Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
B rent was taken to the hospital shortly thereafter. Although it was against the law, Natalie rode with him in the ambulance, clutching his hand and telling the ambulance driver to "step on it."
The drama on set was unparalleled. Everyone was worried about Brent—and their careers.
Sophie heard a few people mention they hadn't received paychecks yet for their previous weeks of work.
"Doesn't it feel like Silver Bells is cursed?" a passing extra asked another.
Sophie and Randy shrugged and turned off the grills and mini-ovens they'd set up that morning. It was time to call it a day.
"I heard her tell them she's his wife," Mike said as they packed up. "She's a better actress than I originally gave her credit for. Maybe this thing will win an Oscar!"
"If Brent ever gets out of the hospital," Beck said darkly.
"I think it's just a minor sprain," Isaac said. "He basically pulled himself onto the gurney. I saw him."
"You really think he's faking it?" Mike asked.
"He's an actor," Isaac offered. "Their entire life is 'faking it.' Maybe he got confused about what's real and what's not."
The sound guys laughed and slung gear over their shoulders.
Sophie listened as she cleaned the catering table and considered what to do next with her day. It was only ten in the morning. Maybe she and Randy could spend the afternoon advertising Culinary Tastings to the far reaches of New York State. Maybe they could make posters, experiment with recipes, and create a five-year plan. That was what businesses did, didn't they? They set goals. They drove forward.
Time to forget about your silly crush on the Hollywood director.
"You coming out to lunch with us?" Mike called to Sophie. "We're going to the coffee shop for sandwiches. Their pastrami is to die for."
Sophie had had their pastrami sandwich many times, but she was pleased the film crew had discovered it for themselves. They were falling in love with Willow Creek without her guidance.
"I'll come out," she agreed, then turned back to Randy. "Let's meet at headquarters at two thirty to discuss everything?"
"Great," Randy said. "That gives me enough time. Fiona just called and said the real estate agent wants to show us a house! ASAP! Like, I'm heading there right now!"
"A house!" Sophie gaped at him. She remembered, again, how thrilled she and Jeremy had been when they'd discovered the little blue house. Our future. We'll bring our babies home here. Instead, it was just Sophie who went to bed there every night. Alone.
"Good luck," Sophie said to Randy as he removed his apron and wire hairnet. "I hope it's the perfect one!"
Sophie drove the catering van back to headquarters and walked to the coffee shop down the road. A soft snow billowed from thick gray clouds above, and the air was wet and heavy. They’d probably have another big snowfall later that day.
Sophie stepped into the coffee shop. The bell jangled overhead, and nine crew members hollered out in greeting, "It's the Christmas Fairy!"
Sophie blushed. She felt entirely un-fairy-like right now. She considered telling them she'd forgotten to decorate her own place for Christmas, but then she'd have to tell them about Derek Brownlee, and she didn't feel up to explaining that, ever. Like everyone else, she ordered a pastrami sandwich. But Marcia behind the counter told her, "We just ran out of pastrami! These Hollywood types are hungrier than they look. It's my goal to put some meat on their bones."
Sophie laughed and ordered a grilled cheese with ham and a large coffee.
"Should we call the hospital?" Mike was saying when she sat down.
"Maybe we can just get hold of Natalie," the assistant costumer suggested.
"She'll make it seem way more dramatic than it is," another crew member said.
Sophie's phone buzzed. She pulled it out to read a message from Randy.
RANDY: You won't believe this. We got another TWO inquiries from out-of-towners. People really want us to cater for them!
RANDY: I think we can swing it.
RANDY: We got this!
RANDY: Wish me luck on the house! Without Culinary Tastings (and this new promotion), I never would have been able to afford it.
Although Sophie was pleased for Randy, her heart sank with panic. She couldn't breathe properly.
"What's up, Sophie?" Isaac asked, interrupting her reverie. "You've been quiet today!"
Sophie offered a fake smile. "I have a lot on my mind. I just promoted Randy, and we're expanding the catering business together."
If I talk about it enough, the fear will fade away.
It will become my new reality.
Mike clapped his hands joyously. "That's fantastic! The catering company deserves to be world-renowned. I told my mother about your bacon, pancakes, chili, and baked goods, and she wants to fly out east just to taste everything."
Sophie blushed and took a sip of coffee.
"You could even open, like, a chain of restaurants," another crew member suggested.
"You could oversee everything!" the assistant costumer chimed in. "That's what my aunt does. She lives in Los Angeles—"
"Because why would you ever live anywhere else?" another crew member teased.
"Right!" The assistant costumer didn't sense the joke. "My aunt handles the logistics of like twenty-five restaurants and five catering branches. She has a bigger house than most Hollywood producers I know. And a pool and an at-home movie theater," the assistant costumer said. "If things go south with my film career, I'm going to call her up for a job."
Everyone looked at Sophie happily, curiously.
It was clear they wanted wealth and prosperity for her. They wanted her to go the distance.
It felt bizarre. Only recently, Sophie's company had nearly gone under. She'd struggled to stay afloat. She'd struggled to pull together enough cash to host her father's retirement party.
Suddenly, the door opened. In walked the assistant director.
"You know about the sandwich place?" Mike called out happily.
"The rumor is they have the best pastrami in town!" the assistant director called.
Sophie began to tell him they'd just run out of pastrami, but Marcia gave her a look that meant, Keep quiet .
"We'll have that ready for you in a jiffy!" Marcia called just as her son Jeff hurried out the back door.
Sophie grinned inwardly as Marcia mouthed "sorry" at her. It was clear that Willow Creek had to put on their very best show for the Hollywood types. Likely, Mayor Ben Ackey had told them to.
Sophie was a regular. She'd always come back, pastrami or no pastrami.
She made a note to tease Marcia about this later. But she just shrugged now as though to say, No hard feelings .
But the assistant director wasn't the only one who entered the shop that afternoon.
Impossibly, Derek Brownlee came in after him, brushing snow from his shoulders.
Sophie's head rang with fear. Just yesterday, he'd been bundled up beneath a blanket on her sofa, drinking tea, watching the fire, and eating butterscotch cookies. Now, he seemed like a stranger again.
Where did you go? She wanted to scream.
Jeff had returned from the butcher with more pastrami, and Marcia passed out coffees for Derek and the assistant director and ordered them to sit down. Mike pulled two more chairs around the big table.
"We're a family in show biz, right?" Mike joked, his Australian accent heavier than ever.
Derek and the assistant director sat down with their coffees. Derek sat kitty-corner from Sophie and avoided her eyes.
"Maybe when Sophie's business takes off, she can send units out to LA," Isaac suggested.
"That's such a good idea!" Mike snapped his fingers. "I'd like to ask that you cater every single film I work on for the rest of my career in sound engineering."
Sophie smiled nervously. I can barely wrap my mind around next week's baby shower, let alone a career in Hollywood.
Her palms were sweaty.
"Derek, I've seen you smash down some of Sophie's baked goods," Mike teased. "Maybe you can tell all your Hollywood director friends to hire her company? She's expanding!"
Finally, Derek looked at her for the first time. Sophie's hands were clammy. Where was her grilled cheese with ham? Maybe she could take it to go.
Derek's eyes were impenetrable.
"You're expanding?" he asked finally.
"We're talking about it," Sophie said in a meek voice. "But all this Hollywood talk is for fun. Really, Randy and I just want to expand around here. Small towns in Upstate New York. Maybe, if there's another film in Willow Creek next December, we'll help out then."
Maybe , she thought. Because the thought of catering another film exhausted her.
"Boo! Don't think so small!" Mike cried.
Derek's eyes were wounded. But why? What was he thinking?
Suddenly, two pastrami sandwiches appeared at the table. Marcia had even added pickles and potato chips, which usually cost extra.
Still, Derek continued to look at her as though she'd done something wrong.
Sophie flared her nostrils. She wanted to scream, What's your problem?
But she didn't want anyone to know how upset she was. Least of all, Derek.
"I'd better take my grilled cheese to go," she chirped to Marcia.
"Coming right up, honey!" Marcia called.
Sophie stood on shaking legs. Derek forced his eyes away from her.
"Are you off to plan your Culinary Tastings empire?" Beck teased.
Sophie laughed falsely. "Something like that. Wish me luck."
She turned to pay, but Marcia waved her hand and whispered, "No cost, honey. I'm sorry about the pastrami." She winked.
Sophie put a five-dollar bill in the tip jar and took her sandwich. "Thanks, Marcia. See you soon."
"Send love to your family!" Marcia called.
Sophie bid a final farewell to the crew and disappeared into the violent winds. She was pleased not to be on set the rest of the day. The space heater was no match for temperatures in the teens or below.
Her toes were frozen.
When she reached the corner, she turned and looked at the door of the coffee shop. For whatever reason, she sensed that on the other side of that wall, Derek was sitting with his pastrami sandwich, thinking about her. She sensed that he wanted to come outside and say he was sorry. Sorry for what? For pulling away. For leaving her house so abruptly. For not thinking of her feelings.
He's grieving , Sophie reminded herself as she strode away, hands in her pockets, tears freezing in her eyes. He lost his wife three years ago right before Christmas. No amount of butterscotch cookies could change that.