“Mom, I know you had a lot of problems with Ms. Hyland when she first joined the cast. Does this mean you two get along now?”
“We’re working out our differences,” she answered neutrally.
“Is that why you invited her camping?”
“We had talked about camping, so yes, I invited her along.” She opted not to mention that the discussion of camping had taken place after the invitation.
“I liked her.”
Brenna treaded carefully. “Did you?”
Thomas finished his orange juice in one lengthy swig. “She doesn’t seem like a pin-up.”
Brenna quirked a smile; her eyes unknowingly turned dark blue. “No, she’s
not.”
“Do you think she was humoring me about the rock climbing?”
Ah. Brenna suppressed a smile. “No, why?”
“I’ve never met anyone like her. I don’t know what to make of all the stuff she said.”
“Are you getting at something?”
“If I can really get her to come over for climbing at the gym, would you mind?”
“I did invite her on the camping trip, didn’t I?” Brenna said with an underŹstanding smile.
“That’s a relief.” The clock on the wall chimed, and he stood. “Oops, time to
g°”
Brenna rose, and the two of them swept the dishes into the sink. She snatched her keys and purse from the small shelf by the front door. “James!”
Her other son appeared and tossed a backpack at Thomas, who caught it handŹily. “Ready to go.”
Twenty-five minutes later, Brenna returned home, finding the phone ringing. Catching it up, she tucked it against her ear. “Hello?”
“Hello?”
“Kevin?” She blinked, then recovered. “I wasn’t expecting”
“I wasn’t expecting to find you at home.”
“Oh? Um, well, what’s up?”
“Shouldn’t you already be at work? I was just going to leave a message.”
“I didn’t have a call to the set. I’m reading a script that is probably going to move up in production.” She reached for it, flipping through the script idly and highŹlighting her dialogue.
“Oh, would that make it inconvenient if I was going to come out to L.A.?”
The highlighter went down. “Coming here? You hate L.A.”
“But…I love you.” There was a long pause as he formulated something else. “We haven’t had much of a chance to talk. I decided you were right.”
About what? she thought but did not say.
“I haven’t been thinking about you very much.”
“Kevin?”
“I knew when I called last time that you probably couldn’t come here. So, I thought I’d come see you instead.”
“When?”
“Is Thanksgiving too soon?”
“You’re coming here for Thanksgiving?”
“My plane lands at LAX Thursday morning at seven. I could take a cab if you can’t pick me up.”
Brenna could feel her palms sweating. She wiped them before resettling the phone on her shoulder. “Of course I… Of course I’ll pick you up. How long will, do you plan to stay?” She winced.
“The girls have school again Monday,” he said.
“Oh, so they’re coming too?”
“No, my mother’s going to have them over. You’ll have me all to yourself.”
Brenna was silent, upset at her uncontrollable surprise.
“Brenna?”
“Sorry, I was just thinking. I’ll have to add a few things to my To Do list.” She
walked around the living room, spoiling a shirt tossed across the back of the couch. She sighed as she realized the house needed work.
“Don’t go into a tizzy. Please. I don’t care if the pillows aren’t fluffed and the carpets aren’t steamed. I just want time with you. I don’t care about anything else.”
She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Would you care if I kissed someone else? “All right,” she said finally. “I’ll see you Thursday.”
Kevin’s voice rolled over her. “I love you, Bren.”
Brenna sat down hard on the couch cushion and put the phone aside. What am I going to do?
She closed her eyes. Instead of Kevin’s pleasant face and soft brown eyes, she was immediately immersed in a physical memory of bodies sliding against one another in a sleeping bag. She saw the heat in adoring blue eyes and felt her own pulse race in response.
Dear God.
She rubbed her face sharply and forced her mind back to Kevin, searching for the memory of his face on their wedding day just fifteen months ago. She submerged her senses in the recall of the emotions and the event.
Brenna arranged her mother on the rocker in the small bedroom at the back of the Shea home before she pulled the summer dress from the closet.
“Brenna Renee?”
She winced as her mother used her full name. She always felt about six when she did that. “Yes, Momma?” Brenna settled on the bed, carefully tugging on white stockŹings.
“Shouldn’t you already be in your dress?”
“Just another few minutes.”
“Have you asked your sister about the bouquet?”
Brenna winced. Carefully she recited, yet again, “Evelyn can’t be here.”
“Still jetting with that boyfriend of hers in Paris?”
Brenna shook her head. Her younger sister was dead, having succumbed to breast cancer four years earlier. “No, Momma. Evie…couldn’t break away.” She shrugged. “I hadn’t expected her to.”
Her mother questioned, “Who’s doing your hair, then?”
Evie had stood up with Brenna in her first marriage and calmed a retching and nervous bride-to-be by soothing her with a long hairdressing session. Brenna had seen her hair tugged in fifteen different styles, and she was laughing, no longer scared or nervous. Her throat caught at the memory. She missed her sister fiercely. She fluffed her shortened style. “I’m just going to twist it up.”
The door opened then, surprising both Brenna and her mother. The latter looked blankly at the face peering around the edge. It was Kevin. “How are you doing in here?”
“Hi.” Brenna grinned at her groom. “We’re not ready yet, as you can see.” She winked, raising her arms to display her slip-clad figure. She watched his face curve into a smile and felt very appreciated.
“I’ve got some very anxious gentlemen out here to see you,” Kevin said. “Can you make yourself decent to see them?”
Something in his voice made her smile giddily. “My brothers?”
Kevin grinned back. “Tommy, Mike, Scanlon, and Gary are all cooling their heels in the living room. But they’re finally here”
“Oh, Kevin. Yes.” He closed the door, and she pulled a robe from the closet.
“I thought you were dressing, sweetheart.”
She patted her mother’s hands. “Momma, the boys are here!” Her brothers were so infrequently together in one place. No sooner had she finished tying the belt of the robe than there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” she called, turning around and flipping her hair out from under the collar.
In a matter of seconds she was enveloped in the happiness of four big men, two with lighter brown hair just barely touched with the red of their Irish heritage and two with shocks of red mops and faces full of freckles. Her own coloring was the link between the extremes, as was her personality.
Scanlon, freckles on his thirty-three-year-old face still able to remind her of the gangly teen he had been, swept her up first, kissing her cheek. “Bren! Damn, you look good!”
She hugged and kissed him back, then found herself handed off to Mike, the eldest. “Mike!” Her financier brother, now forty-four, looked as he did every time she saw him: reserved blue suit, red Republican tie, and a far-too-serious look in his eyes. He hugged her back and kissed her temple.
He asked, “Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” she
answered. She pressed her hands to either side of his face, able to read his equal joy on her behalf despite his restrained expression. “You really need to smile more.” To which he blinded her with a brief, unforgettable smile that consumed his whole face. Then it was gone, though the glow remained in his eyes.
Gary and Tommy hugged her next. “So, giving up the single life again, eh, Bren?” Gary ribbed.
“I know you never will,” she prodded her playboy sibling. “Do you have a date today?”
“Just with a beautiful redhead and her new husband,” he laughed, kissing her cheek. She lightly slapped his arm.
Then Kevin was in the doorway again. “Now, I’d rather she not be late to her wedding,” he chided the group. “Out!”
Mike escorted their mother, leading the group back out to the living room, leaving Brenna and Kevin together.
She hugged him. “I’m so glad they’re all here.”
“For that smile every morning, I’ll chain them to the couch.” He chuckled, nuzŹzling her ear. “Ellie has already declared your brother ‘dreamy’,” he revealed.
“Which one?” she asked throatily.
“Gary.”
She laughed. “Don’t tell him.”
“It’s just a crush,” he said. His hands slipped around her back, and they indulged in a leisurely kiss.
“Not from her point of view, I’m sure.” Brenna leaned back in the circle of his arms. “It’s got nothing on the crush I’ve got on you,” she murmured. His mouth pressed over hers, and she felt a quiver in her stomach. “Oh, why do we have to wait?” She felt cherished in his embrace.
“Then get dressed so we can get married, already.”
Returning her focus to the present, Brenna inhaled and nodded ruefully. They had played tourist in the Bahamas for a week after the wedding, walking every morning and night in the blue-green surf, holding hands. Talking endlessly, they had dined by moonlight, and he held her tenderly, making love every moment between.
Kevin’s devotion and attention had been a balm in those days. He cherished her at a time when she had been very low. Cassidy’s abrupt arrival had caused major dis-
ruption and stress on the set and in Brenna’s world order.
Cassldy.
Brenna’s world order fell askew again at the mere thought of the slender blonde. Heat filled her, and she swallowed it down with difficulty, remembering the laughter they had shared playing in the spring with Ryan. To counter it, Brenna conŹsciously thought of Kevins laugh. Cassidy’s returned quickly, and with it came guilt.
Didn’t I promise to make my second marriage better than my first? She had started by choosing someone who supported her. Now here he was demonstrating that support again. Here he was making the gesture to come to her, when she couldn’t find the time to get away and see him. Angry about a misunderstanding, she had let their relationship become distant.
Brenna castigated herself. Allowing herself to succumb to a physical attraction to someone else when Kevin was not around was not worthy of that devotion. “He deserves better.” Standing, she made a decision.
Pulling out a dust rag and the vacuum, she set about cleaning up her home and pushed thoughts of Cassidy from her mind. The longer she cleaned, the more her throat tightened. Like the house, she would work on her marriage, and thoughts of Cassidy would go away.
Cassidy scanned the call board and sighed. The sets were being used for crowd shots on the previous episode. None of the central cast was required for any of them. An early Thanksgiving wish “Happy Turkey Day See you Monday” was scrawled across their names.
Brenna was probably at home, Cassidy realized, stepping away from the wall.
“Hey, Cass. I didn’t expect to see anyone else.”
Cassidy turned to find Rich Paulson sauntering up, his hands stuffed in the pockets of a pair of tan Dockers. “Rich, what are you doing here?”
“Probably the same thing you are delivering a script for approval.” He grinned. “How’d the work go last night?”
“I’ve got most of it, I think. I think I saved Hanssen from being turned into a sexpot, but I don’t know if Chapman will buy into it. He seemed really determined.”
“No one blames you.”
“Brenna said”
“She’d be the first to reassure you. I remember her running through the press that day of the fight…” He thought better of continuing that line of thought. “By the way, Brenna won’t be in. I was talking with Victor when she called. Her husband is coming into town.”
“Oh.” Cassidy lost focus for a moment, feeling a sharp reaction that took her a moment to completely submerge. “I, um, was going to ask for her advice. I changed a lot of her dialogue. Would you mind looking it over?”
“Not at all. Let’s go to the conference room and have a look, shall we?”
Cassidy nodded and followed. “I hate being forced into this situation,” she lamented.
“I figured that. You were more vocal than I’ve ever seen you in the story meetŹing. But,” he added, “when you feel that strongly, it does nobody any good to remain silent about it.”
Cassidy nodded sadly. “I guess you’re right. I think I was maddest that no one thought to ask me about it before it got that far. I feel like a game show prize.”
“Why did that happen?”
“I wish I knew. I thought Cameron and 1 were okay until that day. We’d hit a comfortable patch. Maybe Will’s demands just pushed him beyond reason.”
Rich sat in a chair, and Cassidy sat next to him. He opened the script. “Where do you want me to look first?”
“The ending. I want to find a way to make the story isolated. I don’t want Chapman feeling there can be a continuation of this plot thread.”
“That would mean finding a way to either put a halt to Raycreek’s interest or…” he shrugged, “show Chris is interested in someone else.” He offered Cassidy a wiggle of his eyebrows and feigned a salacious grin.
She laughed. “Sorry, I could never date a doctor. Terrible hours.”
Rich chuckled. “Yeah, me neither.” He dropped his gaze to the page, read through several scenes, then paused to read one more slowly. Cassidy peered over his shoulder. He looked at her curiously. “You want to leave this part like this?” In the throes of a fever, Hanssen was interacting rather openly with Jakes.
“Don’t you think it works?”
“Oh, it certainly will cut Raycreek off at the knees.” And threaten other parts of his anatomy, too. “Will Brenna do this?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Maybe you should have Hanssen weaker, less feverish? She’s revealing a lot, perhaps too much.”
Cassidy pursed her lips, studying the dialogue more critically. “You’re right.” Her gaze dropped, and a blush touched her cheeks. “I can’t be that obvious.”
Cassidy’s cheeks were suddenly very pink, and Rich was stymied. He burned with questions, but he realized that this was not the time to pose them. “Maybe you’d better get that to Paul.”
He waited until she was out of sight before letting his jaw drop. Is it possible? Cass has feelings for Bren? And Bren for? Rich was only surprised that he had not recognized the situation before. He flashed on an image of Brenna on the big day of interviews. He had come to talk to Cassidy about a scene they were working together and found her hovering over Brenna’s shoulder while the shorter woman conducted an interview. Brenna’s hand had rested over Cassidy’s the entire time.
Then there had been the later incident. Brenna had rapidly defused the conŹfrontation between Chapman and Palassis when Cassidy was caught in the middle so publicly. It should have become a press relations firestorm, a real nightmare. Instead it had died, never making it to print or air anywhere that he had seen.
They certainly came a long way in a year, he thought. From cold shoulder to warm thoughts, apparently. If not more. He wondered if anyone else had noticed.
Cassidy stood in the doorway of the small
office, watching pensively as the writer inside took the pencil from behind his ear and scratched a note in the margin of the script, mumbling, “Mmm hmm.”
“Paul?”
“Hold on.” Not looking at her, he held up a hand and kept reading. He scratched out a line and then made more notations.
She crossed and uncrossed her arms and leaned more heavily against the door jamb. Opening her mouth to speak, she shut it quickly. Having turned the page, he was now reading the scene that most concerned her. Cassidy watched his face, nerŹvous about his reaction. He offered a half-smile, then a curt nod, and circled someŹthing before closing the bound script. He finally looked up at her. “Not bad.”
She heard the cautiousness of the praise and swallowed. “Will it work?”
“This is how you feel? No chance of going back to the original script?”
“No.” She was firm. “Chapman wanted the scenes, he’s got them, but I am not sacrificing Hanssen to his ego.”
“I’m probably going to lengthen the infection scene, just to draw the audience’s attention, make it more obvious that’s what’s causing the delirious behavior. That will mean trimming somewhere else.”
“Where?” Worried about where he might cut, she considered explaining her reasoning to convince him to keep the script basically as it now was. However, if the key scene was shortened, or cut entirely, at least the audience would know Chris was not in her right mind.
“Seconds here and there, no entire scenes. It’s really quite cogent. I’m surprised you haven’t said anything much before now,” Paul mused. “We writers are going to be out of work if you guys keep doing rewrites this well.”
“I heard about the union problems,” Cassidy said. “I don’t want to be a writer. I just want to act.”
“That’s a relief,” he said with a chuckle.
Cassidy walked away from the office, collecting her breath a bit at a time, resenting that she had needed to “save” Hanssen. She looked up to find she was at Cameron’s door. She ought to be sure he knew how she felt. She lifted her hand and knocked. The door, not completely latched, slowly opened inward.
Turning Point Page 25
