by Grace Palmer
“Yeah, I’ll pass on a rain check,” Holly said. She could feel her heart beating in her ears, blood rushing to her head.
“Agreed,” Mrs. Monroe snorted. “In fact, I’m done with your whole family. Don’t think I don’t know who you are. This whole town can do nothing but talk about ‘the Bensons’ and ‘how wonderful they are.’” She scoffed, clearly not convinced. “If this is how your family behaves, I want to limit my contact with your bunch as much as possible.”
Mr. Monroe raised a finger in the air. An idea striking him. “Oh, but honey, there is a Benson on the cast. A boyfriend, anyway. The firefighter?”
Mrs. Monroe’s smile sharpened. Holly could have sworn she saw her teeth glimmer.
“Joey, that’s his name,” Mr. Monroe continued. “He’s probably the most excited cast member I have. It will be a shame to cut him loose.”
Pete frowned, stepping forward. “I don’t see what Joey has to do with any of this.”
Holly knew exactly what Joey had to do with this. Vengeance.
These people were petty and spiteful, and they wanted to make Holly regret coming up against them by wielding what little power they had.
Unfortunately for Joey, that meant the end of his big break.
“One bad apple can ruin the bunch. Better to cut it out early,” the man said with a shrug, as though there was nothing he could do about it. “Your friend is out of the movie, and if you aren’t careful, your son will be out of this camp.”
With that, they turned in unison and marched to their luxe SUV, disappearing behind the deeply tinted windows.
“Unbelievable,” Pete breathed. He turned to Holly, expression open and confused. “What happened in there? Why did you lose your cool like that? That wasn’t good for Grady to see.”
“What I did wasn’t good for him to see?” Holly sputtered. “You just stood there! Wouldn’t even defend him. Kids will be kids. What was that?”
“Me trying to show them we aren’t a bunch of crazy hotheads!”
“They’re blaming Grady for everything. They had him sitting in that room. By himself. What kind of camp protocol is that? You’re the lawyer. You should be angry he didn’t have representation.”
“It wasn’t a trial, Holly.”
“It felt like one!” she shouted. “They wanted us to sit there and agree that Grady is trouble. But that Elijah kid is the one who’s trouble. Grady has never had issues like this before. Not until this camp. Not until…”
Rob.
Elijah would still be a bully if Rob hadn’t come into town, but Holly’s son wouldn’t have been pulled into the mess. Grady would have kept his head down and endured, or he would have told an adult what was going on. He wouldn’t have hit anyone.
Not unless someone told him to.
All of this, in one way or another, came back to Rob.
“I’m going to talk to Rob.” Holly clutched her keys and stomped towards her car.
Pete grabbed her arm and used the momentum to sling himself around her, coming face-to-face with his wife. “No, you aren’t. I will.”
“Oh, now you want to talk to him?”
“That’s not fair.” Pete clenched his jaw in frustration, but there was hurt in his eyes. “I was trying to make peace. To build bridges.”
“Well, maybe it’s time to draw up our bridges. Maybe… maybe we need to build a moat, okay? Stop letting people into our castle.”
“Enough, Hol,” Pete snapped. “You can’t blame everything on Rob. Especially when I’m the one you want to blame. This is all because I haven’t been around, right? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“It’s because you aren’t listening,” Holly countered.
“Because I’m so distracted with work,” Pete finished for her sarcastically. “Because I’m too busy and I don’t do enough with the kids and I’m never home. That’s the real issue, yeah?”
“That isn’t it!” Holly clenched her hands into fists at her side. How many times would they have this same argument? “I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Pete spun around and walked towards his car.
“You’re making this about something it isn’t,” she called after him.
“I’ll be home early tonight,” he said, ignoring her and waving a hand over his shoulder. “But right now, I have to get back to work.”
Pete got in his car and drove away without another look at Holly.
23
Sara
Sara’s Apartment
Mondays were Sara’s day off.
She had a medical drama on in the background, her feet propped on a bright green hand-knitted pouf Holly had made her for her birthday two years earlier, and she was anxiously waiting to have a lukewarm honey vanilla latte in her hand.
Sara was more than capable of making her own piping hot lattes at home. But days off were tailor-made for paying too much money for delivery and enjoying her favorite drink thirty minutes past its prime.
At least she’d only have to walk two steps to her front door to accept the delivery rather than all the way to the kitchen.
In the middle of an emergency heart surgery playing out on the small screen—yet another life-or-death situation that only Dr. Swoony McHandsome could solve—the doorbell rang.
When Sara opened it, Chris stood on the other side of the threshold, breathing heavily and shaking his head. “Sorry, Sara. I got here as fast as I could, but there was a whole mess of people in the streets today.”
“Oh yeah, the movie is filming downtown today. I heard about that.”
Ordering from Two Birds Coffee had become Sara’s day-off ritual. She and Chris, the delivery driver, had become close.
“With the cameras and the crowds and the folding chairs, it looked like something out of a movie.” He screwed up his face, nose scrunched. “That sounds dumb, but you know what I mean. My car got stuck behind barricades. I had to ride the delivery bike.”
He hitched a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the fixed gear bike leaning against the weathered fence. The grass from Sara’s patchy lawn tickled his tire spokes.
“You should have called and told me. I woulda come and picked it up.” Sara retrieved the tall paper cup from his hand and took a sip.
Lukewarm, and the foam was a little thin. But still delicious.
“Are you kidding? Lauren would skin me if she knew I flaked on a delivery for our best customer.”
“I don’t order that many lattes, do I?” Sara asked, suddenly self-conscious.
“Well, sort of. But I just meant that you send so much business our way,” he explained. “We constantly have people coming in for an espresso after a meal at Little Bull. Your word of mouth is huge.”
Two Birds Coffee was one of the standard recommendations Sara gave out to tourists. What could she say? They made good coffee.
Plus, the ambience was to die for. Sara could understand why the film crew had decided to film right in front of the shop.
All of the businesses downtown had brick fronts with beautiful wooden window trim painted in bright, cheery colors. Two Birds had kept it classic with an ivory paint, but they had large string lights and colorful banners hanging in the windows. Inside, the original hardwood floors had been refinished in a rich, warm stain that made it feel like you were drinking coffee in a cozy hobbit hole.
When Sara wasn’t having one of her epic lazy days, she’d sit at the bar that ran along the window and read a book with a cup of coffee and a croissant. It was a great place to people watch.
“…And Dominic recommended us to the film crew, and they go through an honestly unreal number of coffee carafes. We are forever in the debt of Clan Benson,” Chris was saying, bowing awkwardly as his voice took on a strange Scottish lilt. “Anything else?”
He asked that as if he’d really bike the ten blocks to Two Birds and back if Sara asked for sweetener.
Even if Chris had his car, Sara would never. She was on the outer edge of Two Birds’ de
livery range as it was.
“Just the latte, thanks.” She took another sip and held it aloft in a cheers as Chris took the front steps of her duplex two at a time and threw a weary leg back over his bike.
Dr. McHandsome had completed his surgery by the time Sara dropped back down onto the sofa. The patient was thanking him for saving her life, but he wouldn’t accept her gratitude. He wasn’t only Dr. McHandsome—he was also Dr. McHumble.
Joey hated Sara’s doctor shows.
“Completely unrealistic!” he’d shout at the television, pointing out when doctors didn’t scrub in correctly or when they started slicing open patients without wearing gloves. “Infection central. That guy will be dead of sepsis within a week.”
“I thought you were a firefighter, not a surgeon.”
“I’m more of a surgeon than these clowns,” he’d mumble.
When Joey wasn’t on shift at the firehouse, he’d lounge with Sara on Mondays. He’d tease her about spending ten dollars on coffee just to get it delivered, and she would train him in the ways of Ultimate Laziness.
Ultimate Laziness involved dipping Oreo cookies in jars of peanut butter and watching a marathon of a show you didn’t even like because the remote was too far away.
Even though he complained, Sara knew he loved it.
Today, however, he was “on set.”
Joey called at the crack of dawn that morning—breaking rule number one of Ultimate Laziness: sleep in as long as possible—to tell Sara the movie would be filming downtown.
“They are going to shoot some establishing shots, and they want extras on hand to walk down the street. Maybe you could come and make it in the movie, too? Your part wouldn’t be mentioned in the end credits like mine, but still. Could be fun.”
Joey had asked a producer and been informed his name would be next to Firefighter #4 in the scroll at the end of the movie. Truly the stuff dreams were made of.
“Sorry, I’m feeling a little run down today,” she’d lied.
“Nothing like the excitement of a set to perk you up.”
She’d chuckled. “I’m sure you’re right, but my under-eye bags aren’t movie-worthy today. I’ll make it to another day of filming. Promise.”
Joey had been disappointed, but Sara couldn’t take the movie talk anymore. It was all he seemed to care about.
She needed a break.
Honestly, she was slightly relieved he had something else going on. She didn’t know if she could handle another lazy day filled with endless chatter about “learning his angles” and the “Hollywood diet” he’d put himself on.
Suddenly, he was too good for chocolate cookies dipped in peanut butter, and Sara was tired of feeling judged.
“The camera adds ten pounds. Everyone says that, but it’s actually true.”
“Good thing I won’t be on camera,” she’d say, shoving another cookie in her mouth.
No, it was best she was alone today.
Work had been tense ever since she confronted Casey about the theft. He still showed up and did his job, but that only made things worse.
Just Friday night, he’d served the cod dish to three different tables without the tomato-lime salsa. Usually, that would warrant a stern reminder to pay attention and check with the service line that food was ready to go before serving it.
But Sara had just patted him on the shoulder. “It could have happened to anyone,” she’d said.
Jose had given her a strange look—a silent what was that? Sara couldn’t blame him. She felt like her legs had been swept out from under her when it came to Casey.
And Joey was far too preoccupied with his own problems to listen to Sara’s. Every time she tried to bring it up, he’d assure her she’d figure it all out and pivot back to talking about how he would never be able to balance the filming schedule with his much less important duties of, oh, fighting fires and saving lives.
A new episode was starting and the theme song was playing, showing various clips of Dr. McHandsome striding handsomely down long hospital hallways, when there was another knock at the door.
Before Sara could peel herself off the sofa to answer it, the door opened.
She yelped and threw up her hands to shield her face from an inevitably attack by the intruder. When nothing happened, she peeked behind her hands and saw Joey standing in the doorway.
“You scared me!” she gasped, clutching her chest.
For as much as she’d complained about him recently—mostly only in her own head, but still—Joey really was movie star handsome. He could have his own show that aired right after the medical drama. Firefighter McHandsome—or something like that; the title might need a little more work.
He had dark curly hair that turned to loose waves when he brushed it out after his shower. His eyes were a bright turquoise. And the dimples bracketing his white smile still made Sara a little weak in the knees.
It was no wonder the casting director had noticed him in the frozen food section. Who wouldn’t?
Sara was so busy letting her heart rate slow to normal and taking stock of him that it took her a second to recognize the deep frown pulling his lips down. His dimples were lost in the expression.
“What’s going on?” she asked, setting her coffee cup on the end table and standing up. Crumbs from the sour cream and cheddar chips she’d been eating tumbled to the floor. “I didn’t think I’d see you today.”
He slammed the door behind him. The framed picture of Sara and her family standing in front of Little Bull on Opening Night rattled against the wall.
“The casting director banned me from the set.”
“Banned you?” she asked with a frown. “What does that mean?”
“Banned. Like, a ban. Thou shalt not pass, y’know?”
“What did you do?”
Joey’s eyes widened like Sara was crazy. “Nothing! Nothing, obviously.”
“Why would they ban you for doing nothing?”
He threw his arms up angrily, his finger catching the cord of her blinds on the way down. The left side of the blinds lifted up, all askew. He growled as he straightened them back out. “I have no idea. No one would answer my questions.”
Sara chewed on her lip, not sure what to say. This didn’t make any sense. “Are you sure your scene didn’t just get cut from the movie?”
He dropped onto the end of the sofa, chucking a throw cushion into the chair in the corner as he sunk down. “I know the difference between being cut and getting escorted off the set, Sara.”
But did he?
This was his first movie after all. Maybe they’d decided he wasn’t right for the part and told him as much.
Even that wouldn’t make much sense, though. How could a handsome firefighter not be right for the part of a handsome firefighter?
“I’m just saying maybe they decided not to film the scene you were in,” Sara offered helpfully. “I think that happens in movies a lot.”
“I was banned,” he snapped. “Forbidden from returning. Escorted from the barricaded area. It had nothing to do with the movie and everything to do with me.” He folded his arms across his chest, his biceps bulging as his fingers dug into his arms. “And there was no explanation.”
Sara could think of a possible explanation or two. Like, if Joey had been as persistent with his line of questioning and excitement about the movie with other people as he had been for her. People may have grown annoyed.
Sara loved him, and she was still frustrated.
The L-word sneaking into her thoughts surprised Sara, but she decided now was not the time to investigate that slip-up. Not when Joey looked so dejected.
“So you’re out of the movie? And they didn’t explain why?”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” he snapped.
“Okay,” she mumbled. “Just trying to understand.”
There was a long pause. And then he added, “…first time for everything.”
Joey said the words so softly Sara almost didn’t kn
ow if she’d heard him right.
By the time she was confident he’d said what he’d said, it felt too late to say anything about it. The silence between them stretched into an uncomfortable bridge Sara didn’t know how to cross.
Joey tipped his head back and pinched the bridge of his straight nose between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s all over. Before it could even begin.”
“It’s not all over,” she said, curling her legs underneath her and facing him. “At least it wasn’t your full-time job. There are still plenty of fires to put out, I’m sure.”
Sara hated seeing Joey so upset. Usually, he was cheerful, chipper. He laughed at her jokes and could match her wit for wit. They had a great time together.
Well, they’d had a great time together. Before the movie had consumed Joey’s every thought.
The more Sara thought about it, the more she couldn’t help but be slightly… relieved. Maybe things could go back to normal now. He would be her McHandsome firefighter again. Preferably sans-dreams-of-fame-and-fortune.
“Could you at least pretend to be upset for me?”
Sara jolted at the sound of Joey’s voice and looked over to see him staring at her, forehead creased in frustration. “I am upset!”
He snorted. “Could have fooled me. You look one second away from doing a happy dance.”
“I do not! I was just thinking.”
“About what?” he asked, eyebrow arching in a challenge.
“About how much I hate seeing you sad.” About how relieved I am this movie thing can be over.
He narrowed his eyes. “I know you weren’t really sick this morning.”
“I never said I was sick.”
“You certainly implied it.”
“It was barely seven AM when you called. Being awake that early on your day off is the same as being sick.”
“Every time I bring the movie up, you tune me out,” he said, sitting up. “You knew I was excited about it, and you didn’t care.”
Sara shook her head. “No. I did care. But that doesn’t mean I have to spend my one day off trying to be a background extra in a movie I couldn’t care less about.”
