For the first time since he’d laid eyes on the script, Monty realized that Ezra really wasn’t punishing him by casting him in Together on Parade; they were testing him. And he was determined to pass the test.
Another detail Monty observed was that while his character was the focus of the film, the character was not particularly charming. His magic would have little place in this story.
He thought about all of this as he read through the script with Hilliard his first night. And then he thought about it as he tried to fall asleep in the guest bedroom, then as he and Hilliard had a quiet breakfast of grapefruit and buttered toast, and as he watched Hilliard putter around the house the entire next day.
This was the strange part of his new living arrangement. He’d stayed countless nights at Hilliard’s house, but this was the first time he’d stayed for any length of time. Typically, he skedaddled as soon as breakfast was over, letting Hilliard get on with his day. It was different now. He wasn’t simply helping Hilliard with the dishes and then getting out from underfoot, he was watching Hilliard use a carpet sweeper over his rugs, dust everything with a worn rag, and prepare a light lunch. Hilliard humming along to the radio was no longer simply something he heard as he woke up; it was a soundtrack that carried throughout the day.
Monty tried to relax into the strangeness of it. This would be his life for the next couple of months, until the picture was finished, and he was off the hook.
But by the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, he had exhausted his ability to relax. He was bored as hell.
“We should go do something.”
Hilliard didn’t pause as he eased his freshly made pie crust off the rolling pin and onto the pie plate. “Like what, for instance?”
“I don’t know.” Monty kicked his leg over the arm of the sofa. “Doesn’t have to be anything big. We could go out for a drink maybe?”
“You’re supposed to be laying low, remember?”
“We could go to the movies? Go swimming in my pool?”
Hilliard frowned at this last suggestion. “I think hanging out at your place would defeat the purpose of staying at mine.”
Monty sighed because he was right. “What do you do for fun?”
“You’re lookin’ at it, doll.”
Monty swung off the couch and sauntered over to the kitchen, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What kind of pie you making?”
Hilliard was gently pressing the crust into the bottom corners of the pie plate. “Rhubarb.”
“Do you ever make apple pie? That’s my favorite.”
“They’re not in season yet. But I’ll show you how to make one, if you like.”
Monty had absolutely no interest in learning how to bake an apple pie, but he didn’t want to hurt Hilliard’s feelings, so he just said, “Thanks.”
Hilliard chuckled. “I’ll still make them even if you know how to do it.”
Monty leaned against the counter. “In the past two days alone, I’ve watched you clean every inch of this house, bake cookies, make omelets, cook us a fried chicken dinner, read the script, and weed the garden…but you never seem to just relax. I want to go do something relaxing with you.”
Hilliard didn’t say anything as he tipped a bowl of chopped rhubarb onto the pie crust and carefully evened it out. Then, he placed the top crust over the fruit as gently as he’d placed the first. “Wanna see me relaxed? Watch this.” He took a fork and slowly creased the edges all around the side of the pie. When he was done, he gave Monty a satisfied grin. “I’m relaxed as can be.”
Monty wanted to roll his eyes, but instead he turned on the charm. “Take me out, Hilliard,” he said, letting his voice dip just a little. “I promise I’ll be good.”
Hilliard chuckled and Monty felt his magic bounce back with a promptness that surprised him. “But then I’d be denying you the pleasure of a freshly baked pie, and I simply couldn’t be that cruel.”
Monty groaned.
Hilliard swatted his arm lightly with the back of his hand. “Why don’t you tell me what you liked about the script? I’ve given you a couple of days to think about it.”
Monty was grateful for the distraction, even if he was still disappointed by his friend’s stubbornness. “Well, there are a lot of great lines in it.”
“Mm-hmm.” Hilliard dipped a pastry brush into a bowl of egg yolks and began coating the pie crust. “Any parts in particular that stood out?”
He considered. “I like the beard scene. I think that’ll be really funny.”
“I like that one too. They’ve got Ned Bly playing the Santa character. He’ll do great. I think you’ll like him.”
