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“Is Justin so hard to remember?” He stomps out of the room.
“What’s his problem?” Dad stares after Justin.
“You keep getting his name wrong.” Maddie sits next to Dad. “Do you want something to eat?”
“Justin already fed me.” Dad scowls. “Like a baby. I can’t hold the darn spoon.” He lifts his hand and flexes his fingers.
“Hey, you got his name right!” Maddie says.
He waves this off, but an evil glint in his eyes tells me the name thing is not part of his memory issue. “Where’s Destiny?”
Our heads all snap around like lemurs noticing a predator. “You remember her?” John asks.
“Of course I remember my wife!” Dad growls and waves at his head. “This damn thing is messing with my brain, but I’m not going to forget my own marriage.” The bluster feels forced. His face is lined and tired, and his hands shake a little.
“Did Justin remind you?” John asks, more gently than I’ve heard him speak all day. “Because a few minutes ago, you didn’t know who she was. I’ve heard stroke meds can do that.”
Dad grumbles for a few seconds, staring at the table. Then he looks up. “My brain is foggy. I remember the wedding—it just feels kind of hazy. Like it was a film I did, and not for real. But that boy—Justin—showed me the pictures. And you were there, right? It was real?” His voice trembles.
My heart contracts. He may be a wild philanderer, but he’s still my father. It hurts to see the handsome, carefree, successful playboy actor reduced to this sad old man. I put a hand on his shoulder. “It was real, Dad. But she may not be who you think she is.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
John opens his mouth, but I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call her and see when she’ll be back.”
Maddie lifts her phone. “Don’t bother. I already texted her. Told her she’d better get her butt back here.” She glances at Dad, then surreptitiously passes me the phone. I take her empty smoothie glass and under cover of putting it into the dishwasher, I read the text exchange. Maddie told Destiny we’d sue her for breach of contract, theft, “implied slander,” and a whole bunch of pseudo-legal-sounding nonsense. Clearly Destiny knows as much about law as Maddie because she said she’d get a flight from Burbank today.
Hiding a smirk, I take a seat across from Dad and hand the phone back to Maddie. “Nice work, sis.”
She smiles and grips my hand. “I like it when you call me ‘sis.’ It makes me feel like family.”
“We are family. Maybe a kind of dysfunctional one, but we’re still a family.”
John nods and puts his hand on top of ours. “Agreed.”
Dad looks at our joined hands and puts his frail, shaky one on top of the pile. “You three are good kids.”
Chapter 26
NICA
The morning drags out into afternoon. Destiny texts her flight details to Maddie—she’s arriving at 3 p.m. John will pick her up and bring her back to the house. Which means she’ll arrive here about an hour and a half before I need to leave for rehearsal. I consider calling Dame Edith and telling her I can’t make it tonight, but I’ve committed to the show, and I can’t leave my fellow actors in the lurch. My social media posting over the last week has drummed up a lot of interest, and tickets for the first weekend are sold out.
Everyone is restless as we wait for Destiny’s flight to arrive. Dad wanders aimlessly around the house, the thud and scrape of his walker announcing his location. After a while, he tires and retreats to his room to rest. Justin takes him a late lunch, while the rest of us drive to the Ranch bistro for burgers and fries. When we return, the house is quiet. John drops us at the door and heads for the airport.
“What’s the story with you and the teacher?” Maddie asks as we finally settle in the comfortable family room off the kitchen.
“Me and who?”
She shows me a short video clip of the play rehearsal on Saturday. Matt and I are singing together, and we look like we’re in love.
I shrug. “He’s my costar. But he’s a luthier, not a teacher. Although I guess he teaches, too.”
“He’s more than a costar according to this.” She swipes through a series of pictures, including one outside Matt’s house and another at the campground by the lake.
“Who took this?” I snatch the phone from her and zoom in on the photo. It’s dark and grainy, making me think it was taken from a long distance, and shows the group of us gathered around the campfire. I click on the account owner, and my eyes narrow. “Boitano.”
“Care to comment, Ms. Holmes?” Maddie takes the phone back.
