition for later review, while a production assistant managed the door, clipboard in hand, checking the list, summoning the actors one by one from the hallway, making sure they had the correct photocopied sides of the script, and showing them where to stand.
The first three actors of the morning were quite good, much better suited for the role than any actors Mitchell had invited. But the fourth actor to enter so closely matched how Julia had imagined Ben that for a moment she was struck speechless. As he approached, a slow smile appearing as he saw her waiting and strode toward her, Julia threw a glance to Ellen, eyebrows raised. Ellen replied with a tiny nod, as if to say,I know, perfect, right?
Halting in the center of the space before the table, he nodded to Julia, and then to Ellen and Mitchell. “Thanks for coming in,” Mitchell said. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you. I’m Nigel Crawford, and I’ll be reading for the part of Benjamin Atherton,” he said in a British baritone so rich and beautiful that Julia nearly swooned.
“Let’s begin on the first page, please,” said Ellen. While Nigel’s attention was on her, Julia quickly fanned herself with her pages, composing herself. “Let’s start with Sadie’s line, two paragraphs from the top. ‘I may not be native to Kansas, but I know an old bushwhacker when I see one.’?”
“Got it.” Julia turned to Nigel, her eyebrows raised in a question. “Shall we?”
“Ready when you are,” he said, smiling.
She nodded and began, ignoring the pleasant fluttering in her stomach she had felt when his warm hazel eyes had held her gaze.
Julia read her first line, but when Nigel replied in a flawless western American accent, she was so surprised she lost her place in the script and had to ask to start over. After that, though, the scene went perfectly. Nigel brought out nuances in the character Julia had not noticed before, adding new facets absent from the other actors’ performances. Afterward, Ellen thanked him and asked for another scene, and to Julia’s surprise, Mitchell requested a third. “Thanks for coming in,” Mitchell told him smoothly when they finished, betraying no more interest in Nigel than he had any other candidate.
Not so Julia and Ellen. “That’s him,” Julia declared as soon as the production assistant escorted him out. “That’s our Ben. He’s perfect.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” said Ellen gleefully. “Oh, Julia, the sparks flying between you two—”
“I know, right? If we can capture half of that energy on camera—”
“I capturedallof it,” the camera operator spoke up. “In my opinion that was the best read we’ve seen yet.”
“Yes, he was very good,” Mitchell conceded. “But we still have one more actor to see today.”
Julia was confident that they had already found their Ben, but, as a survivor of more unhappy auditions than she cared to count, she wouldn’t dream of sending away the unfortunate fellow waiting in the hallway without giving him a shot. It wasn’t his fault he had such a tough act to follow. As the PA brought him in, Julia reminded herself that he could be even better than Nigel, if given a fair chance. But as soon as he slated, she knew he wouldn’t be. He was good, but with Nigel Crawford’s performance fresh in their memories, he seemed merely above average.
Julia read a single scene with him. Afterward, Mitchell and Ellen thanked him for coming but requested nothing more. As soon as the door closed behind him, Julia took her seat and clasped herhands together in anticipation. “So are we agreed?” she asked. “Nigel Crawford is our Ben Atherton?”
“Absolutely,” said Ellen emphatically, tapping her pencil on the table. “Let’s get him signed.”
“Hold on.” Mitchell raised a hand to check their enthusiasm, then resumed sorting through the pile of more than three dozen headshots and résumés on the table before him. “I want to take a second look at some of the guys we saw last week.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” said Ellen, her voice unperturbed, although she looked taken aback. “That’s why we film the auditions.”
“And another thing,” he said, frowning slightly, his gaze fixed on the actors’ photos, “this isn’t everyone. At least five actors the agency recommended aren’t here.”
Julia and Ellen exchanged a glance. “I don’t need to see anyone else,” said Ellen. “I’m satisfied.”
“Same here,” said Julia. “Mitchell, is there some reason you don’t want to cast Nigel Crawford?”
