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“Now, now. Spontaneity is everything.”
“I’m not too crazy about spontaneity,” Georgie said.
Poppy’s charm bracelets clattered. “You hired me to arrange a spectacular party, and that’s what I’m doing. You’ll be over the moon. I promise.”
Bram was impatient to get away, and he cut off Georgie’s protest. “As long as I don’t have to wear tights or drink lite beer, go ahead.”
Poppy left soon after, and Bram headed off to the studio.
Georgie wanted to edit more film, and she needed to work on her character log for Helene, but first she called April. They’d been working together long-distance on Georgie’s gown and accessories, and her last fitting was coming up. When their conversation ended, she jotted down some more thoughts about Helene, but her attention kept wandering, and she finally let herself go upstairs to look at the last footage she’d shot—a group of single mothers trying to make a living at a minimum-wage job. Hearing firsthand accounts of these working women’s lives once again reminded her of how privileged she was.
Rory had helped her escape the paparazzi on her photographic excursions by offering one of her own garages as a place for Georgie to stash a car the paps wouldn’t recognize. When Georgie wanted to leave the house without being followed, she slipped through the back gate and used Rory’s driveway to drive off in the Toyota Corolla Aaron had leased for her. So far none of the paps was the wiser, and hauling around video equipment had provided her with a degree of anonymity she hadn’t anticipated. Although the subjects she interviewed knew who she was, she found herself moving around with a small degree of freedom.
Several hours had passed when Chaz poked her head in. “Your old man’s moving back into the guesthouse.”
Georgie’s head shot up from her monitor. “My dad?”
Chaz tugged on her fluorescent purple bangs. “He said they didn’t get all the mold out of his house. Personally, I think he just wants to freeload off Bram.”
Her father hadn’t taken any of her calls since she’d fired him, so why had he suddenly shown up? She didn’t need another lecture about her bad judgment and general incompetence, and she definitely didn’t want to talk about Laura. Firing her might have been good business, but she couldn’t feel completely right about it. She wished Bram were here.
Aaron wandered in from his errands, his arms full of packages. “Your father’s downstairs.”
“So I heard.” She wanted to finish her film editing, not deal with the inevitable, and she stalked across the room to Chaz. “You listen to me…If there’s even a tiny part of you that doesn’t hate everything about me, would you keep him away from me, just for another hour? Please.”
Chaz took her time thinking it over. “I will…” She smirked. “But only if you eat something first.”
“Stop nagging.”
Chaz responded with a megasmirk.
Thanks to Chaz’s menus, Georgie had gained back the weight she’d lost, but that didn’t ease her irritation. “Fine! But the hour doesn’t start until I’m finished.”
“I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
And she was, bearing two plates: one with a salmon-topped salad chock-full of fresh vegetable goodies, the other an enormous submarine sandwich stuffed with three different kinds of meat, cheese, and guacamole. Georgie and Aaron exchanged resigned looks as Chaz slammed the salad in front of him and the fat sub before Georgie.
“You need the calories,” Chaz said when Georgie begged to trade. “Aaron doesn’t.”
Georgie grabbed the sandwich. “Now you’re a big nutrition expert.”
“Chaz is an expert at everything,” Aaron said. “Just ask her.”
Chaz folded her arms and looked smug. “I know Becky finally talked to you yesterday.”
“She wants me to take a look at her computer, that’s all,” he said.
“You’re such a moron. I don’t know why I waste my time.”
Georgie knew, but she wasn’t stupid enough to point out that Chaz was a natural nurturer.
With lunch nearly over, Georgie made Chaz go back downstairs to watch out for her father. Aaron left to get the oil changed on her car, and Georgie returned to her editing. An hour ticked by.
“May I come in?”
Startled, she looked up to see her father standing in the doorway. He wore gray shorts, a light blue polo, and he needed a haircut. He nodded toward the computer. “What are you doing?”
He was certain to criticize, but she told him anyway. “New hobby. I’ve been shooting some film.”
