Chapter 23 Just Math
JUST MATH
RIPLEY
It’s like a clown car.
Or three clown cars, to be precise. The number of people grabbing bags and gear from the two town cars and the SUV is a little overwhelming.
A lanky guy with a freshly shaven bald head and a long beard slings a black bag on his shoulder.
He’s chatting with a shorter man sporting an undercut and a goatee.
They’re giving artsy movie vibes. Betting one’s the director of photography and the other’s an AD—assistant director.
More guys lug boom mics while some women grab what I think are light diffusers from the big SUV.
“Did they multiply?” I ask Haven once I finally let go of my baby sister.
“Yes. Right before my eyes on the plane. It was like mitosis in biology class,” she says.
I swat her. “You nerd.”
She juts out her hip, like she’s owning the moment. “Once a nerd, always a nerd.”
I drape an arm around her again. “And you’re my nerd,” I say, breathing in happiness and contentment.
It’s so good to see her again, even in spite of that totally awkward conversation with Banks moments ago.
Banks, who’s chatting with someone who just arrived.
Come to think of it, I should probably freshen up post O.
Change the panties and all. Might as well erase the evidence, just like we’re forgetting that tryst in the truck ever happened.
“I’ll be—”
But before I can say right back, a woman with sleek black hair hidden under a fabulous pink sun hat strides over to us across the emerald-green lawn.
“Cute hat,” I say to her, and it seems to be doing the trick at keeping the sun far, far away from her.
“Thanks. It doubles as an umbrella,” she says, then sticks out a hand. “I’m Tabitha Zhao. Juniper has told me so much about you.”
“And I’m sure it’s all fabulous,” Haven puts in, squeezing my shoulder. It’s cute how she’s protective of me. I’m the same with her.
Tabitha smiles at Haven. “Yes, all fabulous.” Then to me, she says, “And we appreciate you opening your home to the crew. I’m seriously grateful. Everything happened so quickly with the film and the financing. But your flexibility is not going unnoted by my bosses.”
It takes me a second to process the double negative, but I nod, and say, “Anything for Haven.”
Maybe I should make it seem like I’m doing all this for Ruby Horizons, but what’s the point? All this—the invasion of the crew—is for my sister. And I’m thrilled I can do it for her.
Bonus that this interaction with Tabitha is taking my mind and focus off the awkward end to that side-of-the-road session.
Tabitha looks from Haven to me and back, then shakes her head in a familiar kind of amazement. She’s processing the matching blond hair, the identical straight nose, the exact same spray of freckles. “It’s uncanny.” She holds up a hand in apology. “Sorry, I’m sure you get that all the time.”
“We do,” Haven and I say in unison.
“Which is why we used to play tricks on our parents and grandparents,” Haven adds.
“Could they tell you apart?” Tabitha asks with the kind of curiosity that’s pretty natural when you meet identical twins.
Haven grabs my right arm, showing off the sparrows that fly across my skin. Then, the one bird she has on her shoulder. “We didn’t have these then. So it was seriously hard for them.”
Tabitha taps her temple under her hat. “I’ll be looking for Ripley’s sparrows then.” To Haven, she adds, “And yours is being covered up by makeup. I’ve told the makeup artist—she’s local—to bring tattoo cover-up.”
“I know, Tabby,” Haven says.
“And don’t forget your call time,” Tabitha says. But Haven’s eyes sparkle like she just saw something exciting, and in a second, she’s off, rushing over to tackle-hug Hudson, who’s racing up the hill with Cyrus, who must have taken my pup for a walk.
I take the moment to say to Tabitha, “When is her call time?”
Tabitha taps her tablet, then tells me it’s 7:00 a.m. the day after tomorrow. “She needs to be in makeup then.”
I lean in close and whisper, “Why don’t you just tell her she has a six thirty call time?
It’ll be easier to get what you want that way, if you know what I mean.
Especially since she needs to come over from the inn.
” Haven’s staying at The BookHouse, Bridget’s inn.
She and New Chris are deliberately not staying at the same hotel.
When we last chatted, my sister said it made more sense as they’re trying to defuse the rumors.
Tabitha gives a grateful nod. “I do. And thanks for the tip.”
Peering beyond her, I take in the sheer number of people dotting my lawn, which seems more than I’d expected. My chest tightens, and my heart beats a little faster, my thoughts racing.
This is a lot. For bee’s sake, what have I signed up for? I feel like I did when Haven first told me about the flick.
How am I going to fit all these people in?
Vega’s staying at the hotel, along with Haven and some others.
But there are still so many people here.
I scan the lawn again, catching a glimpse of Banks chatting with a serious-looking woman close to his height.
That must be Haven’s bodyguard. Wanda Rodriguez, I think he said.
She won’t stay here. The lighting guys will though.
Some added security too. Some PAs, the camera crew…
“Actually, how many are here?” I ask. “I was expecting five crew members staying at the homestead. Though I know The BookHouse and The Ladybug Inn have a lot of rooms reserved for the cast and others.”
I mean, I’m good at math. But I’m pretty sure no matter how you add it up, there aren’t enough rooms for everyone.
Tabitha tilts her head, that huge hat tilting with her as she taps her chin. “Well, with the added security and some additional crew, we need as many rooms as you have.”
Haven returns to my side with Hudson at her heels. She must read the concern in my eyes since she says, “What’s wrong, Rip?”
“Nothing.” I fasten on a smile. I don’t want to worry her.
“Liar.” She stares me down as Tabitha takes off to help the guy with the undercut. “What is it?” Haven asks when Tabitha’s out of earshot.
“There aren’t enough rooms,” I whisper.
Haven shrugs happily, then squeezes my hands. “You can stay with me. We’ll have sleepovers like we used to. It’ll be so fun. We can eat popcorn and watch movies.”
And she’ll have to get up early. And she’ll need her beauty sleep.
And my sister has struggled with sleep since our parents died.
In the aftermath of her grief, she battled insomnia and depression.
The worse she slept, the worse her depression became.
We tried everything to help her, from meds to therapy, but it wasn’t till we found a combination of meditation and the right therapist that she was able to finally sleep through the night again.
That was the first step on her road to recovery from the depression.
She needs her rest. And I also need to be here to take care of the farm. “No, you need your sleep.”
“Ripley,” she says, but there’s resignation in her voice. She knows I’m right. She sighs but then brightens in excitement. As the sound of shoes crunching on gravel grows louder, she says cheerily, “You can stay with grandma though.”
There’s a couch in my grandma’s garden suite, true. But I won’t use it. I shake my head. “I don’t want to bother her,” I say, then screw up the corner of my lips, thinking. How can I fix this problem quickly? That’s what I do. Solve problems.
And…I know. It’s obvious and easy enough. “I’ll just sleep on the couch in the living room. Someone else can have my room. It’s fine.”
“Are you sure?” Haven asks with a frown as the sound of footsteps grows louder.
In seconds, Banks appears by my side. “I couldn’t help but overhear. You can stay in the cottage.”
His deep, commanding voice sends a hot shiver down my spine.
Or maybe it’s the thought of being close to him in such a tiny space that’s lighting me up.