Somehow, even with Tad barking orders and the director furious about bad lighting and Bonnie crying because her shoes were too tight, Kate managed to sneak away from filming the family scenes in Stage Six.
She walked quickly toward the wardrobe building, a secret smile on her face. Hugo needed a suit for the party.
Hugo.
Every step, Hugo. Every breath, Hugo.
Only now did she realize how tiring it had been, holding her spine so rigid for the last four years, afraid to relax for a moment in case she made a mistake.
Last night, Hugo had softened that spine nicely.
She bit her lower lip as she walked, fighting a goofy grin. He’d walked her back to the house, kissed her briefly, then watched with a contented smile as she’d gone inside and shut the door. She’d expected to lie awake for hours, gazing at the blue mermaid, but had fallen asleep quickly, jolting awake when the alarm went off.
Hugo Quick. Never on a list of what she wanted, but exactly what she needed.
A man came out of Stage Three with two enormous bloodhounds on leashes, and she wondered what Hugo had named his dog. Something creative and unexpected, like everything about him. One of a thousand things to ask and learn.
Last summer, she’d had a crush on her friend’s cousin who’d come to visit for a month. She’d been excited when he’d asked her to go sailing in the bay, but he’d talked nonstop about boxing on the drive over, and then been more interested in working the sail than anything she had to say, and they’d both been silent as they’d eaten hamburgers. One day had drained them of conversation.
She couldn’t imagine ever running out of things to say to Hugo. Private jokes to smile over. Tonight, they would smile secretively as they danced at Bonnie’s party, knowing last night’s dance had been so much better.
“Someone looks happy,” a woman’s voice drawled, and she looked up to see the wardrobe manager, Mei Chen, coming out of Stage One.
“Mei! I was on my way to find you. I was wondering if I could borrow a few suits for a party tonight. I know Aurelio is borrowing one, and I need”—Kate counted quickly in her head: Hugo, Reuben, Ollie—“three more. Although there’s a good chance only one of them will get used.”
“It’s against the rules to take costumes home. I only made an exception for Aurelio because Tad signed an order.”
“Oh.” Kate’s hopes dropped. Without a suit, Hugo couldn’t go to the party.
Mei cracked a smile. “So glum, all of a sudden. Don’t worry, I’m a rule breaker. I just put twenty-four dinner suits in storage, and no one will notice if a few disappear for a while. They’re in the storage building behind Stage Five—and if you get caught, keep my name out of it.”
“I will—thank you!” Kate started to leave, then turned back. “What size does Aurelio wear, so I can guess the others?”
“Thirty-eight jacket. Pants … probably thirty-two waist, thirty length.”
Kate jotted the measurements on her clipboard. “Thank you!” She hurried to one of the motorized carts and drove back the way she’d come, slowing as she turned between Stage Five and Stage Six, not wanting Tad to see her. But the alley was deserted. She drove past parked cars and trucks—including her own borrowed Buick—to the back end of the enormous soundstages.
She’d never noticed the long, narrow storage building before. It didn’t have any windows, just a door at one end. She entered, flipped a light switch, and looked down a long hall lined by numbered doors with metal latches instead of doorknobs.
The first couple of doors had padlocks on them, but the third padlock dangled open. Kate pulled it off and the door swung inward, assaulting her with a musty odor. She couldn’t find a light switch, but the hall light illuminated enough for her to see a space about the size of a small bedroom crowded with boxes and rolling costume racks. The costumes looked Civil War era. Dark blue soldiers’ uniforms with gold trim. A rack of full-skirted dresses. Barrels filled with rifles.
The next storage room didn’t have a padlock but was empty.
Tad had probably noticed her absence by now. Kate hurriedly opened the next few doors to find garish circus costumes, cowboy clothes, and brown and gray business suits for daytime.
Finally, near the end of the hall, she pushed open a door and saw a rack of glimmering evening gowns and—she gave a little cry of delight—two racks of black suits at the back. She entered eagerly, pushing the gowns out of the way, but as soon as her hand touched the first rack of suits, the door swung shut behind her—
Casting her into darkness.
Kate whirled, her eyes wide but seeing nothing, her heart exploding. She stumbled in the direction of the hall—banged her shin, pushed the gowns—and fell against the door. Her hand clawed at the smooth wood, seeking a doorknob she knew wasn’t there—only a latch on the other side. She dug her fingertips around the edge of the door, trying to get a grip and pull it open, but the gap was too narrow. She yelped a scream.
A scream no one would hear.
Days of screaming into a black void with no reply. As if she’d stopped existing.
Her fingertip finally caught the edge of the door, and it swung open with remarkable ease, flooding her with wonderful light. She stumbled through the opening into the hall—turned to keep an eye on the sinister trap—and pressed her back against the far wall. She slid to the cement floor and pulled her knees into her chest, holding in her thundering heart.
She watched as the door drifted slowly shut. Just a door eager to swing on a hinge. No kidnapper. No danger. She pressed her palms against her temples, trying to push that truth into her brain.
You’re safe.
A whimper of frustration escaped her.
She’d made no progress at all. Years of therapy with Dr. Gimble. Sleeping with the light on and lying to herself in the mirror every morning. I am not afraid. Lists—and more lists—so she felt prepared. Four years of gritted teeth, forcing the terror into submission, visualizing it locked inside a fortress like Dr. Gimble had taught her. And in one second of darkness, the fear had crushed her fortress and roared to full strength, filling every inch of her.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
She pressed her hands against her cheeks, holding her jaw steady. No quivering allowed. No weakness.
I am safe. It wasn’t my fault. I am not afraid.
She drew a deep breath and released it slowly through her lips. A few more deep, deliberate breaths, and the fear shrank back into its dark, quiet place.
For now.
Kate forced herself to stand on wobbly legs.
She looked down the long hall to the exit, then back at the closed door. Hugo needed that suit. Not just to dance with her at a party but to meet the right people and find his big break. So he would know he could be successful.
She lifted a trembling hand, steeled herself, and pushed the door open. Her gaze skimmed the semi-dark and saw the crate that had given her shin a bruise, filled with women’s fancy evening shoes. Holding the door open with her hand, she stretched one leg toward the crate, caught the corner with her foot and dragged it back, propping the door. It seemed heavy enough to hold, but she used the same technique to drag a second crate and stacked them, creating a sturdy doorstop.
Slowly, she advanced into the room, one arm extended, glancing back every few seconds to make sure the door hadn’t budged. As soon as her hand touched a rack of suits, she yanked it back to the doorway. Then, before her courage faltered, she retrieved the second rack of suits.
She leaned her forehead against the door frame, light-headed. “You’re fine,” she whispered.
Her nerves settled a little as she inspected the suits and slid hangers. The suits were all identical—probably from a large dance number—with handwritten labels giving measurements. She found what she guessed would be Hugo’s size rather quickly. Reuben was so short, his pants would have to be taped up no matter what, so she ignored length and grabbed a waist and jacket measurement that seemed right. Ollie was probably thicker in the middle than any of the professional dancers who’d worn these suits, but she kept sliding hangers and found a larger size at the end of the rack.
She gathered the suits in her arms—surprisingly heavy—and backed out of the room, then pushed the two crates out of the way with her foot. She watched as the door swung shut, closing in the dark, then turned and hurried down the hall.
Kate entered the house in a rush, her arms full, knowing the party started in fifteen minutes. “Hello?” she hollered. “Anyone home?”
“In here,” Ollie called from the living room, and Kate walked that way to find him sitting on the green velvet sofa, leaning forward over a round fishbowl on the coffee table. “Hugo and I went to a pet store today.” A goldfish darted about in the water.
Clever Hugo, knowing how to lure Ollie out of the house. “He looks happy. What’s his name?”
“Gwendolyn the Gold.”
“She, then. I’ve got suits for the party.” Kate deposited them on the fan-shaped sofa, glanced at the measurements, and pulled out Ollie’s jacket and pants. “These are for you.”
“That’s nice of you, dear, but I don’t think I’m going.”
“Well, if you change your mind.” She tossed them onto the sofa beside him. “Where is Hugo?” she asked as casually as she could manage, glancing over her shoulder.
“He and Reuben went to find someone to appraise George Washington. They drove to that auction house on the business card yesterday, but it’s a dentist’s office now, so they need to find someplace new.”
Kate glanced at her watch. “I better go get dressed. Show them these suits when they come in.”
“I will but don’t get your hopes up. I’m not sure any of us are going, except Aurelio.”
“Hugo is,” she said a little too fiercely, and Ollie’s face took on a knowing look that made her blush and hurry away.
Her excitement grew as she looked over her long party dresses, wondering which one Hugo would like best. He’d never seen her in anything pretty—and a silk robe. Her hand skimmed rough ivory lace and scratchy blue netting … and paused on soft satin. She didn’t usually wear pink, but it was a pale, creamy shade, and the smooth fabric would feel nice under Hugo’s hands when they danced. The dress had sheer sleeves and a delicate layer of chiffon over the skirt.
She changed in the bathroom, then stood on tiptoe to inspect herself in the mirror over the sink. The satin bodice fit with snug perfection.
The band started playing next door as she touched up her makeup. She hummed as she fastened a necklace and slipped earrings through her pierced ears. A dab of perfume—only a touch since Hugo would hold her close.
Kate looked out her bedroom window and was disappointed to see that the pool house was dark. She walked to the living room and found Ollie and his suit gone, but the other two suits still where she’d left them. She glanced at her watch. Bonnie had begged her to arrive early, but another ten minutes wouldn’t matter. If Hugo hadn’t come home by then, she would leave a note on the suits and go ahead without him.
She climbed the staircase, hoping Ollie had changed his mind.
“Come in,” he called when she knocked.
The room was dark. Kate hesitated, trying to see the bed.
“Goodness!” Ollie exclaimed from the direction of the moonlit window. “What a vision of loveliness!” He sat on a deep window seat, his feet on the cushion, nearly invisible in the shadows.
“It’s fun to dress up now and then.” Kate stopped next to the window seat and realized he was watching the party, one floor below. A gap in the trees gave a good view into the Fairchilds’ living room, and he’d opened the window a few inches, allowing him to hear the jazzy dance music and indiscernible chatter. Mrs. Fairchild stood near her own window, wearing a sleek blue gown, her platinum blond hair curled tightly around the bottom half of her head, holding a wine glass as she conversed with two men.
“Dorothy always did throw the best parties,” Ollie mused quietly. “Part Hollywood, part business, part nightclub crowd. Very selective. It’s an honor to be invited, so everybody shows up.”
“You’re invited. We can go together.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “You have admirable skills of persuasion, Kate, but a Dorothy Fairchild party is a bit much for me at this point in my life. I can admit that.” Tonight, he wore green plaid pajamas and his feet were bare. A little boy spying on a grown-up party.
Kate sat at the opposite end of the window seat, slipped off her shoes, and pulled up her legs inside the billowing chiffon skirt.
They watched as Mrs. Fairchild exchanged air kisses with a pretty, younger woman.
“I miss the people,” Ollie said quietly. “I never cared much about the fame and fortune. Oh, it was fun to buy whatever I wanted, and the fame was exciting before it got tiresome. But mostly, I loved the people I worked with. Moviemakers are a fabulous bunch. We’d work ourselves to the bone, and then stay up all night talking about our next great idea, everyone dreaming big. I miss all that.”
“You’ll be back on stage soon and return to the parties.” Kate hoped that was true.
Mrs. Fairchild turned slightly, her gaze drifting out her window toward Ollie’s house. Kate doubted she could see into the dark bedroom, but pushed down the pouf of her pale pink skirt so it wouldn’t catch the moonlight. Mrs. Fairchild’s eyes shifted up to look at Ollie’s window—and it occurred to Kate that she wasn’t standing within his view by accident.
“You’d better hurry along, or you’ll be late,” Ollie told her.
“I’m waiting for Hugo.” She added a second too late, “And Reuben.”
Ollie looked amused, his dimples deepening. “I have a feeling Hugo will appreciate that pretty dress you’re wearing.”
Kate opened her mouth, unsure if she should admit to the relationship or keep it quiet for now. Ollie didn’t look likely to believe a denial. “It’s a little frightening how much I like him, to be honest.”
“Why should that be frightening? Falling in love should be exhilarating.”
Her eyes darted to his. “I didn’t say anything about love.”
“Come now, it only happens a few times in our lives—once if we’re lucky. You don’t want to pretend it’s not happening and miss the whole thing.”
Which made a strange sort of sense, but she wasn’t the sort of girl who fell in love with a boy she’d only known a few days. She pulled her knees tighter against her chest, tucking her skirt around them. “You can’t be in love with someone you barely know.”
“Of course you can. It’s called love at first sight.”
“I don’t believe in all that. It takes years to fully know someone, and even then, you find out you never really—that they weren’t actually—” Her voice caught, surprising her. She turned to look out the window, fighting a sudden tightening in her throat.
“Kate,” Ollie said gently. “Hugo is nothing like your father.”
“I didn’t mean that.” A silly lie.
“You can trust your heart with that boy. He’s as true as they come.”
She pressed her forehead against the cool glass, wanting to ignore all the lessons of the past and believe her grandfather. “I haven’t felt like myself since coming here.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
She wasn’t sure.
Mrs. Fairchild had moved out of view, and an elegant couple now stood in front of the window. The man said something with a sly smile and the woman laughed. Kate didn’t have to hear them to know the dry, flirtatious tone of their banter. She’d grown up spying on social events like this one, full of expensive clothes and superficial smiles, everyone too sophisticated to feel anything.
“Hugo and I come from very different places,” she murmured.
“That’s why he’s so perfect for you. And you’re perfect for him. He’s a good lad, but his head is in the clouds half the time. You’ll help him stay grounded.”
Kate lifted her gaze to the night sky. She wasn’t sure she wanted Hugo grounded. Last night, it had been nice to float in the stars with him.
The night air coming through the window felt good.
She cast a sideways look at her grandfather. “Now … let’s pry into your love life.”
He gave an easy laugh. “I reached the end of that bumpy road a long time ago.”
“What about Mrs. Fairchild?”
Ollie looked startled, then uncomfortable. “There’s nothing like that between us. We’ve known each other a long time.”
“Was there ever more than friendship between you?”
“Of course not, she was my friend’s wife.” His eyes met hers, then skittered away. “I do have some principles.”
A car pulled up at the curb and two women emerged. They made their way up the Fairchilds’ front walkway, their voices cheerful.
“Frank wasn’t the most attentive of husbands. Dorothy was lonely, and we were good friends, but that’s all it was.”
“But she wanted more,” Kate guessed.
Ollie rubbed a finger against a smudge on the window. “The three of us used to go to Catalina Island on the weekends. One trip, Frank stayed out all night, and I came perilously close to comforting Dorothy. But I didn’t, and it only made things awkward between us. I started making up excuses not to see them so often. And then I stopped seeing anyone.”
“She’s been a widow for a year.”
“Yes.” Ollie rubbed at the glass. “I did try to go to the funeral. I got dressed for it. Stood at the living room window and watched as Dorothy and Bonnie left the house in their black dresses. But I couldn’t make myself walk out the door.” He released a long sigh. “It’s one of my deepest regrets.”
“She still cares for you, Ollie. I see it when she talks about you.”
“I’m a different man now. Too many years have passed.”
“She was hoping you would come to the party.” Kate stopped his protest. “I know you’re not ready for that, but keep her in mind, that’s all I’m saying.” She nudged his leg with hers. “There are worse things than having a beautiful woman next door carrying a torch for you.”
He laughed gruffly. “Go on and have a good time. I’ll send Hugo when he gets home.”
Kate slid her feet into her shoes and took a few steps, then came back and hugged her grandfather’s shoulders. “Thank you for the advice about love,” she said, her cheek pressing his bristles.
“You darling girl, I’m so glad you came to live with me.”
“Me too,” she whispered.