“Any relation to Theodore Wedgington?”
“Anabelle is his niece, newly arrived from Boston. She adores her uncle and is utterly oblivious to his villainous ways.”
Lillian clapped her hands, delighted. “I trust she’ll figure it out soon.”
“Not too soon, I hope. That would ruin so many exciting potential plot complications.” Julia lowered her voice confidentially, although they were entirely alone, unless they were being observed by paparazzi with telephoto lenses. “Anabelle and Jesse are going to fall in love.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“That’s wonderful! It broke my heart when that Ida Mae spurned Jesse to marry that wealthy banker from Cleveland. Whose bright idea was that?”
“Don’t blame the writers,” said Julia. “The actress who played IdaMae left to do another series. But it’s all for the best, because Paige Lyons is absolutely wonderful as Anabelle, as you’re about to see.”
Rising, Julia invited Lillian to accompany her to the theater, where she had queued up the DVD the editor had sent over that morning. Without giving away too many of the season’s plot twists, Julia set the scene as she showed Lillian to the best seat in the house. Then she dimmed the lights, settled into her own seat, and pressed play.
Paige’s performance spoke for itself, more eloquently than Julia’s praise could have done. She watched from the corner of her eye as Lillian became happily engrossed in her exclusive advanced screening. It occurred to Julia that she probably should have asked Lillian to sign a nondisclosure agreement first, but it was too late for that, and anyway, Lillian didn’t seem like the type to run to the tabloids.
When the brief film ended, Lillian applauded. “That actress is marvelous,” she exclaimed as Julia turned on the house lights with the remote. “So talented, and so lovely! She resembles a young Elizabeth Taylor.”
“That’s exactly what I thought.”
“I can’t wait to see what she does in season six.” Then Lillian peered at her quizzically. “But what do she and your series have to do with my son?”
“Stephen had offered Paige a lead in an upcoming movie. It had the potential to be a breakthrough role for her.”
“Well, good for Stephen. I’m glad he recognized her star quality.”
“Hehadoffered Paige the role,” Julia emphasized, a flush rising in her cheeks. “Then, unfortunately, he asked for my input. Who knows why, but I wish he hadn’t. I said something stupid and careless about her not being available because she’d be working onPatchworkseason seven, when that was only wishful thinking on my part.”
“There won’t be a seventh season?”
“It’s not officially canceled yet, but—” Julia shook her head and managed a forlorn smile.
“Oh, Julia.” Lillian patted her arm, sympathetic. “I’m so sorry.”
“I am too. I was in denial for quite a while, and I made some regrettable choices because of it. That includes what I said to Stephen.”
“He withdrew Paige’s offer?”
“He did. I urged him to speak with Paige’s agent before he made a decision, but he just—” Exasperated, Julia waved a hand dismissively, but then she caught herself. “Sorry. I don’t mean to insult your son.”
“No, it’s quite all right. I know exactly what you mean.” Lillian rested her chin on her hand, thinking. “Did he already give Paige’s role to someone else?”
“I have no idea.”
“Of course you wouldn’t; he won’t speak to you.” Mouth pursed, Lillian rose. “Hewillspeak tome. Care to take a little trip?”
“Sure.” Julia scrambled to her feet. “Where?”
“To Stephen’s office, of course.” Lillian smiled brightly. “I’ll drive.”
Julia took a moment to grab the DVD, toss it into her handbag, and run a brush through her hair, but soon they were in Lillian’s magnificent Aston Martin, speeding down the mountainside to the PCH. Less than an hour later they arrived at the studio, where the security guard deferentially waved Lillian through the entrance without asking for ID.
“Let me do the talking,” Lillian said as she parked her car outside Deneford’s bungalow. “At least to get you into his office. Then you’re on your own.”
Julia nodded and followed her inside, where Lillian paused at the front desk to chat with the receptionist about their dogs, the receptionist’s children, and their plans for Thanksgiving. Julia plastered on a pleasant smile and feigned interest, trying not to fidget impatiently as the minutes ticked by. Finally Lillian pointed to the inner door and asked, “Is he in? I need a minute.”
