“But what would you be missing, really?”
“Oh, nothing much, just an education,” he replied, amused. “You know, the opportunity to develop my critical thinking skills and broaden my horizons?”
“Oh,that,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “I suppose some people might consider that important.”
“Yeah, and I’m one of them. Acting can’t be my whole life.”
“Why not? You’re an excellent actor with a promising future. Everyone says so.”
“Not everyone.”
She gave him a playful shove. “Knock off the false modesty, kid. Everyone.”
“Maybe everyone here tonight,” he conceded. “Julia, don’t get me wrong. I love acting, but I’ve been doing this forever. I never really had the chance to explore other interests, to see what else I might be good at.”
She regarded him, skeptical. “You mean you might prefer to be an accountant or an archaeologist?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But I’ll never know if I don’t give it a shot.” He leaned forward to rest his forearms on the rail again, his gaze turned to the ocean. “To be honest, I’ll probably come back to acting in the end. I do love it, and I’d like to direct someday. But even if I don’t major in acting, going to college, taking the time to satisfy my intellectual curiosity, will make me a better, more thoughtful, more daring actor. Art is all about taking risks, right?”
“I suppose,” Julia said reluctantly. “Yes, of course it is.”
“So what kind of artist would I be—ten years from now, or twenty—if I just stuck with everything that’s safe and familiar rather than putting myself out there, finding out how little I really know about the world, and the people in it, and myself?”
For a moment Julia could only blink at him, impressed—and a bit ashamed of herself for hoping he’d change his mind. “You make a good argument,” she admitted. “Maybe you should study law. You definitely should write college recruiting brochures.”
He rolled his eyes. “Very funny.”
“I do hope you’ll find your way back to acting eventually,” she said, entirely sincere for the first time since the conversation began. “You have so much to offer. It would be a great loss to the profession if you left forever.”
“Forever? I wouldn’t even be leaving it now ifPatchworkwasn’t ending after season six.” He shrugged. “It seems like a good time to take a leave of absence for college, between gigs.”
Julia felt a spark of hope. “So if the series were extended another season or two—”
“I’d stick around to see it through to the end, obviously. I wouldn’t want them to recast my role.”
“Never. Ellen would kill off Jesse before she’d allow that.”
“Oh, good.” His brow furrowed. “I guess that’s good?”
“Of course that’s good. It means she can’t imagine the showwithout you.” She felt tears threatening and forced them back. “And neither can I.”
“Not that it matters. It’s already settled, right? One more season and it’s a wrap.” He held up a fist, and after a moment of confusion, she realized she was meant to bump it. “Here’s to Jesse and Sadie surviving to the series finale.”
“Hear, hear,” said Julia, wishing with all her heart that the finale wouldn’t have to come so soon.
The party wrapped up soon after that. Maury and Evelyn were among the first to leave, but Julia followed the couple outside for a quick word where no one else could overhear. “Can we meet tomorrow?” she asked, tears choking her voice. “It’s urgent.”
“The gala,” Evelyn murmured to her husband, with an apologetic smile for Julia.
“Right.” Maury grimaced. “Sorry, Julia, but Evelyn’s annual fundraiser for the children’s hospital is on Sunday, and we have a lot to prepare before then. How about Monday? Can it wait until then? You can come for lunch.”
Monday seemed ages away, but Julia nodded. “Sure. Monday would work.”
He peered at her. “Are you sure? Is everything all right?”
Everything was definitelynotall right, but Maury would be enjoying retirement already if not for her, and she couldn’t bear to become a burden. “I’ll explain on Monday,” she said, kissing each of them on the cheek and seeing them off with a smile.
The intervening days offered her time—too much, perhaps—to fret and strategize. She tried to distract herself with yoga, script reads, and quilting, but her thoughts returned again and again to the apparently impending and very premature conclusion to her beloved series. As she had suspected, it was her own fault that she had been caught off guard at the launch party. When she reviewed her inbox the next morning, the meeting notes and the email chain they had sparked made the unhappy truth painfully clear. But even if she had readthe attachment promptly, she still would have been stunned by the news, just not in such a dramatic and public fashion. She hadn’t seen this coming, and why should she have? Everything had been going so splendidly that she’d assumedA Patchwork Lifewould continue forever, or at least until she decided it was time to bring the story to a glorious, satisfying, unforgettable end. But now was not that time.
