by Amy Harmon
Slade would have liked to change out of his swimming things before he talked to AJ. He didn’t suggest it to Natalie. It was better to limit his time with her as much as possible.
As they came to the room, Natalie put her hand on Slade’s arm. “You’re just walking me back to AJ’s room, and while you’re here we decided to see if he’s read the script.”
“Right,” Slade said, wondering why she felt the need to give him an alibi. After all, he was just walking her to the room to find out if AJ had read the script.
Natalie took out a key card and opened the door. AJ stood in the front room, his cell phone still pressed to one ear, looking exactly how Slade had seen him hours before. Natalie walked past Slade into the room and plopped down on the couch without saying anything. Slade stood in the doorway, watching AJ continue to nod and mutter things into the phone.
At last AJ said into the phone, “Hold on a minute.” He shook his head at Slade. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had a chance to get to your story. The production people messed up the props, and now I have a crate full of fake diamond necklaces somewhere in California, and nothing here.” He lifted a hand in frustration. “I’ve spent half the morning trying to track down the necklaces, and then when I told the writer to just cut the necklaces from the script, he got all defensive and brought up every grievance he’s had during his entire career. He told me he wants to renegotiate his contract. I spent the last half of the morning trying to convince our lawyer to kill him.”
AJ shook his head again, looked at the phone, and muttered, “Writers. They’re worse than actors, and that’s saying something.”
Well, yes, especially if you were both a writer and an actor. Slade decided not to bring up this point. “It’s fine. I understand how crazy things can get in this business.”
“I’ll find some time to go over it, though. Monday at the latest—maybe Tuesday. I’ll give you a call as soon as I’ve had a chance to go through it.”
“Great,” Slade said. “I’ll talk with you then.”
He turned around and walked back to his room, only realizing when he was halfway down the hallway that he’d forgotten to say good-bye to Natalie. But then, perhaps that was for the best.
He continued around the corner, and as he approached Clarissa’s room, he was glad to note that he couldn’t hear Bella wailing anymore. He knocked on the door, and after a moment Elaina, not Clarissa, answered the door. He didn’t have to ask where everyone else was. He could see Bella standing sullenly on the couch. Clarissa kneeled on the floor next to her picking up chunks of a broken lamp.
“Bella,” he said sternly, “you didn’t.”
Bella turned, looked at her father, and then let out a forlorn and desolate sob which made her entire body shake.
Despite his chastisement, Slade walked over to the couch and picked her up to comfort her. She buried her face into his shoulder and continued to cry as though her heart was bleeding from deep wounds.
Clarissa dumped lamp parts into a nearby waste basket. “It was an accident,” she said. “While I ordered lunch, Bella was jumping up and down, making sure I didn’t forget anything.” Clarissa dropped the last of the pieces of glass into the waste basket and then surveyed the floor. “I suppose we should have the maid service come up and vacuum up the little pieces. You did say you were tipping them well, didn’t you?”
Slade ignored Clarissa and rubbed Bella’s back. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, sweetheart.”
She mumbled something unintelligible into his neck.
“I’ll be with you for the rest of the day,” he told his daughter. “After lunch we’ll take a drive. Okay?”
Bella nodded, her tears ceasing. “And Elaina’s coming too?”
“Of course,” Slade said. “It wouldn’t be any fun if Clarissa and Elaina didn’t come along.” He looked over at Clarissa and realized he meant it. Spending time with Bella would be more fun with Clarissa around.
Clarissa understood about parenting.
It was just one more area in which she was the opposite of Natalie.
* * *
After lunch, Slade, Clarissa, and the two girls drove to the Polynesian Cultural Center in Laie. As they wandered through the exhibits and watched the performances, Slade was impressed by the way Clarissa balanced enjoying the shows with watching the children. Even though he was there, she kept an eye on Bella, making sure she never wandered too far away, and every once in a while said things such as, “Yes, that man is very talented, but you’ll never climb a tree with a knife in your mouth to retrieve coconuts, will you, Bella?”
And Bella, for the most part, was well-behaved. Aside from a couple of incidents where she ran close to the water to “see if there were fish in there,” she alternated between being carried by Slade and holding Clarissa’s hand. She also enjoyed being a tour guide for Elaina.
“The reason they wear grass skirts,” she told her friend in a serious voice, “is because pants don’t grow here.”
It was a relaxing outing, made even better by the fact that no one came up to Slade to ask for his autograph or chat with him about any and every movie he’d done. It might have been the sunglasses and baseball cap that hid his identity—or, more likely—because he was hauling two preschoolers around. He looked like a family man, a tourist dad, and people didn’t equate those with movie stars.
Once this idea came into his mind, it wouldn’t leave. Throughout the day he kept glancing at Clarissa. People probably thought she was his wife. It was the natural conclusion. She was walking close beside him and holding his daughter’s hand. As they strolled around the grounds talking, it almost felt as though she was his wife, like it would have been perfectly natural for him to reach over and put his arm around her shoulder and natural that she would turn and smile back at him, happy he’d done it.
He wished, periodically, that she was his wife, that this was a typical family excursion and that afterward they would go back to their home, tuck the girls into bed, and sit together on the sofa discussing the day’s events. And then perhaps not discuss the day’s events.
Each time these thoughts came, he dismissed them. Clarissa was a married woman. He wasn’t attracted to her; he was simply attracted to the qualities she had. She was responsible, good-natured, caring, and authentic. Things Evelyn hadn’t been. Things he’d never realized were so important until Evelyn left. Eventually he’d find those qualities in the right sort of woman. He just had to keep looking.
Chapter Twenty
At eight thirty, Clarissa buckled two tired little girls into the backseat of the car. It had turned out to be a relaxing evening, one that felt more like a vacation than work. Slade and she had talked easily, like friends. They had discussed everything from the shortcomings of western culture to bad job stories. She had found herself laughing at his Hollywood anecdotes, at the things that went wrong during films. Now she was sad the night was over and she would go back to being just another one of Slade’s employees.
They had left the show before the dancing ended because Elaina fell asleep and Bella, during the Maori dancers’ routine, kept yelling, “It’s not nice to make faces!”
They had barely pulled out of the parking lot before Bella’s head nodded against the car seat, and she joined Elaina in slumber. Neither Slade nor Clarissa spoke for a few moments as they drove, and then Clarissa asked, “Where do you keep the matches at your house?”
“In the kitchen cupboard. Why?”
“I’m not sure if Bella was paying attention during the fire dance, but you might want to lock up all your flammable devices to be on the safe side.”
Slade laughed and the smile stayed on his lips. “You have a knack for understanding my daughter.”
Clarissa stared out at the dark forms of the foliage growing along the road and debated whether or not she should pursue that subject. On one hand, she was Bella’s nanny—the person he was paying to take care of her. Clarissa was supposed to look out for Bella’s welfare. On the other
hand, Clarissa knew that parents rarely looked at their children objectively, and Slade wasn’t likely to listen to anything she said on that subject. Alex had never listened to her when it came to parenting.
But then Slade wasn’t Alex.
She glanced over at him, at the form of his profile. Even in the dark, his jawline looked strong, his cheekbones, nose, and forehead all perfectly proportioned.
What had she been thinking about?
Oh, yes, Alex. How Slade wasn’t Alex. How Slade was so… Slade.
She turned her gaze back toward the window and thought of Bella instead of Bella’s father. She weighed the pros and cons of speaking. In the end the issue was decided by one thing. She honestly cared about Bella. “On one level I think I get her,” Clarissa said, “on another, I haven’t even begun to understand her.”
“That’s normal, isn’t it? After all, Bella is a female.”
“I’m serious,” Clarissa said.
“So am I. Women are the ultimate mysteries, followed closely by quantum mechanics.”
“She’s a delightful child,” Clarissa said, “confident, charming, and extremely precocious—”
“She takes after her father.”
“But do you think it’s normal for her to go from one scrape to another like she does?”
Slade shrugged. “She’s a kid. Kids get into scrapes. I’m sure you had your share of them when you were little.”
“Meredith says you have your own parking spot at the emergency room.”
“Only figuratively speaking.” Slade said. “Bella’s accident-prone. She’ll grow out of it.”
Once again Clarissa debated keeping silent. Once again she didn’t. “Haven’t you ever noticed there’s a pattern to her accidents?”
“Yes, most of them involve damage to expensive items.”
“No, I mean she’s the most accident-prone when you’re not paying attention to her.”
“Well, yeah. If I were paying attention to her, I could stop her from doing whatever it is she’s not supposed to do.”
Clarissa shook her head. “I was paying attention to her when she jumped into the pool and when she broke the lamp. Meredith was paying attention when she decorated the carpet with fingernail polish. It isn’t that she’s unsupervised, it’s that when you’re not around, she’s fast.”
“You’re saying she does everything on purpose?” His eyebrows furrowed together in disbelief. “She’s not even five years old yet. Trust me, she doesn’t have the planning or acting abilities to pull that off.”
Clarissa could hear the edge in his voice. She went on anyway. “I’m not saying it’s a conscious decision on her part. Doesn’t it seem peculiar, though, that when you’re around, when you’re around and paying attention to her, she’s not accident- prone?”
“So you’re saying I don’t give her enough attention?”
“No, I’m saying that’s what she thinks.”
Slade tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I give her a lot of attention. I give her everything a kid could ever want. She has more toys than Mattel.”
“Indulgence isn’t the same as attention.”
“Oh, now I’m indulgent.”
Clarissa sighed and didn’t say anything else.
Maybe it wasn’t Alex after all. Maybe it was just men. Maybe they never listened to your opinions, never cared what you thought, and never thought you were smart enough to have any real insights. Maybe men always criticized you and thought everything was your fault and then always demanded more and more until you locked yourself in a room and spent the night crying.
And there she was, back in her marriage with Alex. How many times did she have to divorce herself from him before she finally left him completely?
Slade tapped his thumb against the steering wheel. When he spoke next his voice was softer. “Okay, maybe I am a little indulgent.” He held up one hand to concede the point. “Bella lost her mother. She deserves something to make up for that.”
“Bella doesn’t see her mother often?”
“Nope.”
“Was it a painful divorce?”
Slade glanced over at her, surprised. “I thought everyone knew about my divorce. It was a hot topic for long enough.”
“I saw your picture on the covers of magazines. I never read the stories, though.”
“I’ll fill you in then.” He leaned back against his seat and held onto the steering wheel with only one hand, as though it wasn’t a stressful thing to describe the breakup of his marriage. The edge in his voice, however, contradicted his nonchalance. “First, there were the pictures of Evelyn out with Brad Nash. He played the lead in her show, so I didn’t think much of it; I mean, she assured me it was all business.
“Then pictures of them kissing surfaced. That was harder to pass off as business, but she still tried. She kissed him a lot for her show. For all I knew, those pictures were taken on the set.” Slade shook his head. “Acting. It’s got to be the only profession in the world where you can see pictures of your wife kissing another man and still not know whether she’s being unfaithful to you.”
Clarissa felt a pang of sympathy for him. “So how did you find out?”
“I followed her. You’d think after two run-ins with the paparazzi, she’d have been more careful, but she wasn’t. And come to think of it, neither was I. There was an ugly scene at a restaurant, you know, a sort of yelling, screaming, punching Brad across the salad bar type of thing. The tabloids documented the event for posterity.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been awful.” Without thinking about it, Clarissa reached over and put her hand on Slade’s arm. And then a second later, when she realized what she’d done, she removed it.
Slade seemed not to have noticed either her gesture or her quick end to it. He shrugged. “You don’t need to be sorry for me. I’m better off without Evelyn.”
“Probably. But Bella got a whole new set of issues to deal with.”
Slade shrugged. “Bella is fine. She just needs more time to adjust.”
Well, so much for thinking Slade would listen to her. Clarissa turned and stared unseeing at the night scenery. “It’s all well and fine if you want to let her continue to break things. I’m sure you can afford it. But one day she might actually hurt herself, you know.”
“Bella is fine,” he said again, and then added under his breath. “And to think I thought getting a nanny with a family science background was a good thing. Next you’ll be telling me I discipline wrong too.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Clarissa said. “I have yet to see you discipline Bella.”
“Well, I do,” he said. “Sometimes.”
Clarissa pressed the point. “Children need to know where their boundaries are. They’ll keep pushing until they find them. I know you’d rather be nurturing than be a disciplinarian, but Bella needs you to be both. If you don’t teach her there are consequences for her actions, who will?”
Slade clenched his jaw. “It’s easy enough for you to dispense parenting advice. You’re not a single parent. Every time I punish Bella, she cries for her mother. I feel like I’m wounding her all over again. You wouldn’t be much of a disciplinarian either if you had to go through that.”
They were only a short distance away from the resort. Even that was suddenly exhaustingly far away.
For several moments Clarissa didn’t respond; she just sat watching the black ribbon of road in front of them. I know what your life is like, she thought. I know how hard it was to sit down and divide your possessions with someone who hurt you, to divide things that couldn’t be divided, so you ripped them apart. You ripped your whole life apart and then had to find some way to tell your daughter that the fabric of her life had been torn, inexorably tattered, and she couldn’t do anything about it.
The truth lay on her lips, waiting to be spoken. In another moment she would have told him everything. He spoke instead. “You have a way of making me say things I regret later.” He took his attention away
from the road long enough to gaze at her. The darkness of the night made his gaze seem even more intense. “I know you mean well. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“Bella is a darling little girl,” Clarissa said. “She needs a father and not a Santa Claus to take care of her. Will you just promise me you’ll think about what I’ve said?”
“Sure. I’ll think about it.”
She knew he wouldn’t. His words were said to brush her off.
Still, she had tried.
When Slade and Clarissa got to the hotel, they carried their sleeping children inside. Clarissa held Elaina close, breathed in the smell of her—the fleeting scent of childhood.
An overflow crowd from one of the meeting rooms mingled in the hallway and dance music drifted into the lobby. A party. And by the looks of the people in the hallway, another not-so-undercover cast party. Clarissa pushed through the crowd without stopping, making her way to the elevator. A middle-aged woman who knew Slade waylaid him and insisted he come say hello to her daughter.
He glanced over the top of Bella’s head at Clarissa. “I’ll be a few minutes,” he said, then followed the woman into the room.
A few minutes? Did that mean he expected her to wait for him or was she done tending Bella? Clarissa stood in the lobby holding Elaina and debated the question. Then, because Elaina was growing increasingly heavy, Clarissa walked over to the elevator. If Slade needed her, he knew where to find her.
She reached for the elevator call button, trying to keep from bumping Elaina’s head in the process.
“That’s a heavy load you’re carrying,” Landon said, walking toward her.
“I’m used to it.”
“You’re about to fall over.” He reached out to take Elaina. “Here, let me help you.”
“That’s all right. You don’t—” Before she could get out anymore, he lifted the little girl out of her arms.
“See, isn’t that much better?”
“Thanks,” she said, feeling a bit awkward.
