The Spiral Path (12 page)

"To
success, or a miracle, whichever is required." Val savored a spoonful of
ice cream and fudge sauce. "Was Mrs. Marlowe impressed that you're on a
first-name basis with one of the most famous brain surgeons in America?"

"We
didn't get into that." Rainey doubted that Virginia Marlowe would have
been impressed even if her granddaughter
was
the famous neurosurgeon.
"How are things going for you?"

Val
turned sideways in her overstuffed chair so that her legs draped over one arm.
Petite and curvy, she looked more like someone who should be jumping out of a
cake than a razor-brained lawyer. "Same old, same old. I'm getting pretty
tired of celibacy, but I haven't seen anyone to tempt me from it in
months."

"This
is sounding serious."

Val
closed her eyes, her levity dropping away to reveal bleak unhappiness. "It
is, Rainey. I've begun to think I'm incapable of having a healthy, normal
relationship."

"That
can't be true, Val. You're warm, smart, funny, and kind. You have plenty of
friends who value you deeply. You just haven't found the right man."

"Therein
lies the problem," Val said self-mockingly. "My judgment about men is
terrible. I meet a guy who seems different--nice, devoted, interested in a
relationship--and sure as God made little yellow canaries, he'll turn out to be
an alcoholic, or in love with his ex-wife, or a compulsive Don Juan, or some
other kind of loser."

Rainey
had heard enough about Val's boyfriends over the years to know that was true.
"I wish I could say something useful, but my own track record is nothing
great."

"Better
than mine." Val stroked the calico cat that had joined her in the chair.
"Actually, celibacy does have its points. It's nice not to have my
emotions roller-coastering all the time, and with two cats, I don't have to
sleep alone."

They
drifted into easy conversation as they'd done regularly for the past quarter of
a century. In the months since Rainey's separation, they'd talked even more
than usual, because Val had the time, the willingness, and the understanding
Rainey had needed. It would have been harder to talk with Kate Corsi, who'd
been bubbling with happiness since her remarriage the year before.

They
progressed from ice cream to chardonnay and were deep in a discussion about
aromatherapy when Rainey's cell phone rang. She wrinkled her nose as she pulled
it from her pocket. "I suppose I'd better answer this. Hello?"

"Hi,
Raine." It was Emmy. "There's good news and bad news. What's your
preference?"

She
frowned at the tension in Emmy's voice. "Start with the good news."

"The
CAT scans for your grandfather are on their way to New York by special courier.
Dr. Jackson should be able to study them first thing in the morning."

"Definitely
good. What's the bad news?"

Emmy took a deep breath. "I'm
pregnant again; I've made it to the fourth month--but my doctor says I can't go
on location with you. The work is too strenuous. I might lose this one, too, if
I don't take it really, really easy."

Rainey
bit back an oath. Emmy was her right hand, and she'd been counting on her help
during the shooting. But Emmy had already miscarried twice, and she and her
husband wanted this child desperately. Putting enthusiasm into her voice, she
said, "That's wonderful news! Since you're four months along, I'm sure
this baby will make it to term, but of course you can't take any risks."

Emmy's
voice caught. "I'm sorry to let you down, Rainey. We weren't going to try
again until after
Centurion
was shot, but well, things happen."

Rainey
felt a powerful, unworthy stab of envy. How marvelous it would be to have a
loving husband who wanted children. Well, Emmy deserved that. "Location
work is brutal. Your doctor is right to put it off limits. I can find another
assistant, even though she won't be as good as you."

"I
can still handle the Los Angeles office. Will that help?"

"That
will be wonderful, as long as you don't work too hard. Maybe we can have calls
and mail forwarded to your place so you can work at home and get as much rest
as you need."

"That
would be
great."
Emmy sniffled back tears. "Damn, ever since I
got pregnant I'm crying all the time. Thanks for being so understanding,
Rainey. I was almost afraid to tell you."

"Babies
come before business. Give David a hug and my heartiest congratulations."
Rainey sighed as she said good-bye and shut down her phone.

"I
gather that Emmy is pregnant and grounded?" Val asked.

Rainey
nodded. "Wonderful for her, of course, but terrible timing from my point
of view. I was counting on her to watch my back while we're shooting. At least
she'll still be running the business office, but now I have to find a good
location assistant."

"You've overcome far worse
obstacles than losing an assistant." Val refreshed the wine in their
glasses. "Have some more chardonnay to mitigate the shock. Or does this
call for a second round of fudge sauce?"

"Things
aren't quite that bad." Rainey gazed at her friend through the balloon of
her wineglass. Nice to have Val to commiserate with her.

Wait,
a minute, Val. The idea was absurd--or maybe a stroke of genius.
"Will you take Emmy's place, Val?"

"Me!"
Val's voice rose to a squeak. "That's absurd. I'm a lawyer, not a
moviemaker. There must be herds of personal assistants who'd jump at the chance
to work with you. People with production experience."

Warm
with wine and excitement, Rainey swung her feet from the sofa to the floor and
leaned forward earnestly. "Don't underestimate your experience. You've
visited me on plenty of movie sets, you've been my sounding board while I
prepped
Centurion,
and you're one of the best organized people I've ever
met."

"I've
got a job here! I can't just flit off."

"It's
only a couple of months. Didn't you say earlier that you have a ton of unused
vacation and sick time?" Rainey grinned wickedly. "Time to fish or
cut bait, Valentine. You're always complaining about how much you hate being a
lawyer. Or have you outgrown your famous impulsiveness?"

"I
hope not, but ... but what about my cats?" Val clutched the calico so close
that it meowed and slithered from her lap.

"That's
really feeble. Leave them with Kate and Donovan--they adore cats and wouldn't mind
a couple more for a few weeks. I think you'd be terrific at the production end
of moviemaking. In fact, you already are--I'd never have gotten through the prep
as quickly without your help."

Val
ran a hand through her hair, standing the red curls on end. "This is a
rotten trick, Rainey. You're handing me a golden opportunity, and if I don't
take it, I'll forever lose the right to complain about my job."

"This
is pure selfishness, not a golden opportunity. I'd just really like to have you
there." Rainey's teasing faded. "Making this movie with Kenzie will
probably be the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm going to need someone who
doesn't think of me as the boss who must be placated to her face and cursed
behind her back. I need a friend."

After
a silence, Val said, "Since you put it that way--it's a deal. But if I'm
awful at assisting, for heaven's sake hire someone who knows what she's doing,
and I'll just hang out and be available if you need someone to vent to."

"You
won't blow it. This will be fun, Val, you'll see. A lot of work, but fun."
Rainey smiled mischievously. "I guarantee you'll meet a lot of
fascinating, maddening men who are totally ineligible and would make you
miserable if you got involved."

"Well,
hell, Rainey, you should have said that first. How can I turn down such an
offer?" Val raised her wineglass and clinked it against Rainey's.
"Here's to the movie that will change your career, and maybe mine,
too."

"I'll
drink to that." Rainey swallowed a mouthful of wine, feeling happier than
she had all day. The prospect of directing
Centurion
had just become a
little more manageable.

ACT II

Cameras Rolling

CHAPTER 7