Chapter 17 #2
return for hearing my pitch, I have something exclusive to offer you that any dedicated fan of A Patchwork Life would covet dearly.”
“Is that so?” Lillian replied, intrigued. “I’ll be the envy of my friends, and I do so enjoy that. Tell me more.”
“I’d prefer to discuss it in person. There’s something I’d like to show you too, and my home is the best place for that. Would
you join me for lunch tomorrow at noon?”
“How mysterious. Are you saying this is so top secret that it can’t even leave your house?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Then count me in.”
“Fantastic! Would you like me to send a car for you?”
“No need. Stephen gave me the most adorable Aston Martin for my seventy-fifth birthday, and I drive it whenever I have the
chance. See you tomorrow, dear.”
Julia had less than twenty-four hours to prepare, and she made the most of every minute. She arranged for her personal chef
to prepare an excellent lunch, for the housecleaners to whisk away every mote of dust, and for her favorite florist to deliver
understated yet elegant arrangements to adorn the great room and dining room. All the while, she held out hope that Deneford
wouldn’t hasten to cast someone else in the role that would have gone to Paige if not for Julia’s interference, but she knew
time wasn’t on her side.
The next day, when every last detail was arranged and Lillian was due to arrive at any moment, Julia paced by the front door, breathing in through her nose for a three count and out through her mouth, practicing the familiar rituals that always gave her confidence before she stepped onstage.
When she heard the smooth, low growl of a high-performance engine coming up her driveway, she opened the door in time to glimpse a sleek, slate-blue coupe slowing as it approached the porte cochere and disappeared around the corner of the house.
Julia hurried outside to meet her guest halfway up the front walk.
Moments later, Lillian came into view, petite and thin, yet ineffably commanding, her silver-white hair swept up in a short,
layered, textured bob with a blunt fringe, her blue eyes concealed behind enormous mirrored sunglasses. She wore a light rust
pantsuit, impeccably tailored, over an ivory blouse with a lavaliere at the neck. An oversized leopard-print tote dangled
from her left elbow, and with her right hand she offered Julia a jaunty wave as she approached.
“Thank you so much for coming,” Julia said, welcoming her with air-kisses to both cheeks.
“Nothing could have kept me away,” Lillian declared.
Soon they were seated at a cozy table on Julia’s shaded lanai, chatting like old friends as they enjoyed a delicious farro
salad with roasted beets and arugula, followed by grilled salmon fillets with a sweet-and-tangy maple Dijon glaze, served
over a bed of quinoa and roasted brussels sprouts. Soon thereafter, over a dessert of coffee and delicate chai-spiced pizzelles,
Lillian fixed Julia with a look of amused expectation. “I know I’m excellent company, but that’s not why you’ve treated me
to this marvelous lunch. What’s on your mind? You mentioned a favor.”
“Yes, I did.” Julia took a fortifying sip of coffee. “I’m sure you know that Stephen and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms.”
“Oh, yes. I’m well aware. He’s nursed a grudge ever since you and the screenwriter walked off the set of his perfectly dreadful movie.” She sighed fondly, shaking her head. “I’m sure he had it coming. I love my son very much, but I admit sometimes he can be a rascal.”
That wasn’t the word Julia and Ellen had used when they’d groused about him behind his back. “If he’s holding a grudge, then
I need your help more than I realized. It’s urgent that I meet with Stephen as soon as possible. I’ve reached out, but he
won’t reply to my messages.”
“How impolite of him,” Lillian remarked. “Of course, he is a very busy man.”
“Yes, I appreciate that. He did have his assistant put me on his calendar for two weeks from today, but this can’t wait. A
young actress’s career may depend on it.”
Lillian’s eyebrows rose. “So this favor isn’t for yourself?”
“No, it’s on behalf of one of my very talented costars, Paige Lyons.” Quickly Julia added, “She doesn’t know that I’m doing
this.”
“Is that so? Then I won’t mention it, should we ever meet.”
“You’ll meet her soon, and trust me, you’ll adore her.” Julia reached into the tote bag she had set beside her chair before
Lillian arrived and removed a flat, rectangular box tied with a ribbon in alternating stripes of wine and silver blue, the
colors of Pi Beta Phi. “This is a gift offered in sincere friendship, to thank you for hearing me out.”
An amused smile played at the corners of Lillian’s mouth as she accepted the box. “Not a quid pro quo?”
“Not at all. If Paige’s talent doesn’t convince you to get me that meeting, I shouldn’t have it.”
“Hmm.” Lillian set the box on the table before her, untied the ribbon, and lifted the lid, revealing a thin, gently used stack
of papers bound by three brass brads. “A Patchwork Life, season five, episode twenty-four—” She gasped, eyes widening with delight. “Is this what I think it is?”
“It’s my personal copy of the script for our season five finale, including my handwritten notes and edits. Don’t read it until
June if you don’t like spoilers.”
Lillian removed the script from the box and turned the first few pages carefully.
“I usually don’t, but in this case I’ll make an exception.
Oh, this is marvelous. Every Patchwork fan in the country would love this.
” She paused, thinking. “You know, Julia, with your permission, I’d love to contribute
this to the silent auction for the Big Brothers Big Sisters fundraiser next year. I’ll read it first, of course. One more
read wouldn’t reduce its value.”
“I love that idea,” Julia declared. “It’s a gift, so you’re free to do what you like with it. All I ask is that you hold off
until after the episode airs. I could get in a lot of trouble if this leaks to the media.”
“Not a problem. The gala is in October. I’d love for you to attend too, since your script will be a featured auction item.”
“I might just purchase a table and bring my castmates along.” With a pang, Julia remembered that they were all rather angry
with her and might refuse her invitation—unless her plan succeeded, in which case she would be forgiven, and all would be
well. “A fun fact about that episode: It introduces a new character, a beautiful, spirited young woman named Anabelle Wedgington.”
“Any relation to Theodore Wedgington?”
“Anabelle is his niece, newly arrived from Boston. She adores her uncle and is utterly oblivious to his villainous ways.”
Lillian clapped her hands, delighted. “I trust she’ll figure it out soon.”
“Not too soon, I hope. That would ruin so many exciting potential plot complications.” Julia lowered her voice confidentially,
although they were entirely alone, unless they were being observed by paparazzi with telephoto lenses. “Anabelle and Jesse
are going to fall in love.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“That’s wonderful! It broke my heart when that Ida Mae spurned Jesse to marry that wealthy banker from Cleveland. Whose bright
idea was that?”
“Don’t blame the writers,” said Julia. “The actress who played Ida Mae left to do another series. But it’s all for the best, because Paige Lyons is absolutely wonderful as Anabelle, as you’re about to see.”
Rising, Julia invited Lillian to accompany her to the theater, where she had queued up the DVD the editor had sent over that
morning. Without giving away too many of the season’s plot twists, Julia set the scene as she showed Lillian to the best seat
in the house. Then she dimmed the lights, settled into her own seat, and pressed play.
Paige’s performance spoke for itself, more eloquently than Julia’s praise could have done. She watched from the corner of
her eye as Lillian became happily engrossed in her exclusive advanced screening. It occurred to Julia that she probably should
have asked Lillian to sign a nondisclosure agreement first, but it was too late for that, and anyway, Lillian didn’t seem
like the type to run to the tabloids.
When the brief film ended, Lillian applauded. “That actress is marvelous,” she exclaimed as Julia turned on the house lights
with the remote. “So talented, and so lovely! She resembles a young Elizabeth Taylor.”
“That’s exactly what I thought.”
“I can’t wait to see what she does in season six.” Then Lillian peered at her quizzically. “But what do she and your series
have to do with my son?”
“Stephen had offered Paige a lead in an upcoming movie. It had the potential to be a breakthrough role for her.”
“Well, good for Stephen. I’m glad he recognized her star quality.”
“He had offered Paige the role,” Julia emphasized, a flush rising in her cheeks. “Then, unfortunately, he asked for my input. Who
knows why, but I wish he hadn’t. I said something stupid and careless about her not being available because she’d be working
on Patchwork season seven, when that was only wishful thinking on my part.”
“There won’t be a seventh season?”
“It’s not officially canceled yet, but—” Julia shook her head and managed a forlorn smile.
“Oh, Julia.” Lillian patted her arm, sympathetic. “I’m so sorry.”
“I am too. I was in denial for quite a while, and I made some regrettable choices because of it. That includes what I said to Stephen.”
“He withdrew Paige’s offer?”
“He did. I urged him to speak with Paige’s agent before he made a decision, but he just—” Exasperated, Julia waved a hand
dismissively, but then she caught herself. “Sorry. I don’t mean to insult your son.”
“No, it’s quite all right. I know exactly what you mean.” Lillian rested her chin on her hand, thinking. “Did he already give
Paige’s role to someone else?”
“I have no idea.”
“Of course you wouldn’t; he won’t speak to you.” Mouth pursed, Lillian rose. “He will speak to me. Care to take a little trip?”