Chapter 2 #2
“And it’s not like we’ll never see one another again,” said Ellen, a furrow deepening between her eyebrows. She knew Julia
too well to be fooled by a little self-deprecating humor. She would understand that Julia’s heart was aching even if she pretended
otherwise.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Though Julia had been dealt a staggering blow, she was too accomplished a performer
to let anyone other than Nigel and Ellen see it. She chatted and smiled, laughed on cue, and whispered a different, enticing,
behind-the-scenes detail to each member of the press. If she didn’t appear perfectly at ease, her unexplained distress would
become the evening’s story and tomorrow’s headlines. She couldn’t allow anything to steal the spotlight from A Patchwork Life.
Only once did her mask of composure nearly slip and shatter.
She had gone out to the balcony for a respite in the fresh air only to find Noah alone, possibly for the first time all evening.
He was slouching a bit, his forearms on the railing as he gazed out at the distant ocean, his handsome features in the characteristic brood that made the girls swoon, and probably a good many of the boys too.
“So, I hear college is in your future?” Julia greeted him, eyebrows raised, pleasant smile firmly in place, voice scrubbed
of any hint of accusation.
“Yeah, that’s the plan.” Straightening, Noah ran a hand through his thick, dark hair and threw her a wry grin. “I figured
it’s now or never.”
“Never sounds good,” said Julia brightly, planting an elbow on the railing as she smiled up at him. It seemed not so long
ago that he barely came up to her shoulder, and now look at him. Where had the time gone? “Seriously, though, why college?
And why now?”
“College was always my plan, and I don’t want to put it off much longer. If I start school next fall, I’ll be twenty-one,
three years older than your average freshmen. I’ve had on-set tutors since fourth grade, so I never had a normal school experience.
I don’t want to miss out on college too.”
“But what would you be missing, really?”
“Oh, nothing much, just an education,” he replied, amused. “You know, the opportunity to develop my critical thinking skills
and broaden my horizons?”
“Oh, that,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “I suppose some people might consider that important.”
“Yeah, and I’m one of them. Acting can’t be my whole life.”
“Why not? You’re an excellent actor with a promising future. Everyone says so.”
“Not everyone.”
She gave him a playful shove. “Knock off the false modesty, kid. Everyone.”
“Maybe everyone here tonight,” he conceded. “Julia, don’t get me wrong. I love acting, but I’ve been doing this forever. I
never really had the chance to explore other interests, to see what else I might be good at.”
She regarded him, skeptical. “You mean you might prefer to be an accountant or an archaeologist?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But I’ll never know if I don’t give it a shot.” He leaned forward to rest his forearms on the rail again,
his gaze turned to the ocean. “To be honest, I’ll probably come back to acting in the end. I do love it, and I’d like to direct
someday. But even if I don’t major in acting, going to college, taking the time to satisfy my intellectual curiosity, will
make me a better, more thoughtful, more daring actor. Art is all about taking risks, right?”
“I suppose,” Julia said reluctantly. “Yes, of course it is.”
“So what kind of artist would I be—ten years from now, or twenty—if I just stuck with everything that’s safe and familiar
rather than putting myself out there, finding out how little I really know about the world, and the people in it, and myself?”
For a moment Julia could only blink at him, impressed—and a bit ashamed of herself for hoping he’d change his mind. “You make
a good argument,” she admitted. “Maybe you should study law. You definitely should write college recruiting brochures.”
He rolled his eyes. “Very funny.”
“I do hope you’ll find your way back to acting eventually,” she said, entirely sincere for the first time since the conversation
began. “You have so much to offer. It would be a great loss to the profession if you left forever.”
“Forever? I wouldn’t even be leaving it now if Patchwork wasn’t ending after season six.” He shrugged. “It seems like a good time to take a leave of absence for college, between
gigs.”
Julia felt a spark of hope. “So if the series were extended another season or two—”
“I’d stick around to see it through to the end, obviously. I wouldn’t want them to recast my role.”
“Never. Ellen would kill off Jesse before she’d allow that.”
“Oh, good.” His brow furrowed. “I guess that’s good?”
“Of course that’s good. It means she can’t imagine the show without you.” She felt tears threatening and forced them back. “And neither can I.”
“Not that it matters. It’s already settled, right? One more season and it’s a wrap.” He held up a fist, and after a moment
of confusion, she realized she was meant to bump it. “Here’s to Jesse and Sadie surviving to the series finale.”
“Hear, hear,” said Julia, wishing with all her heart that the finale wouldn’t have to come so soon.
The party wrapped up soon after that. Maury and Evelyn were among the first to leave, but Julia followed the couple outside
for a quick word where no one else could overhear. “Can we meet tomorrow?” she asked, tears choking her voice. “It’s urgent.”
“The gala,” Evelyn murmured to her husband, with an apologetic smile for Julia.
“Right.” Maury grimaced. “Sorry, Julia, but Evelyn’s annual fundraiser for the children’s hospital is on Sunday, and we have
a lot to prepare before then. How about Monday? Can it wait until then? You can come for lunch.”
Monday seemed ages away, but Julia nodded. “Sure. Monday would work.”
He peered at her. “Are you sure? Is everything all right?”
Everything was definitely not all right, but Maury would be enjoying retirement already if not for her, and she couldn’t bear to become a burden. “I’ll
explain on Monday,” she said, kissing each of them on the cheek and seeing them off with a smile.
The intervening days offered her time—too much, perhaps—to fret and strategize.
She tried to distract herself with yoga, script reads, and quilting, but her thoughts returned again and again to the apparently impending and very premature conclusion to her beloved series.
As she had suspected, it was her own fault that she had been caught off guard at the launch party.
When she reviewed her inbox the next morning, the meeting notes and the email chain they had sparked made the unhappy truth painfully clear.
But even if she had read the attachment promptly, she still would have been stunned by the news, just not in such a dramatic and public fashion.
She hadn’t seen this coming, and why should she have?
Everything had been going so splendidly that she’d assumed A Patchwork Life would continue forever, or at least until she decided it was time to bring the story to a glorious, satisfying, unforgettable
end. But now was not that time.
On Monday, she drove her BMW down the winding road through the Malibu hills and south on Pacific Coast Highway to Maury and
Evelyn’s gracious Brentwood residence. Over iced teas and decadent sandwiches of turkey, Brie, caramelized onion, and green
apple chutney on brioche, they chatted about the glowing reviews the season premiere had received, what the Benowitzes’ grandchildren
were up to, and what Julia and Evelyn planned to wear to the upcoming Emmys, where Julia expected to lose graciously to Jennifer
Garner. After the meal, Evelyn declined Julia’s offer to help tidy up and shooed her and Maury off to his study. There Julia
settled down on the soft, tapestry-covered sofa in front of the fireplace, the scene of so many crucial deliberations about
her career and countless other conversations of a more personal nature. Maury had been Charles’s oldest and dearest friend,
and although he hadn’t intended to play matchmaker, he had brought them together by landing her a role as a narrator on one
of Charles’s documentaries. In that sense Julia owed Maury both her career and the happiest years of her life.
“So what’s on your mind?” Maury asked as he took his usual seat in the adjacent armchair. “You seemed a little distracted
at the launch party. Did you see something in the episode you wished you’d done differently?”
“Don’t I always, but that’s not the problem.” She leaned forward, bracing her hands on her knees. “Were you aware that everyone
but me expects Patchwork to end after season six?”
His brow furrowed. “Who’s ‘everyone’? No one at the network has said a word to me suggesting they want to cancel.”
“This isn’t from the network. It’s from Ellen and Nigel.
They’re leaving for other roles, and they say Noah and Chance are out too.
Ellen’s exact words were ‘Everyone else’—everyone but me—‘is moving on.’ ” Julia lifted her hands and let them fall to her lap.
“Even if Ellen’s exaggerating and only she, Nigel, Noah, and Chance are leaving, what would A Patchwork Life be without them? ”
“It would be an entirely different show.”
“You’re almost right. It would be the end of the show.”
“Not necessarily.” Maury rubbed his jaw, thinking. “The network hasn’t officially canceled the series. I would have heard
from them, since your new contract is pending. Maybe they plan to hire a new showrunner, write the actors who are leaving
out of the story—”
“I don’t want a new showrunner and I don’t want new castmates,” Julia said, emphatic. “Why prepare to fix what isn’t broken
when you can hold it together and keep it from breaking?”
“I’m sorry, Julia, but it doesn’t sound like you can hold this together. If Ellen and the others have decided it’s time to
leave the show, you have to let them go.”
“Not if I can persuade them to stay. And that’s where you come in.”
Maury sat back, grimacing. “I’m not sure I like the sound of this.”
“I’ve had all weekend to think about it, and I know what to do.” She inhaled deeply, pausing for dramatic effect. “You agents
all know one another. You talk all the time. I think you need to get on the phone with each of their agents, or meet for drinks
if you think that would be better, and through some subtle questioning, find out what it would take to convince Nigel, Noah,
and Chance to stay on for another two seasons. Ellen and I have a history, so I’ll work on her. I’m sure their asks will be
reasonable, and I will personally deliver them to the network. The network owes me. Ellen and I brought them a hit, right?”
“Julia—”
“After these four commit, I’m confident ‘everyone else’ will decide to stay too.” She studied him, expectant. “What do you
say? Are you in?”
He shook his head. “I know you mean well, but this is a terrible idea.”
“Why?” she protested. “You said yourself that the show isn’t officially canceled. Why not offer them an incentive to stay?”
“It’s probably already too late. Since they’re leaving for other roles, they’ve surely signed binding contracts.”
“That only applies to Nigel and Ellen. Chance is still negotiating, and Noah wants to go to college.” Julia waved a hand dismissively.
“Anyway, as the old saying goes, contracts are made to be broken.”
“That’s not how the old saying goes.” Maury heaved a sigh. “Julia, think this through before you do anything you’ll regret
later. Your castmates wouldn’t have made these decisions lightly. I’m sure deep down you’re happy for them, that you want
them to succeed and thrive.”
She shifted uncomfortably. “Of course I do, but they can succeed and thrive on Patchwork.”
“Would you really want them to stay if they’re no longer passionate about the show? Surely you wouldn’t want Patchwork to limp along with performances from a half-hearted cast, the diminished quality tarnishing the memory of a once-acclaimed
program.”
She frowned. “You sound like Nigel but without the accent.”
“I’ll fake the accent if that’s what it takes to convince you. Look, Julia. Your friends are moving on to exciting new opportunities.
You could do the same. The end of Patchwork would give you time to pursue other interests. A passion project. A return to live theater. More directing. Say the word
and I’ll start making inquiries.”
For a moment intrigue kindled, but the thought of hanging up Sadie’s bonnet permanently was so alarming that the small spark
was promptly extinguished. “Thanks, Maury,” Julia said, without a hint of actual gratitude, “but I’m much too busy preparing
for season six to even consider any other long-term plans.”
He shrugged and spread his hands, conceding defeat. “As long as you know that you have options, if you want them. Let me know when you’re ready.”
She managed a tight smile as she thanked him for his counsel, which was lamentably less helpful than she had expected. Obviously
she could move on, but she didn’t want new opportunities. She wanted to keep what she already had, a successful series and the best cast and crew she’d ever worked
with. Was that really so wrong? And if Maury wouldn’t help her convince her friends to stick around for another season or
two, or even more, to whom could she turn?
At least she knew the answer to the second question—the Cross-Country Quilters.