Chapter 1 #2
Lara and Mason had remained closer. When she was not cast in a university production, Lara often worked in the scene shop, where she and Mason spent long nights painting flats, repairing props, and cleaning up other people’s mistakes.
Their friendship had survived adulthood in a way Olivia’s friendship with Lara had not.
They still spoke often, sometimes daily when Lara was working through a disappointment.
Olivia had never objected. Mason did not hide his phone, lower his voice, or turn ordinary friendship into something that required secrecy.
Trusting him had always been easier than distrusting Lara.
“She called because…” Mason began, then lifted one hand to rub the back of his neck.
Olivia watched him for a beat. “You’ve already decided to ask me for something.”
His hand dropped. “Is it that obvious?”
“You’ve done that since college. Neck first, favor second.”
“I may simply be tense.”
“You aren’t.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “The producers for this show are looking for a new principal understudy. The actress they hired dropped out this morning.”
Olivia’s attention sharpened. “You’ve spoken to them?”
“No. Andrew mentioned it at dinner last week, before the decision was final. Lara called this morning and asked whether I thought she might have a chance.”
“And you told her?”
“That I’d ask you.”
There it was. Not a promise, exactly, but close enough that refusing would now affect more than the two of them.
Olivia turned toward the auditorium, buying herself a moment before answering.
Leading actors did not usually control casting, but their opinions carried weight, particularly in a production expected to run for months.
An understudy did more than learn the words.
She attended rehearsals, absorbed the director’s notes, shared the corridor outside the dressing rooms, and studied the lead closely enough to step into her life at a few hours’ notice.
Olivia pictured Lara there every morning and every evening, woven into the same work that had always belonged separately to her.
The discomfort was immediate and difficult to justify.
She wanted Lara to succeed. She also wanted one part of her life that did not come with their shared history attached.
“She deserves the chance to audition,” Mason said, watching her carefully. “You know how hard she’s worked.”
“I know.”
“She’s never asked you for anything.”
That was true, though Olivia wondered if asking Mason to ask her was meaningfully different. “Why didn’t she ask me directly?”
“She probably thought it would be awkward.”
“Which suggests she already knows it might be.”
Mason frowned slightly, and Olivia regretted the edge in her voice. He was trying to help an old friend. That impulse was one of the things she loved about him, even when it made him too quick to believe that effort and deserving were the same thing.
“She’s talented, Liv,” he said. “You’ve always believed talented people should be given a real opportunity.”
“I do believe that.”
“And you could make sure she gets one.”
He said it simply, as though kindness existed apart from consequence.
Olivia looked at him and saw the earnestness in his face, the conviction that he was asking her to do something generous and therefore uncomplicated.
Mason hated seeing people left behind. Lara had been beside him in college before either of them had money or status, and loyalty had always been one of his most admirable qualities.
It could also make him slow to notice when loyalty had become obligation.
“I don’t want our home and my work to become the same place,” Olivia said after a moment.
“You and Lara talk. If she’s frustrated with rehearsal, she’ll talk to you.
If I lose my patience, she may talk to you about that too.
I don’t want to spend months wondering whether every bad day at work will follow me home through someone else’s version. ”
Mason’s expression changed, not quite hurt, but closer to it than she expected. “Lara wouldn’t do that.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I know her.”
“So do I.”
The answer settled between them. Olivia heard how defensive it sounded and disliked herself for it.
Lara had never behaved improperly with Mason.
She had stood at their wedding and cried through the vows.
She had sent flowers after Olivia’s first major award and a handwritten note after Mason’s father died.
Whatever rivalry had existed between the women belonged to youth, when every role seemed capable of determining an entire future.
“I’m not saying she’d try to cause trouble,” Olivia added. “I’m saying history has a way of entering a room before people do.”
Mason considered that, then stepped closer and rested his hands lightly at her waist. “You’re under a lot of pressure.”
“Don’t make this about that.”
“I’m not.” His voice softened. “I’m asking you to remember what it felt like when someone finally gave you a chance.”
That was unfair, precisely because it was true.
Olivia remembered being twenty-two and unknown, standing in rooms where her future depended on people who barely looked up from their notes.
She remembered the director who had asked her to read a second time because he thought she had something.
That decision had altered her life. She had promised herself that success would never make her forget the humiliation of needing someone else to open a door.
“If she auditions,” Olivia said, “then she auditions properly. No favors after she enters the room.”
Relief moved across Mason’s face before he could conceal it. “Of course.”
“I’ll speak to Philip and make sure she’s given a chance and seen. That’s all.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
“And if someone else is better, Lara doesn’t get the job because she knew us first.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to ask for that.”
Olivia studied him, then sighed. “You’ve already told her I’d probably agree.”
“I told her you were fair.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No,” Mason said, smiling now. “It isn’t.”
She tried to remain annoyed, but his relief made it difficult. “You owe me dinner.”
“I owe you several.”
“And decent coffee.”
“That may be beyond my abilities.”
“Then hire someone.”
He laughed and drew her closer, his arms settling around her with the familiarity of home.
Olivia let herself lean into him, her cheek against the wool of his coat, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
This was what she trusted: the years between them, the life built through ordinary days, the knowledge that he loved her without needing her to become smaller or easier.
“I’ll call her after you speak to Philip,” he said.
“Let me call her.”
Mason drew back enough to look at her. “You want to?”
“If she’s going to work with me, the invitation should come from me.”
His expression warmed. “Thank you.”
She lifted a finger before he could kiss her. “An audition, Mason. That is the extent of my sainthood.”
“I know.”
“You say that now.”
“I’ve always known you were not a saint.”
“Good.”
He kissed her then, gently, his hand curved along her jaw. When he drew back, his forehead rested against hers and his voice carried the soft certainty that had steadied her through half her life. “I knew you’d do the right thing.”
The words were meant as praise. Olivia understood that. Still, something in them pressed against the small uneasiness she had not managed to explain, making kindness feel less like a choice than an expectation she had been destined to fulfill.
She dismissed the thought almost at once. It was close to opening week. She was tired, nervous, and looking for danger in ordinary shadows. She had nothing to worry about.