by Lizzie Shane
The doorbell rang, jolting him out of the pointless navel gazing. He crossed to the entry, expecting a delivery since that was about the only reason their doorbell ever rang, but when he opened the door the great Maggie Tate was standing on his front step.
“Hi,” he said, startled out of clever greetings by her presence.
She’d traded the Austin Powers dress for a pair of white capri pants and a soft, faded NPR t-shirt he recognized as one of Lolly’s, but the oversized grey hoodie stayed the same, hanging loose and unzipped from her shoulders.
“Hey. I wanted to thank you. For saving the day last night. Or saving the night, I guess.” She glanced to the side, tucking her hands into the pockets of her hoodie as if she didn’t know what to do with them. “I wanted to bring something, but I figured you wouldn’t want to risk my attempts at baking and I couldn’t find any place that would deliver cupcakes to Long Shores.”
His eyebrows popped up. “Is cupcake delivery a hot industry in LA?”
“I think so?” she said, the words more question than answer. “I tend to just ask for things and they magically appear. But I, um, I brought this.” She gestured to a laundry hamper on the porch beside her which was overflowing with colorful fabric. “I don’t know what age little girls grow out of playing dress up, but I thought Sadie might like to have some of Lolly’s more random stuff. Just, you know, for fun?”
“I’m sure she’d love that.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “She’s down on the beach with my mom if you want to tell her in person.”
Her glaze flicked to lock on his. “You don’t mind?”
“Did I forget to apologize for being an overprotective ass? I thought I had.”
“Um, I think you apologized for being a dick, but not an overprotective ass.”
“Right. Sorry.” He took a step back. “Come on in, I’ll issue a blanket apology and then we can go tell Sadie about her windfall.”
Maggie picked up the hamper and he stepped forward quickly to relieve her of it. “I’ll get that.”
“Thanks.” She released it and he would have almost thought she was blushing as she came into the house, if not for the fact that she was Maggie Tate and he somehow doubted movie stars blushed at the drop of a hat.
He set the hamper in the living room area and turned around to find Maggie trailing behind, her gaze taking in every detail of the house.
When she caught him looking, she flushed again, smiling. “It hasn’t changed.”
“No. Things pretty much stay the same around here.”
The entryway was separated from the rest of the house by a wood-paneled wall, but past that barrier the main floor had a vast open concept design focused on maximizing access to the beach view, with high ceilings and giant windows. The living area with overstuffed couches circling around a massive wood-burning fireplace flowed into the dining room with its rustic eight-person table, which led right into the chef’s kitchen with the granite breakfast bar looking out toward the beach. Past the kitchen was the powder room and the door to the first floor master—which Ian still felt strange sleeping in, even though his parents had insisted he move into it six years ago when it became apparent his residence at the beach house with Sadie was going to be permanent.
Sadie’s room and the other guest rooms, including the one where his mother now slept when she visited, were upstairs, along with another two bathrooms.
Maggie wandered the main floor, taking it all in—and other than the updated appliances in the kitchen, it probably looked exactly as it had when they were growing up—from the exposed beams overhead to the hardwood beneath their feet. She paused at a display of framed photos along one wall—mostly of Sadie—and glanced at him where he was still hanging back by the couches. “You don’t have any photos of Sadie’s mom?”
His chin rocked back with the unexpected question and his reply was sharp. “No.”
“You don’t want to help Sadie remember her? After my mom died, I used to look at the pictures I had of her over and over again, trying to see myself in her, and I actually had memories of her. For Sadie’s mom to die when she was so little—”
“Sadie’s mom isn’t dead.”
“Oh. I—” Maggie shook her head, moving away from the photos. “I must have misunderstood. I thought Sadie said—it doesn’t matter. Sorry. None of my business.”
Feeling like an ogre for his tone—something that seemed to happen all too often around Maggie lately, Ian forced himself to explain. “She left. When Sadie was two. She said she didn’t want to do this anymore, that this wasn’t the life she wanted, and she was going to move back to Nashville to chase her dreams.”
“I…I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.” But he didn’t like talking about this shit. When in doubt, deflect. “Did you ever read that letter? The one you found?”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I read it last night. Turns out it was to me, but from years ago, back when I had my first movie premiere. I don’t know why she didn’t mail it. I guess she changed her mind. Don’t suppose she mentioned it to you?”
Ian shook his head. “I wasn’t living here then.”
“Right. Of course.”
“Good letter?” he asked.
“Yeah. I mean, she apologized for not coming to the premiere and explained why she hadn’t been able to make it. She’d never told me that before, so I guess that was nice.”
“You invited her to the premiere?” For years, he’d had this image in his head of a Maggie who had gone off to Hollywood and left her old life behind without a backward glance. A movie star who didn’t talk to her aunt because she was too famous and important. Someone who would never invite her off-color, outspoken aunt to a glamorous premiere.
“Of course. I invited everyone. My grandparents. Lolly. A couple friends from back home. No one could make it, but it was okay. I was so busy I barely noticed.”
He frowned, suddenly feeling like an ass for all the times he’d written her off. It seemed to be his constant state lately. “I’m sorry you were alone.”
“I wasn’t,” she insisted, smiling brightly. “I haven’t been alone in years. I was dating a guy from the cast and my agent was there.” She met his eyes, her famous turquoise eyes sparkling. “I’m never lonely.”
For such a good actress, Maggie Tate was a terrible liar. Or maybe he could only see the lie so plainly because he had once known her so well. But he couldn’t call her on it. For some reason it was important to let her hide behind the illusion of it.
“Would you like to head down?” he asked after a beat, nodding toward the beach.
“I should go get Cecil. He hates being left out. You should hear the way he barks when I leave him behind.” She shook her head, as if anticipating his words. “I know, I know, I spoil him, but how can you say no to that face?” She was already moving toward the door. “I’d be the worst mom, right? I’d never be able to discipline anyone. See you down there?”
“Yeah. See you down there,” he said, but she was already disappearing into the entryway and out the door, escaping the moment, and he couldn’t blame her. Their conversations had an uncomfortable tendency to get entirely too real.
Chapter Thirteen
Maggie rushed down the steps like she was fleeing the scene of a crime—and she should know, she’d played not one, but two different bank robbers.
Something about being in that room with Ian had felt entirely too intimate, like he could see right through her—and she wasn’t entirely sure he was going to like what he saw if he did.
She shouldn’t have asked about Sadie’s mom. She’d just been thinking about what Sadie had said the other day and the words had fallen out of her mouth before she knew they were coming. And then to find out that Sadie had lied… not that she could blame her. Maggie had lied about her parents more times than she could count when she was a kid. Her dad wasn’t just in the military and didn’t care if he saw his daughter when he came home,
he was a spy who was saving the world from nuclear war. Her mother wasn’t in rehab, she was working with Doctors Without Borders in Africa and couldn’t come back because she didn’t want to infect her beloved daughter.
She wasn’t sure her friends had believed any of it, but Maggie had enjoyed the lies. There was something safe about them. And easy. So much easier than real life.
Her grandmother had looked the other way, for the most part. She’d known exactly why Maggie needed the stories. Sadie must have her own reasons for the lie. Sometimes a girl just needed the safety of a story, and Maggie had no intention of calling her on it.
She opened the door to Lolly’s house, releasing Cecil who streaked out into the yard. He circled back to dance around her feet, barking frantically, and she crouched to his level, ruffling his sweet, furry ears. “You wanna go to the beach, baby?” He wriggled with sheer delight to see her again, overjoyed by the simple fact of her presence, and Maggie smiled, bending down so he could lick her face before straightening with a chuckle. “C’mon, Mr. DeMille.”
He knew the path to the beach, her smart baby, and he led the way, his tail held high like a flag as he pranced along. He’d just crested the final dune when he suddenly streaked onto the beach, barking his I shall decimate the intruder bark. Maggie jogged the last few steps and came to the top of the dune in time to see Cecil reach Allison’s big droopy dog Edgar and frantically circle him, barking his most ferocious bark.
“Cecil, be nice!” Maggie called.
Sadie had been farther down the beach, closer to the water, but she turned at the commotion and waved, a ball-thrower held loose at her side. “Hi, Cecil! Hi, Maggie!”
Mrs. Summer waved as well and all three of them converged on the dogs. Cecil was still trying to dominate the much larger dog with his bark while Edgar seemed puzzled by the noise.
“Yes, Cecil, we all see how big and fierce you are. Now, shush,” Maggie scolded. Cecil did not shush, but he did at least reduce his constant barking to constant growling, interspersed with an occasional bark to remind Edgar who was boss.
“Does Cecil play fetch?” Sadie asked as she raced up. “Edgar just watches me throw it and can’t seem to figure out what he’s supposed to do.”
“He loves fetch,” Maggie assured her.
“Can I throw it for him?” Sadie bounced on the balls of her feet, tilting back the ball thrower. Cecil went into his ready stance and Maggie glanced to Mrs. Summer for confirmation.
“You two go on,” Mrs. Summer said as she sank onto the sand and waved a hand at her granddaughter. “You wore me out, young lady. Lori can chase after you for a while.”
“Really?” Sadie asked eagerly and Maggie grinned.
“Sure,” Maggie confirmed. “Just watch for when he gets tired. He’ll go until he collapses if you let him and then you have to carry him home and he’s heavier than he looks.”
“Roger.” Sadie saluted and flicked the thrower, releasing the ball to arc through the air toward the water.
The tide was part way in, but the beach was still wide enough that the ball would have to roll for fifty yards across the smooth, hard-packed sand before it got wet. And Cecil would never let that happen.
He tore off after the ball, his ears flapping wildly as he ran it down. Edgar didn’t seem interested in the ball, but he gallumped eagerly after the flying fluffball that was Cecil. Cecil cornered the ball, bracing it between his paws so he could pick it up—the yellow tennis ball stretching his jaws and sticking out the front of his mouth as he scampered back proudly, Edgar trailing after.
“Good boy, Cecil!” Sadie exclaimed, racing down the meet him, and Maggie followed along, watching as Sadie threw the ball again and raced up and down the beach with an energy Maggie wasn’t sure she’d ever possessed.
After a few throws, Cecil began to pant and Sadie started rolling the ball gently along the sand rather than flinging it through the air while Edgar wandered off to investigate a stick. They’d ended up down the beach, still in sight of the house, but well out of earshot.
Sadie glanced over at Maggie. “Why does Nana call you Lori?”
She shrugged. “It’s my name. Or it was. I was named Dolores, after Aunt Lolly, but my mom called me Lore and my gran always called me Lori.”
“So why did you change it?”
“I’d never heard of a movie star with a name like Dolores Terchovsky. Margaret was my middle name, after my gran—though everyone called her Peg—and I always liked the name Maggie. There was this song your dad used to sing, Maggie May, and I thought Maggie Tate sounded like someone glamorous. So I changed it.”
Sadie cocked her head. “Are you glad you did?”
Maggie arched a brow. “Are you thinking of changing your name? Sadie Summer has a nice ring.”
“I guess.” Sadie shrugged. She rolled the ball again, sending Cecil scampering after it, but this time when he got it, he flopped down on his belly in his frogger pose, the ball trapped possessively beneath his chin. Sadie slanted a sideways glance at Maggie. “You aren’t wearing your Dodgers cap anymore…”
“I can’t figure out where I left it. I think it got lost in the chaos when I started going through Lolly’s closet. Speaking of which, I brought some stuff over for you. Some of Lolly’s vintage stuff. I thought maybe you and your friends might like it.”
“Yeah? Is there any Mariners stuff? Cuz you could keep some of it and wear it to a game. My friend Lincoln’s family is going next Saturday and she said I could invite you if I wanted. They have, like, really good seats too.”
Maggie flushed, feeling an unexpected little surge of pleasure at the invitation, even though she couldn’t accept. “That’s a really nice offer, but I’m afraid I can’t go. I’m trying to lie low.”
Sadie slumped, but tried to cover her disappointment with a wise nod. “I get it. You don’t want to blow your cover.”
“That and I don’t think it would be as much fun as you think, having me there. My presence has a tendency to turn normal events into a crazy spectacle.”
Sadie dragged her feet through the sand, leaving grooves in the smooth surface. “Is it weird? Being famous?”
“Sometimes. You sort of get used to it and it becomes normal, and then something will happen to remind you that it isn’t normal.”
Sadie spun the empty ball-thrower through the air. “Did you always know you wanted to be famous?”
“I don’t know about always. I always liked acting. And I remember the first time I got the lead in a play in high school. My costars were so nervous opening night—one of them even threw up in the dressing room—but I couldn’t wait. I wanted to be out there so badly. And when the audience applauded—I think that was when I decided I wanted to be famous. I wanted more of that feeling. Like I was on top of the world.”
Though it hadn’t felt that way in a long time. The high of the applause had been a little lower every time. She’d needed more to get the same hit, until even thousands of fans screaming her name outside a red carpet hadn’t been able to give her the same rush, to make her feel good enough, if only for a few minutes.
She bent down, scooping up Cecil and cuddling him against her chest as they turned back toward the houses. “What about you?” she asked Sadie. “Do you know what you want to be when you grow up?”
“A singer,” Sadie said with absolute authority. “Or the first female shortstop in the major leagues. Or a marine biologist. Or a vet.” She glanced sideways at Maggie. “Though being an actress could be cool. I could get really good seats to Mariners games.”
Maggie laughed. “It’s important to have priorities. Though I don’t get to go to many baseball games. And for a long time I couldn’t even afford the lousy seats. Most of us don’t succeed right away. You have to want it really badly because there’s this whole tide of rejection coming at you and you have to keep swimming against it until you make it—and some people never do.”
“But you did.”
“Yeah, but then it becomes hard in a different way.”
She missed that tide. That struggle. At the time, she’d hated it, the uncertainty and the desperation—but now all she could think of was the hunger she’d had.
When was the last time she’d wanted anything that badly? Her life had become too easy. Which was a poor little rich girl problem if she’d ever heard of one, but it still ate away at her. The pointlessness of her life.
“You have to know why you want it,” she told Sadie. “With anything in life. Figure out what’s driving you to get there and if getting there is really going to give you what you think you need.” She shifted Cecil in her arms. “Maybe you want to be a sports reporter to always have the best seats to the games.”
Sadie wrinkled her nose. “That’s what Dad said, but he just wants me to be anything but a singer.”
“He does?”
“Oh yeah.” The words were heavy with meaning.
Maggie glanced up at the house—and, as if conjured by their conversation, she saw Ian coming down the stairs toward the beach.
He’d wanted to be a singer/songwriter once. Had that dream gone so horribly wrong that now he wished for anything else for his daughter? It felt wrong that there was such a huge gap between the boy she’d known before and the man walking toward her. She wanted to know everything that had happened to him in the last fifteen years, but he seemed so closed off to her.
Indifferent.
And wasn’t that always her Achilles heel? She’d never been able to resist the men who looked right through her. The ones who made her feel like if she were just a little more impressive, a little prettier, a little richer, he would want her. If she were just a little better, she would be enough.
It didn’t take a therapist to diagnose her Daddy issues, but that didn’t make her any less susceptible to them.
