Love's Encore Series (Books One and Two)

by Miranda MacLeod

  She and Tyler were in Westwood for the day. They'd had a late breakfast at a little place in Brentwood Village, then drove along Sunset Boulevard until they found the signs for UCLA's film school. Finding parking had been a battle that even Cecily, who had searched for parking in Manhattan on more than one occasion, didn't want to face again any time soon. Instead, she grabbed what she needed from the rental car and was determined to explore the area on foot as soon as Tyler was on his tour.

  “Okay, kiddo. You've got your folder and a pen?” Cecily asked as she and Tyler approached the building where the tour for prospective students would start.

  Tyler rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mom. I've got everything, I swear! A snack, clean underwear, the works!”

  He was nearly bouncing in place, and Cecily grinned at his enthusiasm. This was their fifth day on the west coast and they'd done some exciting things: visited Disneyland, gone to the beach, seen Hollywood, and toured the USC and Chapman University film schools. However, Tyler had reached a new level of excitement today, and it was pretty clear he was looking forward to experiencing this next adventure without his hovering mother.

  “Okay, smarty pants, fine. I can take a hint.” She tousled his hair. “I'll be back in a few hours.”

  “No rush, Mom. Seriously!”

  She shook her head, smiling as she walked away. Her smile faded just a bit as it struck her how grown up he'd become. In less than six months he would graduate from St. George's Prep, and if things went the way he hoped, soon after that she'd be back on this campus, helping him move boxes into his college dormitory. Where had the time gone?

  She reached the northern tip of campus and looked across the street, where a gate marked the entrance to the exclusive neighborhood of Bel Air. She had little interest in seeing it, just a collection of oversized houses filled with snobs—so pretty much what she'd just left behind at home. She turned right, instead, and headed east toward the country club until she came to a neighborhood of tall leafy trees and quaint 1920s bungalows. She looked at the street sign, then touched her fingers to a slip of paper in her pocket.

  If she were honest, Cecily would have to admit that she'd looked the house up on the map while still in Connecticut. She couldn't help herself. She wanted to have an image of it in her mind, the house where Rorie lived. She'd even pulled up the street view on the computer and pretended to walk along the sun drenched street in front of Rorie's house while the snow fell outside her own. But she hadn't printed the directions, or made a specific plan for today. She'd simply decided to walk, and see where she ended up.

  She might as well have printed the map and made it easier on herself, because here she was, on the street where Rorie lived. Like the theater geek she was, she couldn't help but sing a few lines from that song from the musical My Fair Lady, even if anyone who passed by right now would think she was mad. Rorie would understand. The thought made her sadder than it should. She wouldn't be seeing her today, or ever again.

  She'd decided not to call, or tell Rorie she'd be in town. What was the point? Despite what Susan had told her about Rorie's tendency to run from relationships, Cecily knew this was different. Rorie wouldn't give her another chance. It was too late for that, and it would hurt too much to hear Rorie tell her so.

  Her gait slowed as she spotted the house on the opposite side of the street. It was white stucco with red Spanish tile on the roof, and an array of flowering bushes in the front. She glanced over casually, not wanting to stare. It was a Friday, and Rorie should be at work. Cecily only meant to walk past the house, take a quick glance, and be on her way.

  She saw a movement and her heart skipped a beat as she spotted a head with gleaming black braids bent over a rose bush near the front door. Adrenaline coursed through her body, making her fingertips tingle, as she watched Rorie turn in place to look across the street, like she already knew she was there.

  Maybe she did. It wouldn't be the first time Rorie Mulloy had read her mind.

  “Cici?” her alto voice called out from across the road. She used one hand to shade her eyes from the sun and the other to motion to her to cross the street. “Come here!”

  Cecily's heart was pounding in her ears, her breath shallow and labored. She tried to speak but no words came out. She felt faint and must have looked it too, because Rorie studied at her with concern.

  “I think we'd better go around to the back yard and sit down in the shade. Your southern blood got thicker in New England if you can't handle this mild heat.”

  Cecily followed her to the back yard, mute and feeling like she was in a dream. This wasn't what she'd planned at all. She sat down in a daze and Rorie told her she'd be back in a minute, then slid the glass patio door open and disappeared into the house. The backyard was lush, impossibly green for winter. It smelled of roses and gardenias, and rosemary in a ceramic planter that had grown to the size of a bush. She felt like she'd landed on another planet.

  “Here you go,” Rorie said, returning and setting two frosted glasses of iced tea on a little table between their chairs. She rooted around in her pocket for a moment and produced a dozen sugar packets, setting them, slightly crumpled, beside the glass. “Sugar, and a spoon. Sorry, I never did learn to like sweet tea, so you'll have to do it yourself.”

  Cecily tore open the packets all at once, dumping them in the tea and stirring. Her voice still eluded her, and the only sound was the metal spoon clinking between glass and ice. She raised the glass to her lips and took a sip, and was surprised that her hands trembled less than she expected. Rorie was remarkably calm, seeming to be not at all upset by the fact that she'd appeared out of nowhere on her doorstep. Or even surprised. It almost felt as if she'd been expecting her, and for the second time it occurred to Cecily to wonder if Rorie could see inside her head.

  “So, why don't you tell me why you're here?” Rorie directed when they'd sat a few minutes in silence.

  Another shot of nerves coursed through her. If she can read my mind, I wish she'd do it now. Cecily had arrived without a plan, and had no idea what to say, or even where to begin.

  “What would you like to hear about first?” she finally managed to say. “How Tyler and I are having a nice trip? He's on a campus tour right now, actually.” She took a sip of tea. “Or how Chet's moved out and we've filed for divorce? Or maybe I can tell you about that time I announced over the Thanksgiving turkey to two dozen dinner guests that I'm a lesbian.”

  Rorie had raised her own glass of tea to her mouth as Cecily started to speak, and she gagged at this point, her cheeks puffed out and iced tea dribbling from the corner of her lips. When she was able to speak, she replied between gales of laughter, “Why don't we start with Thanksgiving, if you don't mind.”

  Cecily smirked. “I thought you might say that.” She launched into the story of Thanksgiving, and filled her in on the rest besides, about Tyler's film school applications, and the audition she had at a recording studio in Long Beach the following day. “So it looks like I may be moving out this way, or at least coming for an extended stay. You asked why I was here, so that's the reason.”

  Rorie's brow wrinkled. “That's the only reason?”

  Cecily sighed. “I didn't expect you'd be home today, if that's what you mean. And I wasn't planning to call. I know you don't want to see me, and I really don't blame you. The truth is, you were right. I was scared. I didn't want anyone to know about us, not in college or at home. I didn't want to have to face whatever people would think and say.”

  “I'm glad you're being honest about it now.”

  “I am too. I'm sorry it was too late for us, but you don't have to worry. I'm not here to ask for another chance. That wouldn't be fair.”

  Rorie tilted her head to one side and looked at her with those piercing blue eyes that made her tremble.

  “Well, I wasn't expecting you to say that.”

  Cecily looked at her in surprise. “You weren't? What were you expecting? And while we're at it, why are you home today? It'
s like you knew I was coming.” Cecily narrowed her eyes. “Unless you're psychic.” She was only half joking.

  Rorie chuckled. “No, silly. I got a call from my friend at UCLA a few days ago to tell me Tyler was signed up for a tour. I wrote his letter of recommendation, remember? They thought I might want to come and say hello. So I took the day off. I'll admit I was hoping you might come by or call.”

  “But why would you want to see me?”

  Rorie looked at her with confusion. “It's like I said in my note.”

  “What note?” Cecily felt equally confused.

  “The one I left on the pillow the morning I flew back to LA. Next to the watch, which you obviously found because I see you're wearing it.”

  Cecily touched the watch on her wrist. “There wasn't a note. Just this. The message was pretty clear that I'd run out of time.”

  Rorie's eyes widened. “But that's not … I did leave … Wait. You figured you had nothing to gain from it, but you're divorcing Chet and you came out to your family—why?”

  Cecily shrugged. “Because it was what I needed to do.”

  Rorie's eyes glistened. “I am so unbelievably proud of you right now.”

  “Thanks, I … Wait.” Something Rorie had said before echoed in her mind. “You left a note?”

  Rorie grinned. “Yes! Of course I did. I could never just leave you like that.”

  “But Susan said—never mind. It doesn't matter. What did the note say?”

  Rorie gave her a coy look. “Uh uh. I'm not going to tell you yet. First, I want you to tell me why I should give you another chance. If I were inclined to, that is.”

  Cecily raised her eyebrows, feeling a surge of hope. “Are you inclined to?”

  Rorie shrugged, grinning. “Maybe. But I might need convincing. You're getting a divorce and you've come out to your family, so that's a good start. Plus, you're thinking of moving west, which I'll admit is very convenient for me. But how do I know you won't cave the next time you come across some mean girl bullies, and go right back to the way you were? Because this is Hollywood, Cici. People like Polly Schroeder are everywhere here.”

  At the mention of Polly's name, Cecily burst into a fit of laughter. “Oh, God, Rorie. Do I have a story for you …”

  Rorie arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “Yes, but I'm not going to tell you yet.”

  Rorie smirked. “Oh, is that right?”

  “Yes. I'll only tell you if you agree to have dinner with me tonight.”

  Rorie nodded. “I guess that's fair.” She glanced down at her wrist, and wrinkled her brow to find it bare. “Wait, what time is it?”

  Cecily glanced at her own wrist. “Almost three.” She studied the watch for a minute, biting her lip, then slipped it off and handed it to Rorie. “Here. Maybe you should hold onto this.”

  Rorie took the watch and slipped it onto her wrist, then looked into Cecily's eyes. “Thanks. I really missed it. Among other things.” She stood and stretched. “So, they're expecting me over at the film school campus to meet with some prospective student, name's Tyler Parker, I think. I hear he's very talented. You wanna walk over with me?”

  “Funny,” Cecily said. “I was just heading that way. So, you meet with a lot of prospective students?”

  “Nah, but I hear his mom's this really hot actress. I couldn't pass up the chance to see her.”

  Cecily laughed. “So, you gonna tell me what was in the note you left?”

  “Nope.” Rorie walked toward the gate to the front yard.

  Cecily followed. “You're not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

  “Nothing worthwhile is easy,” Rorie replied. “Besides, this way is much more fun.”

  The End

  Your Name in Lights

  Your Name in Lights

  By

  Miranda MacLeod

  Your Name in Lights

  By Miranda MacLeod

  Copyright © 2016 Miranda MacLeod

  All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  Find out more:

  www.mirandamacleod.com

  Contact the author:

  miranda@mirandamacleod.com

  Chapter 1

  The shrill buzzing of the front doorbell set Cecily’s pulse racing. Bolting up from the half-emptied cardboard moving box at her feet, she dashed to the entryway of her new one-bedroom bungalow, a broad grin on her face as her bare feet scurried across the cool Spanish tile. Through the peephole, she could just make out the form of a woman in dressy black shorts and a tank top squinting from behind oversized sunglasses at the empty space on the mailbox where Cecily had not yet had the chance to write her name.

  “Rorie!” She wrenched the door open and half-tumbled, half-flew into the woman’s arms.

  “You’re really here!” Rorie sounded as if she could barely believe it was true. She pushed the sunglasses on top of her braided hair, then squeezed Cecily tightly to her chest, kissing her deeply.

  Cecily pressed her lips together, savoring the lingering taste of Rorie’s kiss, as she pulled back to look at her. “How do you do that? That’s exactly what I was just thinking!” Momentarily lost in glacier-blue eyes, Cecily felt a familiar tingle of adrenaline course through her, that heightened physical awareness that came over her whenever Rorie was near. “You’ve sworn that you can’t read my mind, but you do it over and over again.”

  “Did it really require psychic powers this time?” Rorie’s eyebrow arched, teasing. “The way the past six months have gone, you can hardly blame me for being surprised that we’re finally in the same place at the same time.”

  Cecily slumped her head against Rorie’s shoulder with a soft groan. “If I’d known when I left here in January that I wouldn’t be back until June, I never would’ve gotten on that plane. I had no idea it would take this long.”

  When she’d received the call from Grant Studios a few weeks after her audition offering her a role on a new animated children’s series, she could hardly believe her good fortune. Trading in snowbound Connecticut for a winter in sunny southern California seemed too good to be true. And, as it turned out, her doubts proved correct.

  There were schedule changes and production delays that dragged on well into March. A new producer came on board in mid-April, and for several bleak days it had looked like the whole deal would fall apart and leave Cecily stranded back at square one. When, at last, an assistant from the studio called to tell her to report to work after Memorial Day, she’d actually pinched herself to make sure it wasn’t just her imagination.

  “Well, I never dreamed that when you finally did get here, I’d have to be away. My show almost never films outside the city.” Rorie reached to tuck a stray lock of chestnut hair behind Cecily’s ear as she spoke. “I think this was the only week all year that I’ll have to be away, and the timing couldn’t have been worse.”

  Cecily’s body shivered as Rorie’s fingers lingered, teasing the sensitive flesh along the side of her earlobe. She wrapped one arm behind Rorie's neck, her fingers grasping a handful of thin black braids, and pulled Rorie toward her, over the threshold and into the house. She continued guiding Rorie’s head so that their lips touched, greedily kissing her until the movement of their bodies against the door caused it to latch shut behind them with a loud click that startled them apart.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t at the airport to meet you,” Rorie said in a husky voice just above a whisper.

  “It’s okay. The studio sent a car to pick me up—can you believe it?” Cecily’s eyes widened in delight at the memory of her VIP treatment.

  “Sure they did. You’re a Hollywood star now!”

  Cecily giggled. “I’m the voice of a squirrel on a kids’ cartoon. That's hardly the road
to fame and fortune, not that I'm interested in either. It’s not like I’m going to be nominated for an Emmy.”

  Rorie chuckled. “You never know. Just don’t let it all go to your head, my little diva.”

  “Fat chance!” Cecily scoffed. “They did their best to work me to death for the rest of the week.”

  “Uh-oh. The first week wasn’t so good, huh?”

  Cecily shrugged. “Actually, it wasn’t that bad. In fact, it was really exciting. Just exhausting, which is pathetic considering I only worked four days.”

  Rorie smiled sympathetically. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. This is your first real job. Working for a living takes some getting used to.”

  Cecily’s eyes lit up, suddenly reminded of the slim envelope she’d slipped into her purse the day before. “Speaking of earning a living,” she said with a grin, “guess who got her very first paycheck yesterday!” She grabbed her purse from a hook near the door and slung it over her shoulder. “Come on, I’m taking you out for dinner.”

  “Right now?” Rorie hooked Cecily’s purse strap with her finger and gave a tug, pulling her away from the door and into her embrace. “What’s the rush? I just got here, and you haven’t given me the grand tour yet.” There was a sultry tone to her voice as her gaze traveled slowly down Cecily’s body. “I’m dying to see what you’ve done with the bedroom.”

  The way Rorie moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue made Cecily’s core tremble. She swallowed hard, temptation overwhelming her and making the fancy dinner she’d planned seem less desirable by the second. “But I thought you’d want to eat out…um, I mean go out to eat,” Cecily amended quickly, her cheeks flushing with heat when she realized how that had sounded.