He looked out at the nuns, most of whom were middle-aged and elderly. He paused before continuing to speak.
“Many of us in this chapel can remember, over forty years ago, the documentary on Mother Teresa called Something Beautiful for God. The journalist in the documentary believed that a miracle had taken place during the filming. Technicians had predicted that there wasn’t enough light to shoot the scenes in the Home for the Dying. But when they viewed the processed film, those scenes were bathed in a beautiful, soft light.
“It may shock some of you to hear me tell a rather brutal truth: Mother Teresa was not a pretty woman, by earthly standards. In fact, the week she died, one of the most beautiful women in the world had also died. Princess Diana’s funeral shifted the attention of the world to her and left television commentators with the unenviable task of trying to make comparisons.”
The priest moved away from the podium, walked down the center aisle, and stood in the midst of the sisters. Every eye was on him—and the nuns sitting in the front pews had to turn around in order to see him.
“Both women, they said, had devoted their lives to charitable causes. Both women had experienced sadness and had overcome obstacles. And both women, they said, were known throughout the whole world. But the one comparison they could not make—dared not make—was that they were both beautiful. Simply because one of them was the most photographed woman in the world, one who set off a new fashion trend whenever she left her palace. And the other? She was a gnarled, wrinkled, hunched-over gnome of a creature who set fashion back a hundred years every time she stooped to pick up a dying man from the gutters of India.
“No one can deny that Princess Diana captured the world’s attention with her daring work for land-mine victims and the compassion that moved her to hold children dying of AIDS in her arms. In fact, it was not only her royalty but also her God-given and astonishing beauty that made her charitable work possible.
“However, I ask you, sisters: Was Blessed Teresa of Calcutta any less beautiful?” The preacher gripped the crucifix one last time and raised his voice. “The answer to that question is what convinces me that I know what the Lord desires. He wants each of you—no matter how the outside world judges such things—he wants each of you to be ‘something beautiful for God.’
“Don’t disappoint him.”
All the sisters remained in the chapel long after the preacher left, considering his words.
Sister Mary Noelle knelt in prayer. She certainly did not want to disappoint God. As she buried her face in her hands, she prayed, Lord, will nothing convince my sister Jillian to stop wasting her life on wrinkle creams and tummy tucks—and, like Princess Diana, start using her beauty for good?
Chapter 62
MONDAY, JANUARY 10 . . . FIVE DAYS UNTIL THE WEDDING
The distance from Elysium to where Piper’s audition would take place was only eleven miles, but it took her almost an hour to get there. Cars and vans inched along Santa Monica Boulevard. From the rear seat of the car, Piper noted that virtually none of the other vehicles carried more than one passenger.
Piper had heard about the misery of Los Angeles traffic. After living in and commuting to Manhattan, she’d always dismissed the stories as West Coast whining. It had never occurred to her that anything was worse than the FDR at rush hour. Now she felt as if she should draft a letter of apology to all the residents of Los Angeles County. It truly was different here. Like the sunshine, traffic was a given.
While it was worse during rush hours, it rarely seemed to relent. Piper had taken her newfound understanding into account when she’d booked her driver. The thought of being late for an audition made her heart race. She was well aware that being stressed rarely led to a booking.
She wanted this one. Big-time. A national dog-food commercial had the potential of providing residuals checks for months and months to come. Piper still got an occasional check from the shampoo commercial she’d done a couple of years ago. At this point she would welcome any income.
More than the money, though, she just needed to book something. Except for the episodes of the soap A Little Rain Must Fall that she’d done in December, Piper had not worked in months. She knew that Gabe had faith in her, but some days it felt like she’d lost faith in herself. Gabe always tried to reassure her. “Doll, one day it’ll start to rain, and then it will pour,” he’d tell her. Piper laughed to herself at the irony of looking for career precipitation in arid Los Angeles.
“This shouldn’t take too long,” she said to the driver as she got out of the car. She walked up the path and entered the building, which had been converted from a house to a place of business, then signed in at the desk in the front hall.
She picked up a storyboard sheet as she took a seat in the waiting room. The sheet was divided into four squares. The first showed a man and a nervous woman standing at the front door of a house; the second showed the door being opened by an older man and woman; and the third showed the younger, nervous woman now smiling as she leaned over to pet a dog. In the final square, all four people and the dog seemed thrilled to be together.
Piper glanced around the waiting room. Two good-looking guys stood chatting just inside the door. Three other girls had gotten there before her. Just like Piper, all three were blondes. A few moments later, a brunette with a clipboard came into the room.
“Piper? Tom?” She didn’t even look up as she called their names. Piper and the taller of the two guys walked into the audition room. The girl with the clipboard settled behind a camera that had been set up on a tripod. Next to the camera was a foldout table with a man sitting on the other side of it. He looked to be about forty and had a deep tan that complemented his short, sandy blond hair. A phone book rested on a folding chair in front of the table.
“Piper, Tom, welcome,” said the casting director. “So here’s what we’ve got: An engaged couple goes to see the guy’s parents. The girl is nervous to be meeting her soon-to-be in-laws for the first time. The parents and their dog answer the door. The girl makes friends with the dog, causing the parents to like her immediately. Everyone’s happy. So what I’ll have you do is slate your name and height, and then we can go into a little improvisation of the scenario. You can use me as the parents, and, Piper, you use the phone book on the chair as the dog. Okay? Great.”
Piper looked at Tom, her new boyfriend. He smiled and wordlessly gestured, Ladies first. Piper looked into the camera lens and said, “Hi, I’m Piper Donovan, and I’m five-eight.”
Tom immediately followed with “And I’m Tom Glass, five-eleven.”
Piper turned to Tom and started to say something about how nervous she was to meet his parents when Tom grabbed her shoulders and started screaming in her face, “You can do this! They’re just my parents. Don’t let them break you!”
Piper instantly went with it. “I won’t! I won’t!” she cried as her face broke into the beginning of a sob. In unison, Piper and Tom whipped around to face the casting director.
“Mom! Dad!” Tom extended his arms for a big hug.
“Hi . . . uh, Mom? Dad?” Piper whimpered. Then she directed her attention to the phone book, and her eyes lit up. She breathed in and clapped her hands together as a smile spread across her face. “Oh, look, how cute you are! Hello there, little doggy. Why are you so cute?”
Piper picked up the phone book and cradled it in her arms. She brought the book with her as she made her way back to stand next to a now-grinning Tom. He wrapped his arm around her and beamed at the casting director. Piper matched his glow and with total confidence repeated the words of her initial greeting: “Hi, Mom. Dad.” She nuzzled the phone book as she heard the casting director burst out laughing.
“Wow, guys. That was really fun,” he said, still laughing.
Piper looked over at the girl behind the camera, and even she was giggling.
The casting director continued, “Oka
y, thank you so much for coming in, great meeting you guys, and we’ll be in touch.”
Piper and Tom thanked him for his time and walked from the room, through the waiting area, and out the door. As they were about to turn in separate directions, Tom extended his hand. Piper smiled as she took it.
“Well, I’ll see you at the callback, Piper Donovan,” he said.
“Hope so, Tom.”
As she turned toward her car, Piper hadn’t felt so good about an audition in at least a year. It was as if all the acting anxiety she’d had in New York had been melted by the California sunshine.
Chapter 63
Two glass bottles sat on the bench along with a funnel, rags, a gallon of turpentine, a can of motor oil, and a container of liquid soap. The peach-gloved hands inserted the funnel into the neck and carefully poured the turpentine halfway up the first bottle. Then the process was repeated.
Next, motor oil and liquid soap were added to both bottles. The soap would help the burning liquid adhere to the target, while the oil would create clouds of thick, choking smoke. If the fire wasn’t fatal, maybe smoke inhalation would do the trick.
The rags were dropped into a bucket and doused with the remaining turpentine. When the time came, the soaked cloths would be stuffed into the bottle necks, each serving as a wick leading down to the flammable liquid.
The bottles and bucket were placed in an airtight cooler and then stashed where nobody would come upon them. The empty cans of motor oil and turpentine were tossed. There was quite a bit of liquid soap left in the container. It was silly to throw that away. Waste not, want not.
When the time was right, when it was possible to do it without being seen, when the lights were all out at the cottage and the inhabitant was sound asleep, the simple firebombs would be assembled, lit, and hurled at the target.
Chapter 64
After Vernon left for his office in the main building, Irene put five miles in on her exercise bike. She showered, dressed, and applied her makeup. Then she made two phone calls. The second one was to her stepdaughter.
“I just got off the phone with Kyle,” she announced. “I’ve booked us back-to-back facials with him this afternoon,” Irene announced.
“Oh, I don’t know, Irene,” answered Jillian. “I have so much to do around here.”
“Let Hudson take care of things for a couple of hours. That’s what he’s there for. To help you.”
“I know, but it’s his first day back.”
“He’ll be fine,” said Irene. “Your wedding is only five days away, Jillian. You should have the facial today, so any redness afterward will be gone by Saturday.”
There was silence for a moment as Jillian considered her stepmother’s proposal. “You know, you’re right, Irene,” said Jillian. “I’m getting married, and even though I feel absolutely terrible about Esperanza, I should try to enjoy this time.”
“Exactly,” said Irene. “Moping around isn’t going to bring Esperanza back.”
She instantly regretted her choice of words. “I didn’t mean you’ve been moping, dear,” she said.
“That’s all right, Irene,” said Jillian. “I know what you meant. I have been dragging around. But I’m glad that I have you to talk straight to me and pull me out of it.”
“Good,” said Irene. “So we’re on with our facials?”
“Yes. We’re on,” said Jillian. “And do you want to see if Dad wants to meet us for lunch first?”
“Sure,” said Irene. “I know there’s nothing your father would enjoy more. He always lights up when you’re around.”
Chapter 65
Piper came out of the audition feeling jubilant. She knew she’d done well. Now she had to wait to hear from Gabe. He would follow up with the casting director for feedback.
When she was in the car again, Piper took out her phone and updated her Facebook status:
FUN AUDITION THIS MORNING!
KEEP YOUR FINGERS CROSSED FOR ME!
As the car traveled east on Santa Monica Boulevard, Piper’s stomach growled. She watched out the window for a place to get a little something to eat. The sign for The Butter End Cakery came into view. It was worth a shot.
“Hey, pull over here,” she said on impulse. “I’ll run in and get something for us. Any preferences?”
“Whatever looks good,” said the driver, shifting the car into park. “I like just about everything.”
“Me, too,” said Piper as she got out. “I’ll be right back.” She waited for a chance to run across the busy road.
The Butter End was part bakery, part industrial storage, part school. The large space, with its high ceilings and unfinished walls, was divided into sections. Upstairs there was an open loft, stacked with bags of baking materials and equipment. Below, a long, stainless-steel counter lined with bar stools separated the entrance from the kitchen on the other side. Professional refrigerators and ovens were plainly visible. A woman was rolling out fondant icing on the kitchen worktable. She glanced up and smiled when Piper cleared her throat.
“Hi, I’m Kimberly.” The woman looked at her watch. “If you’re here for a lesson, you’re early.”
“Actually, I’m here to get something to eat,” said Piper.
“I just made some scones for the class,” said Kimberly, putting down the rolling pin. “Apricot and currant.”
“Sounds good,” said Piper. “How about one of each?”
Kimberly took the clear dome off a metal cake stand. As the baker selected the scones, Piper looked around.
“So you give baking lessons here?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Kimberly. “Twice a week. But most of my business is specialty work. Cakes for birthdays, graduations, anniversaries, charity events, weddings. You name it. There’s a book of pictures of some of the cakes if you want to take a look.” She nodded to the scrapbook sitting on the corner of the counter.
Piper flipped though the plastic-covered pages. The variety of cakes and their execution were both impressive. A teddy bear, an L.A. Dodgers baseball cap, a dinosaur, a spider, a sports car, a soccer ball, a basketball, book covers, even a cake that looked like a hamburger and another that was fashioned after a toilet. The multitiered wedding cakes were breathtaking. Kimberly obviously had special skill for creating the most beautiful frosting flowers.
“Wow, this butterfly looks like it could up and fly away,” said Piper, pointing to one of the pictures. “You’re really talented.”
“Thanks,” said Kimberly. “I try.”
As Piper left the shop with her warm scones, she wondered if Jillian or Irene knew about The Butter End. She hoped not. This Kimberly chick was a force. Piper knew that it was time to focus on the reason she’d been brought out here. She wanted to make a cake good enough to ensure that Jillian would never regret the decision to hire her.
Chapter 66
Dr. Ben Dixon was whistling as he turned the corner of the hallway. He stopped abruptly when he spotted George Ellis waiting at the door to Ben’s office. George’s facial expression was dour, his complexion gray. He wore a rumpled sport shirt, the same one he had on the day before. It stretched over a sizable gut.
The poor guy is a good candidate for a heart attack, thought Ben as he smiled at George.
“I know I don’t have an appointment, Doc,” said George. “But I feel like I have to talk or I’ll burst.”
“Of course, George. I have a half hour before my first patient. Will that be enough time?”
“It has to be, I guess,” said George.
Ben unlocked the office door and stood aside so George could enter first. Taking a chair across the desk from Ben, George sat with his fists clenched.
“It was hard news to hear yesterday,” said Ben.
“The worst.”
“How did Wendy do after Vernon and I left?”
“She cr
ied and cried and cried until she fell asleep. I stayed overnight in the cottage with her. I was afraid to leave her.”
“You’ve been a rock for her through all of this, George. Wendy loves you very much.”
George sighed. “It’s been just Wendy and me for a long time. When her mother took off, I tried to fill that role, too.”
“It can’t have been easy,” said Ben.
“No, I guess not,” George said quietly. “I haven’t always done the best job.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I shouldn’t have allowed Wendy to have the very first surgery,” said George, his eyes watering, “but she wanted it so badly that I gave in. I just wanted to make her happy, but instead I’ve ruined her life.”
He bent forward, put his elbows on his knees, and covered his eyes.
“Wendy is over eighteen, George,” said Ben softly. “She had the surgery as an adult. It was her decision. You are not to blame.”
George looked up. “And she is?” he asked, incredulous. “That’s just wrong. She was too young to know the chance she was taking.”
“Not legally,” said Ben.
“You think I care about what’s legal?” George bellowed. “She’s my daughter, for God’s sake, and I should have protected her!”
“All right, George,” said Ben, trying to calm him. “You think you didn’t fight Wendy hard enough because you loved her and wanted to make her happy. Wendy was determined to have the surgery, an operation that she had every right to decide she wanted. Neither of you went into this thinking that it would turn out so poorly. You have to try to stop beating yourself up and looking to assign blame. You’re not responsible for what happened. Neither is Wendy. Sometimes things just don’t work out, and it’s nobody’s fault.”
The Look of Love Page 13
