“Now that Rex has left and we have our bowls of ice cream, tell me why you’re really here,” Kitty said as the two of them clustered around the small island in her kitchen.
Marla pulled out the necklace she usually wore beneath her knit pullover and fingered it. It was a diamond pendant her late husband, Carson Grant, had given her at the conclusion of her first successful season of On the Case. She wore it all the time except when shooting the show. Touching it had become her go-to whenever she was unsure of her next steps.
She suspected she’d receive some sort of grilling from her sister because she hadn’t communicated much with Kitty or anyone else since her attempt to revive her career had bombed. But she didn’t want to rat out Tom Casey and his plea for Marla to come help her sister.
If only there was a reluctant or rejected lover she could tell her sister about. Kitty could relate to either situation, but failed million-dollar movie deals weren’t in her sister’s wheelhouse. Still, Kitty wasn’t a flake. She could understand the tenets of business as well as any other Minnesotan. “I came back home to escape my life in California, Kitty.”
“I assumed things were improving when you stopped complaining about all the media attention,” Kitty replied. “That’s why I backed off begging you to visit.”
“I wasn’t ready to come then. I kept believing I’d receive an offer of a part at any time. I just had to be patient.”
Kitty set her spoon down. “Patience has never been one of your strong suits. Mine, neither, for that matter. We’ve always been women of action, wanting to fix whatever wasn’t working or running with whatever challenge was in the offing.” She took one of Marla’s hands in hers. “Did something happen when your patience ran out?”
“That’s a diplomatic way of putting it. I’d rather not get into the nasty specifics just yet. For now, let’s just say I made a poor decision thinking it would improve, no, solidify my chances of securing a great part, and it didn’t work out.”
Kitty narrowed her eyes and gazed back at her sister. “Whatever it was doesn’t sound good.”
“I needed to get away from my foolishness, which is why I’m back here. I have no idea how long I’ll stay, so let me know whenever you want me to move on.”
“Nonsense! I’ve got more than enough room in this condo. It will be fun to have a roommate again.”
Enough about her dilemma. Time to focus on Kitty. “How about you?” Did Kitty realize how much her neighbor, Tom Casey, was concerned about her?
Kitty took another spoonful of ice cream before answering. “What about me? Nothing’s changed in my life. At least not recently.”
“No problems with Gardner?”
“I don’t have any problems with my ex-husband because I don’t communicate with him, although every so often the kids update me about his latest girlfriend. There’ve been three since the one who caused our divorce.”
“Is that why you’ve become a serial dater yourself, to keep up with him?” The question might cut, but it was important as they were getting reacquainted that Marla understand what was driving her sister’s social life.
Kitty licked her spoon and set it down. “Don’t worry about me. I’m enjoying a full social life. It’s nice to be escorted when I go out. But I’m selective who I share my bed with.”
“Sorry. I’m just trying to gauge how well you’ve adjusted to being single again. Big sister thing for which I won’t apologize.”
Kitty chuckled. “Got it. I’ve missed your well-meaning interest in my life. But let’s get back to you, despite your attempts to make this reunion about me.” She sat forward and clasped her hands together. “I know the perfect way to get you past your troubles while you’re here.” She offered an overly optimistic grin and waited for a response.
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind by coming here, but I’ll bite. What’s your panacea, Dr. Lovejoy?”
“Hiding out in that big, lonely house in Santa Monica all this time has probably dulled your sense of adventure. We need to get you out into the world again, at least the world of Maple Knolls, so you can try new things.”
Exactly the opposite of why she’d escaped to the Midwest. Marla didn’t want new adventures. She wanted to recalibrate her life in private until the perfect part and the perfect opportunity arose. She hadn’t quite given up hope of that ever happening. Her manager, Jayne Yarmouth, the closest person she’d had to a confidante these past months, suggested it wasn’t unusual for actors leaving one TV show to wait at least a year before tackling another TV role.
“I can’t ask you to put what appears to be your busy social life on hold to revive mine, Kitty. Go on about your daily activities. I’ll be fine on my own.”
Kitty returned a skeptical look. “Do you really believe that?”
“What would you have me do, be a third wheel on your next date with Roger Halliwell?”
Kitty blew out a huff. “Like I told you, Roger is no more. In my life, anyhow.” She paused long enough for her downturned mouth to curve slightly upward. “Besides, I’m moving on. There’s already a new target on my horizon. But let’s get back to you. I want you to come with me to my book club meeting tomorrow. Don’t worry about not having read the book. Some of us rarely get that far. But we have great discussions over lunch, including the latest gossip.”
Just what she wanted, gossip. The very thing that had prevented her from moving on after being released from the show. “Thanks, but I’ve already downloaded several bestsellers onto my notepad. I’ll have my own personal book club.”
“All the more reason to come to mine. You can decide whether you want to read whatever the book is we’re discussing this month.”
“You don’t know?” Although Kitty’s total lack of interest in book reading didn’t surprise her, the fact that her sister was willing to let others in on her little secret was a bit of a shock.
“Don’t worry. I’ll google it tonight and read some of the online reviews. They’ll never know I was too busy with other things the past month to read the book.”
Marla eyed her sister. “I don’t know whether to congratulate you on your ingenuity or lecture you about your lazy habits.”
Kitty waved off her comment. “You’re going with me. No more arguing. You’ll love the restaurant. The chef is the son of one of the guys here in the complex.”
“If I agree to go, that’s it. Afterwards, I’m settling into that comfortable chair on your balcony the rest of the week with my own reading.”
Kitty opened her mouth but shut it before speaking.
That was it? No more prodding? Marla would count this as a win and not pursue it further.
* * *
The next day, she realized she’d given in too soon.
Unfortunately, that insight didn’t hit until after she and Kitty joined the book club group at the restaurant.
Before they even were seated, the first person to greet them was Scottie Richards. A friendly face, since she’d come to Marla’s aid the day before. “Looks like you found Kitty,” she said.
“Yes, not too long after you helped me get into the building, an act of kindness that was much appreciated.”
Kitty took in the friendly exchange between the two women. “I wasn’t there when she arrived due to circumstances beyond my control.” Her defensiveness crackled.
“Oh?” Scottie replied.
Kitty skipped over her late arrival and switched gears. “I wanted my big sister to meet some of my friends while she’s here. What better occasion than this group?”
A fair-skinned woman with an ash-blond ponytail joined them, her eyes wide with surprise. “Letitia? Letitia Carruthers is having lunch with us? Kitty is always telling us you’re her sister, but I never thought we’d meet you in person.”
“Don’t call her Letitia,” Kitty said, stepping between Marla and the woman. “Patty, I’d like you to meet my sister, Marla Dane. Marla, this fangirl is Patty Goodhue. She substitutes on our pickleball team.”
Patty held out a hand. “Marla, then. Sorry to gush so, but your show has given hope to women like me that there is life after fifty. And beyond, in my case.”
Marla attempted to keep the smile on her face, but if the woman only knew how little “hope” she had for herself these days now that Letitia had been made younger, she’d look elsewhere for inspiration. There was no need to deflate the woman’s enthusiasm, so Marla attempted to navigate her way through this new social situation, talking with someone who was both a fan and a friend of Kitty. “Thank you. I never tire of hearing from fans, even though I’m no longer with the show.”
Patty wrinkled her brow. “I heard about that. What happened? Why did you walk away from such a success?”
There it was. The question that inevitably came up whenever she met someone who knew about her departure from the show. Though she’d fine-tuned a standard response during these past months, these were Kitty’s friends. She hated feeding them the same line. But she’d learned the hard way that too much information could work against her.
“I wanted to bow out while we were still a hit,” she said. They were still a hit; that much was true. But there was no way she wanted to bow out.
A curtain dropped down over Patty’s eyes. “Oh, uh, sure.”
“What do you plan to do next?” asked another woman who’d come up to them, this one svelte with short black hair in tight curls. The burnt orange bracelets on her light brown wrists matched her tunic.
And there was the second worst question Marla had been trying to avoid.
She called up the best smile in her acting repertoire. “Thanks for asking. At the moment, I’m reviewing a number of offers.”
“That’s why she’s here visiting me,” Kitty added. “So she can escape the demands of everyone out in Hollywood who’s been courting her to take on their project.”
Bless her sister. Though Kitty had no idea what all had been going on in Marla’s life, she’d done her best to come to her defense with these women. Of course, she’d been the one who insisted Marla join their meeting in the first place, so in a way, she owed her.
“I’m Sharee Cunningham, Marla,” the woman said, emphasizing Marla’s name to show she was up to speed with the name thing. “I live on the same floor as Kitty. I hope we’ll be seeing more of each other.”
Marla merely smiled at that comment.
Scottie, Patty, Sharee. Kitty said there’d be six other women in their group. Three down, three to go.
“Just one question, Letitia, uh, Marla,” a statuesque brunette with large brown eyes who’d edged her way into the group said. Would she ever get a chance to sit?
Marla mentally crossed her fingers this would be something she could answer truthfully. “And that would be …?”
“Did you get to keep any of that gorgeous wardrobe?”
Yay! That one she could handle. “I did. My contract allowed me to keep two outfits each season.”
The woman extended her hand. “I’m Liz Parsons. I live in the same building as Kitty on the first floor. What outfits did you choose?”
A detail woman. Fortunately, Marla could deal with this type of inquiry. “I wanted one of the evening gowns, a white silk, but those were too expensive. I mainly took some of the pantsuits, although I did select one dress, a wraparound green print number by Diane Von Furstenberg.”
“I remember that one,” Liz replied. “And the white silk evening gown, too. You wore that in the episode where you went underground to get the goods on a fake count.”
She had? After a while, most of the scripts started sounding the same to Marla. “Good memory,” she told the fashionista.
“That was the main reason I watched the show,” Liz said. “The plots were good, and I usually was surprised when the killer was named, but your wardrobe was what brought me back each week.”
Marla was just about to take a seat next to Kitty when her arm was grabbed by yet another admirer.
“Omigod! It’s Letitia Carruthers, PI!” the arm-grabber cried.
“No!” her companion shouted. “It can’t be.”
“Kaitlin, this is my sister, Marla Dane,” Kitty said, once again interceding. “She used to play Letitia Carruthers.”
The arm-grabber, tall like Marla but with red hair and penetrating blue eyes, released her hold, reaching for Marla’s hand instead. “I’m Kaitlin Fargo, Ms. Dane. Kitty has mentioned once or three thousand times that you were her sister, but we never thought we’d meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, Kaitlin,” Marla replied, still in her meet-the-public mode.
“You look different in person. Do you get that all the time?” Kaitlin asked.
A smiling skeptic. Marla came across one every so often. Their questions were a little too forward or a lot too personal. She reasoned that was the person’s way of dealing with her celebrity. Though they probably didn’t mean to offend, their comments were their way of cutting her down to their perceived size. She smiled again. “No, not everyone tells me I look different than I do on TV. Most realize a lot of makeup and costumes go into creating my character.”
“Oh, sure,” Kaitlin said, her tone less acerbic. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I was just surprised to finally meet you in person.”
“Not to worry,” Marla replied. She offered her hand. “It’s my pleasure to meet you, too.”
Another woman stepped into view. “I guess I’m last to greet you, Letitia, uh, Marla. I’m Rita Haley. I live on the second floor of the building.” She was a petite woman who appeared to be in her early sixties with fading brown hair and a smattering of freckles across her face.
“Nice to meet you, Rita,” Marla said by rote. “With so many of you living in the building, why don’t you just meet there?”
“Don’t tell anyone,” Sharee said, elbowing out Rita, “but sometimes the building seems to close in on us. This is our excuse to escape and have lunch together.”
“But we do discuss books,” Liz added.
“Along with other things,” Sharee said, her sparkling brown eyes betraying their other agenda.
Scottie, apparently the leader for this session, spoke over the din of the other conversations. “Now that Marla has met you all, let’s order so we can discuss this month’s book.”
“Oh, Scottie, couldn’t we postpone the book this once?” Patty asked. “How often do we get to dine with a bona fide celebrity? Couldn’t we use our discussion time to learn about her life in Hollywood instead?”
Scottie turned to Marla, her eyes both pleading and apologetic. “I don’t think Marla came here to entertain us today.”
“Oh, please say yes,” Liz said, coaxing.
Marla exchanged a private look with her sister. As private as it could be with six other pairs of eyes on them.
Kitty attempted to come to her rescue. “C’mon, ladies. We can’t put her on the spot like this. She’s here today as a favor to me because I wanted to introduce her to some of my friends. She’s not prepared to be grilled.”
“If we promise to be good and not grill her?” Kaitlin asked, her voice sounding like a pleading child.
“You get to talk to her all the time,” Patty said. “This could be our only chance.”
“But …” Kitty tried to say.
This was insane. The last thing Marla wanted to do was be interviewed by her sister’s friends. Although the media could go for the jugular at times, one came to accept that kind of behavior as par for the course in the entertainment world; that was their job, to angle for a great story. But these women were unpredictable. They might not realize their questions were inadvertently intrusive. Still, placating them seemed to be the only way she could sit down.
“It’s okay, Kitty. Ladies, I’d be happy to answer a few questions, as long as you give me time to eat my lunch also,” she told the group.
“Thank you, Marla,” Scottie said. She directed her next comment to the rest of the group. “Okay, Marla has graciously agreed to answer a few questions. Let’s limit them to one apiece.”