The Postman Always Purls Twice

by Anne Canadeo

  Moviemaking equipment was everywhere. Maggie could only guess the use of the objects—huge lights on metal stands, cameras, microphones hanging from poles, and rolling tripods. Some of it was already set up and some was still being assembled, or pushed over the wooden floors on noisy, rattling wheels.

  She hardly recognized her shop, reorganized and refurnished with all the equipment, most of the area rugs and some of the furniture pushed into the alcove near the front door, where she kept an antique loveseat and sitting chairs, a cozy knitting nook no more.

  “Oh my,” was all she could say, then stopped in her tracks near the front door as a huge round light in black metal casing rolled by.

  Luckily, Suzanne remained sharp. As usual. She nabbed the first person who passed by—a young woman busily unrolling green cable across the floor, pausing every few feet to secure the trail in place with duct tape. Her black T-shirt displayed the movie title on the back and the chopped-off sleeves revealed impressive tattoos.

  “Excuse me . . . do you know where we can find Alicia Littel?”

  “She was at the table in the back a minute ago,” the girl replied without pausing in her task.

  “Thanks.” Suzanne turned to Maggie and Lucy. “That must be her, the blonde with the glasses, sitting next to Jennifer Todd.”

  Maggie could hardly get a good view with the bustling crew and all the equipment in the way. But yes . . . there was Jennifer Todd, sitting at the table next to a younger woman.

  Jennifer was a beauty on screen, but even more stunning in person, with smooth, honey-colored hair pulled back in a ponytail at her nape and a radiant, peaches-and-cream complexion. She wore little or no makeup and just ordinary workout clothes—black yoga pants and a magenta wrap around her top that showed off a toned, superslim figure. Maybe her outfit was the best money could buy, but it was still just athletic wear, the only hint of her fame and fortune a huge, square diamond that sparkled on her left hand, visible from all the way across the room.

  Jennifer and her assistant sat shoulder to shoulder, looking over a large binder that sat opened flat on the table between them.

  Maggie had expected Alicia to be older for some reason, but she looked quite young, with a round, friendly-looking face, pink cheeks, and pin-straight blond hair cut to her chin in a hip, choppy style. Long bangs brushed the top of large, tortoiseshell-framed glasses. Maggie felt encouraged, noticing her quick, dimpled smile; she looked efficient but pleasant to deal with.

  “Do you want us to come with you? Or do you want to go over by yourself?” Suzanne asked.

  Maggie didn’t answer, suddenly tongue-tied. Funny, since she never considered herself awed by famous people.

  “Why don’t you go with her, Suzanne? I’ll wait here for Dana and Phoebe,” Lucy suggested.

  “Good idea. We don’t want to stampede them. Ready?” Suzanne turned to Maggie again.

  Maggie fluffed her curly hair with her fingertips. “I didn’t expect to consult with movie stars today. I would have dressed up a bit.”

  Suzanne grinned. “You never know what’s going to happen when you wake up in the morning, do you?”

  “Thank you, Forrest Gump.” As Suzanne laughed off her testy reply, Maggie squared her shoulders and took a breath. “Lead on. I’m ready to consult to the queen of England.”

  “Is she in this film, too?” Lucy asked. “That would really draw some publicity.”

  Maggie smiled but was too nervous to laugh. Her gaze was fixed on the familiar worktable where the world-famous actress Jennifer Todd sat with her assistant.

  As Maggie drew closer, she saw Jennifer pick up the binder and Maggie realized it was a script.

  “I’m going to grab a water. Do you want one, Jen? Or maybe some tea? I can run back to the trailer for your teapot,” Maggie heard Alicia tell the movie star.

  “I’m fine, thanks. But can you text Heath again? Nick will throw a fit if he finds out we didn’t run through the changes yet,” Jennifer added in a quieter tone.

  “No problem.” Alicia took out her phone and tapped a message.

  Maggie had noticed a large folding table nearby laden with food—a coffee percolator, boxes of donuts, muffins, and bagels, bottled water, and a tray of sandwiches covered with plastic wrap. Alicia was obviously headed in that direction.

  Maggie watched the assistant finally depart and saw her chance to approach the star.

  Well, here’s my cue. Enter stage left . . . Or something like that.

  Just as Maggie headed for her target, a horrific sight filled her gaze. She heard people gasp and even scream as a long metal pole, poised on a metal stand and topped with a square grid of flood lights, suddenly fell toward the table.

  Maggie felt as if she was watching a slow-motion film as the heavy fixture swayed and then headed for the floor. She heard more screams as all the lights flickered and blacked out completely for a moment. The metallic monster crashed on the table in a spray of broken glass and sizzling, exploding lightbulbs, then finally settled, an acrid, burning smell filling the air.

  Maggie had already raised her arms to shield her face out of sheer reflex, though she and Suzanne stood several yards away.

  When she looked again, almost everyone in the shop was running toward the accident. She could hardly see a thing.

  She turned and stared at Suzanne. For once, Suzanne was speechless.

  “Jennifer Todd . . .” Maggie whispered. “Is she under there?”

  The actress would be smashed like an insect, all that metal and cables . . . and broken glass.

  Maggie winced and squeezed her eyes closed, imagining the fate, too horrified to look back and find out what had happened.

  Chapter Two

  “Jennifer! Are you all right? Answer me . . . please!”

  As Maggie and Suzanne moved toward the back of the shop along with the rest of the crowd, all they could hear was Alicia, crying and screaming.

  Some of the crew members, along with Alicia, rushed to the spot where Jennifer had been sitting, but the star could no longer be seen.

  While they shouted at each other, there was no reply from the actress for the longest moment. Maggie glanced at Suzanne, who stood with her hand over her mouth, pale and shocked.

  Finally, they heard a weak but familiar voice. “I’m all right. I’m okay . . .”

  “Step back, please! Give her some space!” one of the crew members shouted as he and Alicia dove under the table and helped Jennifer to her feet. She stood on shaky legs while Alicia frantically brushed bits of broken glass from Jennifer’s clothing and hair, heedless of her own hands touching the jagged bits.

  Jennifer had either fallen, or perhaps purposely dropped to the floor to protect herself. Alicia and the young man helped her walk to a canvas folding chair a few yards away from the table. It said “Todd” on the back in white block letters, Maggie noticed.

  “Call first aid! Somebody, please!” Alicia hovered over Jennifer and continued to gently pick bits of debris off Jennifer’s clothes and hair. The poor girl looked very shaken herself, weeping as her own hands trembled.

  Jennifer gently patted Alicia’s arm, quite ironic, all things considered. “Please, don’t cry. It’s all right. I’m fine.”

  Alicia gasped for a breath. “I saw it falling . . . I couldn’t reach you, Jen. You could have been crushed.”

  Maggie sympathized with Alicia’s reaction. She felt shaken to the core herself. The sight had been heart stopping.

  “Yes, dear. But I wasn’t hurt at all. At least I don’t seem to be. Any scratches on my face? That’s the main thing,” she said quickly.

  Alicia checked, then shook her head. “No, thank goodness.”

  “We’re okay, then. But look at your hand. You’ve got a big cut.”

  Alicia held out her right hand to check. Maggie saw a slash on the side oozing blood.

  “It’s nothing. Doesn’t even hurt. I’ll just cover it.” Alicia took a hand towel that was draped on the chair and quickly
wrapped it around the wound. She glanced around. “Where’s Nora Lynch? I thought she was already on the set?”

  Before anyone could answer, a young woman wearing a dark blue windbreaker with a red cross symbol on the back ran up to Jennifer, obviously a medical technician of some kind.

  “Nora . . .please check Jennifer first,” Maggie heard Alicia say as she stepped aside so that Jen could be examined.

  Finally, the med tech turned to Alicia and examined her hand. “This is nasty,” Nora said, checking the cut. “I don’t think you need stitches, but I’ll put on a few butterflies.”

  She took out a box of first-aid supplies, cleaned the wound, and applied the bandage, while Jennifer looked on, holding two ice packs, one in each hand, apparently not feeling any aches or pains yet.

  Maggie turned to Suzanne. “Thank goodness no one was seriously hurt. Jennifer jumped under the table just in time. I don’t even want to think about what we could have just witnessed.”

  Suzanne quietly agreed. “It’s a miracle. Let’s not even think about it.”

  Before the friends could say more, Suzanne stumbled to one side and glanced over her shoulder. Someone had pushed her, and rather rudely, as they stomped by.

  Maggie caught sight of a tall man with broad shoulders and long, thick, silver-gray hair combed back straight from his forehead.

  “Is she hurt? Did anyone call an ambulance?” the silver-haired man shouted. “Out of the way! Idiots,” he grumbled.

  Just as quickly, he was gone, rushing toward the accident like a heat-seeking missile. Several more people followed in his wake, all talking into their headsets as they trotted after their leader.

  “Nick . . . for goodness’ sake, calm down. You’ll have another heart attack,” Jennifer greeted him.

  “That must be Nick Pullman.” Maggie could tell from Suzanne’s tone she was quite impressed.

  “He probably calls everyone an idiot. Or worse. I won’t take it personally,” Maggie whispered back.

  “Under the circumstances, I’ll let it slide this time, too,” Suzanne agreed.

  They watched Nick hover over Jennifer alongside Alicia. He conferred with Nora Lynch a moment, then spoke to his wife again. Although Maggie couldn’t hear what he said, it was obvious that he was trying to be certain she wasn’t hurt.

  He held her face in his hands and examined it with narrowed eyes and slow scrutiny. A gesture of cherishing adoration? Maggie wondered. Or was he checking his property for damage, as if she was an expensive car that had just been in a fender bender?

  What a cynical thought, Maggie scolded herself. Of course he’s worried about her safety. Anyone would be, and he’s her husband.

  The medical technician was dismissed and Jennifer was left with the ice packs.

  Maggie heard Jennifer laugh. “I guess you won’t be satisfied until I stick these on something. How about on you, Nick? You’re our fearless leader. You can use some epaulets.”

  Jennifer rose and draped an oblong blue ice pack on each of her husband’s shoulders. Then laughed.

  “Very funny.” He stared down at her, unsmiling. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?”

  Jennifer mocked an apologetic expression. “A little joke, honey. To lighten the mood? It was an accident. I’d rather get to work and forget all about it.”

  “We have to change the schedule now,” Nick replied sharply. “And find out who hooked up that equipment,” he barked at an assistant nearby. “I’m going to fire their ass.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Damn it . . . look at the time.” He glanced around at the crew, most of whom were staring at him, awaiting instruction. “Close this set and clear this mess away.”

  Several crew members had already started cleaning up, and a few followed Nick like confused goslings as he stomped off, his flock of assistant directors, Maggie guessed. She’d heard there would be a lot of them.

  “My oak table. I love that piece. I hope it’s not scratched. I bought it at a tag sale the same day I made the decision to open the shop,” she told Suzanne.

  “It’s going to have a few dings, no doubt. But you can have it refinished. It probably saved Jennifer Todd’s life. I’d say that gives the piece added value, scratches and all.”

  Before Maggie could respond, one of Nick’s underlings walked up to them, waving his hands. “Closing the set. The set is closed to everyone but cast and crew.” He looked straight at Maggie and Suzanne as he swept by.

  “Guess we’re being kicked out,” Maggie said quietly to her friend.

  “Looks that way.” Suzanne seemed reluctant, but moved along with the group headed for the door. Most wore press passes slung around their necks.

  A more persistent reporter had broken from the pack and clung to Nick Pullman, asking questions about the fallen fixture. He shook his head and walked on, without giving her a comment.

  Interesting, she thought. She turned to Suzanne, but her friend had disappeared.

  Drat . . . where did she go? She wouldn’t have left without me . . . would she?

  Maggie’s gaze swept the shop, suddenly finding Suzanne right next to Jennifer Todd’s chair. Chatting with Alicia and the actress like an old friend. In her inimitable Suzanne way.

  Maggie stared at her. Suzanne smiled and waved her over.

  She’s one in a million, that girl. That’s all I can say. Maggie would have laughed out loud, but didn’t want to draw attention to herself.

  “Jennifer, Alicia . . . this is Maggie Messina, owner of this beautiful shop and our fearless knitting leader.” Suzanne introduced her with a flourish.

  Jennifer extended her hand, looking sincerely interested to meet her. “Maggie . . . thank you so much for coming. We had a little accident with some equipment . . .”

  “We saw what happened. How awful for you. What a scare.”

  “Just a big mess.” Jennifer rolled her eyes briefly, as if the incident was nothing at all.

  “Does equipment fall down like that a lot on movie sets?” Suzanne asked.

  “Not usually, thank goodness.” Jennifer rose from her seat. “I’ve only seen that happen once before. On a very low-budget film . . . which this is most definitely not,” she added quietly, then laughed.

  “I’m glad you stuck around. I have loads of questions to ask you. But it’s a madhouse here now.” Jennifer glanced at the crew of gaffers, who had already started rigging new lights. “Can you come back to my trailer? We’ll have some privacy there.”

  Maggie met Suzanne’s bright gaze. She looked about to burst with pleasure, the edges of her smile spreading to her earrings.

  “We’d love to. Lead the way,” Maggie answered for both of them.

  A short time later, they had followed the star outside and another large security guard met them on the porch. Maggie saw Lucy, Dana, and Phoebe standing at the gate. They all waved when she looked their way.

  “Oh dear . . . I forgot all about them,” Suzanne gasped, and covered her mouth with her hand.

  “I did, too,” Maggie admitted. Understandably, in all the excitement. Lucy must have been asked to leave when the set was closed, and Dana and Phoebe probably never even made it inside. “Is something wrong?” Jennifer stopped and turned. She wore a white down coat draped over her shoulders and tugged the edges toward her chin.

  Maggie was about to say, “Nothing.” But Suzanne answered first. “Our friends . . . the rest of our knitting group. They’re dying to meet you. Could we just stop and say hello?”

  Jennifer smiled. “You have a real knitting group? I’d love to hear all about that. Ask them to join us. It will be fun.”

  Maggie was shocked at the star’s generosity. “It’s not too much of an intrusion? I’m sure you don’t have much time . . .”

  Suzanne jabbed her with an elbow. “Thank you so much! I know they’ll be thrilled.”

  “It’s fine. And will help me enormously. Even though I knit a lot on the set, I buy most of my materials online and I’ve never been par
t of a group. Or spent much time in knitting shops,” she admitted. “It will add so much to the role if I have more of a feeling for this character’s life—her routines and relationships.”

  “I can definitely help with that,” Maggie promised. All the while thinking how boring her life will seem compared to Jennifer Todd’s.

  Quiet and predictable. But that’s the way I like it. I doubt I would enjoy being a movie star, even if it was a possibility, she reminded herself.

  Right, Maggie, a little voice—a lot like Phoebe’s—chided her. Tell me another one . . .

  Everyone called the vehicle a trailer, but it was really a superluxury RV, quite daunting from the outside and even wider and more spacious inside than Maggie had expected. She felt as if she had entered a small, expensively furnished condo. Or maybe the cabin of a multimillion-dollar yacht.

  Alicia, who was working on the refreshments in a galley kitchen, smiled as Maggie and her friends entered and looked around, unabashedly in awe.

  “I’m just fixing some tea and snacks,” Alicia called out. “Does anyone want anything special?”

  “Don’t go to any trouble for us,” Maggie assured her.

  The actress had led them to a sitting area with a dark blue cushioned-back couch wrapped around the space in a U shape.

  A blond-wood coffee table, with a raised rim—so cups and glasses wouldn’t slide away if the trailer was moving?—was secured to the floor. Matching cabinets, flat-screen TV, and bookcases had been built in around and above the couch.

  “This is my own custom-fit trailer. I have someone drive it to locations for me, whenever possible. There’s already so much stress when we’re on location. It makes life easier to be in your own space.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Lucy said, gazing around.

  “Like a home away from home,” Dana added.

  “As much as it can be,” Jennifer replied.