“The chances of those two ever getting married are about as low as you becoming Vanessa Ellingsworth,” Alex scoffs.
“Watch me,” I spit back. “Actually, you can’t because you won’t be on the very exclusive guest list for my wedding at a stately manor in the English countryside next spring, but the Js can report back to you because I will be inviting them!”
Alex scowls. “You can’t marry this guy just to spite me.”
Leaning into him so that we’re almost nose-to-nose, I say, “Any decisions I make about my life moving forward have nothing to do with you. Got it?”
“That being the case, you marrying Ellingsworth is even worse. If you were doing it to strike back at me or give me a kick in the pants, at least your motivation, however misguided, would be love. If you marry him and spend the rest of your life pretending he’s your soulmate, you’ll be a fraud both personally and professionally. And how can you go on selling romance and happily ever afters when you’ve stopped believing in them yourself?” Leaving that question hanging in the air, Alex rises from my desk and strides out of the room.
Once he’s gone, I glance down at the emerald on my ring finger and burst into tears.
CHAPTER 43
“But she kissed me, Dr. Hart,” whines Tanya, the crewperson who couldn’t resist telling my mother about her romantic problems while escorting us to the bustling backstage area at the Santa Monica Playhouse. She was supposed to be taking us to Viv’s dressing room, but we haven’t made it there yet because this impromptu therapy session stopped us in the wing space of the theatre where I keep being bumped into by burly men hauling an assortment of equipment.
“So you’ve said multiple times, but that was six months ago when Carla was drunk, and she has shown no interest in you since then. Instead she’s brought home one man after another with no regard for your feelings and that is not okay. Do you know why?”
“Because I’m better than that?” she asks weakly.
“Damn right you are.” Mom gives Tanya’s black T-shirt-clad shoulder a supportive squeeze. “And you need to move out as well as move on from this crush. As long as you’re roommates with this capricious woman, you’ll never be able to find someone who returns your feelings.”
“I know you’re right, but . . .” Tanya winces. “. . . it’s really hard to find a rental that’s in my price range.” Lowering her voice, she confesses, “Doing crew work in regional theatre doesn’t pay much.”
“Preach,” grunts a man carrying a large sofa onstage.
Stopping next to Tanya, the guy holding up the other end of the cushioned furniture says, “If you don’t mind living with three dudes who consider farting a hobby and have mushrooms growing out of some weird fungus in the shower, there’s a bedroom available at my place.”
“Sounds perfect!” My mother smiles encouragingly at Tanya while I shiver at the thought of what this testosterone-riddled abode smells like.
“Sure. Thanks, man.” Tanya gives her co-worker a grateful smile before he continues onstage with the upholstered set piece.
“I’m glad we have your living situation straightened out,” Mom says. “Just promise me you won’t stay home night after night with your new roommates playing video games or whatever it is you Millennials do to avoid being productive. I want you to put Carla behind you and get out there and start meeting new people.”
“I hate the bar scene,” Tanya grumbles.
“Rightly so since most of the people there aren’t in the market for a serious relationship. Vanessa . . .” My mother includes me in the conversation for the first time. “. . . doesn’t Cole know some nice lesbians he could introduce Tanya to? Then you could set up a memorable first date for them.”
She’s caught me off-guard, so my only response is, “Uhhhhhhhh . . .”
“My daughter is a romance concierge and she works with gay couples all the time.”
“That’s true, but—”
“She’d be delighted to offer you her services free of charge. Vanessa, give Tanya one of your business cards.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have any on me. This purse doesn’t hold much.” I raise my small black, crystal-encrusted clutch to illustrate my point.
“Honestly!” My mother rolls her eyes at me before pulling a pen and her own business card out of her evening bag, which I should note is twice as big as mine so she has a lot more room for odds and ends, and scribbles something on the back of it, then hands the card to her new pet project. “That’s Vanessa’s personal number. Text her in a day or two and—”
“WHAT?” Tanya suddenly bellows into the mic of her headset. “Oh my god, are you kidding me? They broke all of them? Idiots! I’ll be right there.”
“Thanks for everything, Dr. Hart, but I gotta go—prop emergency. If you’ll just follow this corridor,” she points to the hallway we veered off from to get to the wing space, “to the green room and exit it through the door on the right, you’ll see a row of dressing rooms. Viv’s is two down on the left. You can’t miss it. Big gold star on the door with her name be— Keep your grungy pants on, Ron!” she shouts into the headset again. “I said I was coming. Jesus!”
Tanya charges off, body checking a perfectly innocent stagehand with a thick black cable looped around his shoulder on her way. The poor guy loses his balance and falls back into the stage curtain, which appears to eat him whole as his body disappears. I rush over to dig him out of the folds of red velvet, then rejoin my mother once he’s back on his feet and I’ve confirmed he didn’t sustain any serious injuries.
“You do realize Straight from the Hart isn’t a matchmaking service, right?” I query as she and I pass through the green room, where everything is gray except for one button tufted chair that’s a celadon color. I smile at a trio of actors (one with her hair still in curlers) who are doing some pre-show caffeinating with Venti-sized coffees from Starbucks, but they’re all busy with their phones and don’t notice us.
“But you do have some experience in that area, and don’t you want to help Tanya find love?”
Not really is the response that immediately pops into my head, but I feel ashamed of myself for thinking it. Just because my love life’s a disaster doesn’t mean I should be derelict in my duties as a purveyor of romance. “Of course,” I hasten to assure her.
“Have Cole set her up with someone who has a career that’s more lucrative than the arts.” She waves a disparaging hand at the walls of the green room where posters of previous productions of the playhouse hang. “Then if things work out for the two of them, they’ll be beholden to you and will pay for your romance concierge services when they’re needed.”
“That’s sound business advice. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Maybe you should consider listening to me more often,” Mom says with a touch of rebuke in her voice. “Were we supposed to go right or left out here?” We’re in another corridor outside the green room now and there are doors with stars on either side.
I’m equally baffled as to which direction is the correct one, but things become clearer when I see two familiar faces exiting a room several feet down on the left.
“Antony! Clare!” I wave at my grandmother’s hair and makeup team and speed-walk toward them. The three of us exchange air kisses while my mother offers them both a quick nod of acknowledgement.
“I am living for that Zac Posen, girl! Rowr!” Antony bares his teeth and makes claws with his fingers, doing his best big cat impression in honor of the cocktail dress I’m wearing. It’s a few seasons old, but the copper, satin sheath with the glittery, black and silver leopard spots is one of my favorites as it flatters my skin and hair and shows plenty of leg. This is Viv’s opening night, so I wanted to wear something sparkly and fun, but still understated enough so as not to draw any attention away from her.
“Thanks. How’s the hair?” I pat the top of my head. “It was sprinkling outside and I didn’t have an umbrella . . .”
“Your waves are kinking u
p a bit, but I can give you a quick spritz so that they don’t get frizzy.” Unzipping his stylist tool bag, Antony pulls out a can of some pricey hair product and I close my eyes while he showers my head with it, then does some smoothing with a comb.
“I’ve got a merlot lip stain that would look amazing with that navy dress, Dr. Hart.” Clare offers her a skinny, black tube, which my mother doesn’t take.
“Thank you, but I prefer to stick with my signature color: Neutral Nude.”
“The natural look in the evening? Ooooo, boy, are you sure you and Viv are related?” Clare chuckles as she draws back her hand.
“A question I’ve asked myself repeatedly over the years,” my mother retorts dryly.
“How is Viv?” I query. “Any pre-show jitters?”
“Only one freakout so far—,” Antony starts to tell us.
“—when she couldn’t remember any of her lines in Act Two,” Clare continues.
“I gave her a shot of vodka.” Antony pulls an airplane-sized bottle of the clear alcohol from his bag. “And it all came back to her. She seemed fine when we left, but . . .” He checks the clock on his phone. “There are still twenty minutes until curtain time, so you’ll probably have another meltdown to deal with before then.”
I lean toward the door of the dressing room, which is ajar, and listen intently for a few seconds before reporting to the others in a hushed voice, “No sobbing, primal screams, or the sound of glass shattering, so I think we should be good. Thanks, guys. See you after the show.”
Pushing open the star-adorned door, I stroll in, announcing, “Never fear, your emotional support team is— Woah!” I screech to a halt when I see my grandmother sitting at a dressing table where a silver-haired man is bent over her shoulder, kissing a very ardent path down into her décolletage.
“Sorry, Viv! We thought you were—” My grandmother turns toward us while her partner-in-canoodling raises his head.
“Mr. Grimshaw?” I gasp her lawyer’s name in disbelief at the same time my mother exclaims, “Stanley!”
“Good evening, ladies,” he greets us politely while straightening the silver tie he’s wearing with a sharp black suit. The blotches of red on his lipstick-covered cheeks tell me he’s embarrassed for us to have caught him and Viv necking like a couple of teenagers, but the sparkle in his blue eyes conveys how delighted he is to have finally moved beyond the friend zone with her, which makes two of us. Hooray for senior romance!
“This is a nice surprise,” I say, grinning ear-to-ear as I move closer to them. “I didn’t realize you were going to be here tonight, Stanley.” Might as well start calling him by his first name if he’s going to be my new grandfather!
“I couldn’t miss the chance to see my favorite actress performing live, could I?” Lifting Viv’s hand, he places a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “Break a leg, lovely. I look forward to celebrating your triumphant return to the stage with you later.”
“Me too. Thanks again for my fabulous gift.” She pats his cheek affectionately, and I notice there’s a new gold bracelet with diamond-studded charms jangling on her wrist. Well done, Gramps! The way to Viv’s heart has always been through karats.
“Bye!” I give Stanley a little finger wave as he leaves the room with a very decided spring in his step.
The moment the door closes behind him, my mother begins the interrogation. “What happened to the carpenter?” she asks Viv.
“Oh, that was just a little backstage fling,” she says in a bored, been-there-done-that tone. “It ended weeks ago when I realized he didn’t have much to offer outside the bedroom.”
My mother and I crinkle our noses in distaste because neither one of us likes to be reminded that Viv is still sexually active. The sad truth is she probably gets more action than both of us put together.
Viv swivels around to face the makeup mirror illuminated by small white bulbs that’s mounted on the wall behind her dressing table. Seeing that her lipstick is smeared, she plucks a tissue from a nearby box and attempts to fix the damage.
“So things are going well with you and Mr. Grim—Stanley?” I am dying to know all the details about her new romance.
“They are.” Viv relines her lips with a rust-colored pencil. “He’s so kind and attentive, and we have such deep and interesting conversations. I can’t remember the last time I felt like a man was really listening to me or cared about what I had to say.”
I’m smiling so hard at Viv’s reflection in the mirror my cheeks hurt.
“Go ahead.” She gestures at me with the pencil in hand. “I know you’re dying to say it.”
She’s right. I am.
“Told you so!” I gloat with delight, then do a victory dance, raising my hands in the air and shaking my hips.
“What did you tell her?” Mom wonders.
“That Stanley had been carrying a torch for her for years and I thought they’d be really good for each other. She pooh-poohed the idea, but look at her now—she is absolutely glowing with happiness!”
“That might be the immortal jellyfish serum,” Viv says, leaning toward the mirror so that she can get a closer look at herself. “Bioluminescence can be one of the side effects. I hadn’t considered the benefits of being able to glow in the dark before, but it could make sex with the lights off a lot more fun. I’ll have to ask Stanley to rub some of the serum on his—”
“Let’s see that bracelet!” I interject, making a desperate grab for her wrist. Anything to stop her from talking about an old man’s private parts. I take back what I was thinking earlier. I do not need to know all the details about Viv’s new relationship.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” my grandmother asks while I examine the charms. There’s a V, a large star, a pair of toasting champagne glasses, a ticket stub, and the comedy/tragedy masks.
“It’s lovely. He obviously put a lot of thought into getting you the perfect opening night gift.”
“That’s the kind of man Stanley is, so sweet, so considerate, so gener—Hold the phone!” Viv reaches for the hand that I was retracting. “Where’s the Ellingsworth emerald? Shouldn’t you be wearing it since you and Ian went public with your engagement at his birthday party?”
“We didn’t go public; Nicola did,” I remind her. “And I called it off.”
Viv’s fake-lashed eyes widen. “After just four days? Goodness me, that breaks my record for shortest engagement. I hung in there for three weeks with Jimmy Caan because he was a bigger star than I was at the time and I really liked the ring, but I just couldn’t deal with his insane jealousy. I mean, yes, I was still sleeping with two of my co-stars on Free Love after Jimmy proposed, but it was research for my character in the film.”
“Your love life is fascinating as always, Viv, but this isn’t about you,” my mother admonishes.
Rising from her chair, Viv asserts in an affronted tone, “I’m the one who noticed she wasn’t wearing the ring and asked her about it, didn’t I?”
“I noticed her ring finger was bare as soon as she got into the car,” my mother claims in an attempt to one-up Viv.
“You did? And you didn’t have any questions or comments to make? That’s disturbingly un-Dr. Hart-like. Are you feeling all right?” I narrow my eyes at her with suspicion.
Pushing her glitter-speckled navy glasses up the bridge of her nose, my mother replies,
“I’m fine. I just thought I’d try a different approach with you since you’re always reprimanding me for offering observations or counsel about your personal life. I was hoping that given enough time the good common sense you inherited from me would kick in and you’d see what a poor life choice marrying Ian would be. I’m pleased that my faith in you was not misplaced. Now I’ll be spared having to stand up and voice my very strenuous objections during the wedding ceremony.”
“Ooooo, that would have been exciting!” Viv looks disappointed it won’t be happening. I think she wishes life were more like Made-Up sometimes. She had at least two interrupted weddings on
that show (one by her character’s never-before-mentioned identical twin!). “I hope Ian’s not upset with you for turning him down.”
“Because you’re concerned about our friendship being adversely affected, or you’re afraid he’ll cut off your supply of jellyfish serum?”
“Can it be both?” she queries with a sheepish smile.
My mother gives Viv a disparaging head shake before asking me, “What did you tell Ian’s parents?”
“Nothing yet. He’s in London for the week. When he gets back, we’ll face Nicola and Andrew together and explain. It’s not going to be easy, but I told Ian it’s long past time for us to be honest with them. He can’t go on feeding into their fantasy of him having this conventional life with a wife and kids. It’s not who he is and it’s not what he wants. It’ll be difficult for them to hear, but hopefully they’ll love him enough to adapt and accept the real Ian.”
“Family therapy isn’t my specialty, but I’m happy to be there and offer whatever support or guidance I can to the Ellingsworths.”
I’m touched she wants to help.
“That’s very kind. Thank you. I’ll pass it on to Ian and let you know if we need you.”
“What was it that changed your mind about the marriage?” Viv wonders. “You seemed to be quite keen on the idea the other night, especially once the news was out and you became the belle of the ball.”
“I did enjoy that, but when I gave it some thought, I realized a marriage to Ian was never going to work—not for either of us. And I wasn’t being true to myself by even considering it.”
“Mmmm hmmm.” Viv slips off the kimono-sleeved teal robe she’s been wearing to reveal a chic black dress with padded shoulders and a ruched middle that does flattering things to her waistline. It’s odd to see her in black as she’s always dismissed the non-color as “snoozy,” but Raindrops on Roses opens at the wake of her character’s husband. So it’s appropriate. “And you came to this conclusion all by yourself?” she queries with a raised eyebrow.
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