***
Bella walked outside, slipping into her rain jacket, shivering in the cool air. They were to film at various locations around River Valley but the primary location was this farmhouse, perched on a small hill down one of the many country roads outside of town and owned by Lee Tucker, who owned Riversong, the restaurant where Annie was head chef. Annie told her Lee had it completely restored, but the original feel of the house remained, which made it perfect for a film set in the 1930s. Bella stood gazing at the house and felt transported to a place that felt familiar in a way she couldn’t quite understand. She’d certainly never lived in a place like it when she was a child. No, it was cramped apartments with the sounds of traffic and people’s voices in the various impoverished parts of Seattle she remembered from her childhood, not a cozy and sweet house such as this. It was painted white with black shutters and had a sweeping porch with several rocking chairs.
A week ago, the movie crew had begun work on the set. The
grassy hillside was covered with trucks and equipment. The house had been stripped of its furniture and filled with set pieces, carefully selected by the set dresser from antique shops in Los Angeles, to reflect life in the late ‘30s in an Oregon logging town. Now it was expertly furnished with pieces from the era, including a wood stove and colored glassware.
Out of the corner of her eye, Bella saw Tiffany, smoking a
cigarette, sitting on the wooden swing hanging from a large oak. She was dressed in an orange raincoat and black rain boots with white polka dots. Bella walked towards her. It had rained the night before and the ground was damp. Her rain boots sank into the wet grass.
“Hey Tiffany. You doing all right?”
Tiffany jumped. “Oh, hey Bella. Yeah, I’m fine. I guess.” She
took a
deep drag from her cigarette and blew it out slowly. “It’s just I can see them all looking at me, wondering if I’m going to mess up the film for all of them. Despite what people think, I’m not completely self-centered. I know they support families and if I misbehave it hurts
them.”
“So don’t. Misbehave, that is.”
Tiffany patted the end of her cigarette, the red tip falling in the mud. “Not as easy as it sounds, I guess. They told me at rehab to hire a sobriety coach. I’m like, that’s the stupidest thing I ever heard of. Plus, I have my sister so far up my ass it’s pretty much like having one of those.” She paused, taking another drag of her cigarette. “I used to be good, you know. People used to look at me with respect instead of fear or dread.”
“You’re still good. Richard wouldn’t have hired you otherwise.”
“Richard’s speech made me feel like a loser.”
It’s because we’re not at peace with ourselves and when you’re in the light of someone who is, it makes you feel like you might fall farther into the abyss
, she thought.
Tiffany tossed her cigarette into the mud under the swing,
stomping it out with her boot. “It’s beautiful here. Sabrina and I were raised in Idaho. It’s pretty there too, except everyone’s so bass-ackwards and redneck no one like us could stand to live there.”
No one like us? What did she mean by that? “I like backwards. It’s refreshing after living in L.A. for so long.”
“You don’t really think that, do you?” Tiffany’s light eyes were piercing, watching, narrowed.
“Sure I do.”
Tiffany took in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders for a second before slumping forward in the swing. “I’m glad you’re here, Bella. It helps to have a friendly face. Someone I feel is on my side.”
“Gennie and Stefan are on your side too. They believe in you. Both have told me how good they think you are.”
“Really?” Tiffany’s hard face relaxed slightly, making her appear young and vulnerable. “I didn’t think either of them had an ounce of respect for me.”
“They’re good people. Not like so many we know in the
business.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” She pulled out a pack of cigarettes from
her raincoat pocket and lit another. “Can’t seem to give up the
smokes.” The sun glistened on the dewy grass and the air smelled of Tiffany’s cigarette. She swayed slightly on the swing, pushing at the ground with her foot. “Graham Rouse isn’t worth it, you know.”
“What did you say?” It was a jolt in Bella’s stomach, like
lightning on a clear day.
“He’s not worth giving up your life in the hope he’ll do the right thing.”
“It’s been over for months now.”
Tiffany’s knuckles were white, gripping the rope. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“How did you know?”
“I can tell by the way he looks at you. He’s in love with you.” She took another drag from her cigarette, brought it into her lungs
and blew out. “My mother said I noticed all the details about people. I still do. All my self-destructive ways haven’t killed that part of
me.”
Bella was hot and her legs shaky; perspiration gathered on her nose despite the cool air. She put her hand on the tree’s rough trunk, wishing she could erase the fact she’d ever been involved with him. And that people might know? It was too much. Why had she come here?
Gennie. Don’t forget Gennie needs you.
Out loud, she said, “He’s in love with himself and nothing else.”
Tiffany looked at her directly then, with clear eyes. “Good,
because you’re way too good for him. You know that, right?”
“Tiffany, sometimes I don’t know. I’m working on it. Self-love, that is. I know, it sounds so cheesy but it’s true.”
“Me too. But the demons are always there, telling me I suck.”
“I know.” She moved away from the tree, standing directly in front of Tiffany. “Prove to them you’re back in the game for good.”
“The demons or the cast and crew?”
Bella laughed. “Both.”
Tiffany nodded, with a tremulous smile. “Yeah, okay.”
“Screw the haters.”
“Screw the haters.”
BELLA, AT THE END OF RIVERSONG’S BAR,
nursed a dirty martini and let Tommy’s beautiful voice and guitar-playing wash over her. Tommy was married to Lee, the owner of Riversong, and they had a beautiful little daughter, Ellie-Rose. His band, Los
Fuegos, was rocking the joint, alternating between fast and slow tunes and reacting to the calls from patrons for this song or that. The restaurant turned into a bar after ten o’clock and tonight was at full capacity, the crowd mingling and dancing. Cindi, behind the bar, poured draft beers and made the occasional margarita, setting them on the end of the bar for the cocktail waitresses to carry out to waiting patrons.
“This here crowd’s getting their buzz on like it’s Friday, not Thursday,” said Cindi during a momentary lull, sipping on a glass of water. “Never saw the place filled with so many strangers. We’re not used to that, you know.”
Bella smiled, lifting her drink in a mock toast. “Hollywood’s invaded.”
“Damn straight. Hey, they’re a strange lot, that’s for sure, but we’re happy for their money.” Cindi’s base makeup was too dark for her skin and the mascara was applied too heavily and looked clumpy. The blue eye shadow? It had to go. If only there was an anonymous way to give people makeup tips.
Bella glanced toward the end of the bar. Was that Amanda? It was. Bella would know her bland Barbie-replica face anywhere. Who was she with? Fred. The town cop? They were huddled together, obviously talking intimately, her long blond hair like a curtain over their faces. Then they kissed. Just a light kiss but a kiss just the same. Bella leaned back slightly to see under the bar. Fred’s hand was on Amanda’s thigh.
Just then Amanda looked over and waved. She and Fred slipped off their stools and came over. “Bella Webber, right?” said Amanda.
“Yes, nice to see you again, Amanda. And Fred, right?”
“That’s right. Welcome back.” Fred Hughes was unsophisticated and earnest, with skin the color of a baby pig and a receding hairline
unfair for someone in his early twenties. Hapless, Drake called him, which Annie chastised him for. Annie didn’t like any of her local friends mocked, especially by her new husband, who could be
sarcastic and wry. According to Annie, Fred was fresh from the police academy
and had the potential to be a great cop despite the fact he’d been worthless to help Annie when her abusive ex-boyfriend had threatened her life. “Never mind that,” Annie had said to Drake.
“Fred came through in the end.”
“Annie told me you’re working on the movie. That’s so cool.”
Amanda smiled, her eyes blank.
The girl was guileless, sweet
, Bella thought.
Don’t be such a meanie.
But, still, there was just nothing
much between this girl’s ears. “Did Annie tell you I’m opening a café?”
“A café?”
“Yeah, well, more like a diner. Just breakfast and lunch. My grandmother and Lee and Tommy are investing.”
Amanda was opening a business? How was it possible a twelve-
year-old was opening a business? But the town needed a good
breakfast place, no question. “Will you have blueberry pancakes?” asked Bella.
“I guess.” Amanda paused, wrinkling her brow. “Should I?”
“It’s a must.”
“Do you hear that, baby? Blueberry pancakes are a must.”
Baby?
Fred had more game than she thought.
“Anyway, we’re on our way out,” said Amanda, flushing as she put her arm through Fred’s. “Just wanted to say hello.”
They were headed out to have sex. Because that’s what people in love did. Well, at least there was a chance Bella might get some blueberry pancakes while she was here. This was a consolation, at least. There was always cake, in its various forms.
A few minutes later Mike plopped on the bar stool next to her.
“Bella, good to see you. How you been?” He sounded subdued,
almost defeated. This wasn’t like him. Mike looked like the Marlboro man and had the soul of Ghandi. When it came to River Valley and its residents, the town’s honorary mayor would die trying to save it.
“I’m good,” she answered. “Just got into town. Great to be here.”
“You bring a little extra light to the place, that’s for certain.” He tapped the bar. “Cindi, I need a beer and a shot of whiskey.”
Cindi looked at him with surprise. “Whiskey? Hard day?”
Mike rubbed his eyes. “One of the worst of my life.”
Cindi poured him a shot from one of the whiskeys lining the shelf behind the bar and set it in front of him. “What happened? Is Sharon all right?” She tilted a pint glass under a draft, stopping the flow of the amber liquid just as it reached the top.
“Yeah, she’s fine. On her way over here now, as a matter of fact. I told her she’ll need to drive me home.” He threw back the shot, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I have to close the
sawmill.”
“What?” Cindi’s face looked like he’d just told her someone close to them had died. “The sawmill?”
“It’s been coming for a long time now. Just can’t afford to keep it going with so many of the restrictions on timber. You know I’ve wondered for years how I’d keep it going and if it was possible to make it work, but it’s just not. I only employ thirty people out there now, but still, that’s thirty about to lose their jobs.”
They spoke for a time about the logistics of stopping production
and what he would do about telling the employees. Bella was
listening absently because her mind was whirring. Could her makeup line be manufactured here? Could they turn Mike’s mill into a factory that
made cosmetics instead of lumber? She’d need at least thirty
employees if not more if she were to do what she wanted to do.
“Mike,” she said, without thinking first. “I have an idea for a
business. I’ve been too scared to actually do it but I don’t know, maybe the mill closing is a sign or something.”
Mike’s face went from defeated to interested. “I believe in signs. The vision for River Valley’s resurrection came to me in a dream in the form of a talking fish.”
“A talking fish?”
“Yep. You heard me. Never mind. I’ll tell you later. Tell me your
idea.”
“I’ve wanted to start my own makeup line for years. I have a company that can put together the formulas for the products. I have funding. We could manufacture it here if we built a lab.”
“Like where my mill is now?”
“Exactly. It could employ a lot of people.”
“Holy shit, girl. Why haven’t you done this before?”
“Too chicken.”
He motioned for Cindi to pour him another shot. “Pour me another. A shot to toast the future, not mourn the past.”
“Well, I’m still not sure.” Amanda was starting a business. Dumb little Amanda. Surely she could do as much.
He looked her straight in the eyes. “Fear is the opposite of love, my dear. Just keep that in mind.” He downed the shot and then tapped the surface of the bar with the tip of his finger. “Speaking of love, Ben Fleck was talking about you today. I left him a message about the mill closing to see if maybe he had work for any of my people. Instead of calling me back, he came by my office personally to see how he could help. So nice of him.”
Her heart pounded hard in her chest. She pulled on her earring, trying to appear nonchalant. “He was asking about me?”
“Yep.” Mike’s eyes twinkled at her. “You heard me.”
She sipped her martini, wanting to ask what he’d said but her pride kept her from it.
Mike lowered his voice. “Don’t you tell him I said this but don’t give up on him. He’s been hurt and has some scar tissue but he fell for you hard. He’ll be back. You mark my words on that.”
Just then Gennie entered through the front door. Bella stood and motioned for her to come over. “Mike, you want to meet Gennie?”
“Oh, shoot, she won’t want to meet me.”
“Don’t be silly. She’s a regular girl.”
“I want to meet her,” said Cindi.
Mike’s face was flushed, probably from the whiskey. “I’m starting to feel a hell of a lot better.”