I wondered if that’s how life would be, should my relationship with Scott deepen over time. Would we become so comfortable that time would slip away from us? Would we one day be as old as his parents—or even my grandmother—and not even realize the passage of time because we’d been so busy enjoying each other?
Sounded like a great way to spend a life. I glanced his way, embarrassed at the depth of my ponderings. If he could see into my mind right now, what would he think? Would he want to sweep me away to Alma and bake me a lovely spinach pie? I grinned just thinking about it.
“You okay, Kat?” Scott asked, giving me a funny look.
I nodded, heat rising to my cheeks. “I’m great. But all this talk about food is really painful.” Rubbing my stomach, I added, “I’m already full to the brim.”
“We need to ask Carolina to do the catering at our fund-raiser,” Scott said. “She’s the best.”
“I’d be happy to,” Carolina said, entering the room with a tray in hand. “Just let me know what you’d like. I’ve catered many an event over the years.”
This led to a conversation about the fund-raiser.
“I want you to come back as my guests,” Scott said to his parents. “You can stay at my place this time.”
“But it’s only a couple of weeks from now, right?” his father asked.
“Two trips to L.A. in such a short period of time!” his mom said. “What a blessing.”
“If you come, you’ll get to meet someone really famous,” Scott said.
“Who’s that?” She leaned forward in anticipation.
“I’ve been thinking of asking Brock Benson to emcee.”
“Brock Benson?” Every woman in the room suddenly came to life, especially Carolina.
I could hardly believe it myself. “Do you think he’ll do it?” I asked.
“I think so.” Scott shrugged. “I’ve worked with him before. He’s a great guy.”
“And the hottest actor in Hollywood,” Carolina whispered. Scott threw her a look and she laughed. “Sorry, Scott. But this is Brock Benson we’re talking about. Have you seen his movies?” She went off into a lengthy discussion about his latest pirate film, and before long all of the women were swooning.
Scott laughed. “I know he’s very popular. He’s also a believer, and he’s been involved in inner-city outreach for the past couple of years. So I think he would be a great choice to emcee our fund-raiser. I met him a few months ago when I helped out at an after-school program he sponsors.”
“Still, I can hardly believe it.” Carolina fanned herself. “I’d better start shopping now. I want to look my best when I meet him.”
“And we will definitely come back in town for that,” Scott’s mother said. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
We convened to the great room, where Scott’s dad joined his wife in looking over every photograph on every wall. Around nine, Grandma began to yawn and I knew the time had come to wrap up this party. Besides, I still wanted to look over those letters I’d found. Couldn’t do that with a houseful of guests, now could I?
Scott must’ve noticed my grandmother’s weariness. He turned to her with a smile. “Well, Lenora, thank you so much for a wonderful evening. We’ve got quite a drive ahead of us to get my parents back to the hotel, and I know they’ve got an early morning.”
“I should get a little shut-eye,” my grandmother said. “I have a big audition in the morning.”
“You do?” Scott and I both turned to look at her. On Sunday?
“Yes, my agent called this morning. I’ll be reading for the starring role in a new movie . . . something about disco dancing.”
“Disco dancing?” We all spoke in unison.
“Yes.” Her brow furrowed. “Can’t remember the name of the kid they said would be playing the lead opposite me, though. John something. I think his last name started with a T.”
“Travolta?” Scott asked, his eyes widening.
“That’s it!” She snapped her finger. “A disco movie with John Travolta.”
“Would you by any chance be referring to Saturday Night Fever?” Scott’s father asked. “Because that movie—”
“Is destined to be a top seller,” Scott interjected. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about that Travolta kid.”
“Yes, he’s great on the dance floor, from what I understand.” Grandma yawned. “But if I don’t get some shut-eye, I’ll never feel like dancing in the morning.” She gave Scott’s parents a winsome look. “I am going to miss you both so much, though. Do you really have to leave?”
Charles nodded. “Yep. Gotta get back to the store.”
Nancy frowned. “I can’t believe the week is over. I’ve loved my time in L.A.”
Charles slipped his arm over her shoulders and nodded. “Guess I have to rethink my former position on Hollywood. It’s a great place. Why, everyone is just as normal as they are back home.” He glanced at an autographed photo of Charo on the wall and said, “Well, almost everyone.”
I laughed, and Scott gathered me into an embrace and pressed a light kiss onto my forehead.
“There are a lot of wacky people out here, to be sure,” Grandma said. “But I think you would be surprised at how many believers we know.”
Charles nodded. “Oh, I’m sure. The church is everywhere. Sometimes I lose sight of that, but the Lord is happy to remind me.”
“Hollywood is filled with praying people,” I echoed.
“Oh yes.” Grandma nodded. “There have always been prayer warriors in Hollywood. Why, the great Cecil B. DeMille once said, ‘I have found the greatest power in the world is the power of prayer.’ ”
“Wow.” Scott and his father both nodded.
“You memorized that quote, Lenora?” Scott asked.
“Memorized that quote?” She looked perplexed. “He shared that with a group of us over dinner one night. I’ll never forget it. We had just prayed for the meal and he looked me squarely in the eye and said it.”
Nancy glanced my way, a questioning look in her eye. I could read her thoughts: Is she serious, Kat?
This was a new one. Then again, the audition for Saturday Night Fever was a new one too. But who knew? Maybe Travolta was doing a remake and had asked for my grandmother to play an aging dance instructor. Stranger things had happened.
“Walk us out?” Scott asked.
I nodded. “Of course.”
Grandma took Scott’s father by the arm. “Do you like cars, Charles? I’d love to show you my babies on the way out. I’ve got a lovely Cadillac. And I’m sure you’ll appreciate my ’67 Mustang and the ’77 Camaro. Any of those sound interesting to you?”
“Do they!”
Everyone headed for the front door. I tagged along behind the others, lingering as I heard the house phone ring. After the third ring, I realized Carolina probably didn’t hear it, so I offered my apologies to Scott and his parents, then headed back to the great room.
When I reached the phone, I glanced down at the caller ID. I didn’t recognize the number but picked it up anyway, thinking it might be Athena, calling from her house phone to ask how the evening had gone.
“Lenora Worth, please,” the voice on the other end said.
“She’s stepped out for a few minutes,” I said. “Could I ask who’s calling?”
“Is this Kat?” the male voice asked.
Something told me not to respond.
“James Stevens here from The Scoop.”
Ugh. The Scoop? I chided myself for picking up the phone. Now what?
“Listen, I talked to Lenora earlier today and she told me everything. Congrats to you and Scott.” He paused. Not a minute too soon. I needed a second to pick my heart up off the floor. Surely I’d misunderstood. Grandma had not given The Scoop a private interview.
“I . . . I’m sorry. What did you say your name was again?”
“James Stevens.” He paused. “It’s the weirdest thing, though. Lenora called Scott Jack. Thought that was humor
ous. Anyway, I know you’ve got a couple of busy months ahead of you. Just hoping for some details on the wedding. Local, right? That’s what Lenora said.”
“Well, actually, I—”
“Just placed a call to the registry department at Macy’s. I understand you and Scott have chosen the Fantasia pattern for your china. I looked it up online. Great-looking plates. A little girly, but who cares when they’re covered in food, right? I wouldn’t mind eating off of them myself. I understand you and your grandmother have a great cook. What was her name again? Caroline? No, Carolina. Well, maybe you could invite me over to dinner sometime so I could get a sample firsthand. Sounds like fun, right?”
“W-what?” Surely I was hearing things.
“We’ll have a little bubbly in your new stemware to celebrate. I saw a picture of it too. Nice stuff. Showed it to my wife and she got plenty jealous. Two hundred and fifty dollars a stem? You’ll share more than a few toasts with those, I suspect. Hope to be there when it happens.”
Ugh. Could this pit get any deeper?
“I understand you guys had quite a feast planned for tonight. Scott’s parents are in town, right? Something about ceviche and salmon. Your grandmother even gave me a recipe for the ceviche.” He laughed. “I passed it on to my wife. She’s not much of a cook, my wife. A night at Spago suits her just fine, thank you very much.”
“Well, that’s nice, but—”
“Hey, speaking of Lenora, she’s quite a pistol. Wouldn’t give me any information until I named three of her most famous movies. Thank goodness I had my iPod with me. I googled her in a hurry. Not a bad résumé, really. She used to be quite the rage.”
“Still is,” I managed. In more ways than one. And before the night is over, I’m going to be in one.
“Funny thing. When she called us, she asked to speak to Ted Holliday. Holliday hasn’t worked here since 1972. From what I hear, he was pretty good with a story, though.” After a final pause to catch his breath, James added, “Anyway, enough about all of that. I’m hoping you can share more details with me before I stay up all night putting together this story. I’ll handle whatever you give me with care.”
Sure you will.
An awkward pause grew between us. I wanted to hang up on him but didn’t dare. No telling what he would do.
“Hey, there is one more thing you could do for me while I’ve got you, Kat. We want to add some tidbits about Scott’s family. Lenora says they’re not from Hollywood.”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Yeah, I know. They’re from some small town in Arkansas. Al-ma.” He dragged out the word with a thick Southern drawl. “Guess you know all that.” Another pause and my heart gravitated to my throat as I anticipated what he might say or do next. “Crazy thing about that father of his.”
“O-oh?” I managed.
“Vacationing in Hollywood when his hardware store back home is about to be foreclosed on. Don’t you find that odd?”
“What? I had no idea they—” My words stopped right there. I would say nothing else, one way or the other. Well, maybe one thing. “Mr. Stevens, I appreciate the fact that you want to do a story on us, but I would like to ask you to give us the privacy we need.”
“Privacy?” He laughed. “Kat, you and your fiancé are public figures. Public figures don’t have the luxury of a private life.”
“Well, Mr. Murphy’s father is not a public figure and I know he values his privacy very much.”
“Which is why he hasn’t told his future daughter-in-law that his store is about to be foreclosed on, no doubt. But he’s got a couple of folks back in Alma-ville who aren’t very fond of him, and they’re happy to talk, so just keep that in mind.”
Ouch.
“Oh, one more question before I forget. Lenora said something about Elly May and a cement pond. I’m assuming she was making a reference to Scott’s family being outsiders in L.A. Guess she thinks small-town folks don’t get out much, huh?”
“What? She compared Scott’s parents to the Beverly Hillbillies?”
“Hope you don’t mind if I quote you on that. Well, listen, Kat. Invite me over for dinner sometime soon. Can’t wait to see those dishes. We’ll talk some more. I’ll go ahead and cover the story, but I’d sure like some input from you. Anything you want to add?”
“No comment.” I bit back the other words that threatened to erupt. I wanted to give this guy a piece of my mind, but didn’t dare.
“Okay, I get it. Next time we’ll do it your way, so we won’t have to lean on those folks back home in Arkansas. They sounded a little . . . bitter.”
Ugh.
“If I don’t hear from you by late tonight, though, you might force my hand. I’ve got to get a story out by tomorrow morning, one way or the other. Either we have your input or we don’t. That part’s up to you. Here’s my number.”
I didn’t copy it down, of course. Instead I ended the call as politely as I could, then counted to ten in an attempt to regain my composure. Grandma had done a lot of crazy things over the years, but to contact The Scoop? Why would she go that far? And why that particular tabloid, of all places? They were notorious for hurting people and for getting the story wrong.
I gathered my emotions, rolled them into a ball, and stuffed them into my pocket. Keeping this information hidden for long wasn’t an option, but I wasn’t about to spoil a perfectly wonderful evening by telling anyone what had just happened. I would call Scott first thing in the morning and spill the beans. Hopefully he would find it in his heart to forgive my grandmother . . . again.
16
Friends
There are times in everyone’s life where running away feels like the only logical solution. On the morning after I spoke to James Stevens at The Scoop, I had an overwhelming urge to pack my bags and catch a plane. Destination . . . unknown. Didn’t really matter where I went, anyway, as long as the paparazzi didn’t follow me.
My fascination with running did not date back to my childhood. I was never one of those kids who wanted to run away and join the circus. For one thing, clowns scared me. For another, there was enough tightrope walking in life already. And that whole thing about traveling with so many stinky, smelly animals held little appeal. I could barely tolerate Fat Cat. How could I share a train car with his distant cousin the lion? No, joining the circus wasn’t an option. Besides, my life had already become a circus, hadn’t it?
After reading the online version of The Scoop’s article on Scott’s family—which had apparently been posted at 5:52 a.m., according to the website—I revisited my rain forest option. An undecorated hut somewhere along the banks of the Amazon sounded pretty appealing right about now. I could buy some insect repellent. Maybe swipe the mosquito netting from around Grandma Lenora’s bed to take with me. I’d also swipe the rest of those letters from the steamer trunk and take them along for the ride. Once I reached my hut, I’d have plenty of time to read them carefully and ponder the reality that my grandmother was not who she had presented herself to be.
Or maybe she was and I’d just never dug beneath the surface to really, truly know her. Were any of us who we presented ourselves to be, or were we just out there on the set, hair and makeup done, speaking the lines we’d been given by those around us?
I thought about Scott’s parents, who were probably halfway to Alma by now. Hopefully the paparazzi would leave them alone. Surely those scoundrels at The Scoop wouldn’t send any of their people to Arkansas . . . right?
A crash of thunder startled me. I walked across the bedroom and stared out of the window, watching as the rain showered down. I’d never been a fan of thunder and lightning, so as I stood observing the downpour, I reluctantly gave up on my idea of living in the rain forest. If I couldn’t handle an occasional Southern California shower, how could I live in a rain forest?
My mind continued to whirl as the storm clouds grew overhead. As I showered for church, I replayed every minute of yesterday’s events. The trunk. The letters. Scott’s paren
ts. That guy from The Scoop. Grandma’s erratic behavior. The yummy ceviche. Popeye the Sailor Man. These things all ran together as the hot water poured down on my head.
I somehow kept my cool through church, not letting Grandma know of my inner turmoil. Talk about a great acting job. Thank goodness no one seemed to be aware of the story. If so, they weren’t talking. Or maybe they were just taking it in stride. That’s what most of the regular folks in L.A. did when a gossip-type story hit the papers, after all.
After church, we swung through KFC to pick up some chicken. Grandma chose the original. I chose the extra crispy. I made small talk during lunch, praying all the while that Scott would discover the voice mail and text messages I’d left on his phone in the wee hours of the morning.
Since he hadn’t responded, I found myself in need of someone to talk to . . . preferably someone who could calm my nerves. After Grandma made her way up the stairs to take a nap, I decided to do just that. I picked up the phone and punched in Athena’s number. When she answered, the many voices in the background clued me in to the fact that she was with her family. I heard the clattering of silverware and realized the whole Pappas clan must be gathered around the dinner table. From what Athena had told me, meals were of utmost importance in their household.
“Athena, do you have a minute?” I asked.
“Kat, I’m so glad it’s you. Have you, um . . . have you seen the papers?”
“Yeah.” I groaned. “I really need to talk to someone.”
“No doubt. Well, come on out to our place,” she said. “My cousins are here today, so it’s going to be pretty chaotic, but we can sneak back to my room and have some girl time. You’ll be safe here.”
“You sure?”
“Of course.”
She disappeared for a few seconds then came back. “Sorry about that. Had two of my nieces sitting on my lap. Too hard to talk with toddlers chattering in your ear.”
Stars Collide Page 18
