The Postman Always Purls Twice (13 page)

“Can we knit? When they're not filming anything?” Maggie didn't want to upset Nick Pullman with the sound of clicking needles. Maybe the people who were supposed to be knitting on the set were using silent knitting needles. Was there such a thing?

Alicia smiled. “Please do. You'll have plenty of time for that. There's a lot of downtime between takes. I'll be back later to say hello again. And maybe finally get my knitting lesson?” she added hopefully. Maggie noticed the large bandage on her hand was gone, though she did see a nasty-looking scab, stained with iodine marking the spot.

“Anytime. We'll be right here,” Maggie promised.

Maggie watched Alicia scamper back toward the set. Jen was already standing on her mark, turning her face this way and that while someone with a light meter waved it around her head. Alicia stood just outside the circle of light, watching.

Alicia was a dear girl and worked so hard. It would be impossible to describe her duties. Most seemed to be anticipating Jennifer Todd's every need. Part secretary, part mind reader, part . . . extra brain.

Maggie wondered if Alicia had career plans beyond this job. Right now, she was paying her dues, as they say. Jen had mentioned that her last assistant had gone on to write for TV. Alicia would certainly have the necessary connections to do something in film or television. Maggie guessed most young people took a job like that to network, and others were simply lured by the glamorous atmosphere. It wasn't clear where Alicia fit on that question.

“Are we all clear on proper movie set etiquette?” Maggie asked the group.

“Perfectly,” Dana answered for the group. She already had her knitting out and was lining up her needles. Suzanne had brought along her knitting bag but paid it little mind, her gaze darting in all directions, watching the activity on the set, but most likely on the lookout for her idol, Heath O'Hara. Who had not showed up yet. Maggie wondered if he would be acting in any scenes being filmed tonight. Maybe he wouldn't show up at all.

That would be a great disappointment for Suzanne, and Lucy. Though she wasn't quite as vocal about her star crush.

Lucy and Phoebe got up together. “We thought this was a good time to grab some snacks,” Phoebe said as they strolled toward the food table. “We'll bring something back for you.”

“I hope they don't bring back too much. It all looks fattening,” Maggie said to the others as she set out her knitting.

“I bet there are lots of healthy choices up there,” Dana replied. “Like the green drinks Jennifer has flown in from California? I see a few of those.”

“That's true. But I have a feeling the stars hoard the really pricey stuff in their trailers. Like fine wine,” Maggie said.

“You're probably right,” Dana whispered, softly laughing.

Nick was on the set, alone with Jennifer. Maggie noticed Trina at the catering table, selecting a bottle of sparkling water from a large tub of cold drinks. As Nick spoke quietly, Jennifer nodded with a thoughtful expression. She had a pile of button cards spread on the table and was showing Nick how she'd use them as a prop.

Nice touch, Maggie thought. She felt gratified she'd contributed this small detail.

Nick turned to Trina next, who now stood near the camera. Nick seemed to be reminding her where she needed to enter the scene and to stand. He held her by the shoulders and led her to her place.

She asked him a question. He laughed and swept back his thick silver hair. He was a very handsome man, Maggie realized. When he smiled. He had a lionlike look to his features, straight white teeth, and a tall, strong build. He looked about ten or more years older than Jennifer, and ten more than that compared to Trina.

He stood with one hand on his hip, chatting with the younger actress. Then leaned forward and whispered something, their faces very close.

Not just their faces. Maggie noticed his hand touch her hip, giving her a pat.

Trina didn't seem a bit surprised by this encouraging, even intimate, touch, as if Nick were a coach sending a star player into the big game.

Maggie wondered how Jennifer felt watching them. She was fiddling with a bundle of large safety pins Maggie used to hold stray buttons together or mark a spot in a project. Maggie noticed that Jennifer did glance at Nick and Trina, and accidently stuck herself with a pin. She put her fingertip to her lips a moment and frowned. Because of the tiny pinprick or the sight of her husband flirting, Maggie could not be sure.

But Jennifer seemed very grounded. She probably took this behavior in stride, as if it was part of her husband's job as a director, a way of bonding with a leading lady. Trina was a fragile flower and needed reassurance, Maggie guessed. Not like Jennifer, who seemed more confident.

Nick soon returned to a spot by the camera. He spoke to the cinematographer, who was operating the camera, then stepped back, just beyond the bright stage lights. One of his many assistants was talking to the extras who played the knitting group, and soon walked off the set as well.

A few moments later, the assistant director—or perhaps the assistant to the assistant? Maggie was not clear at all on the pecking order—called out, “Quiet on the set.”

Lucy and Phoebe raced back to their seats just as the lights were dimmed. Phoebe muffled the rattling sound from a bag of chips next to her sweater. Maggie gave her a sharp look. She didn't want to get kicked out just as things were getting started.

Luckily, her friends were not the only ones grabbing a last-minute snack. She saw an assistant run over to Nick Pullman and hand him something. It looked like a cold drink. He twisted the top off the bottle and took a big gulp.

Dana and Lucy put their knitting down and everyone faced the set just as the digital clapboard appeared.

“Scene fifty-seven, take one,” a young woman standing beside the camera announced. She held up the clapboard a moment, then quickly stepped aside.

“Sound . . . Camera rolling,” another voice said quietly. There was silence for a moment. Then someone said, “Action.”

Nick Pullman stood next to the camera, gazing intently at the set. Jennifer seemed engrossed in her button-sorting task, oblivious to all the lights, equipment, and onlookers. Maggie had never realized how many people and distractions were around the actors while they were being filmed. They needed amazing powers of concentration to transport themselves to some distant, imagined reality, didn't they?

Something about Jennifer's expression and posture was suddenly transformed. As if another personality had floated into her body. Before she'd spoken a single word of dialogue, she projected the essence of a totally different person. She really was a very talented actress.

Trina walked toward Jennifer. Her steps were sinuous and sultry, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. She stood in front of Jennifer, casting a shadow across the table. She didn't seem any different from the Trina who had exited the limo Saturday in all her glory. But maybe that was enough.

Jennifer slowly looked up. Her eyes widened. “Ms. Fuller . . . I didn't see you come in.”

Trina didn't reply. Then she slammed a Louis Vuitton knitting tote on the table. Maggie had only seen such accessories in magazines and at knitting shows. She certainly didn't sell them in her store.

“I came for my lesson,” Trina announced in her gravelly tone. “Or maybe to teach you one?”

Jennifer stood up straighter. “It's not what you think . . .”

Trina laughed. “How stupid do you think I am? Do you think you're the first?” She leaned closer and whispered harshly. “I'm not worried. Tyler is playing with you. He's done this before.”

The button cards slipped from Jennifer's fingers. Her mouth grew tight and she blinked.

“Cut!” Nick jumped forward. “
Super!
Both of you. Great work.” He smiled and nodded in approval. “But I guess in the next take, I'd like you try it a little more . . .”

Maggie couldn't hear the rest of his critique. She sat back and looked at her friends.

“What do you think? They don't let the actors say very much, do they?”

“No, but this is fun.” Phoebe tore open a bag of pretzels and munched a handful.

“It is fun,” Dana agreed. As soon as the lights went back on, her needles had jumped into action. “But it's amazing they can make an entire movie at this rate. Maybe they need to warm up a little before he lets them go full throttle?”

Maggie hoped so, though there was no time to reply. The lights dimmed again and the girl with the board appeared.

As the actors began speaking their lines, Maggie noticed that Suzanne's gaze had wandered in the opposite direction of the set. Then her eyes widened and her face got pale. Maggie could tell she was about to either scream or shout as she rose from her chair.

Maggie leaned over, about to stuff a ball of yarn into Suzanne's mouth. Luckily, Nick shouted, “Cut!” Maggie dropped back down with a huge sigh.

“What on earth is the matter?”

Suzanne didn't answer, just pointed, her eyes bugging out of her head. Maggie followed the gesture, along with the rest of her friends.

Heath O'Hara stood right beside them, his arms crossed over his well-developed physique, biceps bunching up attractively under a tight white T-shirt.

He'd snuck up on them, coming from somewhere at the front of the shop. He leaned over Phoebe's shoulder and Lucy nearly swooned. “Hey, ladies. How's the view? Sight lines good? You found a cozy corner, didn't you?”

Suzanne blinked, and her face turned beet red. Maggie was afraid she would faint.

“We're very comfortable, thank you,” Maggie replied with a tight smile.

He looked amused by her reply. Or maybe by the fact that she wasn't wowed off her chair? As the rest of her friends seemed to be, including Dana. Despite her cool attitude when they'd talked about movie stars—Heath in particular—she stared up at him now with her knitting hanging from her hands. Her mouth hanging open a bit, too.

His looks were dazzling; Maggie had to grant him that. But a bit of a peacock, she thought.

“So, you're the
real
knitting group. Jen told me about you,” he added.

Jennifer Todd had been talking about them? To Heath O'Hara? Maggie wished she could have been a fly on the wall for that conversation.

“We're the real thing, all right,” Lucy replied.

“But we don't belong to the Screen Actor's Guild, of course, so we couldn't be in the movie,” Phoebe explained glumly. “That's supposed to be us up there.” She pointed to the extras on the set.

“You're not missing much. They'll be shooting the same five lines of dialogue until tomorrow,” he predicted.

“So we've heard,” Maggie replied. “I don't think we'd last that long.”

Suzanne stared as if he'd floated down from a cloud. She finally snapped out of her daze. “Could I please have your autograph, Heath?”

“I'd be happy to.” He walked over to her chair as she frantically searched for a scrap of paper in her knitting bag. She finally came up with one and handed it to him, along with a fine-point marker.

“Could I have one for my daughter? Her names is Natalie . . . N-A-T-A-L-I-E.”

The movie star quickly complied and handed the paper back. Suzanne practically pressed it to her chest, then slipped it back into the knitting bag.

“Oh drat . . . I don't have any more paper.” She looked around, panicked. “Wait, I saw someone do this at a rock concert.” She stood up and whipped off her sweater. Maggie squeezed her eyes shut, not daring to see what was next.

To her great relief, Suzanne wore a T-shirt under the sweater. She handed him the marker and twisted around so that her back faced him. “Could you sign my T-shirt? It's Suzanne . . . with a Z, double N.”

Heath chuckled as he scrawled a bold signature, amused at her resourcefulness. “No problem, Suzanne with a Z, double N.”

“Thank you so much.” Suzanne sighed, craning her neck to get a view of the autograph on her back. Close to impossible without a mirror. Suzanne would complain of a crick in her neck tomorrow. Maggie felt sure of that.

“Could you sign this for me, please? It's Lucy. The usual spelling.” Lucy shyly held out a knitting pattern, the blank side of the page showing.

The movie star directed his dazzling smile Lucy's way as he signed his name again. “My sister is named Lucy. It's one of my favorite names.”

Maggie smiled, though she wondered about that claim, even though Lucy seemed to believe him. Maggie might check later on the Internet, not that it made any difference.

Heath O'Hara glanced at Maggie and Dana, but neither of them jumped forward with pen and paper. He slipped his hands into the front pockets of his tight jeans. “I hear that one of you owns this shop?”

“I do,” Maggie replied.

“The set designer loved it. She didn't do a thing to the displays or the way the furniture is arranged. That's saying something,” he added quietly.

“Thank you, that's nice of you to tell me.” Was he this friendly to all his fans? Or just bored and thinking he would give them a little thrill?

Dana had picked up her knitting and started working again, though she wasn't totally recovered from this close brush with stardom. “We read on your website that you like to knit, too, Heath.”

She didn't add, “Is that true?” But Maggie sensed she was probing a bit.

“I do. It's a good way to kill time and a lot cheaper than playing poker with the gaffers and grips.” Maggie knew what gaffers and grips were: electricians and other set technicians.

Maggie looked up at him. “Are you working on any knitting projects right now?”

“I just started a vest, to use in the movie as a prop. My character is supposed to learn how to knit, too,” he explained. “It's not coming along that well.”