All That Lies Within (12 page)

“Pretty much.”

“Please tell me the night got better from there.”

“Okay. The night got better from there.” Rebecca smiled as Natalie grunted in exasperation. “I met a woman—”

“I knew it!”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Oh, how disappointing.”

“I mean, it is what you think, but it’s not.”

Natalie laughed. “For someone as eloquent as you are, you seem to be having a hard time articulating, Professor.”

“It’s complicated.” Was it? When Rebecca thought about Sharon and what happened, it really seemed rather simple. So she explained about the brief encounter and her reaction to it. What she didn’t expect, was to be met with stone-cold silence. “You’re not saying anything.”

“I’m busy seething at Cynthia.”

“Oh.”

“That woman screwed you fifteen ways to Sunday. I’d love to put my little hands around her neck and—”

Rebecca shook her head. “She doesn’t deserve the energy you’re giving her by thinking about it.”

“I may be giving her the energy, but you’re giving her power by letting her stand in the way of you and any potential love interest that crosses your path. How long are you planning to let that wench control your life?”

Rebecca started to object then stopped herself. Natalie was right. Even in her absence, Cynthia cast a long shadow. It was time to stand in her own power. Hadn’t that been the problem growing up—that she’d let everyone else determine how she felt about herself and how she lived her life? Well, that time was over.

“No more.”

“I’m sorry? I couldn’t hear you.” Natalie playfully put her hand to her ear. “A little louder and with more authority, please?”

“No more,” Rebecca shouted, her words echoing in the stillness of the summer air.

“That’s more like it. So, do you have Sharon’s digits?” Natalie waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“I do not. It wasn’t that kind of connection. I mean, don’t get me wrong, she was gorgeous and nice, but…”

“But not the kind of girl you bring home to Mother?”

Rebecca pondered the question. “Nah. It’s not really that. I mean, I wouldn’t bring her home to
my
mother, but then again, I wouldn’t subject any woman to my mother. Still, I suspect Sharon would hold her own in most settings.”

“So, what’s the deal with her.”

“It’s the intangibles, you know?”

“Nope. Clueless.”

Rebecca searched around for what she was trying to say. “Whoever is next for me, I want her to be ‘the one.’ Does that make any sense?”

“You mean like some idealized, romanticized image from one of the novels you teach? A love to exceed all others.”

“Something like that,” Rebecca agreed. “Let me guess. You think that’s nothing but a bunch of literary rubbish.”

“Hey. I may not be the most romantic woman in the world, but I can agree that it’s possible for others to find that one, perfect match.”

They finished the run in silence. But Rebecca found that her thoughts were anything but still. For reasons she knew she’d never share with Natalie, the enigma that was Constance Darrow filled her mind to overflowing. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

“I have something that’ll cheer you up,” Carolyn said, as she helped Dara sift through her mother’s papers. They were sitting at Carolyn’s dining room table three days after Dara’s mother passed away. Carolyn had no trouble convincing her best friend to check out of the hotel and come stay with her and Stan, especially after the press outside the hospital mobbed her. Apparently, after the
National Enquirer
story, every newspaper, tabloid, and entertainment magazine and several syndicated television shows staked out positions in front of the hospital and hotel.

“Hmm?”

“What are you reading that has you so engrossed?” Carolyn peeked over Dara’s shoulder. “Your mother kept old love letters between her and your father?”

“So it would appear.”

“How romantic.”

“Remarkably, they are. I didn’t think either of them had an ounce of passion in their souls. I was wrong.”

“Something came in the mail for you today.” Carolyn dearly wanted to make some clever connecting quip as a segue, but she feared it would call attention to something she was sure Dara wasn’t seeing…yet.

“It did?”

“Uh-huh. Another letter from your favorite Am Lit professor.”  And there it was. Dara looked up and smiled. It was brief, but Carolyn caught it. Over the past few months, Constance Darrow and Rebecca Minton had exchanged no less than a half dozen letters. Since Carolyn was the conduit, she bore witness to both sides of the correspondence. In the past couple of letters, Carolyn noticed that Dara had begun to soften and allow glimpses of her wicked sense of humor to shine through. That was a first with any admirer, not to mention the fact that this now qualified as the longest-running correspondence Dara and/or Constance had maintained with any one fan.

The last time Dara let her guard down was with that witch, Sheilah. In the ten years since, Dara hadn’t so much as looked at another woman.

When Sheilah first came on the scene, Dara was so filled with joy, and Carolyn was grateful. Dara had led such a lonely, solitary life. That she should find great happiness was everything Carolyn hoped for her friend. Then Sheilah broke Dara’s heart and Carolyn’s heart broke for her. She watched the wariness slip back in and the light go out of Dara’s eyes.

Until now. That was what Dara hadn’t yet recognized. Rebecca’s letters breathed new life into her. Without realizing it, Dara had begun looking forward to them. Carolyn didn’t know where, if anywhere, the correspondence would lead, but she loved seeing the light back in Dara’s eyes. For now, that was enough.

She handed Dara the unopened letter. As anticipated, Dara’s expression was quizzical.

“You didn’t review it?”

Carolyn tried out her best nonchalant one-shoulder shrug. “I figured by now it was safe to leave you two adults unsupervised.” She held her breath, hoping the implication wouldn’t send Dara running from the room.

“You, trusting someone enough not to run interference? That’s a switch.”

“I vetted her. She is who she says she is. Her résumé is solid and she doesn’t seem to have an agenda beyond being a really good Constance Darrow geek. I see no harm. Unless you want me to…”

“No. That’s okay. I checked her out too.”

“You did?”

“Of course. You don’t think I’d keep answering her otherwise, do you?”

“I just figured you trusted my judgment.” Carolyn gave a mock pout.

“Well, that too. Did you catch her last lecture? She had the kids wrapped around her little finger.”

Carolyn hid a huge grin. She had seen the lecture. It was a great piece of theater. Before she could answer, Dara prattled on.

“I can’t believe they record the lectures and put them on YouTube like that. And from several camera angles too. Then again, it might just have been a student-led effort.”

Carolyn badly wanted to ask whether Dara found Rebecca attractive, but she held her tongue. Carolyn certainly thought Rebecca was.
Not just attractive. She’s gorgeous.
“I’m glad you’re participating in your own security. I’m proud of you—knowing who you’re talking to and all.”

“Uh-huh. Don’t patronize me.”

“Me? I would never. Hardly ever.” Carolyn winked. “I’m going to go start dinner. Join me in the kitchen when you’re done in here.”

“Mm-hmm.”

As Carolyn walked out, she watched out of the corner of her eye as Dara turned the envelope over and over in her hands. Yes. This was going quite well.

“No. Absolutely not.” Dara jumped up from the visitor’s chair and went to gaze out the window at the New York skyline.

“Dara, just think about this. It’s Broadway, for chrissakes. It’s a three-month run. Limited engagement, packed houses, you get to go back to the live stage and show your acting chops, and you have room in your schedule to do it. What’s not to love?”

Dara turned and glared at Rick Church, the man who had been her agent since she signed her first movie contract ten years ago. She started ticking items off on her fingers. “It’s New York. It’s three months. It’s New York.”

Rick threw his hands up. “What do you have against The Big Apple?”

Dara opened her mouth to answer, then thought better of what she’d been planning to say. She shook her head. “I told you a long time ago I have no interest in being that close to my hometown.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Be reasonable. You’re already in New York, and it’s Broadway. You have to finish closing up your mother’s affairs anyway, right? Please.” Rick pressed his palms together in a prayerful pose. “Please?”

“Why is this so important to you? Surely we’ve got plenty of other offers on the table that would be more lucrative than this.”

“You’ve got the big Spielberg shoot coming up, and I’m trying to give you enough prep time for that. But this is a long-term strategic move for you.”

“Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Hear me out.” Rick gestured to the seat across from his desk. “And please sit back down. You’re making me nervous as hell.”

Reluctantly, Dara complied. “Let’s have it.”

“The backers for this show are the same guys who just took over 722 Films. You know, the ones who are fronting the mega-budget production of
On the Wings of Angels
.”

Dara’s heart skipped a beat even as she tried to limit her expression to one of mild interest. “The Constance Darrow novel adaptation I asked you to try to get me cast for?”

“That’s the one.”

“Very tricky.” Dara whistled appreciatively. “You think by doing the Broadway show for them, that’ll give me the inside track for the role of Celeste in the movie.”

Rick nodded, a self-satisfied smile playing across his lips.

Dara squirmed in the chair. Just thinking about staying in New York, even for a brief few months, made her palms sweat and her head spin. But the opportunity to play her own title character on the big screen was something she’d been dreaming of since the publication of her debut novel. She tried to calculate her chances of getting the film role without the advantage doing the stint on Broadway would give her. “When do we have to commit?”

“Yesterday.” Rick slid a sheaf of papers across the desk. “I’ve already reviewed the details of the contract and negotiated out most of the onerous requirements for practice schedules, et cetera. All you have to do is sign on the dotted line.”

Is that all?
Dara picked up the pen and began reviewing the document. Halfway through, she set down the pen and folded her arms over her chest. “Rick, you know I love you and I respect you. You’ve done fantastic things for my career. With you as my agent, Colin as my PR guy, and Carolyn as my business manager, I’ve been in the best possible hands. I’m confident that I still am. But I won’t take this play just in order to get a movie role. I won’t. I’ll either be right for the role of Celeste or I won’t—on my own merits.”

“I think you’re making a big mistake, Dara. This is how the game is played—”

“I’m not interested in playing games. I’m interested in making powerful movies and playing great parts. Nothing more. Are we clear?” Dara noted the look of displeasure but chose to ignore it. “Are we?”

“We are.”

“Good.” Dara stood. “Anything else?”

“I spoke to Colin. He didn’t want to bug you while you were dealing with your personal issues, and he knew we were going to sit down today. He tells me he has calls in to Dave Letterman and the network morning shows for interview slots. How long are you planning to stay in New York?”

“I’ll be in town for the rest of the week. After that, I’m going back home where I belong. If Colin can get any of the shows lined up for the next few days, I’m in. After that, it’ll have to be something LA-based.”

“Okay. I’ll let him know and one of us will be in touch.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Take care of yourself, Dara.”

“You too, Rick. And say hi to that wonderful wife of yours.”

“She’ll be sorry she missed you.”

“Me too,” Dara answered, as she headed out the door.