Stars Collide (13 page)

I smiled. “Glad you had fun. What else did you do?”

“She took me to every bridal store in town,” Carolina said, flashing me a warning look. “I tried to talk her out of it, Kat, but she bought all sorts of things.”

“Oh, just a few little trinkets,” Grandma said with a grin.

“Trinkets?” Carolina crossed her arms at her chest. “Tell the truth, Lenora. You bought the girl her wedding china.”

“W-wedding china?” Surely I’d misunderstood.

Scott looked at me, stunned. “We have wedding china?”

“You do now!” Grandma Lenora laughed. “Oh, I hope you like it, KK. I picked it out myself. It’s very much like the pattern I loved back when . . . well, a long time ago. Don’t be mad, honey. I only bought two place settings. Your guests can buy the rest.”

My mind reeled at the idea that she’d actually picked out and purchased wedding china. What else had she done?

“I can’t wait to call Athena and tell her.” Grandma looked through one of the bags.

“Athena?”

“Well, sure. She’s your wedding planner, right? The one putting together all the details? She and the others at the studio, I mean. I’m so glad they asked for my input.”

Ah. The writers. I guess they would look like wedding planners to Grandma.

“I’ve had such a nice time working with them,” she said. “Oh, it’s lovely to be included.”

Carolina muttered something indistinguishable then began to carry bags of stuff up the stairs. Shaking her head, she turned to me. “Kat, listen. I did everything in my power to convince her not to buy all of this stuff, but she wouldn’t listen. She never listens.”

“Oh, pooh.” Grandma waved a hand, dismissing her. “What’s the harm in having a little fun? At my age, I figured I’ve earned it.”

“A little fun? You spent a fortune, Lenora.”

“Have a fortune, spend a fortune . . . what’s the difference? It’s there for a reason. I might as well use it. Can’t take it with me. There won’t be any bank accounts in heaven, you know!”

“Yes, but you don’t need to be spending your hard-earned money on me,” I argued.

At this, my grandmother turned, disappointment etched on her face. “Oh, but I love spending money on you, KK.” She faced Scott. “And you too, Jack. It’s the least I can do, after all you two have done for me. So I did a little shopping. So what?”

From the stairs, Carolina let out a grunt. “See what I’m up against?” she said. “I talk, she doesn’t listen. What we’ve got here is failure to communicate.”

“Oooh, let me take this one.” Scott looked at Grandma, his eyes bright. “
Cool Hand Luke . . .
Can’t remember the name of the guy who said it.”

Grandma, Carolina, and I all spoke in unison: “Strother Martin. 1967.”

“Thanks. I needed that.” Scott flashed a boyish grin, which made my heart flutter.

Carolina disappeared up the stairs and Grandma walked to the little table to grab a sweet roll. After taking a nibble, she turned our way. “So, what did you two kids do while I was gone?” she asked. “KK, did you show Jack around the gardens to make sure he likes the setup for the reception?”

I drew in a deep breath and silently counted to ten. If I didn’t overreact, maybe she would walk away and forget she’d even brought up the wedding at all. This was getting tougher every day.

Thankfully Scott was quick on his feet. He turned to me. “Kat, let’s do that now. A walk in the gardens sounds great.”

“I agree.” I took his arm and he led me outside. As we strolled down the cobblestone pathway gazing at the beautiful flowers, I became distracted by the obvious. I reached into my pocket, coming out with one of the letters.

Scott gestured to one of the concrete benches and we sat together, reading the beautifully scripted words of the first letter. I couldn’t help but marvel at the handwriting.

“The letters aren’t signed with a name, so we don’t know for sure who wrote them,” he said.

I pursed my lips and gave him a knowing look. “Scott. Read this one. Do you see the reference to the pink sweetheart roses?”

He sighed.

“Rex wrote them all right. And those dried roses in the steamer trunk? They’ve got to be from him too. I’m going to get to the bottom of this if it kills me.”

Scott took my hand. “That’s what I’m worried about, Kat. You’re the most persistent person I know. And you like to keep at things until you figure them out. But this is much bigger than us. Maybe it’s not meant to be figured out.”

“That sounds like a line from a movie.” I folded the letter and put it back in its envelope.

“Maybe it is. I don’t know. I just know that you’ve got to be careful how you handle this. People could get hurt.”

A little sigh escaped, followed by a whispered, “I know.”

“Playing with real lives is a whole lot different from coming up with a great script for a show. We can’t push these players around on the stage. And besides, God’s the director here, not you. Not me. He’s got this under control.”

I closed my eyes and drew in a breath. “Thanks. I needed that.”

Scott slipped an arm over my shoulders and whispered, “You’re welcome. I love you, Kat.”

Ah, those magic words! They not only lifted my spirits, they reminded me that love really did conquer all, even in tough situations like this.

After a little more conversation, we walked back in the house to find Grandma easing her way down the stairs. She moved slowly, favoring her hip, which appeared to be bothering her more today than usual.

She looked our way and frowned. “Did you see what that naughty kitty did in my room while I was gone?”

My heart gravitated to my throat. “N-no. What did he do?”

She clucked her tongue. “Pulled the afghan off of my trunk. Don’t know how he did it, but he managed to get it onto the bed. Pretty talented cat, that one! Maybe he should be in commercials.” She went on to talk about a cat she’d seen in a Meow Mix commercial.

“Ah.” I shook my head and looked at Scott, who shifted his gaze to a photo on the wall. I didn’t want to be deceptive, but neither did I feel led to tell my grandmother I’d been snooping in her things.

“Oh well. Fiddle-dee-dee!” Grandma paused on the steps, a smile lighting her face. She stood there, waiting for my inevitable response to the line she’d just delivered. Only one problem—I didn’t want to play along today. I really didn’t.

On the other hand, if I refused to join in, we’d be standing here until the sun came down. I’d just opened my mouth to give the answer when Carolina’s agitated voice rang out from one of the rooms upstairs: “Vivien Leigh.
Gone with the Wind
. 1939. And if this little guessing game doesn’t stop soon, I’m going to snap like a twig.”

Yep. I couldn’t have put it any better myself.

14

Keeping Up Appearances

Though I tried to squelch my roller-coaster-like emotions, much of Saturday was spent fuming. Even Carolina noticed my sour mood. She watched from the door of my room as I slammed dresser drawers in search of something to wear when Scott brought his parents over for dinner. I sensed her gaze but did my best to ignore it. Until I turned and faced her head-on.

“Something wrong, Kat?” The look of concern on her face clued me in to the fact that my behavior surprised her. It surprised me too. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this knotted up. The information Scott and I had gleaned this morning left my head reeling.

I plopped down onto the bed, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Did you ever think you knew someone, only to find out you really didn’t?”

Carolina grunted. “My ex-husband. Enough said?”

As she settled onto the bed next to me, I reached to touch her hand. “I’m sorry about your ex-husband, Carolina. I’d forgotten you were divorced.”

“Twenty years now. Seems like just yesterday we were dukin’ it out in divorce court.”

Sounded gruesome. “Well then, maybe you’re the best candidate to answer this question. How did you live with him for so long, not really knowing him?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s easy,” she said. “He was a phony.”

“A phony?”

“Yes. The great pretender. Living two lives. Acting like he was perfectly happy with me, but spending time with someone else too.” She shook her head. “Trust me, honey. We were ideal candidates for the Jerry Springer show. Lots of drama.”

“Ugh.” I thought of my father. From what I’d gathered, he’d pretty much been the same as Carolina’s ex. How long had my mother known he was involved with another woman? Did he go on pretending that he wanted to be part of our lives, only to secretly want someone else?

This thought led me right back to my grandmother and her carefully hidden relationship with Rex. I wanted to pick up the phone and call him, to ask for details. With those letters as ammunition, I could surely drag the truth out of him.

Or not.

A couple of deep breaths later, I was reminded of Scott’s calming words. This battle wasn’t mine. Only the Lord could handle something this big. Still, I felt the need to get to the bottom of all this. Surely the Almighty wouldn’t be put off by my need to know. Right?

Carolina’s troubling words interrupted my thoughts. “Something kind of sad happened this morning.”

“Oh?” I glanced her way.

“Lenora called me the wrong name.”

“Really? What did she call you?”

“Hazel.” Carolina’s eyes filled with tears. “Doesn’t that just break your heart?”

“Wait. Who’s Hazel?”

“She was a housekeeper on a television show in the ’60s,” Carolina explained. “Played by Shirley Booth, one of the funniest ladies in television history.”

“I’m sorry, Carolina.” I reached to give her a hug. “I know that must’ve been hard.”

“Harder than you think,” Carolina said. “Hazel was always getting in trouble, causing all sorts of mischief. You don’t think I’m like that, do you, Kat?”

“Heavens, no. You’re the glue that holds this house together,” I said.

“No.” She shook her head and pointed up. “
He’s
the glue that holds this house together. I just do the mopping.”

“And the cooking and the shopping and the counseling. So don’t put yourself down. We couldn’t make it without you. I wouldn’t trust tonight’s dinner to anyone but you, by the way. You’re the best cook this side of Hollywood, and we’re blessed to have you.”

Carolina glanced at her watch and startled to attention. “Oh no. Three o’clock? Scott’s parents are coming at six, right?”

“Right.”

“I’d better get busy. Your grandmother’s been working on this menu for days. She’s pulling out all the stops.”

“Oh?” Anything would be better than steak and eggs with ketchup.

“She wants to start with a cheese platter, like she always does. She spent ages in Whole Foods choosing different ones.”

“Yum. Hope she got the Havarti.”

“Yep.” Carolina nodded. “I’m making shrimp ceviche—minus the tequila, of course. Baby arugula salad, blackened salmon, haricot verts, and bananas Foster.”

“Wow.” My mouth started watering. “That sounds amazing.” It also sounded a bit over the top for the fine folks from Alma, Arkansas. Still, I couldn’t fault my grandmother for trying. She wanted to make a good impression, after all.

Carolina started talking about the recipe for the ceviche, and I smiled as I listened to her exuberant presentation.

I paused to touch her arm when she finished. “Carolina, I don’t say this often enough, but thank you for your hard work. You didn’t have to spend your Saturday with Grandma, but you chose to. And now you’re cooking on your day off. How can I thank you for that?”

“Thank me?” Carolina shook her head. “Girl, did you hear my story a few minutes ago about my ex-husband?”

“Sure.”

“Well, listen closely. Twenty years ago when I tossed him out on his ear, I was working part-time at the same studio where your grandmother happened to be filming one of her later movies. She was reaching the end of her career by then.”

“Wait. You worked at a studio?”

“Housekeeping, honey. But here’s my point—when Lenora found out my husband was gone and he’d taken the checking account with him, she flew into action. Told me she had a little house behind Worth Manor where I could stay. Offered me the housekeeping position without any references or background check.”

“Sounds like Grandma.”

“When I moved into that little house back there, it became my home. And I’m keenly aware of the fact that it’s a home I don’t have to pay a penny for. All of my debts are covered by your grandmother.”

“Sounds like a spiritual message of sorts.”

“It is.” Carolina nodded. “And trust me, the Lord has used it to remind me that my past is truly behind me.”

“A lesson for us all,” I whispered.

“I live in Beverly Hills,” Carolina said. “And I have access to anything my heart could ever want. I’m fully aware that Lenora Worth has made all of this possible for me. With the Lord’s help, mind you. So I don’t mind a bit working on Saturdays, as long as I get to go on hanging out with you two lovely ladies.”

“Thank you.” I gave her a hug and quickly apologized for my earlier behavior. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed it.

Carolina headed to the kitchen and I spent a little more time on the internet, searching for clues about my grandfather. I had his name, of course: Jonathan Billings. And the date of his obituary. Surely I could find something.

An hour of searching for information left me frustrated. Looked like I’d have to do a little more digging later. Right now I had to get ready for company.

At exactly six o’clock, Scott pulled up to the gate with his parents in the car. I raced down the stairs, wearing my favorite white peasant blouse and summery skirt. I’d decided to forego the sandals, leaving my feet bare.

The tantalizing smells coming from the kitchen nearly stopped me. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I was met by my grandmother, fully decked out in a black evening gown. She took one look at my bare feet and clucked her tongue.

“What?” I asked, feigning innocence. “Can’t a girl be comfortable in her own home?”

“Well, sure.” She shrugged. “You know what I always say: ‘Take your shoes off.’ ” A knowing look followed. I picked up on the hidden clues and joined her for the rest of the line: “Y’all come back now, ya hear?”

We both chuckled and spoke in unison: “
The Beverly Hillbillies!
Closing credits.”

“You’re good, girl.” Grandma patted me on the back. “Very good. And if Jack doesn’t love you in your bare feet, then he’s not the man for you.”

“Amen to that.”

“Well, c’mon, tiger. Let’s go get ’im.”

The laughter that followed lifted my spirits. For a moment I saw my grandmother as a younger woman, waiting at the door for her beau to enter.

Hmm. Her beau. Would that be my grandfather . . . or Rex Henderson?

I didn’t have time to ponder the question, thank goodness. Grandma threw back the door and walked out to the driveway, chattering a mile a minute. She rushed Nancy’s way with arms extended, gathering her in a warm embrace. Nothing like kicking back and making people feel welcome. I tagged along behind, giving everyone a shy wave. Scott took in my appearance, apparently liking my off-the-shoulder blouse. I tried not to blush.

“Wow.” His eyes grew wide. “You look . . . wow.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, then gave him a little kiss on the cheek.

Nancy stared at the house, her eyes wide. “Oh my. This is certainly bigger than I thought it would be. In fact, all of the houses out here are, well, they’re just huge.”

“Our place back home is 1,400 square feet. That’s plenty of room for the two of us,” Scott’s father quipped.

“Dad did a lot of renovations on the house in Alma,” Scott added. “He’s quite a handyman. Even updated the kitchen last year for my mom.”

“Yes, he’s great with construction,” Nancy said, a look of pride in her eyes.

I turned to Scott’s father. “How was the hardware convention?” I asked.

“Oh, it was fabulous,” Nancy interjected. “You wouldn’t believe all of the new inventions they’ve got out this year. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” She began to talk about all sorts of things I’d never heard of, and I enjoyed the sparkle in her eyes. Apparently the woman knew her hardware.

“Find any good things for your store?” I asked.

Charles’s gaze shifted. “Not really. I guess we’re doing okay without all that fancy stuff, anyway. This trip was really more about seeing the kids than investing in new products.”

“We did see some pretty remarkable things, though,” Nancy said. “I spent nearly an hour just looking at kitchen faucets. Can you imagine? Why, they’ve got faucets so fancy it would make your head spin.”

“Oh, speaking of faucets, I can’t wait to show you the kitchen. Carolina’s been cooking all afternoon.” Grandma took Nancy by the hand and began to pull her toward the house.

Scott pulled me close and whispered in my ear, “Think you can handle this, Kat?”

“Of course,” I whispered back, then giggled. “Might give us some great material for a future episode of
Stars Collide
.”

“No doubt.” He winked.

Nancy kept chattering the whole way. “I’m a little disappointed that we didn’t get to go to the wax museum,” she said. “And I had my heart set on seeing the Hollywood sign up close and personal. And a trip to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre would have been nice.”

“Guess that means you’ll just have to come back,” Grandma said. “In the meantime, come into the kitchen. We’ll pretend we’re looking at that faucet. But we’ll really be sneaking a few nibbles of Carolina’s food while we’re in there.”

“I’m starved.” Charles rubbed his belly.

“Me too,” Scott said with a nod.

“Carolina’s got some great things prepared,” I said. “Just wait till you see.”

Grandma led the procession through the front door. “I just love having guests. It’s been so long since we’ve had a party here, but back in the day this used to be the place where the most spectacular events in the Hills were held.” She smiled. “Oh, the fun we used to have. I remember one time when Marlon Brando came. Oh, that boy was in a mood. But I cheered him right up by tossing him in the cement pond!” Grandma had a good laugh at that one.

Nancy drew near. “Kat,” she whispered, “sometimes I can’t tell if your grandmother’s stories are real or imagined.”

“Same here.” I sighed. “But just about the time you think she’s making something up, you’ll stumble across a picture to prove it.”

“I guess we’ll have to assume Marlon Brando really got tossed into your pool then,” Nancy said with a shrug.

“Stranger things have happened,” I said.

We tagged along on Grandma’s heels into the foyer.

“Great hardware on this door.” Charles paused, giving it a closer look. “I haven’t seen latches like this since I was a kid. My pop used to have some of these in a box in the barn.”

“Really?” I smiled. “My grandmother likes to keep things the way they were.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Scott said.

“The latches are made really well,” Charles said. “That’s a plus. The reason these things are still around is because they’re still working. So many of the products out today are cheap. They fall apart. I wouldn’t mind going back to days gone by myself, if it meant putting out decent products.”

“Actually, this latch is coming loose,” Grandma said. “I’ve been thinking of replacing it. I’ve been telling Kat we should renovate the house for the wedding. What with so many people coming for the reception and all, I might give some thought to changing out a few things.” She looped her arm through his. “What would you recommend, Charles?”

Praise the Lord and pass the hardware. She had him from that point on. As for her wedding comment, I noticed the “I won’t say a word” look from Nancy and breathed a sigh of relief. Looked like she would play along, for my grandmother’s sake.

The look on Nancy’s face as she walked through the great room was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Always gracious, she complimented Grandma right and left. But what struck me as sweet were the many times she paused in front of photos to reflect on all of the movies she’d seen starring this person or that person.

“I saw Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor in
The Taming of the Shrew
at the Bijou,” she said, standing in front of a photograph of the two stars with Grandma between them. “I’ll never forget it. I was just a little thing, but my mama let me stay up late to go.” She turned to us with a frown. “I can’t even imagine meeting that duo in person.”

“Well, they were quite a pair, let me tell you.” Grandma’s eyes took on that faraway look I’d noticed so much lately. “And talk about popular. Why, they were the cat’s meow . . . for a season, anyway.”

Charles grunted. “Movie stars put their pants on one leg at a time, just like us.”

“Well, all but Liz,” Grandma said. “She was never one for wearing pants. If you noticed, she was usually in a dress. And what a brilliant collection of gowns she had. Unequaled in her day, to be sure.”