Stars Collide (16 page)

“O-oh?” She suddenly looked nervous. The teacup in her hand began to shake. “Have I done something to upset you, KK?”

“Grandma, did you by any chance talk to a man at
The Scoop
?”

A look of relief passed over her. “Oh, is that all. Yes, honey. They called and I answered. It’s the polite thing to do, to pick up the phone when it rings.”

“Yes, but we’ve talked about this before. Sometimes the person on the other end of the line isn’t a friend. Sometimes he’s just a reporter out to get a story.”

She grinned. “But that’s the delightful part. We
have
a story. You’re getting married.”

“No, Grandma.”

“W-what?” She looked at me, confusion registering in her eyes.

“No, it’s a big misunderstanding. I’m not getting married . . . at all.”

“Of course you are, sweet girl,” she said. “I was there when Jack proposed. Lots of other people were too. Why, the whole room was filled with witnesses.” A concerned look came over her. “Is he trying to weasel out of it now that he’s made his offer of marriage? Has that father of his talked him out of it or something?” The creases between her brows deepened and her eyes filled with tears. “Don’t you dare let anyone talk you out of marrying the man you love, KK. You hear me? You will regret it for the rest of your life.”

Alrighty then.

I nodded, unsure of how to get this train back on track. “Grandma, you’re not understanding,” I said at last. “I’m trying to say that it’s all a part of the show. That’s all.”

I could read the relief in her eyes. “Well, of
course
it’s part of the show, honey.” She chuckled. “The show’s the thing, remember? If I don’t know that after living in Hollywood for so long, then I’ve learned nothing at all.” She turned to me, confusion registering in her eyes. “Where is Jack, anyway? He said he was going to fix the latch on my front door.”

“No, that was his—” I started to say “dad” but stopped short. Arguing with her wasn’t going to make things any better.

“Such a nice boy. And great muscles. He really eats his spinach, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, but Grandma, I need to talk to you about something else. Something important.”

“Oh?”

“I need to know what you told that man at
The Scoop
.”

“Oh,
The Scoop
is such a lovely magazine. Such interesting pictures too. My old friend Ted Holliday works there. Great guy. Why, back in my day, he came around pretty often to take pictures of me.”

“And he’s the one you talked to about my wedding?”

“Yes, KK. He’s the best reporter they have on staff.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I think I told him . . .” She paused. “Oh yes. I told him that you and Jack are going to have a beautiful reception in the gardens, and that we’re going to renovate the house in preparation. Told him the house is going to be even prettier than the last time he saw it, back in ’68.”

“And did you mention Jack’s parents?”

“Hmm.” She paused and appeared to be thinking. “I recall saying something about the small town they’re from. You know, I really like them, KK. I can see now why Jack turned out as he did. Such a godly young man. It’s the influence of his mother. Don’t you think she’s a peach?”

“Yes.” I counted to three under my breath then forged ahead. “Grandma, did you by any chance say something to the reporter about our swimming pool?”

“Our swimming pool?” The creases between her brows deepened. “Well, yes. I told him that you and I made a little joke about the Clampetts coming to town when we put on our Elly May bathing suits and swam in the cement pond.” Her cheeks flushed pink. “Oh, is that why you’re upset with me? Was that information too personal? Are you afraid Ted will ask for a picture of you in a bathing suit or something?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Did you lead him to believe that Scott’s parents are in any way like the Beverly Hillbillies?”

“Scott?” Her brow wrinkled. “Who’s Scott?”

I counted to three once again and whispered, “Jack. Did you tell him that Jack’s parents are the Clampetts?”

She pressed a hand to her chest, a shocked look registering. “For heaven’s sake. Jack’s last name is Clampett? I could have sworn his parents were named Murphy or something like that.” She chortled. “There I go, getting all mixed up again. I’ll tell you what, KK. When you’re my age, sometimes things get a little fuzzy.”

At
my
age, sometimes things got a little fuzzy too. Like right now, for instance. And in this Lenora Worth–induced fog, I could barely see beyond the next bend. She rambled on and on about how my married name would be Clampett after I married Jack, but I refused to listen. Enough was enough already. I had to figure out a way to wind her down.

With that in mind, I suggested we watch a movie together. She opted for
Two Mules for Sister Sara
, going on and on about how much she loved Shirley MacLaine in this role. I didn’t mind, really. My thoughts were elsewhere.

Thankfully Grandma dozed off about halfway into the movie. I found my eyes growing heavy as well. After helping her into bed, I moved to my room, exhaustion leading the way. As I pulled back the covers on my bed, I thought about Scott, wondering why he hadn’t responded to my voice mail or text messages. Surely he’d read the story. Maybe he was so mad he couldn’t make himself call me. Maybe he would never call again. Then what would I do? How would the show go on if the leading lady and leading man weren’t speaking?

If I’d been writing the questions to end this particularly melodramatic scene in my life, they would have gone something like this:

“Will Scott forgive Kat and her grandmother for ruining his life?”

“Will his parents hightail it out of Beverly Hills permanently, never to speak to Kat again?”

“Will the media take this story and run with it, creating trouble for the Murphy family back home in Alma?”

And finally, “Will Kat ever figure out how to face the storms of life head-on, without wanting to curl up in a ball in the corner?”

I couldn’t answer the first three questions, of course. But I had the final one down pat. I curled up on the bed in a fetal position . . . and cried myself to sleep.

17

Step by Step

Monday morning dawned bright and sunny. I squinted at the ribbons of light slipping through my curtains, wishing I could sleep in. On the other hand, the sooner I got to the studio, the sooner I could find out if Scott was upset. I just needed to get this over with . . . for both of our sakes.

I found my grandmother dressed in a gown I’d never seen before. The white glittery dress took my breath away. She looked lovely.

“Who are we today, Grandma?” I asked as we climbed into the Pink Lady
.

“Barbara Stanwyck.
Christmas in Connecticut.
1945.” She fussed with her combs, and I noticed for the first time they were Christmas-themed. In fact, so was her jewelry. I’d never seen snowflake earrings before. I had to give it to her, though. They looked great with the winter-white dress. And I especially loved the fur trimming around the wrists and neckline. A little odd in the middle of summer, though, especially with the temps soaring higher than usual.

“Let’s stop and pick up a copy of
The Scoop
on the way, KK,” Grandma said. “I want to see if the police ever figured out what caused Grace Kelly’s accident. She died in Monte Carlo, you know. Did I tell you that already?”

I released a breath. “You told me that she had passed away, but you didn’t mention the details. I’m so sorry, Grandma. I know what a great person she was and how much you loved her.”

“Oh, everyone loved Grace. What a tragic end to such a beautiful life.” My grandmother dabbed at her eyes. “Heartbreaking.”

“Definitely.”

“
The Scoop
will carry the story. Ted is always the first to report the news. He’s so good at what he does.”

“Yes, those folks at
The Scoop
are definitely good at what they do.” Still, the last thing on the planet I wanted to do was to pick up a copy of any magazine today, but I couldn’t figure out how to avoid it. Once Grandma made up her mind to do something, she did it.

Ironically, the lead story that morning in nearly every newspaper was the impending writers’ strike. I glanced over a couple of the articles, more than a little worried about how this would affect
Stars Collide
. How could we finish out the season if the writers abandoned us?

Apparently I wasn’t the only one in a dither over this. By the time we arrived at the studio, terror had struck every heart. Well, maybe not terror, but a healthy fear. We depended on the writers to give us a sense of direction. And as much as I hated to admit it, I depended on the writers to point me in the right direction, both on the show and off.

Strange, how scripted my life had become.

Rex called all of us together on the set at 10:00. I looked around for Scott, wondering why he wasn’t there.

“I know you’ve heard the news,” Rex said. “Looks like we’ve only got a day or two till we lose our writing team. That means we’ve got to get that script for the wedding pounded out today.” He crossed his arms and looked at Athena, Bob, and Paul. “Do you think you can do it?”

“It’s mostly done,” Athena responded. “Lenora has been very helpful.”

“Oh yes,” Grandma said, her eyes now sparkling with pure delight. “I love planning weddings. This one’s going to be a doozy.”

I’ll bet.

Rex gave her a wistful look, and I wondered if anyone else in the room noticed it. Before long, these two wouldn’t be able to hide their feelings from the masses. What had been buried for years was sure to come tumbling out for all to see, if they weren’t careful.

“Well, I for one don’t mind admitting I’m nervous,” Tia said. “The timing couldn’t be worse.”

“Our writers are a loyal bunch,” Rex said. “They’ll give us their best while we have them.”

“I promise,” Athena said. “It’s going to be great.”

Rex turned to the rest of us. “Still, we need to be prepared for how this is all going to play out. We’ll go ahead and film this week’s show, then probably take a few days off to watch and see what happens with this strike.”

“This isn’t going to be like last time,” Athena said. “I doubt it will affect the show for more than a couple of days, at most. Just long enough for all of us to take a much-needed break.”

Not that we needed to be breaking at this particular juncture in the show’s history, but I wasn’t about to say that.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Scott. He approached from behind my grandmother, who turned and gave him a little wave. He nodded in her direction, but I didn’t see his usual cheerful countenance. Yep, he’d read the story. And from the looks of things, he wasn’t happy. Who could blame him?

Rex continued to talk about how we were going to handle the writers’ strike, but he lost me after just a few sentences. I tried to catch Scott’s eye, tried to see if he would respond to me in any way, but his gaze remained fixed to the floor. This was not looking good.

“Tell me what you have so far,” Rex said, his gaze falling on Athena and the other writers. “I want every detail of that wedding.”

She proceeded to fill him in, giving every last snippet of information. The wedding scene sounded both sweet and funny. I particularly liked the part where my grandmother and the children did a little song-and-dance number at the reception. That would go over well with her. Still, there were a few details left undone. Hopefully the writers would get those parts written today, while they still had time.

When the meeting ended, I glanced Scott’s way. When our eyes met, the color seemed to drain from his face.

The others left, and we found ourselves alone on the talent agency set. Ironic. This is where it had all begun. Angie, the fledgling talent scout, up against the best in the business—Jack, the determined businessman, savvy but set in his ways. They’d started out as mortal enemies. Would they end up that way too?

Hmm. There I go again, jumping back into the script.

The lines of fiction and reality really were blurring in my life. Maybe Grandma wasn’t the only one having trouble distinguishing between the two.

Scott approached with a pensive look on his face. His words were soft but firm. “We need to talk.”

I swallowed hard and nodded. “You, um . . . you got my messages?”

“Yes.” He released a sigh. “The battery on my cell phone had died, but I didn’t realize it till late last night.”

“Ah.” I paused. “So, um, I guess you’ve seen the paper?”

“I have.”

Tears slipped over the edges of my lashes. I brushed them away. “Scott, I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry. She meant well. And that whole Beverly Hillbillies thing was a complete misunderstanding. No one ever, at any time, compared your parents to the Clampetts. I promise.”

He released a slow breath, then began to pace the set, finally coming to stop in front of the
Stars Collide
sign. “I’m only worried that they’re going to get wind of this and be hurt,” he admitted, his voice now so low I had to strain to hear. “But more than that, I’m upset that my dad’s business is in trouble and he didn’t come to me about it.”

I waited for him to continue, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought. I could tell Scott had a lot on his mind.

“My dad is a proud man. Too proud sometimes. But he should know I would be there for him.” Scott’s jaw tightened.

“You had no idea?” I asked.

Scott shook his head. “None. Every time I ask him about the store, he always says the same thing: ‘We’re hanging in there.’ ”

“I’m surprised your mom didn’t tell you.”

“You want the truth?” He paused, gazing intently into my eyes. “I’d be willing to bet she doesn’t know either. He’s a very private man.” Scott ran his fingers through his hair. “Only, now his privacy has been invaded on every conceivable level.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

“I know.” He shook his head. “This is all my fault. I don’t really know my dad. Maybe I never did. If I knew him, I would be aware of the problems he’s going through. But he’s never been the sort to ‘be known,’ if that makes any sense.”

“You’re talking to a girl whose father took off when she was seven,” I said. “So trust me. I understand.”

“I’m sorry, Kat.” Scott reached to grab my hand, the first visible sign that he wasn’t angry at me. “It’s crazy to be nearly thirty years old and still so wrapped up in trying to please my father.”

“Maybe he won’t see the paper,” I said. “Maybe this will blow over.”

“Even if he doesn’t, someone is sure to tell him. I have to let him know. He needs to hear it from me.”

“Well, when you call, please remind him that my grandmother isn’t well and that her comment about the Beverly Hillbillies had nothing to do with them. It was taken completely out of context.”

“I will.” Scott offered a faint smile then shook his head. “I’m trying to envision my mother swimming in the cement pond. Crazy, the image that brings.”

I chuckled, relieved to have the hardest part of this conversation behind us. Surely God could work this out. In time. In his own way.

“Hey, Kat!” I looked around as I heard my name and saw Jana. “We need you in wardrobe as soon as you can get there. Time to have that wedding dress altered.”

“Wedding dress.” Hmm. I wondered what Scott must be thinking. My gaze shifted back to him and I noticed the sadness in his eyes. Whispering “I’m sorry” didn’t really suffice, but what else could I do, really?

He nodded and slipped his arm around me for a quick hug before I headed back to wardrobe. But somehow that hug didn’t feel the same as the ones we’d shared before. Though I hated to admit it, our relationship had changed . . . and not for the better.

So many troubling thoughts rolled through my mind as I walked to the wardrobe area. IHOP. Steak and eggs. The map of Beverly Hills. Liz Taylor’s honeymoon suite. Doris Day’s soothing voice. My first stolen kiss with Scott. The sound of Candy’s pitiful cries inside the bathroom stall. The letters Rex had written my grandmother. The dream I’d had about my parents. The call from that so-called reporter. Carolina’s ceviche. All of these things ran together in my head, creating a jumbled mess.

One thing stood out above all others, though, and it could not be denied. My grandmother was clearly in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s. I hadn’t voiced the word till now, but that’s what it was. Her wackiness and fun-loving ways were always offbeat and unusual. But her erratic behavior, which I’d once considered quirky and humorous, could no longer be ignored. It genuinely concerned me, in fact. Everything in our world was changing, and I needed to figure out a way to get used to my “new normal.”

When I arrived at the wardrobe department, I found Jana unzipping the plastic bag that held my wedding dress. Er, Angie’s wedding dress. Sure, I’d picked it out. And yes, I would wear it. But ultimately it belonged to Angie, the fictional character who didn’t really have a heart or soul and would never even know she was having a wedding.

Jana chattered with great abandon as she helped me into the gown. Fastening up the buttons in the back, I held my breath, anxious to see if it still fit after all of the salmon and ceviche I’d consumed the other night. Thankfully it fit like a dream.

I looked at my reflection in the full-length, tri-fold mirror and gasped. In that moment—that magical, ethereal moment—I felt like a bride. A real, honest-to-goodness, gonna-walk-down-the-aisle-into-the-arms-of-my-lovin’-man bride.

It terrified me.

And exhilarated me.

A rap at the door interrupted my reverie. Jana looked at me with straight pins in her mouth, gesturing for me to answer it.

I opened the door, stunned to see Rex Henderson on the other side.

He took one look at me in the white dress and his eyes grew wide. “Oh my. That’s . . . you’re beautiful. Radiant.”

“Thanks.” I swished to the right and then the left, showing off the dress’s amazing skirt. “They gave me several to choose from, and this is the one I picked. I like the fitted waist and the full skirt.”

“You’re like a picture from a magazine,” he said. “Oh, and speaking of magazines . . .”

“I know.” I groaned. “You saw the article?”

“Well, Tia did. She brought me a copy. Thought I needed to know what was going on.”

“Rex, I didn’t set that up. I need you to know that.”

“Lenora?” Just one word, but it spoke volumes.

“Yes.”

“Say no more.” He grinned. “She always did have a way with reporters. The woman knew how to get the papers to cover just about anything.”

“She still does.”

“Could I come in so we can talk?” he asked, a look of concern registering in his eyes.

Jana continued fussing with the hem of the dress then looked up, pulling the pins out of her mouth. “Should I leave you two alone?”

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Do you want to get out of this dress first?”

“Are you done pinning it?”

She shook her head, so I agreed to keep it on until after she returned.

When she left the room, Rex took a seat on the sofa and gestured for me to join him. I wasn’t sure how to go about sitting in the cumbersome dress, so I opted to stand. I caught a glimpse of my profile in the full-length mirror. Except for the messy hair and unhemmed dress, I almost felt ready to walk down the aisle. And Rex could very well be the father figure, heart swelling with pride as he escorted me to meet my groom. What would that feel like?

I shook off my daydreams, ready to deal with reality. For a change.

“Kat, I just talked to Scott,” Rex said. “I know he’s really trying to sort through all of this.”

“Me too.”

“I hope you two don’t let this little situation keep you apart. That would be awful.”

“Keep us apart?” I feigned innocence.

“Kat, you’re a brilliant actor.”

“Th-thank you.” His words threw me a little. “I’ve spent years studying the craft and—”

“You’re good,” he repeated. “But not that good.”

“Excuse me?”

“I can tell when you’re acting and when you’re not. The day you told me about your relationship with Scott, I knew it was the real deal. And because of that, I’ve been praying. For both of you.”