“You’re good, I’ll give you that,” April said. “I wouldn’t know the first place to start. I’ve never cleaned a thing in my life.”
No shit.
Holding up a manicured hand, she inspected it carefully before continuing to brag, “A reporter just did a story on me, and he was disappointed to find out there’s no sob story behind my rise to fame.”
I was glad I was on my hands and knees scrubbing so she couldn’t see me rolling my eyes. The woman was determined to build up her career despite her B-movie credits.
She was ambitious. I’d give her that.
“I grew up in L.A.,” April continued, “My father was a sound editor. My scream was famous by the time I was ten years old. I landed my first on-screen role at twelve and the rest…is history.”
“Your father must be proud,” I said.
April shrugged, “I don’t see him much. He’s still in that little shack in Venice Beach. I’ve moved on.”
Her poor father, the first man she’d chewed up and spit out as soon as someone richer came along. I scowled as I realized April could turn on the charm when she wanted to hook a new man. She was the exact sort of pretty, calculating woman my eight-year-old self had been horrified to see my father date.
“You look tired,” April said, “what’s the word? Haggard. Why don’t you do something easier for a while? You could put away the clothes upstairs.”
She was unbelievable. I wondered if she even knew how to be anything other than petty and insulting. Relieved to get out from under her glaring scrutiny, I left the cleaning supplies strewn across the kitchen floor and escaped upstairs. I only enjoyed ten minutes of peace, hanging skimpy dresses back in the closet, before April found an excuse to join me. I almost felt sorry for her, having no one else to talk to but a captive audience, but then she opened her mouth and ruined it.
“I really should change before dinner. I expect Alex will take me out on the town tonight. He’s such a considerate host,” she said.
She pulled out half the dresses I’d just put away and flung them on the bed. As I tried to work around her, she flounced and posed in front of the full-length mirror, trying on one outfit after another.
“Alex is a man who likes a little color in his life,” she said, eyeing my plain, white uniform. “I’m lucky, because bright colors don’t suit everyone, do they?”
I started to gather up the mountain of discarded high heels and sort them into pairs.
“The first time I met Alex I was wearing emerald green. He couldn’t take his eyes off me.”
Forcing back my inner urge to bolt for the door, I was determined to do my job, despite her clear determination to make every moment of it miserable.
“It must be one of his favorite colors. I suppose green doesn’t do much for your complexion, does it. You’re quite pale.”
“Oh, what? Sorry, I didn’t hear you there for a moment. Is there anything else I can help you with, Ms. April?” Jamison often used stilted politeness as a brush-off. I hoped it would work for me.
“Yes, the front windows are smudged. I can’t believe you didn’t clean them before I arrived. Hosts usually want their guests to have the best view of the main house,” April said, narrowing her eyes at me.
To my dismay, she followed me back downstairs and poured herself another glass of white wine. I just couldn't shake her. I gathered up a spray bottle and towels and started to wipe the spotless front windows.
As I began to wipe the glass, I noticed the view down the hill to the main house was stunning. From the guesthouse windows I could see all the way down to the twinkle of the water in the swimming pool. My mind dove into the memory of seeing Alex swimming naked the first time and, despite my best efforts, my heart thudded painfully.
I rubbed harder, as if that would erase the emotions welling up inside of me. My eyes trailed off to the side of the road and found the hidden stone archway that lead to the secret grove. In all honesty, I had to admit, I'd already been smitten with Alex by the time we walked that sweet, winding path through the woods together. He was genuine and approachable, an honest man stuck in a world of pretense. But more than that, it was the look in his eyes when Jamison had first introduced us that struck me. I'd thought I saw something there, a flicker of something I couldn’t describe. Not exactly a look of recognition, surprise, yes, but there was something unique that sparked between us. Or at least that’s what I'd wanted to think.
Before long, April pulled me out of my reverie with another complaint. “You smudged that last one. Honestly, it’s a wonder Alex keeps you on at all.”
I shook my head and redid the window. What little bit of sympathy I’d had for April just evaporated with the spray cleaner on the glass. As I stared at the spotless window I tried to convince myself that the Alex I’d come to know was just a fantasy. I was here to work, to make enough money for Karl’s care facility, and to go home at the end of the summer. It was simple, and all I had to do was keep my head down and work. Whatever Alex wanted to do with his film or with Princess April was up to him. I just hoped he didn't hurt his daughter when he did it.
“Speaking of Alex,” April said, “when you’re done with the windows I want you to set up the dining room for two. I think Alex and I will stay in tonight. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
I bit my lip to keep from throwing out some snarky remark, but I couldn’t help but throw a glance at the haughty woman. She sat curled in an armchair like a contented cat. I furrowed my brow. It sure seemed like she was making an awfully big effort to prove something to me. I wondered how I could let her know that I wasn't competition. She didn't have to worry about me.
“I know, I know,” she purred, “I should be more discreet, but can you blame me? You’ve seen how delicious Alex is, and I can’t help but brag a little. Just us girls, right?”
She winked and licked her lips, the expression on her face clear.
So that was it. She and Alex were lovers. I wiped the last window clean and wondered if Carrie knew. My only consolation was that April’s false Hollywood appearance didn’t compare at all to the natural blonde and elegant grace of the woman I’d met on the front steps. Alex might be sleeping around with other women while he and Carrie sorted out their family difficulties, but April was nothing compared to Carrie and her lovely daughter.
I knew––because I was nothing too.
Chapter Twenty
Alex
It was late in the afternoon before I caught a glimpse of Chelsea again. I was on the phone with my cinematographer and had to sit through the last reports about the exterior shots and B-roll he’d captured before I could end the call.
“We’ll be done with all of it within a week,” he said. “Are you telling me there’s going to be a break before shooting, or are we sticking to the schedule?”
“I’ll let you know. There are a few problems with casting, but I’m trying to clear everything up as quickly as I can,” I assured him.
“Look Alex, I already turned down a chance to work with Wes Anderson. I love this movie, but I’m taking a big gamble here.”
“I know and I appreciate it,” I said, “that’s why I’m going to make the changes I need to on my end. I don’t want anything to mess with what we’ve envisioned for this movie.”
He laughed. “Yeah, good luck with that. That’s the kind of thing that kills off all the good producers. Hang in there, man.”
I reveled in the thought of being one of the good producers and hung up the phone. I’d wasted the majority of the day on phone calls and now I needed to talk to Chelsea. Without her and Jamison’s support behind me I’d never have the balls to scrap my father’s production of the movie and start over. Jamison had given me a copy of the screenplay Chelsea had written. I glanced at it sitting on my desk again. Although it was a different script from mine, I could see that Chelsea’s writing had the fresh voice and perspective I needed.
And I needed her to see the real me. Without her, I was just He
nry James Silverhaus’ son, the heir to the B-movie kingdom. She was the only one aside from Jamison who'd taken me seriously, and I’d failed her.
I’d accused her of being the type of woman I despised, when in truth she was the exact opposite. Chelsea was the kind of woman I wanted.
The thought made me reel, and I leaned against my desk for a moment. Carrie had suspected as much, insinuated that exact thought when we’d chatted, but now it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was falling for Chelsea.
Now that I thought about it, it was obvious right from the start. Only seconds after we’d met, and her eyes had locked onto mine, I'd known I didn’t want to send her away. For the next few days, I'd trailed after her like a puppy dog, finding every excuse just to run into her and talk to her. I remembered the sweet warmth of her birthday dinner, her shy smile, the first quick taste of her lips against mine.
“I’ve never heard you talk about a woman the way you do about Chelsea,” Carrie had told me earlier today. “I had to come meet her for myself. She’s shy, but I can definitely see you together.”
“Momma says she’s your puzzle piece,” Emily had said. “You just fit together.”
My niece’s words rang in my head, and I smiled. Chelsea made me feel whole, and my juvenile antics had almost driven her away. I'd been an ass, but, thankfully, Jamison had intervened. He refused to tell me what he’d said to Chelsea that morning, but I knew he’d just barely stopped her from leaving. Now, it was my turn. I needed to convince her to stay.
“You don’t want her to work for you,” Carrie had pointed out. “Invite her to spend the rest of the summer here as your guest. Then there won’t be any confusion.”
“And I’ll have someone to play with!” Emily squealed, and clapped her hands with joy.
I imagined Chelsea splashing in the pool with my niece, sitting at the dinner table and laughing with Carrie. The thought was so perfect and felt so right. Chelsea was the piece of the puzzle we’d all been looking for, not just me. If I wanted any kind of a real chance with her, I needed to talk to her.
I opened the French doors of my office and strode out toward the pool house. I crossed the sun porch, rehearsing my invitation, when Chelsea came out from the bathroom and we collided.
She was fresh from the shower and her scent washed over me, a heady mix of vanilla and orange blossom. I caught her slight body, felt the strength of her arms as she reached up to steady herself, and my body leapt at the contact. Her black hair swept against my chest, and I brushed it back from her face, feeling the silk slide through my fingers.
I wanted to lean down and kiss her, but something in her eyes stopped me. Right. I'd been an ass.
“Chelsea, please,” I said, “I need to apologize…”
“No thanks,” she said and pushed away from me.
“What?” I was confused. My heart twisted painfully. I didn't understand what was happening. “I don’t regret it, what we did.”
“I made a mistake,” Chelsea said as she tipped her chin and pierced me with her look. “I set up the guest cottage for your private dinner with Ms. Temple. I wouldn’t want to make you late.”
“My what? With April? Is that where you’ve been all afternoon?” I asked, horrified. What in the hell had Jamison been thinking, letting Chelsea anywhere near April?
“Yes,” Chelsea said, “I’m sorry your guest thinks I did such a terrible job of preparing the guest cottage, but I spent the day cleaning...”
“Wait, you spent the day working for April in the guest house?” I furrowed my brow. “You shouldn’t have to go anywhere near her.”
“Why, because you don’t like your mistresses to talk?” Chelsea snapped.
What? She tried to step around me, but I blocked her way. When I reached for her she shrank back, and refused to meet my eyes.
“Is that what you think? You think April is my mistress?” I asked.
“She’s not as discreet as I'm sure you’d like her to be,” Chelsea said. “But don’t worry, I am.”
“You? You’re not my mistress,” I floundered.
“I know.” She glared. Her beautiful blue eyes now a steel gray. “I’m just the hired help. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”
“No, Chelsea, this is ridiculous. Just let me explain,” I said.
She finally looked up at me, her eyes chilled with reserve. “There’s nothing to explain. You can have your mistress, your ex-wife, your daughter, all of it. It has nothing to do with me. I’m here to work, earn my money, and get back home. That’s it.”
I choked, “M-my ex-wife? Daughter? You mean Carrie and Emily?”
Something flashed in her eyes. “How dare you encourage that sweet little girl to come here for the ‘good memories’ when you’ve got women stashed all over.” She gave me a disgusted look. “What kind of a man are you?”
“What kind of man?” I asked, anger seeping into my voice, “You don’t know me at all! I thought you, of all people, could see the real me, but I guess I was wrong. You're not different after all.”
Chelsea shrank back and I quickly bit my tongue, but it was too late. She spun around and fled through the side door. By the time I’d stumbled over her ridiculous accusations, she was gone.
Chapter Twenty-One
Chelsea
“I’m buying a ticket, I’ll be there in a day. I swear, Chelsea, I’m coming.”
I regretted the phone call as soon as I heard Zach’s voice, but Clara was still sleeping and I had no one else to talk to. I knew Clara was working a late night summer job as a waitress in a local bar, and she often slept until noon. It was night here, but the time difference made it early morning in Oregon. I'd been sitting alone in my attic room, feeling sorry for myself for hours, wanting to hear the warm, friendly voice of someone who understood me. I'd held off as long as I could. Zach had answered my call after the first ring.
All I’d said was I hated it here, and Zach assumed the worst. Sadly, his assumptions weren't too far off the mark. He was ready to kill Alex and bring me home.
“No, please. Just check on Karl. I only have a few more weeks of work, and then the summer will be over. I’ll have the tuition money and everything will be fine,” I said with a sniffle. It was just good to know that there were good people in the world, people who actually cared about me.
“You’re crying; it’s not okay. I’m buying a ticket online right now,” Zach said.
“No, I can do this,” I insisted, “I have to finish the job and get paid.”
“I’ll make up the difference,” Zach said, eager to be my hero. He was being sweet, but I couldn’t allow him to bail me out.
“No. I chose to do this, and I’m going to see it through,” I said, comforted by my own determination. “Say ‘hi’ to Karl for me. I’ll be home soon.”
After all, Karl was more important than any fantasy, no matter how real it had felt.
* * *
So much for Alex's protests, I thought as I worked. April had called me to the guesthouse first thing, and after making sure I saw the tumbled state of her bed, started directing me to a slew of new chores. I’d had a fitful night’s sleep after my conversation with Zach, and now it was taking its toll on me. That, along with the way April was treating me, even the simplest tasks seemed monumental.
“We agreed the Feng Shui was all wrong here,” April said. She sat at the kitchen counter again, drinking white wine despite the early hour. She waved a hand over the guest cottage’s living room. “Before Alex left this morning, he agreed we should rearrange.”
I threw my weight against the heavy armchair and pushed it across the room to create the ‘reading nook’ April imagined. She was really throwing it in my face. Yeah, I got it. She and Alex had wild sex all night. Well, good for them. The truth was I had no idea what Alex had done after our confrontation. If he'd chosen to blow off steam with April, well, that was his business.
I swallowed the rising disgust and crossed the room to retrieve the l
amp. I couldn't reconcile what April was saying with Alex's apparent surprise when I'd referred to her as his mistress. Why would April fabricate a relationship between Alex and herself if what Alex had said was true? Why stage the rumpled sheets and all? She didn’t need to be with Alex to get what she wanted. Anything she wanted, she could simply ask Henry for and it was hers. She didn't really have a reason to lie. Alex did.
I turned around and realized she was still talking. “He agrees the whole second story should be gutted and turned into a luxury suite. Two bedrooms are nice, but if he’s going to have any other stars staying here they’ll want the whole space.” April was gesturing toward the upper floor as she spoke.
She watched me and waited for a response, but instead of answering her, I hefted the coffee table up and carried it over to the love seat. As Alex’s employee, I worked for her, but that didn’t mean I had to talk to her.
April pursed her lips and took another sip of wine. “I’m sure you’re used to staying in little broom closets and such, but I feel cramped up there. Luckily, Alex is moving me to the main house later. Make sure you're around to help bring my things down.”
Yeah, like Jamison would let that happen. I couldn’t imagine him allowing April to lounge around the main house, sipping wine and spewing out her sharp-tongued comments while he worked.
I paused, thinking of the butler. How had I misjudged Jamison? His cold veneer of manners was thin, and once it had melted I realized that at the core, he really was an honest man. Jamison lived by a code and served Alex well. Yet, despite his openness and honesty, I didn’t understand how he was able to keep Alex’s dirty little secrets.
April directed me to move the lamp again. I went to lift it and stopped. I was about to open my mouth and ask why she was bothering to rearrange if she was moving into the main house. When I turned, there was Jamison in the doorway, his face a frozen mask of disapproval. My heart jumped. And then it hit me. I should just ask Jamison directly about the women in Alex’s life. He'd known what had been going on that morning at the pool when he'd caught Alex and me naked, and yet he'd begged me to stay when I'd wanted to go. If anyone could clear the air it’d be him.