CHAPTER 7
Leo walks into town to get another baguette from the grocery, so it’s my chance to have the tea house to myself. It’s mostly how I left it, with the exception of the much nicer sheets. His suitcase is open at the foot of the daybed, and I resist the urge to inspect its contents. The bed is unmade, and I imagine I can see the outline of him sleeping there. He’d be on his side with the line of his bare back mimicking the curve of the headboard. Oh my God, Nora, stop it.
I write from ten to two, and Leo mostly leaves me alone. I hear a car pull into the driveway and assume it’s his lunch coming from some five-star restaurant in the city. At around one o’clock he knocks on the open tea house door. “Can I just come in for a nap?”
“Sure. No talking.”
I hear him get under the covers and find a comfortable position. I stop typing because I can feel him watching me.
“What?” I ask without looking up.
“What’s the gender, city, and profession this time?”
I smile at my laptop. “I’m pretty much working with what you gave me. A male real estate developer in Minneapolis goes out to buy a struggling pumpkin farm.”
“Pumpkin farm? Is that even a thing?”
“Oh, you’re going to have to come back here in October.”
“Okay,” he says, and I start typing again.
Since Leo’s in my napping spot, I go back into the house around two o’clock. There’s a case of French wine on the counter and a box of cupcakes from Cupcake Castle in SoHo. I get the chills just thinking about how excited my kids are going to be.
When I get back from picking up the kids, Leo is up and unpacking the case of wine. “We can’t keep drinking that awful chardonnay. I hear this pairs perfectly with . . . What do we eat on Tuesdays?”
“Tacos,” my kids say together.
“Ah, of course.” He’s laid out the cupcakes on a platter I didn’t know I had and watches them disappear with satisfaction.
I am aware that this sparkly scene is a fantasy, but I let myself enjoy it. Smiling children and the promise of fine wine with a terrifyingly attractive man. Thursday’s going to be brutal.
“Okay, so Bernadette has dance at four-thirty. Arthur, if you want to bring your script we can run some lines while we wait.”
“Forbidden,” says Leo. “You’re not getting anywhere near that script.”
“Duh,” says Arthur. “I’ll just stay here and work with Leo.” He remembers himself and turns to Leo. “I mean, if you’re not busy.”
“Dude, if there’s one thing I’m not, it’s busy. There isn’t even Wi-Fi back there.” He leans over and messes Arthur’s hair, and the late afternoon sun shines through the back windows as time pauses on their smiles, and I really need to get the hell out of here.
When Bernadette runs into the dance studio, I sit on the bench outside hoping I’ll have a second to collect my thoughts. I’m horrified by how I lie in bed at night and wait for the sound of his feet walking up the stairs to the bathroom. I’m ashamed of how my whole system is on overdrive the second I wake up, how I’ve taken to washing my hair every day. My self-recrimination is interrupted by Sandra Wells and Kiki Lee, who usher their girls inside and take over the rest of the bench.
“Hey, Nora. How’s it going?” starts Sandra.
“Oh, cut the crap,” Kiki says. “Spill it.”
“He’s just staying for a few days. I think he thinks our simple life out here is a cure for his exciting life.”
“Is he as hot in person?” Kiki wants to know. “Like does he look at you that way while you’re buttering toast?”
“The smolder? No.” I laugh. “That’s just for the camera. He looks at me like I’m some suburban mom who maybe needs a makeover.” Even as I say this, I know it’s not true. He looks at me with an amused curiosity most of the time. He watches me when he thinks I’m engrossed with something else. It’s been nearly a week since I was actually engrossed with something else.
Bernadette and I enter the house to the sound of the two of them singing “You’ve Got to Pick a Pocket or Two,” standing on opposite ends of the couch. Leo yells “Bravo!” and Arthur bows.
“Mom! I did the whole thing. No script!” Arthur runs over to hug me. I smile at Leo over his head.
“That’s awesome. You’re totally ready.”
Leo gets down from the couch and is all business. “Now the trick here is to stop practicing. You’ve got it and now you need to let it rest. Tonight you do whatever, eat your Tuesday food, do your homework.” His eyes widen as he reaches for a bottle of wine. “I know. Tonight let’s watch one of your mom’s happy movies!”
Arthur rolls his eyes. “They’re seriously dumb.”
“I love them,” offers Bernadette.
I appreciate the solidarity. “They are pretty dumb, but I love them too,” I say. “Let’s watch Valentine Reunion.”
“Let me guess. High-powered female executive returns to her hometown and runs into her high school boyfriend.”
“She’s a professional pastry chef. But yes.” We’re all laughing, and Leo’s handing me a glass of the most delicious wine ever.
Leo’s up for the sunrise before I am. He’s left a mug out for my coffee.
“Hey,” he says.
“Thanks.” I settle in next to him and take my mug. “So, this is your last Laurel Ridge sunrise.”
“No. This is day six, which includes night six, which includes the sunrise tomorrow. What time’s checkout?”
“We’re pretty relaxed about that here.” He looks at me with something that resembles gratitude, and I wonder if this time has done him any good.
“Are you glad you stayed? I mean, do you feel any better?”
“I feel pretty good. I was just thinking how much I miss being a part of a family. Like when I was growing up, we were this unit, and there was so much give-and-take. My brother, Luke, and I had to share food and space and attention. Now I barely see him, and my life’s all about me. It’s exhausting.”
“Must be nice,” I say out loud by mistake.
He gives me a nudge. “I know I sound like an asshole, but look at your life. You live for your kids, and they live for you. There’s something almost sacred about what you have. In my life, I live for my career, and all the people around me are paid to live for my career. I swear last Thanksgiving I looked around my table and realized everyone there was on my payroll.”
“Come on. You must have had some kind of normal relationship. Like with a woman who liked you and laughed at your lame jokes.”
“Sure, tons. But the thing is they all liked me before they met me, like they fell in love with something they saw in People magazine. When my mom died, I thought: I just lost the last woman in the world who knew me. Of course, I don’t bother getting to know them either.”
“I met Ben so young that I never got to have that kind of quick meaningless relationship. Though I guess I had a long meaningless relationship instead.” We both laugh at this, like Ben’s an inside joke.
“This morning I woke up worried about Arthur. It was the strangest feeling to want something so much for someone else. You’re really lucky.”
I want to tell him he’s welcome to stay, that maybe another week or two of this is just what he needs. But I know I’m on a slippery slope, because he’s brought something with him, and he’s going to take it when he leaves.
He leaves me alone all day, so that I have the tea house to myself from ten to two. My pencils are in position, and I haven’t built a fire because it’s warm outside. I listen to the birds through the open back windows. I sneak peeks through the front door to see if he’s coming to see me.
I write garbage, more garbage-y than usual. Icky romantic scenes with long kisses and an otherwise sensible woman pouring her heart out. There’s a marriage proposal at sunrise in the mountains, and well, I have officially lost my mind.
At one-thirty he’s still not bothering me, so I decide to take a nap. It’s still my tea house, my daybed, so I figure I have the right to lie down. I don’t dare get under his covers, that’s way too personal, but I sink into his linen-covered pillow and smell his smell until I fall asleep.
There’s a hand on my shoulder and a person sitting on the side of the bed. I’ve gone into one of those daytime stupors where you wake up and you don’t know where you are. I blink at him. “Oh shit. Sorry. This is your bed. What time is it?”
“It’s two-thirty. I came out to bring you some tea and you were passed out. I guess I was too late.” He’s really close to me. And I’m lying down. I don’t know how I can sit up without getting even closer to him, so I just stay lying down.
“I was writing a lot of really terrible scenes. Bad writing wears me out.” I’m still not entirely awake. “What have you been doing?”
“Pacing. Waiting for you to finish writing.”
My stomach drops. “Oh?” is all I can muster.
“Yeah.” He gets up and starts pacing the short length of the room. “I’m not sure about Arthur. I mean we were ready last night, but today, after a full day of school, he could have forgotten all of it. I mean, what if it’s a disaster?”
Oh, sweet reality. Thank you. I sit up, scoot back, and comb my hair with my fingers. I am a person and a mother again. “Leo, he’s ten. This is an elementary school play. Half the kids will throw up or start crying during the rehearsal. Arthur’ll be fine.”
“What time do we pick him up?”
“Oh my God. Okay.” I stand up and take a deep breath. “I’m really off my game. I’m in charge of the kids during rehearsal, like the ones waiting backstage.” I check my phone. “I’ve got to go.”
Leo follows me out. “I’m coming. You can’t make me wait here.”
“Fine. We’ll leave in ten. I need to organize dinner.”
“I’ll do that. What do we eat on Wednesdays again?”
“Surprise me,” I say.
I swear we are in slow motion walking past the pickup line into the front entrance of the school. I’d changed into a dress because I know for a fact it’s three hundred degrees inside the auditorium on an April afternoon. “Legs!” Leo said as I came back down the stairs. On my advice, he changed from jeans into linen pants. Leo is absolutely focused, moving like we should have been there hours ago.
We pass through security (“he’s my houseguest”), and we have to show our drivers’ licenses. The security guard looks at Leo’s and says, “For real?” Leo replies, “ ’Fraid so.”
We meet Mrs. Sasaki in the auditorium. “Hi? I’m Nora Hamilton? Arthur’s mom? We’re here to watch the kids backstage?” I’ve met Mrs. Sasaki ten times and have never garnered much interest. Until now. Her eyes move from me to Leo and she actually smiles. “This is my friend Leo. We’ve been working together and he offered to help me with the kids, if that’s okay?”
“Well, of course. Thank you! This is quite unexpected. Call me Brenda. We could use any help you can offer, Mr. Vance. I heard you were in town. I daresay you know a little more about the theater than I do.” Was she flirting with him? I look up at Leo to see how he’s reacting, and he’s smoldering. Smoldering poor Mrs. Sasaki. Poor Mrs. Sasaki who has to go home to poor Mr. Sasaki tonight. I swear Leo’s going to ruin all of us for normal men.
As we make our way to the stage door, I say, “Stop it.”
“What?”
“The smoldering.”
He stops walking. “I don’t smolder you.”
I turn to face him, and I just ask it. “Why not?”
Leo holds my gaze. “I wish I knew.”
Now, there’s only so long you can stand that close to Leo Vance and look into his eyes without melting into molten lava, so I say, “Well, stop smoldering the other unsuspecting middle-aged ladies around here. Come on.”
Bernadette meets us backstage to work as our assistant, but mainly to take a victory lap. No longer would anyone at Laurel Ridge Elementary question the fact that she is very good friends with The Leo Vance.
Arthur walks in, muttering lines to himself, and runs over to Leo. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping?” He shrugs. “You’ve got this, no worries. Just feel it, the whole thing. And eye contact.”
We have the kids line up by scene according to the call list Mrs. Sasaki had given me. My job is pretty much to send the right group out on the stage and keep the rest of them quiet. The orphans are a little rowdy, showing off for the market girls, who are too preoccupied with Leo to notice.
The first time Arthur steps onstage, I lose Leo’s help completely. He stands stage left, mouthing Arthur’s lines and wringing his hands. Mrs. Sasaki stops Arthur to offer a suggestion; she’d like him to look out at the audience more while saying his lines.
“Okay.” Arthur looks at Leo for confirmation.
“Don’t you agree, Mr. Vance?”
“Well, I love the thought, Brenda. I do. And I really love it for his musical numbers. But in this scene, I think it’s important that he connects with the orphans, that we can feel how he takes care of them. That’s what’ll grab the audience.” Smolder.
He doesn’t release her gaze until she finishes saying, “I see. I like that. What an absolutely helpful suggestion, Leo. Can I call you Leo?”
And, with that, Leo takes his place in the seat next to Mrs. Sasaki for the remainder of the rehearsal.