Stars Collide (3 page)

Damian took this as his cue to come closer. “Wait till you hear!” he said. “Not only are they getting together on the show—”

“How would you like tickets to be in our studio audience for tomorrow’s filming?” I interrupted. “Then you can see for yourself.”

Courtney let out a squeal. “I would love it! I can’t believe you’re doing this for me, Kat. You don’t even know me.”

“I know you now. You’re Courtney from Kansas and I’m Kat from L.A.”

“Beverly Hills,” Grandma threw in. “Kat from Beverly Hills.”

“Hey, aren’t you the one they call ‘Kat with Nine Lives’?” Joey asked, now pointing at me.

Ugh.

I’d just started to answer when Courtney interrupted. “So, how do we get the tickets to the show?”

Perfect diversion.

“I’ll have two waiting for you at the gate. Warner Brothers Studio. Studio B. Do you know where that is?”

“It’s on the map,” Damian said with a nod. “You’ll find it, no problem.”

“Ooh, speaking of the map . . .” Courtney reached to grab one. “Is your house on here, Kat? We want to drive by and see it, if so.”

“It’s funny you should ask.” I directed her attention to Damian. “There appears to be an oversight of some sort. But Damian here assures me that the home my grandmother and I share will soon be listed.” I gave him a smile. “Isn’t that right, Damian?”

“Y-you live with your grandmother, Kat?” he stammered. “W-why didn’t you just say so? Everyone will want to know where
you
live.”

A quick glance Grandma’s way revealed her displeasure at the way things were going, and I felt a quickening in my heart. “I have lived with my grandmother since I was seven. And her home—Worth Manor—was once the talk of the town.”

“Still is,” Grandma said with a nod. “Nothing has changed.”

“That’s right,” I said. “Nothing has changed. The home is beautiful and is very near the Barrymore estate, so if you go by there, you’ll find us just around the corner.” Not that I particularly wanted anyone to know where I lived. I’d rather have my privacy, thank you very much. Still, I knew how much this meant to Grandma Lenora. She wanted her fans—what was left of them, anyway—to know where to find her. With that in mind, I spouted off the address. Courtney scribbled it on the back of the map, which she quickly paid for.

“Ooh, I can’t wait. Thank you so much.” She gave me an admiring look as I took a few steps toward the car.

“You’re welcome!” I slipped the sunglasses back on, then reached to tie the scarf over my hair. “See you both tomorrow.”

Damian followed us to the Cadillac, opening the passenger door for Grandma. Her smile put me at ease.

“Thank you, young man,” she said. “I apologize for my earlier outburst.”

“Oh, please don’t apologize,” he said. “The whole thing was a terrible misunderstanding. I’m glad we got it worked out. Stop by in a couple of days. I’ll make sure your house is on the map.”

“Thank you for that,” I said. “We’re grateful.”

As we pulled away, we left Courtney, Joey, and Damian staring at us, eyes wide, mouths open.

Grandma chuckled as she pressed the button on the CD player. “Did you see how starstruck they were, KK? They must’ve recognized me from my earlier films.” She went off on a tangent about one of her leading roles as Doris Day’s voice kicked in once again, this time singing another of my grandmother’s favorites, “Secret Love.”

Unfortunately, my thoughts had already shifted. Had Grandma Lenora really told a total stranger that Scott and I were an item in real life? If so, how would I ever keep that story from spreading? Did I even want to keep it from spreading?

Grandma warbled out a few lines along with Doris, then leaned her head back against the seat with a dreamy-eyed expression on her face. I could tell she’d slipped away to that place she often visited, where I had a hard time reaching her.

As I drove the final few blocks to Beverly Hills, I thought about the kiss Scott and I had shared. By the time we pulled up in front of our house, I’d settled the issue in my mind. Scott and I needed to keep our relationship under wraps, at least for now. We’d only kissed once, after all. Okay, twice. Neither of us had expressed our undying love for the other. Why, he could just as easily walk away and forget all about me.

At the thought of that, my heart lurched. Just as quickly, I remembered the tenderness of his kiss, his soft words whispered in my ear. Nope. Scott Murphy wasn’t going anywhere . . . and neither was I.

Grandma continued to hum the song as she fussed with the remote, trying to get the gate to open. “Goofy thing,” she said at last. “Why is it so temperamental?”

“Here, let me try.”

I pushed the button, smiling as the gate slowly moved back and allowed us entrance. My gaze shifted to the words Worth Manor on the gate. The metal letters had seen better days. In fact, the whole house had seen better days. As I pulled forward into the driveway, I took a look at the grand old home with its dilapidated shutters and faded front door.

Putting the car in Park, I voiced my thoughts. “Grandma, don’t you think it’s time the house had an update?”

“Update?” Grandma looked aghast. “Whatever for?”

“Well, you know. The paint is peeling. The metal letters are rusted out. And the inside of the house is really, well . . .” I wanted to say “dated” but didn’t dare.

“It’s a perfectly good house, just as lovely as the day I bought it in ’57.”

I sucked in a breath and willed myself not to say anything. Why my grandmother insisted on living in the past was beyond me. Driving a ’57 pink Cadillac Biarritz convertible was fun. Quirky, even. And so was keeping a room or two in the house decorated from days gone by. But to let the whole place fall down around us to somehow preserve its integrity? It just didn’t make sense. Unless her memory was really that far gone.

“Secret Love” ended and suddenly Grandma Lenora was herself once again. I looked over at her and, with a cheerful smile, said, “There’s no place like home.”

To which she responded, “Judy Garland.
The Wizard of Oz.
1939.”

4

Toast of the Town

Three days after my infamous kissing scene, I slept in. With such a crazy work schedule, I’d earned a leisurely Saturday morning in bed. And there was no better place to feel more like a Hollywood star than reclining against a satin pillowcase in one of the most famous houses in Beverly Hills. Well, once famous, anyway.

In my half-asleep, half-awake state, I found myself thinking of that moment . . . that awesome moment . . . in Scott’s arms. Had I dreamed the whole thing, or had he really kissed me and whispered sweet nothings in my ear?

Ah yes, he had kissed me all right! And then, of course, there had been the actual filming of the kiss between Angie and Jack, which had taken place the following day. How fun that my Topeka fans were in the audience to witness it. Now, if I could just keep my heart in my chest between now and the airing of the episode three weeks from now, I’d be just fine. In the meantime, my feelings for Scott could continue to blossom and grow. I couldn’t be sure where things were headed, but we were certainly off to a great start, judging from his tenderness toward me over the past few days.

I drifted back off to sleep, thinking about the feel of his lips against mine.

Sometime around nine thirty, a rap on my bedroom door woke me up. “Good morning, sunshine!” Grandma Lenora’s voice rang out.

I let out a groan and pulled the pillow over my head. Maybe if I didn’t respond, she would give me a few more minutes in dreamland.

“Up and at ’em, girlie,” Grandma hollered. “Company’s on the way.”

“Company?” I sat up in the bed, slowly coming awake. We always spent our Saturday mornings alone. It was our special time. From the time I’d arrived on Grandma Lenora’s doorstep as a seven-year-old, she’d treated me to luxurious Saturday morning breakfasts. Just the two of us.

She poked her head in the door. “Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve arranged a date this morning.”

“A date?” None of this made sense. Since when did Grandma date? “Wait a minute . . .” I waggled my finger. “It’s our new producer, isn’t it? I’ve seen Rex making eyes at you ever since he took over last month. And you’re nervous every time he comes around you.”

Her cheeks flamed red and her gaze shifted downward. “Heavens, no. You know me better than that. I might be a silly flirt at times, but with a man like Rex Henderson . . .” Her voice faded away.

“Mm-hmm. Well, who is it, then?”

She stepped inside the room and for the first time I saw what she was wearing. A flowing silver-gray dress with intricate beading.

I let out a whistle and gave my usual spiel. “Who are we today, Grandma?”

She primped, showing off the glittery gown. “Rita Hayworth.
Tales of Manhattan.
1942.”

“Wow. Gorgeous. Almost as nice as that dress you wore yesterday. The gold one with the high neckline.”

“Thanks.” She began to hum a haunting little melody, something familiar. Didn’t take me long to recognize it: “Secret Love.” Again. Doris had certainly left her mark.

Grandma Lenora pulled back the comforter, leaving me scrambling in my nightie. “You’ve got to get ready, KK. A man is on his way. For breakfast.”

Yanking the covers back toward me, I said, “You’re really not going to tell me who? C’mon, Grandma. No secrets. Ever. We promised, right?”

“Aw, it’s just a breakfast date, that’s all. But dress nice, okay? We want to make a good impression on him. Put our best foot forward and all that.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Help me with my hair first?” She pointed to the long silver strands, and I nodded. I gestured to my vanity—the same one my mother had used as a child—and my grandmother crossed the room to sit on the little round stool, facing the mirror.

I ran my brush through her gorgeous mane of silver hair, thinking back over the thousands of times she’d done the same for me. When she handed me her combs, I used them to fasten her hair up in an elegant style. As I worked, she continued to hum “Secret Love.” What she lacked in pitch, she made up for in enthusiasm.

“What do you think?” I asked as I finished.

She stared in the mirror, a mesmerized look on her face. “Oh, KK, it’s lovely. You could have been a hairdresser.”

“Hardly.” I laughed.

She scooted out of the room, still humming the same little melody. I spent the next half hour showering and doing my makeup. My mind reeled as I prepared myself for the day. Whom had she invited . . . and why?

By the time I came back into my room, I realized that my grandmother had laid out an outfit for me. I took in the soft chiffon blouse and flowing skirt with some degree of curiosity. Seemed a little much for a Saturday morning breakfast, but if this was what it took to make her happy, so be it.

I slipped on the comfy ensemble and gave myself another glance in the mirror. Not bad. I added a bit of jewelry and stood back, examining my appearance. My long blond hair was pretty enough, I supposed, and I’d received more than one compliment on my high cheekbones and tall, slender physique. Oh, if only I could change these green eyes to a lovely shade of blue and get rid of the smattering of freckles that still plagued me. Whose nose and cheeks were covered in freckles at twenty-seven?

Through my window, I heard the sound of laughter. Glancing down onto the front drive, I noticed Grandma talking to the yardman. He was an older fellow, one who had worked for us for years. Surely this wasn’t our breakfast guest. Or was it? Squinting to get a closer look, I pondered the possibilities, then made my way down the arching staircase into the foyer below.

As I passed through the great room, I noticed the small round table decked out with breakfast goodies. Grandma came through the front door, all smiles, and met me there.

“Carolina slaved all morning over a hot stove, just for us. Wasn’t that nice of her?”

“Very.” We owed our housekeeper so much. She’d been nothing but good to us, and for nineteen years, no less. A vacation to the Caribbean wouldn’t be enough to repay her, though I planned to offer it next month when things slowed down. Likely she would insist on taking Grandma along. And I would let her. If they included me.

The doorbell rang and my grandmother startled to attention. Her expression tightened slightly as she said, “I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, isn’t it?”

I still hadn’t quite figured this out. If Grandma wasn’t interested in Rex, then who? She’d gone to a lot of trouble with her hair and makeup this morning, so it must be someone pretty special.

I tagged along on her heels, my mind going a hundred different directions. When she swung the door open, my heart rushed to my throat. “S-Scott? You’re Grandma’s date?”

He looked nearly as startled as I felt. The tips of his ears turned red, and he raked his fingers through those unruly waves. “I . . . I am?”

“Oh, KK, you silly thing. Did you think I meant a date for
me
?” Grandma giggled. “Whatever gave you that idea? I meant a date for you. Jack gave me his cell number ages ago and was thrilled to come for a visit. Weren’t you, Jack?”

A look of sheer relief passed over Scott’s face, but he came back with just the right response. “Lenora, I’m thrilled, of course. But I must admit I’m a tad bit disappointed. Here I was, all set up to believe I was going to get to spend the morning on a date with the great Lenora Worth.”

“Oh, I’ll be here all right.” She batted her fake eyelashes. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“Mm-hmm.” I groaned but decided to play along. If it meant spending the morning with Scott, why would I fight it?

“Looks like we’ve been set up.” Scott laughed as Grandma took him by the arm and led him into the house.

“You don’t mind, do you?” I asked.

He shook his head, eyes widening. “Are you kidding? I get to have breakfast with not just one but two lovely ladies. In Beverly Hills, no less. This house makes my place in Bel-Air West look second-rate.”

“Surely not.” I had never been to his home but couldn’t imagine it being too bad. He was, after all, Scott Murphy. I snuck another glance at him, overcome by his handsomeness. I liked his relaxed look too. The jeans and soft blue polo shirt were just right for a Saturday morning at Worth Manor. Besides, they brought out the color in his eyes. Yummy.

Scott chuckled. “Just wait till the paparazzi get a load of this. We’ll be on the front page of
The Scoop
in nothing flat.”

Grandma ushered him inside, all smiles. “It’s been weeks since I made the cover of a magazine, honey. I wouldn’t mind a bit.”

Well, I might.

We entered the great room, and Scott made his way to the table Carolina had filled with goodies. “Wow. Quite a spread.” His eyes shifted to the room and then to me. I felt my cheeks turn warm. Popping a grape in my mouth, I willed myself to stay silent.

“This room is unbelievable.” Scott made his way to the east wall. Grandma tagged along on his heels every step of the way. “I’ve never seen so many autographed photos.” He stared at a black-and-white picture of Richard Burton and let out a whistle. “You knew him, Lenora?”

“Knew him?” Grandma crossed her arms at her chest. “I dated him.”

I almost choked on the grape at that one. “You did?”

“Sure. Dated a lot of those fellas back in my day.” She let out a girlish giggle. “Kirk Douglas. Henry Fonda. Steve McQueen.”

I did my best to absorb this news. “I knew you
worked
with them, Grandma, but, dated? Was this before you married Grandpa, or after he . . .” I didn’t want to use the words “passed away,” so I left the sentence hanging in midair. We rarely talked about my grandpa, but I could tell my grandmother still pined for him.

“Both.” Grandma wiggled her penciled brows and a mischievous look settled on her face. “You don’t know everything there is to know about me, KK. Trust me. Your grandmother was quite the looker, back in the day. Folks said I had star quality.”

“I’ll say.” Scott let out a whistle as he paused in front of a beautifully framed black-and-white eleven-by-fifteen photograph of Grandma, taken in the early ’60s. “You were . . .
are
gorgeous, Lenora.” He turned to face her, showing off his pearly whites. She appeared to be dazzled by him.

Her soft, wrinkled cheeks turned pink as she shushed him. “Aw, go on with you.” When he paused, she gave him a stern look and punched him in the arm. “No, I mean, go
on
with you. Keep going.”

“Ah.” He chuckled. “Well, as I was saying, you were quite a beauty back in the day and you’ve only gotten lovelier with age. Er, with time.”

I stifled a laugh and gave him a thumbs-up from behind her back. This guy was definitely a keeper. Great with kids, a fine actor, and he cared about my grandmother’s feelings. Who could top that?

Grandma Lenora paused in front of the photograph and sighed. “Those were the good ol’ days. Back then, Hollywood was really something to behold. Not like now.”

“What do you mean?” Scott glanced her way.

“Back then, the movies—and people—had substance. Women were beautiful, not . . .” Her cheeks reddened even further. “Not like these girls traipsing through Hollywood today. And back then you had to have talent—real talent. You couldn’t just depend on making it big because your parents were famous.” She looked my way and groaned. “Oops. Sorry, KK. Guess I walked right into that one.”

“No harm done.” I knew she hadn’t meant to accuse me with her words, but they’d hit the mark. No one doubted that I’d been offered so many opportunities because I was the granddaughter of the much-loved Lenora Worth. But that didn’t mean I was talentless. Right?

To his credit, Scott said nothing. Instead he continued to make his way around the perimeter of the room, gazing at every beautifully framed photograph. He paused in front of a picture of Rock Hudson and Doris Day. “I always loved their movies when I was a kid.”

“Me too.” I offered up a smile, reflecting on a couple of my favorites.
Pillow Talk
had always been a big hit at our house, and to this day I had half of the lines from
Send Me No Flowers
memorized.

Scott turned back and nodded. “They made such a great couple.”

Grandma Lenora snorted. She quickly recovered with, “Coffee, anyone?” then headed over to the silver coffee server and lifted it with a trembling hand. Coffee sloshed every which way, but I didn’t offer to help. I knew her pride wouldn’t allow it.

“Here you go, young man.” She gestured to one of the filled cups. “There’s cream and sugar, if you like it.”

“I do.” He added a sugar cube and a bit of cream to his cup.

“I was born during the Great Depression.” Grandma reached a trembling hand to grab the tiny sugar tongs. “So my parents never used sugar and cream. I guess they considered themselves fortunate just to have coffee, and they learned to like it black. I always drank mine black too. Until 1968, anyway.” She dropped a couple of squares of sugar into her cup, then added an extra one for good measure.

“What happened in ’68?” Scott asked, settling into one of the wingback chairs.

“Oh, that’s the year I got my star on the Walk of Fame.” She poured in several tablespoons of the flavored creamer and gently stirred it with a silver spoon.

Scott almost spewed his coffee at that news. “Y-you have a star on the Walk of Fame?”

“Well, sure. I can’t believe you didn’t know that. Anyway, the craziest thing happened that year. A revelation of sorts. The good Lord laid it on my heart that my depression years were behind me and I needed to start acting like it. I could afford the cream and sugar. Why not use them?” She grinned as she added another lump of sugar. “I’ve taken my coffee sweet ever since.”

Very sweet.

“Nice story,” Scott said with a smile.

It was a nice story, and I enjoyed hearing it again. Sometimes I forgot the rough patches my grandmother had gone through as a kid raised in the Midwest. I saw her only as a Hollywood legend, not the daughter of a Depression-era farmer.

Making my way to the sofa, I gave Grandma Lenora’s chubby gray calico a nudge. “Move over, Fat Cat.” He opened one eye just a slit, then closed it and dozed back off. Undeterred, I gave him a little push and he reluctantly yawned and stretched, then scooted over to the arm of the sofa.