Sunday morning I met my family at church, as always. With my father seated next to me, I was distracted from worship, and all the more so as I witnessed his tears during our pastor’s sermon. Not that my father’s tears were unusual, but something about his current emotional state seemed more genuine than before.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Mama, who dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. No doubt she had a lot of emotions to work through. I thought back to my conversation with Jason yesterday about the walls I’d put up. If I had so many, I could only imagine the ones my mother needed to tear down.

For the first time in a while, genuine compassion rose up for her situation. I couldn’t deny that most days, I got that “Don’t talk too long, please. I’m really busy” feeling where she was concerned. But not today. Today I wondered what it would feel like to walk a mile in her shoes. To be wounded by someone you loved. The Lord gripped my heart with an empathy that surprised me. I reached over and took Mama’s hand and gave it a squeeze. She looked at me, eyes widening a bit, and squeezed back.

The calmness in my spirit lasted all day Sunday. And by the time I arose on Monday morning—thirty minutes later than usual—I was determined to have a better attitude . . . about everything.

I rushed through the process of getting ready and headed out the door. I waved at my neighbor, who was out walking his dog—the same dog who’d yapped all night—then climbed into my car and headed to the studio.

From inside my purse, my cell phone rang out the melody of “My Heart Will Go On,” the theme from Titanic. Seemed appropriate for how I felt. I managed to reach beneath the receipts, wallet, breath mints, and keys to fetch the phone by the third ring.

“Hello?”

I expected to hear my mother’s voice but did not. “Tia Morales?” The woman on the other end of the phone sounded like she was in a hurry.

“Yes?”

“This is Michelle from Dr. Kennedy’s office. We got your phone messages over the weekend about coming in for allergy testing.”

“Yes, I need to schedule an appointment. The sooner, the better.”

“Dr. Kennedy had a cancellation this morning. Would you like to come in now?”

“Now?” I glanced at the clock. Eight twelve. Ack. How would I manage the roundtable reading? “How long will it take?”

“Oh, not that long. You’ll just be coming in for a consultation. Dr. Kennedy will schedule the actual allergy testing for a later date. We can probably have you out of here no later than 9:30.”

“I see.” Hmm. Maybe if I hurried, I could accomplish this.

I agreed to leave right away and ended the call. Then I called Erin’s cell phone. She answered on the third ring and said she would help out by corralling the cast members into the roundtable reading room at nine o’clock, along with the writers, who would share their vision for the script. If all went as planned, I’d be in my chair by 9:45, just in time to start the read-through. Perfect.

I exited the freeway, did a U-turn, and headed to the doctor’s office. The allergist, Dr. Kennedy, talked me through the process, explaining the tests she had scheduled for the following week. She sat at the computer, typing madly. “I would guess, based on your symptoms, that you’re allergic to dust and mold. You said you’re flipping your house?”

“Yes.” The sneeze that followed was more coincidence than anything.

“Mm-hmm.” She paused to type something else. “Well, I’ll check for other things too, but I’m pretty sure those triggers would be enough to cause all of this.” She gave me a pensive look. “And what about your stress level? Stress can definitely exacerbate allergy symptoms.”

“My stress level?” I repeated her words, unable to think of an easy answer. “Oh, well, you know. I live and work in Hollywood.”

“What do you do?”

“I direct a television sitcom.”

She stopped typing and turned my way. I could read the curiosity in her eyes as she asked, “Which one?”

I’d no sooner responded than she dove into an explanation of why Stars Collide happened to be her very favorite show on television. “It’s one of the funniest shows I’ve ever seen. I can always count on it to cheer me up when I’ve had a bad day.”

“Thank you. That’s the goal. There’s nothing like humor to get you through the rough patches.” I thought about my words, wondering why I hadn’t applied them to my life.

Before I left, Dr. Kennedy gushed a bit more about the show, focusing on Scott and Kat. She smiled. “Hey, I read in the paper that Kat Murphy had her baby. A girl, right?”

“Yep.” I nodded. “She’s a doll.”

“Oh, I’m sure. And how interesting that Kat’s character, Angie, is going to have a boy. I read that just this morning.”

“Ah.” So much for hoping our studio audience wouldn’t leak the news to the papers. Oh well. It was inevitable, I supposed.

“I think the best part is what they’re naming the baby.” Dr. Kennedy chuckled. “It’s perfect.”

This certainly got my attention. We’d worked hard to protect that secret. Even our own cast and crew didn’t know. We’d deliberately left the name out of the episode we’d just filmed.

I felt myself getting nervous. “O-oh?”

“Little Ricky. Priceless!” She laughed. “I think it’s such a great tribute to I Love Lucy. You know, I’ve always felt that Lucille Ball would have loved Stars Collide. It’s her kind of show—quirky, slapstick, filled with real humor, not the twisted stuff you see on those comedy channels.”

She went off on a tangent about comedy shows, but she’d lost me at “Little Ricky.” Rex was going to kill me. Well, not me exactly, but someone.

“If you don’t mind my asking, where did you read all of this info about the show?”

“It’s all in The Scoop.” She giggled. “I can’t believe I just confessed to reading that gossip rag. You won’t hold it against me, will you?”

“Of course not.” Still, how and why had they run that story? And who fed them the information in the first place?

Suddenly all of the frustrations I’d worked so hard to get rid of over the weekend came back in full glory. I somehow managed to muster a smile, then paid for my visit and left. My drive up the 405 was faster than usual. My foot felt like it weighed a hundred pounds as I headed toward the studio.

I arrived in record time, whipped into a parking space, and stormed inside, then kept moving until I got to the conference room. My cast members looked my way as I popped my head in the door, but I couldn’t break my train of thought. “Rex?”

“Yes?” He glanced at me, his brow wrinkling the moment he saw the concerned look on my face. He rose and took a few steps my way.

“We need to talk,” I whispered.

With a nod, he joined me at the door. I turned back to Erin. “Erin, do you think you could handle the roundtable reading until I get back?”

“What do we do about the Lesleigh thing?” she asked.

Rex looked my way. “You know that scene where the kids are with Scott at NASA and the tour guide is supposed to accidentally let them on board a real shuttle?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, Lesleigh Conroy was doing a guest appearance as the tour guide.”

“Right . . .”

“Apparently she’s got some sort of stomach bug and can’t be here today. We just got a call from her agent.”

“Hmm.” I paused to think things through. “Well, it’s no big deal. It’s only Monday, right?” I glanced back inside the room. “I’ll have a courier run a copy of the script to her house. In the meantime, Erin, would you mind reading for her?”

Erin’s eyes grew wide, but I didn’t give her a chance to say no. Instead, I slipped back out into the hallway. Knowing her aim-to-please mentality, I hoped she’d dive right in.

Rex and I took a few steps away from the room, and I faced him, ready to get this over with. “Rex, I hate to tell you this, but someone is leaking information to the media.”

“Leaking information?” He looked confused. “What sort of information?”

“The news is out that Jack and Angie’s baby is a boy. Came out in the same article with the news about Scott and Kat’s baby being a girl. My doctor told me all about it.”

“I’m surprised it took this long. But it’s not that big of a deal, Tia.”

“They know the baby’s name, Rex.”

“No way. No one knows that but the two of us and the writers.” He paced the hallway, saying nothing for a moment. “It’s got to be someone from the inside. Maybe the scripts are going out to the media somehow.” He released a slow breath. “Let’s go talk to Athena and the others to see what they have to say.”

Ugh. I hated to have to do that. No doubt they would think we were accusing them in some way.

We arrived in the writers’ room to find them hard at work, already laughing over next week’s script. Paul was pacing, and Bob was seated on the sofa with his laptop. Stephen nibbled on a piece of baklava while Athena sat at the desk, pen and paper in hand.

“Hey, guys.”

Athena turned to look at me. “Well, hello, strangers. Aren’t you guys supposed to be in a roundtable reading or something?”

I noticed the tray of baklava on the coffee table and took a couple of steps that way.

“Help yourself,” Athena said with a smile.

I did. Between bites, I explained what had happened. Athena paled. “This is awful.” She sat on the sofa, shoulders slumped forward, then turned to face Stephen. “What do you think happened?”

“I have no idea. We’re so careful. Don’t have a clue how someone could’ve leaked information that wasn’t even written down. You know?”

“It is written down,” Athena said. “It’s in the script they’re reading right now.”

“But they just got it this morning,” he argued.

For whatever reason, we all happened to look at Bob and Paul at the same time. Bob threw his hands up in the air. “Wasn’t me. I promise.”

“You guys know me better than that.” Paul grunted. “Besides, I need my job too much. I would never risk that.”

True. None of them would. Still, someone had leaked the story.

“What are we going to do?” Athena asked.

Stephen shook his head. “Only one thing I can think of. We get the scripts back at the end of each day.”

“The actors have to be able to memorize their lines,” I said. “Besides, I’m sure they’re not to blame. We can trust them.”

“Even the guest stars?” Bob asked. “I’m not saying anything against Brock, just wondering if we’re safe letting those scripts go out to people we don’t know very well.”

“I know Brock, both by reputation and in person,” Rex said. “He’s not behind this.” He turned to face me. “I want you to keep an eye on people in your department, Tia. I’ve got a strong suspicion about this. It’s definitely an inside job. So we watch and wait to see when the person strikes again. Watch is the key word. Keep an eye on everyone and everything, okay?”

“Okay.” I shook my head, unable to process this. What kind of person would do something like this?

I did my best to push my concerns aside as I headed back to my office, where I spent a few moments of alone time just thinking things through. Surely we’d figure this out in time.

Now back to work. I checked my appearance in my compact mirror, noticing how tight my face looked. I did a couple of deep breathing exercises and tried to relax. No point in letting my cast and crew know I was worried about something. They would certainly pick up on it if I didn’t watch myself.

I headed back to the conference room just in time to find everyone taking a break. Jason lingered, probably concerned by my earlier interruption to the process.

“How did Erin do?” I asked.

“She was great.” He nodded. “Very businesslike, but kind with the kids too. A couple of times she had to help them through their lines, but she did a fantastic job with the cast. She’s a natural leader.”

“I asked her to fill in for Lesleigh Conroy. Did that part go okay?”

“Yeah, she sounded like the part had been written for her.” He gave me a pensive look. “So, what’s up? What’s going on? It worried me a little the way you called Rex out.” He shrugged. “Not that it’s really any of my business, but I’d like to know what’s bothering you.”

I hesitated. Did I really want to share the information with him? Shouldn’t I be careful?

“Oh, c’mon, Tia. Don’t be neurotic. It’s me, Jason, for Pete’s sake.”

I touched his arm, for the first time noticing the solid biceps. “I—well, we’ve got a problem.”

“Obviously. But what?”

“Someone is leaking information to the media. The Scoop carried a story this morning, naming Jack and Angie’s baby.”

“No way.” He shook his head. “I don’t even know the name of the baby.”

“Right. Hardly anyone does. Or, rather, hardly anyone did. Apparently everyone who reads The Scoop knows now. So our element of surprise is gone. And once that’s gone . . .” I shuddered to think of what might happen next. We needed to keep our audience guessing. That was half the fun of pulling off a great sitcom—challenging the audience.

“Do you guys think it’s someone from the inside?” Jason asked. “Could be someone we’ve overlooked. A cleaning lady. Someone from the studio who comes to replace the overhead lights. Someone in hair and makeup.”

As he spoke those last words, a shiver ran down my spine. Not once had my sister’s name entered my mind . . . till now. Surely Benita wasn’t capable of something like this. Was she?

She’d been hanging out with Bob a lot, hadn’t she? Was it possible that last Friday she’d somehow gotten a copy of this week’s script and given it to the tabloids? The possibility suddenly seemed very real.

Calm down, Tia. That’s just nuts. Why would she do something like that?

I could suddenly think of a thousand reasons, and all of them easy to spend.

My thoughts reeled. I was reminded of the necklace I’d seen her wearing Friday night. Those new, expensive shoes. She made a decent salary, but those shoes cost a pretty penny.

“I’ll be right back. Do you mind waiting?”

“Of course not. But where are you going?” Jason’s brow wrinkled.

“Just need to check something out.”

I turned on my heels and headed to the hair and makeup department, where I found Benita fussing over a tray of eye shadow. She looked up and winced when she saw me.

“Hey, Tia. Still mad at me?”

If you tipped off the media, yes.

“Mad at you? What for?”

“The whole Julio thing, of course. I was just telling that girl Jana in the wardrobe department all about him.” Her eyes took on a dreamy look. “It couldn’t be helped, I promise. I tried to resist the temptation, but . . .” She sighed. “He’s pretty irresistible. You have to admit that.”

“Yeah. Irresistible.”

“Hey, what’s up with your makeup?” She pointed to my face and I flinched. She clucked her tongue in disapproval. “I don’t believe it. What about that makeup lesson I gave you on Friday? Was it all in vain?”

Hush, Beni. We don’t need everyone on the set listening in.

She drew close to look at my eye shadow job, then sighed. “You’re hopeless.”

“Not hopeless, just very, very busy. Do you know what kind of weekend I’ve had?” I paused, realizing that I was biting my lip. “Beni, I have a question for you, but I’m going to ask you in advance not to take it personally.”

“O-okay.”

“You’ve been hanging out with the writers.”

“Yeah. They’re great. I like them a lot.” She blushed. Weird, I’d never seen Benita blush before.

“You were there on Friday to hear about this week’s episode.”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “I even helped them come up with a great bit about NASA.”

“You know that our scripts are top secret until filming, right?”

“Top secret?” Her eyes grew wide. “What are you saying?”

“I’m just saying that if you have any information about upcoming episodes, you would keep it to yourself, correct?”

She flinched, and her pause worried me. “S-sure, but who cares?”

“I do.” This is important. “This is not an accusation. I just found out that someone leaked information about this week’s episode to the media. It’s got to be someone on the inside. Obviously.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Oh, perfect. Just because I steal your date, you think I’m the kind of person who would sabotage my own career by blabbing to the media? What kind of person do you think I am?”

You really don’t want to get me started, Beni.

She rolled her eyes. “Mama was right. You’ve changed, Tia.”

Her words stopped me cold. I stared at her. “What did you say?”

“You’ve changed.” Her expression tightened. “You used to be really sweet. Well, maybe not really sweet, but nicer than you are now. I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

I wanted to say, “The feeling is mutual,” but I didn’t.

She pointed her finger at me, snagging the attention of Lenora, who appeared in the doorway looking a bit lost. “I know what it is too. Ever since the Golden Globes, you’re just . . . well, full of yourself.”

A thousand things went through my mind at once, but not one of them could I say aloud in front of Lenora, who now stood within ten feet of us, a puzzled expression on her face.

“As far as I’m concerned, you can put that award where your heart ought to be.”

The craziest wave of anger passed over me. How dare she say such a thing when I’d never been anything but good to her or the others in my family? I’d just opened my mouth to let her have it when a girlish giggle from behind us startled me.

“Oh, I know that one!” Lenora said. “Bette Davis, All About Eve. 1950.” She sighed and gazed directly into my eyes. “I always loved Bette, didn’t you?”

Before I could answer, Benita opened her mouth. “My sister wouldn’t know love if it jumped up and bit her.”

Lenora looked stunned at this proclamation. Just as quickly, her smile returned. “Would one of you sweet girls point me in the direction of the ladies’ room? I need to powder my nose.”

Benita pointed down the hallway to the left, and Lenora bounced her way in that direction, rambling about Bette Davis and what a fine job she’d done in that movie. I couldn’t get past her comment about Benita and me being “sweet girls.” There was nothing sweet about the conversation we’d just had.

I turned on my heels and marched out into the hallway, running straight into Jason.

“Well?”

“I asked if she knew anything about it, but she denied it.”

“Maybe she’s telling the truth.” He shrugged.

“You don’t know her, Jason. If you did . . .” I stopped myself from saying the rest. No matter what I thought of my sister’s character where men were concerned, I had zero proof that she’d sabotaged me by going to the media. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more ashamed I became. My accusation now seemed presumptuous at best. But how could I take it back?

“It’s okay, Tia.” Jason rested his hand on my arm and smiled. “In a week or so, none of this will even matter. Take it in stride.”

Take it in stride. Now there were a few words to live by.

Oh, if only I could.