She smirked. “I guess maybe I still have one fan.”
“I’m sorry about what happened,” I said. “To your career.”
“You know what? I’m not.”
“Really?”
“I mean, the truth is, I wasn’t all that happy being an actor. Even when I was fairly successful at it, I was always stressed out, always worrying about my next role. What I had to look like to get that role. What I had tobelike. If I wasn’t cast, I took it personally. And even if I did get the part, I’d be on edge for the entire shoot, worrying about living up to whatever wrongheaded image of me I’d put out there in order to impress the director.”
“Sounds like a nightmare.”
“It was,” she said. “And don’t even get me started on reporters and critics. Social media…I was a mess.”
“I would be, too.”
“Right?” she said. “So…I tried to relax any way I could. I drank too much, and it made me feel worse. I tried Xanax, but I hated being dependent on pills. Then I discovered meditation. It worked. I found it not just helpful in easing my stress, but it opened up a whole new world for me—and I wanted to show the world to everyone. I started thinking maybe acting wasn’t my calling. Maybe thecurefor it was.”
“Interesting.”
“So, weirdly, the whole thing with Melanie Joan was a blessing in disguise. It forced me to realize how much I hated acting. Plus, the NDA money made it so I could pursue my real dream.” She raised her hands and spread out her fingers. “Owning this place.”
“So, you aren’t bitter.”
She shook her head. “I’m grateful,” she said. “But please don’t tell Tony Gault.”
I laughed. “Knowing Tony, he’d probably talk you into a new deal where you’re the one paying Melanie Joan.”
“And I wouldn’t know what hit me until I was signing the check.”
“Talk about finding your true calling,” I said.
“Yep.”
Rosie stretched and yawned and rolled over onto her back. Natalie rubbed her belly and asked what kind of dog she was. I told her, and she asked if all miniature bull terriers were as “darling” as Rosie. Against all odds, I was starting to like this woman. “So you don’t miss Hollywood,” I said.
“Not even a little bit,” she said. “I’m happy here. I’ve got lots of family nearby, so I’m able to raise my little boy on my own.”
“His dad’s not around?”
She shook her head. “Donor. I did IVF.” She smiled at me. “Melanie Joan paid for that, too.”
“Nice,” I said.
“It is,” she said. “You have kids?”
“No,” I said. “Just Rosie. And my boyfriend has a son in junior high.”
“You’ve got your hands full, then,” she said. Natalie petted Rosie some more. Rosie obligingly moved from my lap to hers.
It hit me that I’d called Richie my boyfriend, not my fiancé. And that brought to mind my conversation with him in the parking lot. The unpleasant fact that he couldn’t make it to Boston and my equally unpleasant reaction. I quickly closedthe door on that.Save it for your next therapist visit,I told myself. But then I remembered that Susan Silverman was on vacation for the next two weeks—in Crete, I was pretty sure. She wasn’t even in an amenable time zone. Not that I’d have been inclined to interrupt her if she was, but it would have been nice to have that option.
Rosie was licking Natalie’s chin. “Sorry,” I said. “She does that when she really likes someone.”
I told Rosie to stop, but Natalie said she didn’t mind. “Between this good girl and Book Babe,” she said, “I’m feeling very seen today.”
I watched her, thinking. “Natalie?”
“Yeah?” she said.
