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“I am happy. Don’t get me wrong, Joe, I’m thankful for the work you’ve put in to make this happen. I mean it. Thank you.”
“That’s the spirit!” he crows.
“What does it mean, though?”
“It means you need to fly out to Los Angeles before the end of the month and sit down with the studio execs. If you accept their offer, they’ll have to draft a contract. Make sure you have Maury with you, though. You’ll need a good lawyer. Them Hollywood types can be shifty motherf—”
“Cool, cool,” I cut him off. “I’ll be waiting for a draft of the contract, then.”
Once I hang up and find myself surrounded by the frosted, moonlit tranquility of this clearing and listen to the ocean’s whispers trickling in from beyond the woods, I realize exactly why I’m so torn about this. Why can't I simply be glad it’s happening, even though it’s a natural and much needed evolution for my career?
Taking a Hollywood offer to co-create and co-write the Dinah Steele series for television means I will have to significantly cut back on my presence in Cape Elizabeth. It means I’ll be away for longer periods of time, months clumped together, even. I won’t be able to sustain this complex relationship with Stella and the guys anymore. I’ll have to leave her behind. I won’t be able to see the kids anymore, either.
Most of my life will focus in the Los Angeles area, away from the salty breeze of Maine. It’s supposed to be a small price to pay for the accolades that will accompany this endeavor, but the sharp ache in my chest tells me it’s anything but small. I don’t want to leave Stella, yet her recent distancing isn’t making it any easier, either.
If anything, she’s only giving me reasons to pull away.
14
Stella
It isn’t easy keeping my distance from them. They’ve been so kind, so sweet to me. They took me in and gave me a chance when I needed it the most. I gave my body and my soul to these men, over and over. I can’t get enough of any of them, and I know they’re feeling my absence, too. But what else can I do in these wretched circumstances? I’m terrified of what they’ll say when they find out I’m pregnant.
I’m horrified by the idea they might try to pay me off or worse.
I don’t yet know what to do with myself, but I’m almost three months along, and I’m doing my damnedest to hide the symptoms. My bump isn’t showing just yet, but I won’t be able to hide it for much longer.
“Connie, I’m gonna dust the breakfast room,” I tell my colleague just as she’s about to wrap up the tearoom after a business meeting.
“That’s fine, honey, but don’t forget to sign off and take the rest of the day off like you were supposed to,” Connie replies. “You’ve been pale and queasy since you came in, and I don’t want you passing out when you could be resting and recovering. Alright?”
“Don’t worry about me,” I say, smiling gently. “It’s just a crappy day. I probably ate something bad. I’ll be okay.”
“Whatever you say, just take the rest of the day off.”
“I’ll just do another swipe of the breakfast room and then I’ll go upstairs. I promise.”
She nods once and proceeds to push the service cart back into the kitchen while I retire to the breakfast room and start working on the precious wood furniture with a dry cotton cloth and essential oils. The Christmas tree is gone, no longer reigning supreme with its red and gold ribbons, its artisanal baubles and twinkling lights. Proof that everything passes. Maybe the ache in my heart will pass, too.
Inch by inch, every piece of wood in this place regains its luster as I work my way through the room while simultaneously ruminating on my options and frazzled thoughts. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep this up.
I need to take a break from them. I have to leave. Or tell them. I shake the thought away. It’s been like this for weeks now. This constant battle between my instincts and my conscience. I don’t know what to do.
“Noah, darling, this is the third time you’ve said no to a day out with me,” Samantha’s nasally voice comes through as she approaches the breakfast room. I can hear her heels clicking louder. “It’s getting warmer outside. It hasn’t snowed in a week. The weather is perfect for a picnic around noon!”
“I’m sorry, Samantha, I am exceptionally busy with plans for the spring festival,” Noah replies.
Noah and Samantha walk into the room. To my astonishment, neither of them notice me, and it feels like a punch in the gut. Cloth and essential oil bottle in hand, I go about my work in silence, listening as the obnoxious heiress keeps hounding Noah for his time and affection. I steal glances at them as they cross the breakfast room.
“Come on, darling, you and I both know we’d make one hell of a team,” Samantha says, her white cashmere dress billowing below her thin waist with every step.
Noah laughs lightly, blue eyes on his phone as he texts someone. “I’ve said it before, Samantha. I like you, you’re fun and cool to be around, but I’m not interested in a relationship with you.”
“Ah, so it’s true, then. They’re grooming you for that Tori chick, aren’t they? Or was it the other one?”
He looks up at her, his brow furrowed in surprise and confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“The entire East Coast is buzzing with rumors that you and your brother are dating. I didn’t want to believe it, but now… Damn, I guess I missed my shot, huh?”
