Stars Collide

by Janice Thompson

  “Wow. This is cool.” I lifted one of the contracts, startled when I felt how heavy the pages were. “It was done on a typewriter.”

  He glanced at it. “These belong in a museum somewhere, Kat. They’re antiques.”

  “No kidding.” I sneezed as I pulled out a couple of hankies. Dust particles floated in the air. Digging a little further, I came out with Grandma’s old hairbrush and mirror set. My thoughts immediately sailed to Candy, and I wondered how she was doing today.

  Scott knelt next to me, looking over a newspaper clipping.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  He read the headline. “ ‘Lenora Worth, Hollywood’s Hottest Ticket, on Hiatus between Movies.’ ” He looked up at me and shrugged.

  “Interesting.”

  “I guess if I filmed a movie, I’d want to take a break afterward. I’m sure she was exhausted.”

  “True.” I nodded. “But look at this,” I said, pressing the paper into Scott’s hands. “It’s dated 1957. According to this article, Grandma disappeared off the Hollywood radar for several months near the end of that year.”

  “Maybe she was just worn out. Needed a break. Stranger things have happened.”

  “Maybe.” Though I couldn’t help but feel that he was wrong this time. “Maybe she had a breakdown of some sort.” Suddenly I realized what must have happened. “Oh, silly me. My mom was born in ’57. Grandma was on hiatus because she was a new mother.”

  “Well, that explains that.” He held up another newspaper, turning it so I could see. “Look, this is a picture of your mom as a newborn. This is dated November of ’57.”

  I clutched the paper, thrilled. “I’ve never seen this picture before, Scott. Look how cute she was. And look how gorgeous Grandma was!”

  “Wow. She was pretty done up for a new mom.”

  “She’s always been into the glitz and glam.”

  I reached for another paper, scanning the society page. “Oh, Scott, look. This one’s about my grandfather.” Sad thoughts came through my mind as I thought about him. Grandma might have forgotten about him, but my memories—at least the things I’d been told—were still fresh. “From what I hear, he was a wonderful man. He died at a young age.”

  “Oh, wow.” Scott’s eyes widened. “Think about that. Your grandmother has lost two of the people nearest to her—a husband and a daughter. She’s been through the ultimate pain a wife or parent can withstand.”

  A lump rose in my throat as I pondered how sad that must feel. Still, I didn’t want to turn this into a grief counseling session. I’d been through enough emotions this week already.

  Scott read the opening of the article aloud. “ ‘Jonathan Billings, husband of the elusive Lenora Worth, was killed in action today in South Korea.’” Scott looked up, wrinkles forming in his brow. “Korea. Odd. I knew we had military presence in South Korea for years after the war, but I never thought about anyone being over there in the late ’50s.”

  I nodded. “Must’ve been. I always heard that he died in South Korea.”

  “Interesting.”

  I reached for the newspaper, reading the rest of the obituary. “Billings leaves behind his wife and three-month-old daughter. Funeral services will be closed to the public.”

  “I was hoping to see a picture of him,” Scott said. “I want to see if you look like him.”

  “I’m sure we’ll find one in here.” I scrambled through the trunk, looking for something, anything, that might give me more information about him. “Maybe she has a wedding album or something buried in here. I always figured she was so grief stricken after losing him that she buried all of that stuff in here. Out of sight, out of mind.”

  Scott nodded. “Probably.”

  I didn’t come up with a photo album, but I felt a stack of envelopes near the bottom of the trunk. “What is this?” Pulling them out, I frowned.

  “Letters.” Scott nodded. “Maybe from your grandfather?”

  “Likely.” I stared at the return address, a bit confused. “They were mailed from Los Angeles, though. Weird. Must’ve been written when he was on leave from the military.” I opened the first letter and marveled at the beautiful stationery and excellent penmanship. The note was dated August 15, 1958. “Oh, Scott, it’s a love letter.” My eyes skimmed the note. “Really sweet. Oh, I’m so glad to see these.” My heart swelled with joy at this find. Finally I might learn something of the man I’d only heard about from others. I could read his words. Share his thoughts through these letters.

  I skimmed a couple of the letters, tears coming to my eyes. The depth of his feelings for my grandmother completely blew me away. A feeling of wholeness flooded over me as I realized how deeply in love they must have been.

  A puzzled look crossed Scott’s face. He turned over one of the envelopes, giving it a closer look. “Wait. What was that date again?”

  “August 15.”

  He held up the newspaper. “This story about your grandfather’s death was dated February of that year. The love letters came after that.”

  “W-what?” I rose and began to pace the room, reading the love letter again. “No, that’s got to be a mistake. These are from him. They have to be.”

  “Hmm.” Scott released a breath.

  Any feelings of joy I’d felt washed away as I read the words in the letter. Deep, passionate words. Intimate words. Signed only with the phrase “Your Sweetheart.” I knew in my gut who had written them . . . but how could Grandma Lenora turn to another man for comfort so soon after losing her husband? It just didn’t seem right. And if she and Rex were willing to share their feelings so openly in these letters, why had they remained apart all these years? Something was definitely amiss here. Probably a misprint in the paper. Wrong year, likely.

  At that moment a car’s horn sounded, and I nearly came out of my skin. I glanced out of the window. “Oh, man. They’re home. Help me get this stuff back in here, Scott.”

  We quickly pressed most of the items back into the trunk and Scott turned the key in the lock. I held on to a couple of the letters, unwilling to let go of the feelings that now gripped me. Yes, Grandma certainly had a lot of explaining to do. But would her memories allow it? Did I even want to go there?

  I pressed the letters and the key into my pocket, then raced down the stairs with Scott on my heels. Just as we arrived in the great room, Grandma Lenora entered, her arms full of packages.

  “There’s a sale at Saks!” she proclaimed. “It’s my lucky day! Wait till you see the beautiful blue dress I bought for your wedding, KK!” She paused and gave me a funny look. “You okay, honey?”

  “S-sure.”

  “Okay. You look a little pale. Maybe you need to eat.”

  “Oh, we ate some of the sweet rolls Carolina left for us. Besides, I’m trying not to overeat today. Scott’s parents are coming for dinner tonight, remember?”

  “Scott?” Grandma looked confused, then seemed to shake it off, her face lighting up with a smile. “We invited Dino too, right?”

  “Well, I’m afraid he won’t be able to make it, Grandma. He has a, um . . . another engagement.”

  She looked disappointed. “Such a shame. I guess we’ll just have to play one of his records. I have The Best of Dean Martin on an LP.”

  I wasn’t sure what an LP was but took her word for it.

  “So, tell me about your shopping day.” I directed my attention to Carolina, who rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t ask,” she muttered.

  “Oh, I had the time of my life,” Grandma interjected. “We went to Saks, like I said. Then on to several other stores. On the way home we stopped at Whole Foods to pick up some goodies for tonight. Jack’s parents are coming, you know.”

  Didn’t I just say that?

  Scott nodded but didn’t say a word, God bless him.

  “I could spend hours in their bread department,” Grandma raved. “I’ve never smelled or tasted such divine bread products.”

  I smiled. “Glad you had
fun. What else did you do?”

  “She took me to every bridal store in town,” Carolina said, flashing me a warning look. “I tried to talk her out of it, Kat, but she bought all sorts of things.”

  “Oh, just a few little trinkets,” Grandma said with a grin.

  “Trinkets?” Carolina crossed her arms at her chest. “Tell the truth, Lenora. You bought the girl her wedding china.”

  “W-wedding china?” Surely I’d misunderstood.

  Scott looked at me, stunned. “We have wedding china?”

  “You do now!” Grandma Lenora laughed. “Oh, I hope you like it, KK. I picked it out myself. It’s very much like the pattern I loved back when . . . well, a long time ago. Don’t be mad, honey. I only bought two place settings. Your guests can buy the rest.”

  My mind reeled at the idea that she’d actually picked out and purchased wedding china. What else had she done?

  “I can’t wait to call Athena and tell her.” Grandma looked through one of the bags.

  “Athena?”

  “Well, sure. She’s your wedding planner, right? The one putting together all the details? She and the others at the studio, I mean. I’m so glad they asked for my input.”

  Ah. The writers. I guess they would look like wedding planners to Grandma.

  “I’ve had such a nice time working with them,” she said. “Oh, it’s lovely to be included.”

  Carolina muttered something indistinguishable then began to carry bags of stuff up the stairs. Shaking her head, she turned to me. “Kat, listen. I did everything in my power to convince her not to buy all of this stuff, but she wouldn’t listen. She never listens.”

  “Oh, pooh.” Grandma waved a hand, dismissing her. “What’s the harm in having a little fun? At my age, I figured I’ve earned it.”

  “A little fun? You spent a fortune, Lenora.”

  “Have a fortune, spend a fortune . . . what’s the difference? It’s there for a reason. I might as well use it. Can’t take it with me. There won’t be any bank accounts in heaven, you know!”

  “Yes, but you don’t need to be spending your hard-earned money on me,” I argued.

  At this, my grandmother turned, disappointment etched on her face. “Oh, but I love spending money on you, KK.” She faced Scott. “And you too, Jack. It’s the least I can do, after all you two have done for me. So I did a little shopping. So what?”

  From the stairs, Carolina let out a grunt. “See what I’m up against?” she said. “I talk, she doesn’t listen. What we’ve got here is failure to communicate.”

  “Oooh, let me take this one.” Scott looked at Grandma, his eyes bright. “Cool Hand Luke . . . Can’t remember the name of the guy who said it.”

  Grandma, Carolina, and I all spoke in unison: “Strother Martin. 1967.”

  “Thanks. I needed that.” Scott flashed a boyish grin, which made my heart flutter.

  Carolina disappeared up the stairs and Grandma walked to the little table to grab a sweet roll. After taking a nibble, she turned our way. “So, what did you two kids do while I was gone?” she asked. “KK, did you show Jack around the gardens to make sure he likes the setup for the reception?”

  I drew in a deep breath and silently counted to ten. If I didn’t overreact, maybe she would walk away and forget she’d even brought up the wedding at all. This was getting tougher every day.

  Thankfully Scott was quick on his feet. He turned to me. “Kat, let’s do that now. A walk in the gardens sounds great.”

  “I agree.” I took his arm and he led me outside. As we strolled down the cobblestone pathway gazing at the beautiful flowers, I became distracted by the obvious. I reached into my pocket, coming out with one of the letters.

  Scott gestured to one of the concrete benches and we sat together, reading the beautifully scripted words of the first letter. I couldn’t help but marvel at the handwriting.

  “The letters aren’t signed with a name, so we don’t know for sure who wrote them,” he said.

  I pursed my lips and gave him a knowing look. “Scott. Read this one. Do you see the reference to the pink sweetheart roses?”

  He sighed.

  “Rex wrote them all right. And those dried roses in the steamer trunk? They’ve got to be from him too. I’m going to get to the bottom of this if it kills me.”

  Scott took my hand. “That’s what I’m worried about, Kat. You’re the most persistent person I know. And you like to keep at things until you figure them out. But this is much bigger than us. Maybe it’s not meant to be figured out.”

  “That sounds like a line from a movie.” I folded the letter and put it back in its envelope.

  “Maybe it is. I don’t know. I just know that you’ve got to be careful how you handle this. People could get hurt.”

  A little sigh escaped, followed by a whispered, “I know.”

  “Playing with real lives is a whole lot different from coming up with a great script for a show. We can’t push these players around on the stage. And besides, God’s the director here, not you. Not me. He’s got this under control.”

  I closed my eyes and drew in a breath. “Thanks. I needed that.”

  Scott slipped an arm over my shoulders and whispered, “You’re welcome. I love you, Kat.”

  Ah, those magic words! They not only lifted my spirits, they reminded me that love really did conquer all, even in tough situations like this.

  After a little more conversation, we walked back in the house to find Grandma easing her way down the stairs. She moved slowly, favoring her hip, which appeared to be bothering her more today than usual.

  She looked our way and frowned. “Did you see what that naughty kitty did in my room while I was gone?”

  My heart gravitated to my throat. “N-no. What did he do?”

  She clucked her tongue. “Pulled the afghan off of my trunk. Don’t know how he did it, but he managed to get it onto the bed. Pretty talented cat, that one! Maybe he should be in commercials.” She went on to talk about a cat she’d seen in a Meow Mix commercial.

  “Ah.” I shook my head and looked at Scott, who shifted his gaze to a photo on the wall. I didn’t want to be deceptive, but neither did I feel led to tell my grandmother I’d been snooping in her things.

  “Oh well. Fiddle-dee-dee!” Grandma paused on the steps, a smile lighting her face. She stood there, waiting for my inevitable response to the line she’d just delivered. Only one problem—I didn’t want to play along today. I really didn’t.

  On the other hand, if I refused to join in, we’d be standing here until the sun came down. I’d just opened my mouth to give the answer when Carolina’s agitated voice rang out from one of the rooms upstairs: “Vivien Leigh. Gone with the Wind. 1939. And if this little guessing game doesn’t stop soon, I’m going to snap like a twig.”

  Yep. I couldn’t have put it any better myself.

  14

  Keeping Up Appearances

  Though I tried to squelch my roller-coaster-like emotions, much of Saturday was spent fuming. Even Carolina noticed my sour mood. She watched from the door of my room as I slammed dresser drawers in search of something to wear when Scott brought his parents over for dinner. I sensed her gaze but did my best to ignore it. Until I turned and faced her head-on.

  “Something wrong, Kat?” The look of concern on her face clued me in to the fact that my behavior surprised her. It surprised me too. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this knotted up. The information Scott and I had gleaned this morning left my head reeling.

  I plopped down onto the bed, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Did you ever think you knew someone, only to find out you really didn’t?”

  Carolina grunted. “My ex-husband. Enough said?”

  As she settled onto the bed next to me, I reached to touch her hand. “I’m sorry about your ex-husband, Carolina. I’d forgotten you were divorced.”

  “Twenty years now. Seems like just yesterday we were dukin’ it out in divorce court.”

  S
ounded gruesome. “Well then, maybe you’re the best candidate to answer this question. How did you live with him for so long, not really knowing him?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s easy,” she said. “He was a phony.”

  “A phony?”

  “Yes. The great pretender. Living two lives. Acting like he was perfectly happy with me, but spending time with someone else too.” She shook her head. “Trust me, honey. We were ideal candidates for the Jerry Springer show. Lots of drama.”

  “Ugh.” I thought of my father. From what I’d gathered, he’d pretty much been the same as Carolina’s ex. How long had my mother known he was involved with another woman? Did he go on pretending that he wanted to be part of our lives, only to secretly want someone else?

  This thought led me right back to my grandmother and her carefully hidden relationship with Rex. I wanted to pick up the phone and call him, to ask for details. With those letters as ammunition, I could surely drag the truth out of him.

  Or not.

  A couple of deep breaths later, I was reminded of Scott’s calming words. This battle wasn’t mine. Only the Lord could handle something this big. Still, I felt the need to get to the bottom of all this. Surely the Almighty wouldn’t be put off by my need to know. Right?

  Carolina’s troubling words interrupted my thoughts. “Something kind of sad happened this morning.”

  “Oh?” I glanced her way.

  “Lenora called me the wrong name.”

  “Really? What did she call you?”

  “Hazel.” Carolina’s eyes filled with tears. “Doesn’t that just break your heart?”

  “Wait. Who’s Hazel?”

  “She was a housekeeper on a television show in the ’60s,” Carolina explained. “Played by Shirley Booth, one of the funniest ladies in television history.”

  “I’m sorry, Carolina.” I reached to give her a hug. “I know that must’ve been hard.”

  “Harder than you think,” Carolina said. “Hazel was always getting in trouble, causing all sorts of mischief. You don’t think I’m like that, do you, Kat?”

  “Heavens, no. You’re the glue that holds this house together,” I said.

  “No.” She shook her head and pointed up. “He’s the glue that holds this house together. I just do the mopping.”