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My doorbell sounds down the hallway, and I hear Lottie thunder on the stairs. “Mom! They’re here!” she calls, so I go ahead and wrap things up.
“Everybody send me a new list by the morning, OK? We’re on the right track. Great talk, guys!”
I log off, exhaling with a whoosh. Production is slated to start next month, and there are still a million details to finalize. I’m loving the design for the movie so far, all the incredible 1920s period details, but it’s always a challenge wrangling everyone to understand my vision. And budget.
“Are you terrorizing my location scout already?”
I look up. Reeve is smirking in the doorway. “How do you know that?” I exclaim. “We literally just got off the call!”
“She’s terrified of you,” my brother says cheerfully. “She was texting all through the meeting.”
I roll my eyes, putting aside all the sketchbooks and binders I’ve been working on. My office is like a hurricane site right now, and I know, it’s only getting worse the closer we get to rolling cameras. “I’m not terrifying.”
“Sure you are,” Reeve teases, following me down the hall to the kitchen. “It’s a friendly kind of terror, which makes it even more chilling.”
“What’s scary?” Lottie asks. She’s packing her overnight bag, stuffing in at least five different textbooks into the duffel, as if her sleepover will come with a pop quiz.
“Your mom.” Reeve ruffles Lottie’s hair. “She strikes fear into the hearts of production assistants everywhere.”
“Stop it, you guys!” I protest. “I’m nice. Easygoing. A treat to work with!”
They both look at each other and laugh. “That’s funny,” Lottie giggles. “Didn’t you have a meltdown that time in England because the trim on Darcy’s sofa wasn’t the right kind of braiding?”
“That braiding was machine-produced, and hadn’t been invented yet in 1812,” I inform them. “And I barely raised my voice!”
“Sure, we believe you.” Reeve grins. “The poor set-dresser who had a nervous breakdown and quit the business might remember it differently.”
“Lies,” I toss a dishcloth at him, as Ivy comes in.
At least, I think it’s Ivy: her small frame is buried behind an armful of flowers, balloons, and a massive bakery box.
I blink. “What is all of this?”
Ivy deposits the lot on the counter. “Delivery for you, it was on the porch.”
“Three guesses who it’s from.” Lottie says, plucking the card off the nearest bouquet. “Happy anniversary,” she reads. “Yup. Josh.”
I do the math, and realize, it’s been exactly two months since we met in the departures lounge. I take in the gorgeous arrangement of billowing hydrangeas and bright daisies, a big smile on my face. “I can’t believe he did this…”
“I can,” Ivy replies. “That man is completely in love with you.”
I flush. “No, he’s not.”
“Umm, hello?” Lottie waves her arms at the delivery like a game show host. “You know, it’s kind of weird you’re still pretending like this is just a casual dating thing,” she adds, investigating the bakery box. “I mean, you like him, don’t you? And you’re not seeing anyone else. You don’t have the time. Ooh, cupcakes.”
I’m distracted from her words by the baked goods: a dozen cupcakes frosted with butterflies and…
“Minnie Mouse?” Lottie pauses, then gives me a look. “This is one of those nauseating romantic jokes, isn’t it?”
I pause. “Maybe…”
Ivy shoots me a knowing look, and hoists Lottie’s bag. “Come on, kid. I need outfits for the red carpet, and if I’m going to have to suffer shopping on Rodeo Drive, you’re coming, too.”
“Have fun!” I kiss Lottie goodbye. “Relax tomorrow, take your time with Ivy and Reeve. Remember, they’re going back to Milford Falls, and you won’t see them until the movie starts.”
She rolls her eyes, grabbing a cupcake for the road. “You mean, give you time alone with Josh? He should just move in with us,” she adds. “All this flying is bad for the environment. His carbon offsets must be through the roof.”
She disappears with Ivy, and it’s not until I’ve cleaned up a little, and set the dishwasher to run that I realize that my brother is still here: camped out in the living room with my anniversary cupcakes.
