Love's Encore Series (Books One and Two)

by Miranda MacLeod

  Armed with her list, Cecily stood in front of Josh Cunningham’s office on Monday morning, her foot tapping nervously against the floor.

  “Cecily, how was your trip home?” Josh greeted her warmly. “Have you come to drop off that new contract?”

  “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Cecily replied, pulling Helen’s document from her bag. “I had my lawyer take a look, and there are just a few adjustments I need to make.”

  “Lawyer?” A cloud darkened Josh’s face. “I thought we’d already worked everything out with Jonas.”

  Cecily nodded resolutely, fighting the urge to sign the contract and slink back to her trailer. It would have been so much easier just to agree to what her agent had worked out. But the more she’d thought about it, the more resolute she became that she couldn’t continue to live under those terms. She couldn’t go on, unable to acknowledge her relationship with Rorie in public, afraid to hold her hand in a restaurant, or invite her to spend a weekend in Portland.

  The popularity of her character had surprised her, especially since the show’s demographic skewed young, and it had also made her think. If young people were watching her and looking up to her as a role model, she wanted them to know who she was. She didn’t want to be just another actress rumored to be dating Brad Perris. She wanted everyone to know that she was lucky enough to have found the love of her life, and to maybe help a few young women out there who were struggling like she once had to know that you could be true to yourself and be happy.

  “Josh, the truth is that if I had fully understood some of the finer points of the contract that Jonas negotiated, I never would have agreed to it. I’m an actor, so what you want my character to do, I’ll do. No questions. If you think pairing up a seasoned FBI agent with a hunky rookie cop is the right thing for the story, I’m fine with that. Even if I think it's nuts. But that’s where it ends.” Cecily drew in a shaky breath and continued. “No more fake dates and paparazzi. No more encouraging the tabloids to lie about my personal life to create a buzz about the show. I’m a lesbian. If the tabloids want something to talk about, they can talk about that. I can’t sneak around and pretend that my girlfriend doesn’t exist for God knows how many seasons just so that the studio can sell a lie about me to boost ratings.”

  Josh stared at her while Cecily held her breath, her hands trembling. “I see,” he said. “You sound serious about this.”

  Cecily nodded. “I am. Here.” She handed him the list of contract revisions. “I love being here. I want to continue, but only if the studio can agree to a few changes.”

  Josh took the paper from her and studied it silently. Then he nodded. “Okay, well… I’ll take this to the senior executives at the meeting tomorrow and see what they say.”

  He put out his hand and Cecily gave it a firm shake, feeling a surge of confidence in herself even if she wasn’t at all certain what the outcome of her request would be. As she walked back to her trailer, her insides were quaking. This was the biggest job she’d ever had, maybe the biggest role she would ever land in her entire career, and she’d put it all on the line. She hadn’t realized she was capable of it until that moment, especially when she had this job to thank for being able to take care of herself. Win or lose, she’d stood up for herself and her beliefs, and she was willing to live with whatever consequences came along as a result. Probably unemployment. She couldn’t help but whisper a little prayer: Please let them say yes.

  Cecily was lounging on the couch in her trailer the next day, reading her lines for the next scene, when Rachel burst through the door.

  “You’re never going to believe what I just overheard!”

  Cecily plucked the reading glasses from the bridge of her nose and looked up expectantly. “What is it?”

  “I just came from delivering photocopies to the board room where the studio bigwigs are meeting, and it looks like they’ve decided to drop the whole romance story arc with you and Brad.”

  Cecily swallowed nervously. “But they’re keeping my character? I’m not getting written off or something, am I?”

  Rachel grinned. “No, not at all! Here’s the really great part. When I got there, they were talking about the idea of giving Laura a girlfriend!”

  Cecily felt her heart start to beat faster with excitement. “You mean, they might make my character a lesbian?” Her eyes widened as Rachel nodded. “Oh my God! Laura’s really popular with the fans. This could be such a great opportunity to be a role model.” Tears stung the corners of her eyes and she wiped them with her fingers, laughing. “I really didn’t expect they’d do this!”

  “Some of the execs were impressed by the way you stood your ground.”

  “I was terrified, but I’m so glad I did.” She drew in a quick breath as reality sank in. “And I still have a job! I have to call Rorie and let her know.” She picked up her phone and dialed. “Sweetheart?” she said when Rorie answered. “I’ve got good news. How would you like to come visit me on the set sometime?”

  After she hung up the phone, Cecily took a deep, cleansing breath and smiled. A weight had been rolled away from her chest. The worries that had plagued her most over the past week were resolved. She’d done what she needed to do to put her relationship with Rorie first, and had managed to keep her job in the process. Her son had a safe place to live and the person she trusted most was looking out for him. Life felt pretty good, except for one lingering concern: Rorie’s mother.

  Cecily opened the email Tyler had sent her with Francis Mulloy’s San Diego address, weighing her options. It could take Cecily months of research on her own to figure out Grace Mulloy’s game. Even then, it might be hard to convince Rorie, and in the meantime she was vulnerable to whatever scams this woman might be trying to pull while Cecily looked on, helpless, from a thousand miles away. But there was one person who would know for certain if this woman was for real: Francis Mulloy. Cecily grabbed a pen and paper from her desk drawer and began to write.

  Chapter 19

  The succulent smell of roasting turkey permeated the house. Rorie inhaled deeply and her stomach rumbled. The brine-soaked bird was cooking to perfection in its pan without even the need to baste. The side dishes were labeled and stacked in their aluminum pans, ready for heating. A quick glance at the instructions from the caterer—because no way was she cooking this monstrous meal herself—told her that everything was going according to schedule for serving dinner when Cecily arrived.

  Rorie felt a peacefulness inside that had been lacking when Cecily was in town the month before. Maybe it was because only two weeks had passed since they’d seen each other this time. With Cecily’s new contract in place, a weekend visit to Portland had been no problem at all. Cecily had given her a tour of the set and introduced her to the whole cast and crew. They’d gone out for dinner on Saturday night and requested the same table at Castagna’s where Cecily had sat before, the one with the perfect view for the paparazzi. Her cheeks flushed at the memory. They may have gotten slightly carried away providing fodder for the tabloid stories. One look at Rhonda’s face when she got back to work on Monday told her that those photos most definitely had made front page news.

  The distance between LA and Portland still wasn’t ideal, but it was much more manageable when it was the only obstacle. Rorie thought there might even be an opportunity on another show that was filming up there soon, if she decided to pursue it. And they’d worked out a regular schedule for making phone calls so they hadn’t had nearly as many missed connections. She was still eager to live with Cecily full time, but the situation was much better than before.

  The clinking of plates and silverware as Tyler set the table for dinner in the next room reminded Rorie that that, too, was going well. Ever since his mother had threatened him with exile in Orange County, Tyler had become a reformed tenant. Not only did he no longer leave his dishes in the sink, he’d started doing the yard work to help pay his rent, and pitching in with other jobs, too. It had never occurr
ed to Rorie how many benefits there could be to having a young man around the house, but every time she came home to find trash bins already lugged to the curb or rose bushes freshly trimmed, she became more sold on the concept. Plus, it was nice to have someone to watch old movies with.

  Life was good, and the only real disappointment was that her mother wouldn’t be joining them for dinner tonight. During the second week of her visit to LA, Grace had been called back to Minnesota to take care of a business emergency. Rorie had been heartbroken to see her go. In Cecily’s absence, having her mother suddenly back in her life had made Rorie feel safe and cared for. Just as she’d never realized the benefits of having kids until Tyler came to live with her, she’d only discovered how much she’d missed by not having a mother once hers had come back into her life. She could only hope the loan she’d given her mother would make it possible for her to straighten out her business affairs and come back for another visit soon.

  Rorie fidgeted as she thought of the check she’d written to Grace. It wasn’t everything she had, but it had been enough for her accountant to raise an eyebrow. That’s why she hadn’t mentioned it to Cecily. She knew Cecily wouldn’t approve. Her girlfriend no longer voiced her concerns on the topic, but Rorie knew her suspicions lingered. Rorie didn’t doubt that helping her mother with her business had been the right thing to do, but she didn’t necessarily feel like justifying her actions. Even though they were a couple, they didn’t share a household or finances. It was no more Cecily’s business what Rorie did with her money than it had been her business when Cecily was clipping coupons instead of delving into her sizable investment portfolio to pay for her groceries. If she wants to tell me what to do with my money, she's going to have to commit to living with me first.

  The doorbell rang and Rorie chuckled. Cici still didn’t feel comfortable using her key to let herself in, so being ready to move in together was probably still a ways away. Rorie was usually fine with giving her time. Except when she wasn’t. But she would try to be today because it was a celebration of the family they were starting to become, and their places of residence didn’t matter when it came to that.

  She threw the door open eagerly, but when she saw the strange expression on Cecily’s face, the pit of her stomach went cold and lumpy. “Cici? What is it?”

  “Don’t be mad at me, okay?” A deep furrow creased Cecily’s brow.

  Rorie arched an eyebrow hesitantly. “Why would I be mad?”

  “I brought someone with me.”

  Rorie felt confused. Why would that make her angry? “Okay. It would’ve been nice if you’d warned me, but I’m sure there’ll be plenty of food.”

  “Not to eat. To talk. He’s waiting in the car.”

  Rorie eyes darted to the street where Cecily’s car was parked. She saw the outline of a man in the front passenger’s seat, a profile she hadn’t seen in more than twenty years but recognized immediately. Her heart lurched against the walls of her ribcage. Still, she couldn’t believe it was him. “Cici, is that—”

  “It’s your father. Please, please don’t be mad. He needs to talk to you.”

  In her shock, Rorie didn't have the capacity for anger. She felt nothing inside but a numb tingling. Her mind had gone completely blank. “I don’t…I don’t…Why is he here?”

  “Because I asked him to be. He needs to tell you something very important, okay? Can we all go inside so you can talk?”

  Rorie nodded dumbly. Externally she was composed, but her thoughts were a whirlwind within. Has someone died? Is he dying? Oh God, he has cancer. He needs a kidney? Her father had turned his back on her when she was eighteen years old. What else but his own imminent mortality could bring him around now? Rorie lowered herself onto a chair in the living room and braced herself as Cecily went out to the car. When she saw him hovering in the doorway, her breath rushed out and only at that moment did she realize she’d been holding it.

  “Come in, Pop. Sit down.” She was amazed at how calm her voice sounded.

  He shuffled inside, looking warily at her as he did. She’d never seen him look so hesitant, or so old. That’s what struck her the most as she watched him—how old he looked. Last time she’d seen him, he’d still been in the military, with a head of thick red hair and a back so straight it looked like someone had put a metal rod down his spine. He’d been larger than life. Now his hair was thinner and faded to a rosy blond. His shoulders stooped just a bit even as he tried to push them straight. She made a quick calculation in her head and realized with a start that he’d turned seventy-one this year. She’d never believed that the great Flip Mulloy could age.

  “So, why are you here, Pop? What’s so important that you drove all the way from—I’m sorry. I don’t even know where you’re living these days.”

  “San Diego,” he said as he eased his stiff joints into the other chair.

  “Oh, yeah? That makes sense. Lot’s of retired servicemen there.” It struck her as ridiculous that she was making small talk at a time like this, but it relieved the tension.

  He nodded. “There’s a base with a commissary, so I get all my groceries there for a steal.”

  Rorie smiled politely, remembering her father’s lifelong obsession with getting good deals on the base. Between that and Cecily’s passion for coupons, they probably had a lot to talk about on the drive over. “But, you didn’t come all the way here to talk about how cheap the pineapple is in the commissary…”

  He straightened up as much as he could. “No. No, I came to show you this.”

  Rorie reached out and took an envelope from his hand, willing her fingers not to shake as she raised the flap and looked inside. There were three photographs. Two were black and white, and the third had that reddish tint of color prints from the early nineteen-seventies. A woman stared out at her from the first photo, and it was like her own face looking out at her from the page.

  She looked at her father questioningly. “What is it?”

  “It’s your mother’s high school portrait, from her senior year.”

  Trembling, she held up the next. It was the same woman, but taken a few years later, and she was holding a baby. They were both looking at the camera, and even in black and white, their eyes were identical in the way they reflected the light.

  “That’s you and your mom.”

  The final photo was the color one, with this woman standing by a lake. She was holding the hand of an impossibly young incarnation of Rorie’s father, and beside her was a child of about three years of age, with black ringlets pulled into a ponytail and skin the same dusky shade as the woman whose hand curved around her tiny shoulder.

  “This was the summer we went to the lake.” Rorie’s voice caught in her throat as the memories flooded back. “We stayed at a cabin. We caught a fish and Mama fried it for supper.” She felt a rush of warmth as she closed her eyes and saw her mother clearly in her mind, standing at the cabin’s old fashioned stove while she lowered the breaded fish into a giant cast iron skillet.

  “That’s right. You weren’t even in preschool yet, but you were determined to reel that fish in yourself.” He chuckled lightly, then his face grew serious. “Is that…is that the woman who was here last month?” This time it was her father’s voice that trembled and broke.

  Rorie looked at the picture in her hand and felt a streak of hot wetness burn from the corner of her eye and down her cheek. She brushed it away with the back of her hand and blinked back the rest of the tears before they could fall. She took a ragged breath, swallowing hard to avoid it becoming a sob. “No.”

  No, the woman in these pictures was not the Grace Mulloy who had shown up at Rorie’s house on October. In fact, they looked nothing alike. The woman who claimed to be Grace Mulloy had shared a strong enough resemblance with Rorie to be noticeable, but the woman in these photographs might have been her twin. With a sinking heart it hit her: the woman she thought was her mother was an impostor. Cecily had been right, she’d been duped.

  �
�I really believed that she cared enough to come back. I guess I was wrong.”

  Her father sighed. “It’s not that she didn’t care.”

  “How can you say that? She left us! It was just a few months after that picture at the lake. How could she look so happy with us in that picture, and then just leave? How could she never come back?” Rorie’s throat felt swollen and she struggled to force the words out.

  “She didn’t want to go. She…had to.” Sorrow etched deep lines her father’s face.

  “You…know why she left? Do you know where she is? Have you known this whole time?”

  “This is so hard for me to tell you, but your mother was mentally ill. Seriously so. By the time we took that trip to the lake, it had already started. She’d have an episode, and she wouldn’t know where she was or what she was doing. She’d get scared, and sometimes violent. I was afraid that she’d hurt you.”

  Rorie stared at her father with icy eyes. “So, what—you just sent her away? You sent her away, and then you lied and blamed her. You made me think she’d abandoned us.”

  “No. I didn’t send her anywhere. But she needed help, and when they found out what was happening, her family stepped in. They could afford to give her the best care, but they wouldn’t do it as long as I was involved.”

  “I don’t think I understand.” Rorie’s brain was spinning. After so many years of nothing but questions, she hardly knew how to process so much information at once.

  “Your mother’s family were the Courvilles, one of the most prominent Creole families in New Orleans. And you can be certain some poor, scrappy Irish kid from Boston wasn’t exactly the match they had planned for her. But we fell in love and eloped, and there wasn’t much they could do about it until they found out about her illness. They offered a chance for her to get the help I couldn’t get her. I didn’t have a choice.”