Buried in the Stacks
Page 27
“Then where will you stay? In a hotel?”
“No, dear. We’ll rent a house. Actually, the film company’s sending a large crew to make Tom’s movie, so I imagine they’ll be renting several houses.” That trill again.
“Tom’s in a movie?” I asked. “That’s wonderful.”
“Have you forgotten he’s an actor?”
“I know but …” But he’s only managed to snag a few commercials and a tiny role in one film that no one ever saw.
“And the wonderful thing about this movie,” she gushed, “is Tom has a very large role—practically the lead. The movie takes place in a small, picturesque town. Naturally, I suggested Clover Ridge. The director checked it out and agreed it would be perfect.”
I closed my eyes, imagining the havoc a movie filming would bring. “When are you coming?”
“They’re thinking the beginning of April. As soon as your New England winter starts to thaw.”
“Uh-huh. How long will the filming take?”
“How can I know, Carrie? Weeks. A few months, maybe. Just think. I’ll be very busy on the set, keeping up Tom’s morale and helping out as needed, but I’m sure we’ll get to spend some quality time together. Won’t that be fun?”
“Of course.” I gulped. Weeks? Months? “Let me know if I can help with anything.”
“I certainly will. Must fly now. We’ll talk soon.” The sound of two noisy kisses.
I hung up the receiver and called my father.
“Hi there, Caro. What’s up?”
“Dylan and I picked up Bosco and Harriet at the airport. We had dinner here, then Dylan drove them home. The good news is, Uncle Bosco is taking over the running of Haven House.”
“And the bad news?” When I didn’t answer, he urged. “Come on. I can hear it in your voice.”
“It’s nothing, really.” I shouldn’t have called Jim to complain about his ex-wife.
“You don’t sound very happy, darlin’. Is your boyfriend giving you agita? If you like, I’ll fly there and give him what for.”
I tried to laugh but didn’t quite make it. Dylan and my dad were good friends. “My mother just informed me she and Tom are coming to Clover Ridge. Tom’s making a film here.”
“A film, did you say? Someone actually cast Pretty Boy in a movie?”
“So it seems. And Brianna, as she now expects me to call her will be staying here the entire time. Not here in the cottage, thank God. They’ll be renting a house.”
“Oh, honey, don’t let your mother upset you,” Jim said. “She can’t help putting on airs. It’s in her DNA.”
“I know. That’s what I keep telling myself.”
“If you like, I’ll come up when she’s in Clover Ridge—to diffuse things.”
“Diffuse things? Dad, no! Don’t even think about it.”
“Whatever you say, Caro. Whatever you say.”
We spoke a few minutes longer, then said goodbye. All my good feelings from the earlier part of the day had evaporated with the news that my mother was coming to Clover Ridge.
Part of me understood she’d had a tough time raising my brother and me because my father was never around. Being married to a professional thief couldn’t have been easy.
Still, part of me resented her for not being more loving, more maternal. Last spring when I’d been at my lowest point, I’d called to ask if I could stay with Tom and her in Hollywood. She’d made up some feeble excuse why they couldn’t have me come, and so I’d gone to live with Bosco and Harriet. Of course that turned out to be the best thing I could have done, but it didn’t excuse my mother’s ungracious behavior. And now she expected me to call her Brianna! A name she’d pulled out of a hat.
Why had she bothered to tell me about the film months before shooting began? I suspected it was to brag about Tom. To let me know he wasn’t the wannabe actor he seemed to be.
And why had she suggested Clover Ridge as the film’s locale, of all places? She’d never lived here. And the few times she’d driven Jordan and me to the Singleton farm outside of town where we’d spend our summers, she couldn’t leave fast enough.
I drifted into the living room and curled up on the sofa. I couldn’t stop her from coming, but I refused to be affected by her presence. I was a grown woman with a responsible job and a boyfriend who loved me. I would not let her erode my self-confidence, as she’d done so many times in the past.
Smoky Joe wandered over for some attention. I lifted him onto my lap. “Smoky Joe, old pal, we’re in for a rough month of two.”
“Meow,” he said, agreeing with me.
Also available by Allison Brook
Read and Gone
Death Overdue
Author Biography
A former Spanish teacher, Allison Brook also writes mysteries, romantic suspense, and novels for young readers as Marilyn Levinson. She loves traveling, reading, knitting, doing Sudoku, and visiting with her grandchildren, Olivia and Jack, on FaceTime. She lives on Long Island with Sammy, her feisty red cat. This is her third Haunted Library mystery.
This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real or actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Marilyn Levinson
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Crooked Lane Books, an imprint of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Crooked Lane Books and its logo are trademarks of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication data available upon request.
ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-64385-138-9
ISBN (ePub): 978-1-64385-139-6
ISBN (ePDF): 978-1-64385-140-2
Cover illustration by Griesbach/Martucci
Book design by Jennifer Canzone
Printed in the United States.
www.crookedlanebooks.com
Crooked Lane Books
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First Edition: September 2019
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