by Amy Harmon
“That’s the thing about being a star,” Meredith told Clarissa. “It doesn’t matter if a girl hasn’t seen you since she was ten years old. She’s going to track you down and email you. This time it works in our favor.”
Slade still smiled nostalgically. “Eric and I used to tease her mercilessly. I’m surprised she’s even forgiven me.”
“Maybe she hasn’t,” Meredith said. “Maybe that’s why she wants to see you. She wants to give you the ‘what for’ for all those times you pulled her pigtails.”
“We did worse than that,” Slade said, rubbing his chin. “I guess you could credit Kim for my first acting jobs. One time, we pretended we’d been hit by a car. We came staggering up the sidewalk, bleeding ketchup all over the place, just to hear her scream.”
Meredith made a “tsking” sound with her tongue. “Now I know where Bella gets her sense of humor. It’s genetic, and it serves you right for having her.”
“It certainly does,” Slade said, “and I guess it’s time I take her back to our room.”
He walked to Meredith’s bedroom and Clarissa followed. She watched as he gently picked up Bella and cradled her against his chest. He gazed down at her with the same warm expression she’d seen on his face as he held Bella by the dining room table.
The words he’d said came to Clarissa’s mind. “Children have a way of stripping off the masks we wear.” She realized she was seeing him unmasked. In this setting, he wasn’t the actor who smiled confidently for the camera, or even the slightly cynical man who had just berated her for dancing with Landon. This was who he was unmasked. A tender and gentle man who loved his daughter.
Clarissa looked down at Elaina and thought of Alex. Perhaps he had also been unmasked by his daughter. To the rest of the world he was even-tempered, generous, and caring; but somehow all those things fell away when he came home.
Clarissa reached to pick Elaina up, then paused. She took in her daughter’s shiny blonde hair, the pixie nose, and the soft brown lashes. Lying there bathed in the soft light from the open doorway, Elaina did look like an angel— except for the smudges of mauve fingernail polish on her hands.
It was Alex’s loss. It was all his loss.
She picked up Elaina, and the little girl nestled her head on Clarissa’s shoulder. She smelled slightly of perfume and slightly of shampoo. Clarissa held her, enjoying the softness of her body. “Come on, sweetheart,” she murmured into Elaina’s hair. “Let’s go to our room.”
Slade whispered, “I’ll drop Bella off in the morning.”
Clarissa nodded.
As she walked from the room he added, “Thanks for coming with me tonight.”
“Sorry about my husband.” Clarissa turned slightly to face Slade. “I mean, I’m sorry about the stuff I said about my husband at dinner. You know, the hangers and silverware tray.”
Slade nodded with an expression that tingled right through her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Clarissa whispered a good-bye to Meredith and walked out of the room.
After Clarissa was safely out of sight in the hallway, she shook her head. To think Slade had asked her if she had any acting ambitions. She’d been here two days and could barely act married. She’d almost forgotten to tell Landon about her husband altogether, and at dinner she had said all sorts of stupid stuff about Alex to Slade. And then there were those racing heartbeats she’d had as she looked at Slade tonight. Had he noticed those?
She would have to be better.
And what if Slade actually asked her husband to join them? She shuddered as she balanced Elaina with one hand and fumbled to unlock the door with the other. She could barely even talk about Alex without mumbling incoherently. She would never be able to come up with a believable excuse for his not being able to come to Hawaii to defend her honor.
Acting ambitions, indeed.
After Clarissa settled Elaina in bed, she wandered into the front room and sank into a chair. The room was annoyingly quiet and empty. She supposed Slade Jacobson had that effect on rooms. Once he’d been in them and then left, they just naturally seemed duller. She glanced over at the couch he’d sat on and could still picture him there: his head tossed back, his brown hair smooth and shiny, his eyes dark and magnetic, looking into hers.
Clarissa immediately cut off the image. It was ridiculous to think about Slade like that. Even if he knew she was single, he wouldn’t be interested in her. She was the nanny. The hired help. He had beautiful and famous women like Natalie Granger after him. Why would he ever look twice at Clarissa? It was a good thing he thought she was married. That way she wouldn’t have to face the humiliation of being unnoticed by him.
Clarissa picked up the paper from where it lay on the couch, saw the picture of Slade, and sighed.
A friend.
She fumbled through her purse until she found a pair of small scissors, then carefully cut out the photo. She would put it in her journal— right after she color-copied a dozen prints to send to her friends and family. Because hey, what was the point of having fifteen minutes of fame if you couldn’t share it with the people who actually knew you?
Her friends would gasp at the caption and ask, “You’re friends with Slade Jacobson?”
Then she’d have to say, “No, not really. Actually he hardly knew I existed.”
Perhaps she wouldn’t make color copies of the photo after all.
Clarissa logged onto her laptop. Checking her email would keep her mind off things she didn’t want to think about. The first thing she saw was a message from Renea. Clarissa stared at it, tapping her fingers against the desk while she decided whether she was up to reading a message from her ex-sister-in-law. After a moment she clicked it open.
“Clarissa,” it read. “I’ve called you twice and never got an answer back from you. I’m getting worried. I know how depressed you are, but it’s important for you to get out and be with people. Don’t hole up somewhere and spend your days crying. Especially not since I want to help you through this. I want to talk to you about Alex. I think you still have hope. Give me a call.”
Clarissa tapped her fingers against the keyboard harder than she needed to. Hope. She had hope. How nice to know.
She hit the reply button and typed: “Renea, sorry I haven’t returned your calls. I’ve been busy here in Hawaii. It’s nice you’re concerned about me, but I’m doing fine. In fact, today Landon McKellips asked me out. I turned him down, though. He isn’t my type.” She hit the send button before she could change her mind about its contents.
And then to prove her point, she found the web page of the Oahu Times and copied the link into another e-mail. A photo of Slade Jacobson dropping into the Mahalo Regency with a friend was just the right thing to send to Renea.
Chapter Fifteen
Slade woke up at six thirty in the morning. He wished he could sleep in later, especially on a Saturday. But once he woke up, he thought about how he’d pitch his script to AJ, and then he couldn’t get back to sleep. He finally pulled himself out of bed and went to shower and shave.
AJ had undoubtedly stayed up late last night, so Slade didn’t dare call too early. On the other hand, if he waited too long, AJ might be off doing something. Perhaps nine thirty would be the best time.
Slade dressed, ordered room service for breakfast, and then woke up Bella. She didn’t want to get dressed in clothes. She only wanted to wear her swimsuit.
While he cut up her pancakes she asked, “Are you going to take me swimming today, Daddy?”
“We’ll work something out,” he said. “I’m sure Clarissa wouldn’t mind taking you.”
“I want you to do it,” Bella said. “You throw me up in the air, and then I make big splashes.”
Slade nodded seriously and took a sip of his orange juice. “Yes, I suppose that is important.” He watched Bella trying to capture a piece of her pancake with her fork. “So,” he asked, “do you like Clarissa?”
Without looking up, Bella said, “She didn’t take
me to the beach, but she played games. Your other girlfriends never do that.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Slade said. “She’s your nanny. She’s supposed to play with you.”
“Nuh-uh, Daddy.” Bella’s head bounced in a dramatic way with each word she spoke. “Nannies are old.”
“Clarissa is your nanny,” Slade emphasized in his most serious tone. The last thing he wanted was for Bella to call Clarissa his girlfriend out in public. “I got you a young nanny this time because I thought she’d play better with you.” And then almost under his breath he added, “She’s stronger than the other ones. And sturdier and faster.”
Bella skewered a pancake piece, twirled it around, and popped it in her mouth. “You’ll make her leave if she’s not nice, right?”
Slade raised an eyebrow at the question. Bella had never said much about his hiring practices, and now he wasn’t sure how to answer the question. “Let’s give Clarissa a try, and we’ll talk about how you’re getting along at the end of the week.”
Bella didn’t answer, just slid her fork into another pancake piece.
“I already explained why she jumped into the pool after you,” he added and couldn’t help smiling as he thought of Clarissa dripping on the pool deck. “She thought you were drowning. She wanted to help you.”
Bella frowned at her pancakes. “When is Mommy coming back?”
Slade nearly toppled his juice glass over. Even now, after nearly a year of being divorced, questions like this still pierced him. They let him see into Bella’s mind and into a reality that existed only for her. In her mind Evelyn’s short visits every few months meant something. “I don’t know when she’ll be by to see you again, honey.”
“She has to be there for the first day of kindergarten,” Bella said matter-of-factly. “Kayla said all the moms come to school on the first day.”
“I’ll be there,” Slade said.
“You’re not a mom.”
“They’ll let you into kindergarten, even if it’s your dad who drops you off.”
Bella’s brows knit together as though she didn’t quite believe him.
“It’s still a long time off,” he said. “We’ll make sure everything is all right.”
“Okay.” Bella went back to her breakfast. Slade couldn’t finish his. He put it back on the tray.
At nine thirty he dropped Bella off at Clarissa’s room, then went back to his room to make the phone call. He had to have quiet—professional-sounding quiet—as he talked to AJ.
He made the call. No one answered.
Could AJ still be asleep? Maybe he’d gone somewhere for the day and turned off his phone.
Slade went to his laptop and brought up the script for his part in an upcoming Sparta movie. Rehearsals started in a few weeks. He might as well learn his lines while he had some free time.
For twenty minutes he vehemently threatened the dresser, lamp, and nightstand, then he called AJ again. Still no answer.
Slade pushed the end button on his phone harder than he needed to. He must have missed AJ. The man was probably snorkeling off a reef somewhere, and Slade wouldn’t be able to get hold of him all day.
He went back to his lines but couldn’t concentrate on them.
Sometimes he hated this business. He hated the whole connections aspect of it—the way you had to be in the right place at the right time; and because those things rarely happened naturally, you had to force yourself to be in the right place at the right time and then fake that it was happening naturally. Slade had finally reached the point in his career where he didn’t have to hustle to get the right parts, and now he was starting on a whole new venture of hustling, hoping, and dealing with rejection. Who needed this?
Slade glanced over to his dresser at the manila envelope that held his screenplay.
He didn’t need the money. He didn’t need the recognition. It would be easy to let this project go.
Only he couldn’t let it go.
He’d started writing screenplays during his divorce. It had kept his mind off obsessing over the images of Evelyn and Brad that popped up everywhere. Whenever he was besieged with unanswerable questions like “How could she do this?” and “Why did she stop loving me?” he turned his mind to his latest screenplay.
At first they were all bitter, angry, and completely unsellable. Most of them had buildings, planes, or towns that erupted into flames. But then out of the ashes of his emotion, he had starting working on Time Machine. It was a story about realizing you’d made mistakes and trying to undo them. And even more than that, it was about seeing life differently and valuing the right kind of people.
The story had become a part of him. He wanted to share it, to share what he’d learned with other people. He couldn’t just let it go.
Slade tossed his lines onto the bed and headed out the door. He would go wake up Landon and find out what the production schedule was like. That way he’d know when he had the greatest chance of getting hold of AJ.
Slade hadn’t gone far down the hallway before he ran into the right place at the right time. AJ and Natalie were standing in front of the elevator.
Slade sauntered up to them at an unconcerned pace. “AJ, you’re just the man I was looking for.”
Natalie took hold of AJ’s arm possessively. “I say the same thing to him every day.”
Slade laughed lightly at Natalie’s joke, then turned his attention back to AJ. “I wanted to tell you again how much I enjoyed your party last night. I’m already looking forward to your next one.”
“We’re having one Halloween night,” Natalie said. “A masquerade.”
“In the Iolani room at seven,” AJ added. “We’ll count on seeing you there.”
The elevator opened and all three stepped in. It was the right place, the right time, and it would only last for eight floors.
“So,” Slade put his hands in his pockets and donned a casual expression, “have you given any more thought about a pitch meeting?”
AJ nodded. “Right. We were going to do that, weren’t we?” He looked upward, as though mentally reviewing his calendar. “Why don’t you join us for breakfast, and you can do it there.”
“At breakfast? Right now?”
“Sure, there’s nothing like hearing a good story over bacon and eggs.” He smiled at Natalie. “You don’t mind, do you, hon?”
“Of course not,” she said, and her pink lips curled into a smile. “Join us.”
They walked to the restaurant, and the hostess seated them in a corner booth. Slade waited until the waitress had taken their orders, then began his pitch.
“Time Machine is a love story with a sci-fi angle, but it’s really a story about redemption.” He paused to let the emphasis sink in. “People will relate to it because we all look back at our lives and wish we could change things.”
AJ nodded and reached for his cup of coffee. “Yeah. If I had it to do over again, I would have skipped marrying my second wife and just paid a large sum of money to her lawyer. It would have saved me a lot of hassle.”
Slade leaned forward a bit. “Right. We’d all do things differently. The main character, Dalton Hammer, is a successful scientist and inventor. He’s made millions, collected accolades, seen and done it all. He’s getting older—he’s sixty-five, retirement age, and he realizes he has nothing of real value. No wife, no family, not even a lot of friends. He’s been a workaholic, a loner, and a lot of times a jerk. He wishes he had relationships in his life—a wife and kids—so he pours his time and money into building this time machine that will permit him to go anywhere in time for seventy-two hours. Then he’ll automatically come back to the present, and the time machine is used up, finished. He has one shot to change things.
“He decides the best way to repair his life is to go back in time to his college days and convince the young him to change his ways. You see, Dalton lost the love of his life, Kathleen, because he went to the right grad school instead of deciding to be with her. After he told
her good-bye, they went their separate ways, and he never saw her again.
“Kathleen is the type of girl all guys want—beautiful, smart, sophisticated. Dalton figures if he’d only married her, his life would have had love in it, so everything would have been better.” Slade paused to see AJ’s reaction.
AJ nodded. “Typical leading-lady role.”
“I’m picturing Natalie Granger,” Natalie interjected.
“Right,” Slade said, “and Dalton thinks he has a chance of changing his life with Kathleen because an incident back in college almost made him stop and see the bigger picture of life. When Kathleen’s roommate, Sarah, flew home for Christmas, she died in a plane crash. It made an impression on the young Dalton, and for a few days after the accident, he realized how fragile life is. If he’d been more committed to Kathleen in the first place, or if he’d had someone older and wiser to guide him, Dalton is sure he would have taken the leap and asked her to marry him.
“So the old Dalton uses the time machine to go back to right before the plane crash. He poses as a wealthy great uncle and tries to talk some sense into the young Dalton. The young Dalton is still a jerk, though, and the problem is, he won’t listen to himself.
“The older Dalton has to think of more and more ways to convince him. He’s bribing and setting things up; he even enlists Sarah’s help. Then as he’s creating these scenarios, he realizes Kathleen isn’t the right woman for him at all. She’s just a female version of the young Dalton—a jerk. It’s really Sarah who’s the great catch. The only problem is, not only is she going to die, the young Dalton isn’t interested in her, either.
“The old Dalton realizes that he might not be able to change his own life, but he can save Sarah. He tries to convince her not to take the plane home because he knows it will crash. Kids never listen, though, and she’s still going.
“He can’t let her die, so in the climactic scene, the old Dalton dashes in front of her car to stop her from leaving. She accidentally hits him, and instead of catching her flight, has to rush him to the hospital.
