Chapter 7
The hot water had washed away the sweat from my run, but not the tension coiled between my shoulder blades. I tucked my feet under me on the bed at the Inn and picked up the landline phone, punching in the familiar Vegas number.
“Kit? Is that you, baby girl?” Grandma Laurie’s voice came through clear and sharp.
“Now how in the world did you know it was me?”
Grandma’s laughter filled the line. “First, it was from a hotel. Second, I haven’t heard from you in over five days, and third, I’m just that good.”
The rush of joy and love that I felt helped wipe away the rest of the anxiety that the run and the bath hadn’t.
“Love you, Grandma.”
“Of course you do. Now tell me why you’re calling from a number I don’t recognize and not from the phone that is almost super-glued to your hand.”
I winced. She knew me too well.
“I dropped it in the bathtub,” I lied.
“Katherine Lord, you are the worst liar in the world. Always have been. Even when you tried to convince me that the cat ate your homework.”
“We didn’t have a cat.”
“Exactly my point.” She paused, and I could picture her narrowing her eyes behind her reading glasses. “You want to tell me what’s really going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. I’m just taking a little break before production starts.” The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.
“A break. In Tennessee. Without your cell phone.”
“It’s peaceful here.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She let that hang between us for a moment. “Well, when are you coming to visit? Mrs. Vickers next door keeps asking about you. She still talks about the time you helped her grandson with his college admission essay.”
“Grandma you should really move to LA. We could see each other all the time.”
“And live in that fake plastic city? No thank you. I like my doublewide just fine. I’ve got my garden, my friends, and nobody trying to inject poison into their faces around here.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Baby girl, last time I visited, I saw a woman at the grocery store who couldn’t blink. Couldn’t blink! What kind of life is that?”
I grinned.
“Not everyone gets Botox, Grandma.”
“No, just everyone you work with. Speaking of which, tell me about this new role. The one you’re so excited about.”
My chest constricted. Passing Through Jordan. The role that would prove I was more than just a face and body that got lucky. The role someone was trying to steal from me with digital lies.
“It’s incredible. I play Constance Baker Motley, a widowed factory owner during World War Two.
She is trying to keep her plant open to support the war effort, and the only way she can do it is to integrate it.
It’s about courage and sacrifice and doing what’s right, even when it costs you everything. ”
“Sounds heavy.”
“It is. Marcus Laughton plays the Tuskegee Airman who is discharged after a combat injury. He works with Constance to integrate the workforce. The script is powerful, Grandma. Oscar-worthy.”
“You still doing your research? Reading all those books you told me about?”
“Every one I can find.” At least that part was true. Even hiding here in Jasper Creek, I’d brought my research materials. If I lost the role, I’d know I’d done everything I could to prepare for it.
“Kit?” Her voice was soft. “Whatever’s wrong, whenever you’re ready to tell me, I’m here. You know that, right?”
Tears burned behind my eyes. “I know, Grandma.”
“Good. Now you need to come visit soon. I’m not getting any younger, and neither are you.”
“Thirty-one isn’t old.”
“You’ve been working since you were sixteen. You need some balance, and I want some great-grandchildren.”
A knock at the connecting door saved me from another lecture about finding a man and settling down.
“I have to go, Grandma. Someone’s at the door.”
“You call soon. After you dry out your cell phone.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you too, pumpkin.”
I hung up and crossed to the connecting door. Angelica stood there in designer jeans and a silk blouse with every color of the rainbow. I thought I might get vertigo just looking at it.
“I’m heading over to see Millie, my brother Renzo’s wife. Wann come with me?”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll just read for a while.”
She studied me with those dark eyes that saw too much.
“You’re only allowed to pout until lunch,” she told me. “Oh, and Lisa Thatcher will be calling.”“Who’s she? And why will she be calling?”
But Angelica had already disappeared, leaving me staring at the closed connecting door.
An hour later, another knock interrupted my attempt to lose myself in a book about steel plants in Indiana during the war.
I went to the front door and looked out the peephole.
I saw a blonde woman who had to be Lisa Thatcher and a man standing next to her. I opened the door.
“Lisa?”
“That’s me. This is Earl. He works with me at the shop. We brought you something.”
“The shop?”
She laughed. “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”
I shook my head.
She held out her hand and I shook it.
“Let me properly introduce myself. “I’m Lisa Thatcher, Roan’s wife. I manage Thatcher Automotive. Code thought you might need a car of your own while you were here in town. He told Roan, so here I am with the shop loaner. It isn’t much, but it runs.”
“Let me get my credit card.”
Lisa grinned. “No need. Since Roan’s company is handling your security situation, consider it part of the service. Can’t keep you safe if you’re driving around with Angelica.”
I snorted out a laugh. “That is the truth. She drives like a bat out of hell.”
Earl handed me a set of keys. “It’s a blue Honda Civic, parked out front.
You can’t miss it.” With that, they turned around and left.
I stood there in the open doorway, considering my next step.
I could go back to reading, but I really needed to get away.
Alone. Away from everything, including Angelica’s well-meaning help.
I grabbed my purse and headed to the front of the Inn.
There it was, the blue Honda. I got into the driver’s seat and took a moment to consider where I would go.
Pigeon Forge was only thirty minutes away.
I'd passed signs for Dollywood on the drive in with Angelica.
A theme park seemed like the perfect place to lose myself in crowds of tourists who wouldn't know Kit Lord from any other random blonde.
Shit, I needed my disguise. I ran back to the room and grabbed my Dodgers’ baseball cap and my oversized sunglasses. I pulled my hair into a ponytail. Voila. I was just some random woman.
The parking lot stretched forever. Families poured from minivans and SUVs, kids bouncing with excitement. I pulled my baseball cap lower and adjusted my sunglasses before stepping out of the Honda.
The entrance gates loomed ahead. Country music drifted from inside, mixed with the screams of roller coaster riders. I bought my ticket from a teenager who barely looked at me, too busy texting between transactions.
Inside, Showstreet opened up before me. The main thoroughfare was lined with shops. The massive Dollywood Emporium anchoring one side, the Sweet Shoppe Candy Kitchen with its bright displays visible through the windows on the other. The smell of funnel cake and cinnamon competed for dominance.
Children raced past, dragging exhausted parents behind them.
I wandered without purpose, just another face in the crowd.
Past the shops, deeper into the park, I found Craftsman's Valley.
Hand-carved wooden signs pointed to different craft demonstrations.
Old Flames Candles caught my attention—a shop where craftspeople dipped candles by hand, the way people had done for generations in these mountains.
Through the window, I watched a woman dip a candle into vats of colored wax, building up layers. A small group of kids waited their turn to try it themselves, bouncing on their toes.
The roller coaster called to me. Mystery Mine, according to the weathered sign. The entrance was designed to look like an abandoned coal mine, complete with an animatronic vulture perched on a post, telling stories to the crowd.
I joined the line behind a family of five. The mother juggled a diaper bag and a toddler while the father tried to wrangle two older boys who kept shoving each other.
"Brandon, I swear to God, if you push your brother one more time," the mother warned.
Brandon pushed his brother. I stifled a giggle.
The mother closed her eyes and counted to ten. I recognized that level of exhaustion. Dad used to get that look when I'd been particularly difficult as a kid.
"Hey," the father said to his wife, "why don't you take Tommy to the rider switch area? The boys and I will ride, then we can swap."
"Thank God." She adjusted the toddler on her hip. "Tommy, want to go watch the birdies with Mommy?"
The toddler stared at me with enormous brown eyes, then grabbed my sunglasses and yanked them off my face.
"Tommy! No!" The mother reached for them.
"It's fine." I smiled at the kid. "What do you see?"
He put the sunglasses on his own face. They slid down his nose, way too big. He gave one of those baby chortles.
"You look very stylish," I told him.
The mother had successfully separated her older boys and established peace through threat of leaving the park. She turned back, saw Tommy wearing my sunglasses, and laughed.
"I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. He has excellent taste in accessories."
"I'm Sarah," the mother said. "That's my husband Mike, and the troublemakers are Brandon and Connor."
"I'm Kathy." The lie came out smooth. Kit was too recognizable. Katherine too formal. Kathy worked.
"First time at Dollywood?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Annual pass holders. We live close in Knoxville. The boys have been begging to come all week." She shifted Tommy to her other hip. "I'm going to take this one to the rider switch. Have fun on the ride!"
"Thanks. Nice meeting you."