Unforgettable You

by Marci Bolden

  As she feared, the closer Carrie got to the first floor, the stronger the smell of something burning became. She followed the scent to the kitchen, where a thick haze had filled the room, originating from a pan on the stove. Flames were leaping, not quite touching the cabinets above them, but the white paint had begun to bubble at the extreme heat.

  Grabbing the fire extinguisher from a bracket on the wall, Carrie pulled the pin and aimed the hose at the stove while Will climbed onto a chair. He pulled apart the blaring alarm. Once the fire was out and the kitchen was quiet, Carrie hurried out of the room, calling for her mother-in-law. She found the old woman sitting on the couch in the den, her head lying to the side, illuminated by the images on the television.

  Her heart nearly seized in her chest. Oh no.

  “Mama!” Carrie grasped Doreen’s arm, shaking the woman roughly.

  Doreen opened her eyes with a start and instantly scowled. “You scared me half to death, Carolyn!”

  “Not half as much as you scared me.”

  “What?” Reaching into the pocket of her robe, she pulled out a small hearing aid and pushed it into her ear. “What’d you say?”

  Carrie didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. The sound that left her seemed to be a mix of both. “Are you okay?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Come on. It’s late.” Holding Mama’s hand, Carrie helped her off the sofa and led her from the room. Seeing Will standing by the doorway, she apologized with a sad smile. “Would you mind—”

  “I’ll let them know they can come in.”

  Carrie guided Doreen up the stairs as the woman told her about the old I Love Lucy episode she’d been watching before falling asleep. Carrie, all the while, silently reminded herself that no one was hurt and no permanent damage had been done. She tucked Doreen into bed and smiled. The woman was so unaware of the panic she’d caused, Carrie couldn’t hold on to the frustration she felt. Instead, her heart ached at how very oblivious Mama was. “Sleep tight, Mama.”

  “You too, honey.”

  She stroked Doreen’s hair and waited for her to close her eyes before easing off the bed and heading downstairs. She thankfully made it all the way to the kitchen without running into anyone. The incident had shaken her to the core, and she didn’t know if she could handle being chastised by some Hollywood elite. Walking into the kitchen, she paused at the door as Will stretched above his head, putting the alarm back in place.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Carrie said.

  Will looked down at her. “I don’t mind.”

  She moved to the stove and scoffed at the smoke-covered paint on the cabinets. It was going to take her hours to clean this up. Frustrated, she reached for the stove knobs and yanked them off, making it impossible to turn on the burners. Why hadn’t she thought to do this before something happened? Mama could have burned the damn house down.

  “How is she?” Will asked.

  “Sound asleep.” Carrie opened a drawer and dropped in the knobs. “How was everyone else?”

  “Fine.”

  Carrie returned to the stove for the pan. “I’ll apologize to Donnie in the morning.”

  “It was an accident, Carrie. He’ll understand.”

  “Right.” She looked at the black blobs in the pan. “What do you suppose she was cooking at this hour?”

  Will hopped off the chair and moved to her side. “Green eggs and ham?”

  She laughed quietly, but her smile faded quickly. She wished she could dismiss the episode so easily. “What a mess.”

  “Are you okay?”

  She wasn’t, but she figured she’d dumped enough of her problems on a man she barely knew. She’d had a hard time falling asleep as she’d replayed their earlier conversation. He was being kind, and she’d just opened up and said much more than she should have. “I’m fine,” she said with a forced smile. “Thank you for turning off the alarm.”

  “Do you need help with anything else?”

  “No. You should get back to bed, Will. You have an early morning tomorrow.”

  “So do you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Don’t I look okay?” She moaned as soon as she asked the question. “Please don’t answer that.”

  “You look stressed.”

  “I said please.”

  “And very tired.”

  She turned and playfully narrowed her eyes at him. “Manners go nowhere with you, huh?”

  “Not really. No.” He smiled, and she couldn’t help but chuckle along with him.

  She had almost managed to relax thanks to Will’s kindness when the kitchen door swung open. Will opened his mouth, but he didn’t have a chance to speak before Donnie snapped at Carrie.

  “This kind of thing cannot happen again, Miss Gable.”

  “Of course,” she replied softly.

  “If Doreen—”

  Carrie cut him off. “It won’t happen again.” The clip of her tone held a warning that she had not meant to vocalize. Her exhaustion had weakened her censor, and she’d unintentionally made it clear that she wasn’t going to have him attacking her mother-in-law. “It was an accident,” she said, trying to be understanding. “It will not happen again.”

  Donnie turned to Will, as if asking him to verify that he’d heard the way Carrie had snapped at him. When Will said nothing, Donnie eyed Carrie again. “Very well. William, you have to be in makeup in less than three hours. I’d suggest you get some sleep while you can.”

  When Donnie was gone, Will turned to Carrie and gently rubbed her arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” She forced a smile. She had to smile so she didn’t break down and cry. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she could feel the fear settling over her. Fisting her trembling hands, she insisted, “I’m fine.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Okay. Do you need help with anything else?”

  “No. Go to bed. I’m fine.”

  “All right. Good night, then.”

  She managed to hold her fearful tears at bay until the door closed behind him.

  Chapter 4

  “What a bunch of jerks,” Natalie said as Carrie scraped loose paint from the cabinets above the stove.

  “Well, it was the middle of the night.”

  “So what?” Natalie barked. “Shit happens. It wasn’t deliberate.”

  “She was sleeping when you checked on her, right?”

  “Snoring.” Natalie was quiet for a moment before clearing her throat. That was something she did before treading on dangerous territory.

  Carrie knew her well enough to recognize the sign, and her defenses instantly went up. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Say that I’m in over my head. Don’t you dare say it.”

  “Okay, I won’t. As long as you know it.”

  Carrie frowned. Of course she was in over her head. She’d been in over her head for months before the house was filled with guests. “Yes,” she said with a slight pout. “I know it.”

  “Maybe it’s time to hire someone. I don’t mind helping,” Natalie quickly said, “but I can’t be here every day. I have to go to my job sometimes.”

  “I know you do. I really do appreciate all you’ve been doing.”

  “Get someone to clean in the mornings. That will free you up to do something exciting, like sleep.”

  “I don’t know, Nat. I don’t think the superstars would appreciate some unknown gathering their dirty sheets and scrubbing their toilets.”

  “You have to take care of yourself.”

  “I take care of myself.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. This morning I stayed in the shower long enough to actually wash my hair. Yesterday, I washed my body.”

  “You damned slacker. What the hell are you complaining about, then?”

  “I’m not complaining. You are.” Carrie stepped back to check her work. Seeing another bubble, she used the tool in her hand t
o scrape it away. “It’s not that bad. I get things done.”

  “I know you do. I know you keep up. But with these people invading your house, you get absolutely no downtime.”

  “What’s this? Hmm? I’m chatting with you in the quiet of the kitchen.”

  “Because these are the servant’s quarters. Your house no longer belongs to you.”

  “It’s an inn, Natalie. We’ve had guests coming and going for as long as I can remember.”

  “That was before,” Natalie said. “Before” was in reference to a time prior to Mama’s diagnosis. Prior to Mike’s death. Prior to everything falling apart.

  Carrie grabbed a sheet of fine grit sandpaper she’d been using and smoothed out a spot on the cabinet so she could slap a layer of paint on the wood and call it done—at least until spring. “They’re not even here. Well, most of them.”

  “I need food,” came one of Juliet’s snotty demands, as if Carrie’s comment was her cue. She looked between the two women when neither moved. “Well?”

  Carrie smiled as nicely as she could. “I don’t serve lunch. I serve breakfast and dinner on weekdays. Lunch, snacks, and weekends are on you.”

  The woman was clearly confused. “What are you saying?”

  “There’re several restaurants in town that deliver,” Carrie said. “Or you could go to the store.”

  A half laugh left Juliet’s perfectly lined and pouty lips. “I don’t think so, Ms. Gable.”

  Carrie inhaled deeply, slowly, cursing herself before she even spoke. “Shall I heat up some leftovers?”

  Juliet stared with hard and cold eyes before turning to leave the kitchen, the door swinging behind her.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” Natalie said.

  Carrie shook her head. “Great. Looks like Donnie is going to have to have another talk with me.”

  “Don’t cave,” Natalie warned her. “You can’t handle three meals a day, plus snacks, plus cleaning, plus Mama without help.”

  “I’m not going to cave,” Carrie insisted.

  Natalie rolled her eyes. “Please. You will be whipping up lunch for that life-sized, soulless doll before the hour ends.”

  Natalie wasn’t wrong. As soon as she’d left to go back to work, Donnie had come storming in to demand Carrie alter their agreement and feed Juliet Ramirez a midday meal.

  Within an hour, Mama stood next to Carrie, a scowl causing the lines around her mouth to deepen. “They shouldn’t push you around like that.”

  Carrie continued taking out her frustrations on the carrot she was peeling. “It’s fine.”

  “No, ma’am, it is not.”

  “Mama.” She exhaled before looking at her mother-in-law. “I can handle it.”

  “I don’t think you can.”

  “Oh my God,” Carrie whispered, silently wishing Mama and Natalie would get off her back and let her do what she felt was best. She knew they were both trying to protect her and look out for her, but she’d done what she’d known was best.

  “If I were you, I would—”

  “Mama.”

  The woman smacked her lips closed and then started again. “I was going to say, I read in a magazine that Ms. Ramirez has a weakness for sweets. She avoids them at all costs.”

  “So?”

  “So, I make some pretty mean desserts. Pies, cakes, tarts, breads. You name it, I can bake it. They are irresistible.”

  Carrie looked at her for a moment before her anger gave way to a disbelieving chuckle. “Are you suggesting we make her fat?”

  “I’m suggesting we kill her with kindness, and if her size-two waist expands a little, so be it.”

  “You have been spending too much time with Natalie.”

  “I like Natalie. She’s got spunk. Not like you. I don’t know where you get this pushover attitude. Certainly not from my side of the family.” Mama shook her head.

  Carrie raised her brows, passing on the chance to remind Doreen that they were not blood relatives. “I’m not a pushover. But I’m not going to bite the hand that’s paying the bills.”

  “Some things aren’t worth the money they pay, Carolyn. Being pushed around in your own home is one of them.”

  Carrie thought of the hefty check the production company had agreed to pay her to add cooking on a whim for Juliet Ramirez to her list of duties. When combined with the first large sum they paid for staying at the inn, it would easily pay off Mama’s incurred debt. It would also go a long way in supporting the two of them for some time after the star-filled inn had emptied. “I’m not being pushed around.”

  “What are you doing right now?”

  Carrie ground her teeth. “I negotiated a higher rate in exchange for lunch on the days when it is requested of me.”

  “Because the High Priestess demanded it.”

  Carrie reminded herself that Mama had no idea how close she was to losing her home. If the woman had even the slightest understanding that she’d been on the verge of being homeless before Donnie called, she’d be kissing the ground the man’s overpriced designer shoes walked on.

  “What kind of pie should we bake?” she asked instead.

  Doreen hooted as she got off her stool. “I have all the fixings for Dutch apple. It doesn’t get any sweeter than that.”

  Will stepped into the kitchen and smiled wide. “Did I hear the words Dutch apple?”

  Carrie glanced over her shoulder. “Why are so many of you here? My schedule says you wouldn’t be back until dinnertime.”

  “Never trust an actor’s schedule, Carrie.” He walked into the kitchen and glanced at the lunch she was making before sitting at the island. “Talk to me about this apple dish.”

  “Um, Mama wants to bake a pie.”

  He smiled. “I love pie.”

  “I hope so. You and I will probably be the only ones who’ll eat it.”

  “You don’t eat pie, Mama?” Will asked as she came out of the pantry with a stack of ingredients.

  “I have diabetes,” she said, easing containers onto the counter.

  “Luckily,” Carrie said, “she can remember that.”

  “That’s not fair. That she doesn’t eat what she bakes, I mean.”

  He grinned and winked, and Carrie very nearly swayed on her feet. All her life she thought women swooning was another of those figments of men’s imaginations, but she’d be damned if every cell in her body hadn’t wanted to throw themselves into William Walker’s arms in that moment.

  Carrie cleared her throat and drew a deep breath as she returned to making lunch. “No, it’s not fair. She’s done nothing to help my figure, I can tell you that.” She cringed. She hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

  Will winked as he stood. “I think she’s done just fine.”

  Carrie looked at him through surprised eyes. A sly smile curved his lips as he threw out another of those devilish winks.

  She laughed when he lifted a bottle of water to salute her and then turned to leave the kitchen. “Thanks,” she said quietly, not certain how to take his comment.

  The disgust on Juliet’s face was out there for everyone to see, but Will did his best to ignore it. He refused to allow her downturned mouth and wide eyes to ruin what was probably the best meal he’d ever eaten. The pot roast was so tender it nearly melted in his mouth and soaked in a thick, rich gravy that was perfect for sopping up with the homemade bread. Not to mention the perfectly tender vegetables. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a hearty home-cooked meal, and he was thankful that Carrie had so easily settled into the habit of cooking extras of her meals and sparing him and a few of the other guys the horrors of the Hollywood diet.

  He’d be damned if the carb-deprived princess next to him was going to take the enjoyment from him.

  “Oh, you boys need more gravy,” Mama said as she refilled Will’s iced tea.

  She leaned over the table to pick up the half-full boat of brown gravy. Her hand trembled as she lifted, and before Will could reach out to help, a doll
op splashed over the side and landed on Juliet’s plate.

  Time seemed to have stood still. Everyone knew what was coming. The diva was about to have a fit.

  Juliet’s mouth dropped open and her eyes widened as the gelatinous substance oozed onto her lettuce. “Oh my God!”

  “Whoopsie,” Mama said.

  “Whoopsie?” Juliet’s head snapped up to glare at the woman. “Whoopsie?”

  Will set his fork down. “For heaven’s sake, just remove the piece of lettuce from your plate. It was an accident.”

  Pushing herself back, not caring that she bumped her chair into the older woman, Juliet stood and stared at her plate. “The hell it was.” She was storming out in a full-force march when Carrie came around the corner, carrying a tray with several slices of pie on it.

  Putting her arm up, Juliet blocked the tray from hitting her, sending two slices of pie to the floor while the rest squished against Carrie’s chest. Juliet didn’t even stop. She didn’t apologize or acknowledge what she’d done. She simply took a moment to correct her trajectory before continuing out of the room.

  Will looked at Donnie, who was already calling out to his starlet as he jumped to his feet and followed her.

  “We’ll discuss this later,” Donnie snapped at Carrie.

  She lifted her face, her eyes filled with confusion and her clothes covered in pie filling and broken crust. Her mouth was open, her brow creased, as Donnie rushed after Juliet.

  “Are you all right?” Mama asked, using her apron to scoop pie from Carrie’s chest. “That woman!”

  “What happened?” Carrie asked Doreen.

  Doreen frowned. Will wasn’t certain if she couldn’t remember or if she was too frustrated to speak. He sat back and sighed, pissed as hell that despite his determination, Juliet had managed to ruin his dinner. Not only his, it seemed. The room remained tense and quiet the rest of the meal. Even Mama’s smile had faded, and when she came to clear plates and refill glasses, her mood was somber. There wasn’t a hint of sparkle in the woman’s eyes.

  Carrie had disappeared for some time, and when she’d returned, she silently mopped the floor. Once she walked into the kitchen, she didn’t reappear. This was the first time Mama had been the prominent presence during what remained of dinner.