The newspaper was closed on Sundays, and Molly and Sam typically took the day for themselves. They often tried new activities that one of them enjoyed. Sam teased her that he’d introduced her to kayaking, paddle boarding, and changing a tire while Molly had taught him how to break and enter and host a stakeout.
She wasn’t sure what today would include, but at some point she needed to find a way to talk to Vivien. Soon. The woman was hiding behind at least two lies, and it was time to find out why. But first, she wanted a little intel on the Hollywood family and she knew just the person.
She left Sam and Tigger to sleep—the spoiled dog had curled into Sam’s side as soon as Molly had roused herself. In the kitchen, she sent a text to her friend from California, asking if she was awake enough to chat. While she waited for a response, she made coffee and tried to think of the last time she’d spoken to Tori.
They’d met in L.A. when Tori had put out a request for an editor. As a successful scriptwriter, she’d needed assistance more than once, and she and Molly had even worked on a few things together. Molly still received royalties for the commercial script she and Tori had written. Between their working together and Molly hardly knowing anyone in California, having followed a guy out there, she and Tori had become friends. She was the only thing Molly missed about living there.
Her phone buzzed at the same time as the coffee began to percolate.
Tori: Not only am I awake, I haven’t gone to sleep. If you don’t mind sleep-deprived slurring, dial away.
Molly laughed and phoned her friend. Instead of a greeting, she said, “Why didn’t you go to sleep? Out partying with celebrities?”
Tori yawned loudly and chuckled. “That would be so much cooler than the truth. I had a deadline and writer’s block which, as you know, don’t mix. I was up all night working on a comedy sketch I’m pitching this afternoon.”
Molly leaned on the counter, watching the coffee drip. “Tor, that’s awesome. Did you finish?”
“Barely. It’s done but it’s rough. If I hadn’t been so busy all month, I would have finished earlier and sent you a draft to look over. It’ll have to do though. It’s an informal meeting. I’ll be talking them through the show. The script is basically just a prop and a snapshot. As long as I can get some sleep first, I should be able to pitch it well.”
“You will. I have no doubt. How’s everything else? When are you going to come see me?”
“I like your confidence in me. Everything is good. The same. I’m dating one of the writers from The Four of Us,” she said, mentioning a hit television show. “He’s pretty great. So far.”
Molly laughed, walking to the cupboard to grab coffee mugs. “So far? Waiting for the other shoe to drop?”
“Come on. Doesn’t it always?”
Molly glanced back at the bedroom door as it opened and Sam shuffled out, Tigger at his heels.
“I used to think so, but not anymore. Not when it’s right.”
“Oh my goodness. You sound like a mushy chick flick.”
Sam pressed a kiss to her cheek and poured them both coffees.
“I know. It feels good.”
“It sounds good on you, Mol. As to the visiting, if I get this gig, I’ll need to write several episodes. No reason I can’t do that at the bed and breakfast I’ve heard so much about.”
Molly’s heart jumped with excitement. She smiled at Sam when he slid the coffee toward her on the counter and mouthed “thank you.” He nodded, took his coffee and went to the back door with Tigger. The deck wasn’t entirely finished, but they’d set a couple of folding chairs out there.
“You absolutely should,” Molly said. “I miss you and would love to see you.”
“Me too. I’ll see what I can do. So, what’s up? Why are we communicating in this ancient and archaic way?”
With a laugh, Molly picked up her coffee. “I wanted to ask if you knew anything about Magnolia Sweet and her children. I figure it’s a long shot but thought I’d ask.”
“Not such a long shot actually. It’s a lot of what I’ve heard through the grapevine and read in tabloids, but I know a few things firsthand as well.”
Molly padded out to the deck where Sam was staring out into the yard and Tigger was jumping around like a rabbit. She sat beside him and his free hand immediately came to her thigh. She smiled at the contact. They sat like that as Molly listened to Tori filling her in on what she knew—she’d obviously heard about the murder—and after making promises to talk soon, she hung up.
“Good morning,” Sam said, looking at her.
“Back at you. You sleep okay?” She sipped her coffee, biting back a sigh of pleasure at the delicious taste.
“I did. Until you left. I sleep better with you beside me,” Sam said, his voice still a little rough from waking up.
“I didn’t think you’d notice,” Molly said, looking over with a cheeky smile. “I left a perfectly good substitute.”
Sam chuckled and looked at Tigger. “He’s way hairier and a total bed hog. Definitely not a good substitute.”
Tigger trotted over and whined to jump up on Sam’s lap. When he was told no, he sulked and lay across Sam’s bare feet.
“Was that Tori you were talking to?”
The scent of dewy flowers surrounded them. Molly looked forward to many mornings like this, though there was a slight chill in the air. “It was. I asked her about Magnolia. I’d heard that she had left L.A. under interesting circumstances but couldn’t find anything online about it for certain.”
“And Tori knew the reason?”
Shrugging, Molly lowered her mug to her lap. “Rumors, but insider ones if that counts. Magnolia had started her own production company, which I knew, but what I didn’t know was that no one would work with her. That’s why Vivien and Jeffrey are in charge there. Magnolia threw an enormous fit on some bigwig. The woman told Magnolia that as long as she was the head of the company, she’d get no work in Hollywood. So, Vivien and Jeffrey convinced her to come home. Reap the rewards of their hard work that she’d paved the way for. Apparently, Vivien is much like her mother in the savvy department but less socially abrasive.”
“How about the son? What’s his role?”
“From what I’ve read and heard? Rich playboy. I honestly think he does a lot of the wining and dining. He definitely strikes me as someone who knows how to schmooze. And I hate that word but it applies.”
She laughed when Sam said the word a couple of times like he was trying it out. “You’re right, it’s a weird word. He fits the profile for playboy, but how about murderer?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I need to talk to Beau and Debra today to rule them out, but my gut is telling me Tiffany and Vivien are hiding a lot more than we think. I’m hoping we can swing by the set today. I know they’re having a big dress rehearsal since the play opens in a week.”
Sam set his coffee cup down, then took Molly’s from her grasp, ignoring her protest, and set it on the deck as well. Then he took her hand and tugged her over to his lap. For a moment, he just held her, his arms wrapped around her. Any arguments she had slipped from her mind as she melted into him. Tigger, not one to waste an opportunity, immediately bounded up and settled in Molly’s chair, scaring himself when it wobbled.
Molly laughed. “You’re okay, buddy.” He curled into a ball and closed his eyes.
Sam stroked a hand along her arm, to her fingers, his running over the lingering bruise from Judd’s harsh grip. “It’s your turn to choose a Sunday activity. Rehearsal doesn’t sound like much fun, but it’s your pick.”
She kissed him and pressed her forehead to his. “That’s not my pick. Just a small piece of our day.”
“Okay. But fair warning, I’m looking into boxing for my pick. At least then I’ll know you’ll know how to defend yourself.” His tone was teasing and light, but she knew he worried.
“There’s no danger, Sam.”
“Yet. No danger, yet.”
“Believe it or not, I don’t plan on finding any.”
He kissed her, his hand drifting up into her hair. When he pulled back, his eyes were more awake. “You don’t have to plan on something for it to show up.”