2. Emma
CHAPTER TWO
A WEEK LATER
It’s often hard for me to believe Addy and I have been together for more than a decade. I suppose it shouldn’t be. It’s strange. The other day, a friend asked if the thought of being forty caused me anxiety. My reply was simple. No. After my cancer diagnosis, turning forty feels like a gift, not a curse. I was fortunate. I also know the experience left its mark on both me and Addy. I think the experience affected Addy more deeply than she wants to let on to anyone—me most of all. It’s made us both take stock of our lives and our livelihoods—something I realize we too often avoid discussing. We decided before Noah was born to center our lives here in Kansas, and I believe our decision has worked out better than we’d hoped. Until now.
Addy handed me a new project to review. I sense she’s hoping for my support as more than a producing partner. She left early this morning for Los Angeles after receiving a call from Tamara. It was a little odd. Whenever Tamara has personal matters to discuss, she usually confides in me first. It isn’t like Tam to ask Addy to fly back to LA as soon as possible. Whatever Tamara wants to discuss, I doubt it’s related to any of the projects we have in development. I can’t help but wonder what’s going on. A familiar ringtone sounding from my phone tells me I might get an answer sooner than I expected.
“Hi, Chris.”
“Em. How are things over the rainbow?” Christie asks me.
“I’m still looking for the yellow brick road,” I tell her.
“Mm. How is everyone there?”
“Okay,” I say. “Enough with the pleasantries. You’ll see everyone who lives here in a week. What’s going on?”
Christie sighs. “I know Tam wanted to call you. She feels she needs to tell Addy this news first.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing is wrong.”
“Is Tam pregnant?” I ask.
“No.” Christie sighs again. “Em, I got an offer last week.”
“That’s great. Isn’t it?”
“It is. It’s for a new James Reynold’s police procedural set in Boston.”
“That is great.”
“Em, it’s for the lead.”
I take a deep breath and flop onto the sofa. James Reynolds is one of the biggest creators/producers in network television. He has more than half a dozen hit shows running on a major network. Every show he’s launched in the last decade has enjoyed a good run. The shortest was five seasons. Christie’s news is great. It also means she’ll need to relocate to the East Coast. Now, I understand why Tam wanted to talk to Addy in person before Memorial Day weekend.
“Em?”
“Does Tam want to leave the production company?” I ask.
“No. But she’ll understand if it’s what you and Addy need her to do.”
I’m at a loss for words.
“Emma?”
“I’m sorry. I’m trying to process.”
“I have to say, I didn’t expect this reaction. I knew you’d be?—”
“I’m not upset at all,” I explain. “It’s not that.”
“It’s something.”
“Addy gave me a new project to look at today,” I tell Christie.
“And you think it’s something you’ll need Tam to get greenlighted?”
I groan. “Tam is a huge asset with every project.”
“But?” Christie asks.
“I think Addy is hoping I’ll sign on.”
“Do you mean as an actor?”
“Yes.”
“Em, you’ve worked since you moved to Kansas. I’m sure you guys can make the schedule work. Features?—”
“It’s not a film.”
“Oh shit,” Christie says. “It’s a series?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you think Addison wants to move back to LA?”
“I think we both miss home.”
“You are home, Em.”
I chuckle uncomfortably. “We are, and I love it here. We all do. Lately, I feel like Dorothy in Oz instead of Emmie in Kansas.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Don’t misunderstand me. It’s nice to be Emmie. But there aren’t people here who I can talk to about?—”
“About what makes you tick,” Christie guesses.
“What makes me tick beyond the kids.”
“So, is it Addy who wants to move?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. I chuckle again. “Noah will be in preschool in the fall, Chris. He can go full days. And to be honest, I think he should. The girls will both be in school full-time. He loves me, but he’s happiest with other children. What do I do with my days?”
“Ironic, isn’t it?” Christie asks.
I laugh. It is ironic. When we came to Kansas, Tam and Sandra had both just learned they were pregnant. They both imagined us raising our kids like cousins—one big family. We’ve done our best to remain close—to keep our kids close, but it’s not the same as living a car ride away from each other. I’m confident Addy’s thoughts run along the same line as mine. We’re both contemplating coming back together, and Tam and Christie are about to move across the country.
“I suppose it is,” I admit. “I hope you realize I’m happy for you?”
“I know,” Christie replies. “You’ll figure it out, Emma. You and Addy always do.”
“I hope so.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Are you worried Addy won’t want to move now that Tam and I need to relocate?”
“I don’t know.”
“I mean, you could occupy the house again while we’re in Boston.”
“At this rate, we should make that house into a commune,” I say.
Christie laughs. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“Communal living? Given the obsession for Kool-Aid our wives and kids have, I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”
I burst out laughing. Christie and I have been friends for twenty years. She gets me, and I get her. And that goes far beyond the common ground we share as actors.
“You can see it, can’t you?” Christie asks. “Tam sitting in front of the pool with big sunglasses. Addison is passing the Kool-Aid around.”
The Jim Jones reference is wholly inappropriate and exactly my brand of humor—something only those closest to me understand. “It would make a great spoof,” I say. “Like Scary Movie, only done cult style.”
Christie laughs so hard she snorts. “Who is the writer in your family?” she teases me.
My laughing slowly subsides, and I sigh—again.
“Em? Come on; we always land on our feet—all of us. Tell me about this project Addison has dreamed up.”
“Mom? Mom!”
I flinch slightly at the decibel of Vicki’s voice. “What?”
Vicki looks at me with a mixture of concern and curiosity. “Are you sick?”
“What? No. Why do you ask that?”
“You’re quiet.”
I smile at Vicki and pat the cushion beside me, directing her to sit next to me on the couch. I tried my best to hide my fear from the kids when I learned about my cancer and the required surgery. Addison and I sat Vicki and Hannah down for a long, gentle talk to explain the situation and reassure them everything would be okay. Fortunately, Hannah is still in a stage where she trusts what we say. Vicki may project bravado, but deep down, she is incredibly sensitive, especially when it comes to my feelings. Looking back, I realize I had retreated into myself during those weeks. Not that I wanted to distance myself from my family; I needed time alone to come to terms with the reality of my diagnosis. On the other hand, Addy copes by staying busy and attempting to fix things. I prefer having space and quiet to process my thoughts and emotions.
“I’m sorry, Vicki,” I say.
“I can help.”
I feel tears gathering in my eyes. It’s bittersweet—watching your children grow. Vicki still possesses a youthful innocence, but little by little, I can see how her innocence transforms into awareness. There are days when I see a hint of the woman she will become. That might sound ridiculous to some people. Vicki will be nine in less than a month. She’s always enjoyed being with adults—both listening to our conversations and offering us her assessments. It’s been both amusing and frustrating. If there are “old souls” who walk the earth, Victoria is one of them.
“I know you can help,” I reply. “I’m not sick, sweetheart. I promise.”
Vicki frowns.
“Vicki,” I begin cautiously. “Everyone is okay. I was just reading something Momma wrote. I guess I was a little engrossed in it when you came into the room.”
I pause, giving Vicki a chance to respond. As always, she's analyzing me, trying to read my emotions. It's hard to predict what career path Vicki might choose. She has a natural intuition. Addy and my mother often say she reminds them of me. We both experience emotions intensely, which is one reason I love acting—it allows me to connect with other people's feelings. But I can't walk into a room and immediately sense another person's emotions like Vicki can.
Vicki shakes her head. “Mom,” she says somewhat sternly. “Something is bothering you. I can tell.”
My lips curl into a genuine smile. “No, honey. I’m just trying to figure something out.”
“About what Momma wrote?”
“About what to do with what Momma wrote.”
“Is it another movie?” Vicki asks.
“No. I suppose it could be.”
“Is it for you?”
“I’m not sure. A lot of people could play the role she’s created.”
Vicki rolls her eyes. “It’s for you.”
I laugh. “Probably.”
“Don’t you want to do it?”
I sigh.
“Oh,” Vicki says.
“Oh? What’s oh mean?”
“You don’t want to leave to do it.”
“Vicki, I would never leave you.”
“Yeah, I know. You don’t want to leave here.”
“I like being home with you,” I reply.
Vicki shrugs.
“Are you sick of me being home?” I tease her.
“No. But you can leave us, you know? I mean, to work. Me and Hannah will help with Noah.”
“I know you will. Don’t worry so much about me.”
“You miss work.”
“Sometimes. But I miss you when I’m working,” I tell her.
“Yeah, but me and Hannah will be at school all day next year.”
“Did Momma or Grandma say something to you?”
“Nah. They don’t talk to me about that kind of stuff. I can just tell. You’re bored.”
Bored? I may be a bit restless. I don’t have the time to be bored. “I don’t think I could ever be bored in this family.”
Vicki looks at me, purses her lips, and then folds her arms across her chest. I raise a brow at her.
“It’s because we’d have to move, huh?”
It isn’t often my children stun me into silence. I have no idea how Vicki would reach that conclusion.
“It is,” she says.
“Vicki.”
Vicki shrugs. “Uncle Jeff moved. Amber moved.”
Amber is Vicki’s friend from school. She moved last summer to New Hampshire. They take turns calling each other on Fridays after school, and they also write and send each other photos through an email account we set up.
“That’s true,” I agree. “But this is our home.”
Vicki shrugs again.
“Vicki?”
“Don’t you ever miss our old house?”
My heart clenches. There are still moments when I wish I could go home to the house we had in Los Angeles. And sometimes, as much as I enjoy visiting Tam and Christie, it’s hard for me to walk into our old home and see their furniture. It was my first house. It was the place where Addy and I began our relationship and had our first two children. Every nook and cranny of that place holds memories for me. I sometimes forget it’s a place that also holds special memories for Vicki. I know my kids adore their grandparents, and they enjoy spending time with my brother’s family, but listening to Vicki, I’m beginning to understand she misses our old life more than I realized.
“Sometimes I do miss it,” I admit.
“Me too.”
“You miss the pool,” I say with a wink.
“Yeah. But I miss Tam and Christie the most.”
“I know you do, Sprout.”
Vicki rolls her eyes.
“I haven’t called you that in a while, have I? Too old for that now?”
“Nah. I’m just glad you didn’t make it my name.”
I nod.
“No way. Did you want to name me Sprout?”
I laugh. “No. Although, I think your grandmother worried I might.”
“She’s silly.”
“She certainly can be,” I agree.
“Mom?”
“Hm?”
“Never mind.”
“No. No. Tell me,” I say.
“Just—if you ever want to move, it’s okay.”
“Vicki? Did something happen at school or?—”
Another roll of Vicki’s eyes precedes her reply. “Geez, Mom.”
“Geez, Mom?”
“School is good,” Vicki says.
“I guess I’m not sure where this is coming from.”
“You and Momma like to work.”
“We work.”
“Yeah, but not like you used to.”
“We didn’t always have three kids,” I remind my daughter.
“Yeah, I know. Auntie Christie still works. Auntie Sarah works, too.”
Sarah is my sister-in-law. She’s a fourth-grade teacher. “That’s all true. I like being here with you.”
“But you like working, too.”
It’s evident to me attempting to placate Vicki with generalities isn’t going to work. She’s also incredibly curious and intelligent. God help me; I never imagined this kind of heart-to-heart talk with my eight-year-old. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “You’re right,” I admit. “And sometimes, I miss going to work in the morning. The thing is, if I was on a set, I would miss you.”
“You’d still be with us, Mom. It just wouldn’t be all day.”
“True. Are you sure this is about me?”
Vicki lifts a brow at me, and I chuckle.
“What’s the story about that Momma wrote?” Vicki asks.
“It’s about a professional single woman who ends up having custody of three young children and all the chaos that erupts in her life.”
That’s an oversimplification of Addy’s new series’ outline. I’ve told her for years she should write comedy. Addy has a wonderful ability to find humor in nearly everything. The draft of the pilot script is funny and moving—one of Addy’s finest. I haven’t read anything that excited me as much as an actor or moved me as much as a person since Addy gave me the pilot of Off Screen to read. The truth is I would love to play the role—I want to play it. She set the show in Los Angeles. I’m certain there was a reason for that. And it works. I’m not sure she’ll be as enthusiastic about producing a show in LA without Tamara. I massage my eyes and groan.
“Mom?”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t you like it?” Vicki asks.
“I love it.”
“So? What are you trying to figure out?”
“What?”
“You said you were trying to figure something out,” Vicki reminds me. She points to the script. “Is it about that?”
“In a way, I guess it is.”
Vicki leans forward.
“I hadn’t planned to tell you this,” I say.
“You are sick.”
“No. Stop thinking the worst,” I tell my daughter. “Christie got a new job.”
“On Momma’s show?”
“No.” I giggle. “Although I’m sure once she reads it, she’ll wish it could be.” I take another deep breath. “She’s going to play a detective on a show in Boston.”
“Cool. Does she get to live there?”
Addy’s father still lives in Maine. We often fly into Boston and spend a few days before making the drive to Adam’s house. Vicki fell in love with the aquarium, and the kids all love the Museum of Science. It’s never a chore to get our kids excited about a trip to the East Coast.
“Actually, Vicki, Auntie Tam, and Auntie Christie will be living there—or somewhere close to Boston.”
“So, we get to visit them there?”
“I’m sure we will,” I reply with a half-hearted smile.
“How come you seem sad? Is it because of our old house?”
Truthfully, I haven’t thought much about what might happen to the house. I doubt Christie will want to sell it right away. If anything, I imagine she and Tam will look to sell the house they’ve kept in Vancouver. “No,” I reply honestly. “It’s just a long way from here.”
Vicki’s face scrunches up, and she shakes her head. “We have to fly to see them just like we fly to Grandpa’s.”
Out of the mouth of babes. “That’s true.”
Vicki’s gaze narrows, and she leans closer to me. “Oh.”
“Oh?”
“We were gonna move back, huh?”
“What?”
“To Los Angeles,” Vicki says.
“No.”
“Do you want to move there?”
“Vicki, I promise you, Momma and I haven’t discussed moving anywhere—at all.”
“But you want to.”
“No.” I surprise myself with my candor. “The show Momma wrote takes place in LA.”
Vicki considers my information. “Does it have to?” she asks.
“Huh?”
“Does it have to happen in Los Angeles?” she asks.
“I don’t know. I suppose it could work in another city.”
Vicki gloats. “Then you could go to Boston!”
I stare at my daughter for a moment. As God is my witness, I never considered the possibility of setting the show in another city. And I certainly never entertained the notion of relocating my family anyplace besides California.
“You like it there,” Vicki says.
“I like a lot of places. I love it here.”
“You loved Los Angeles, too.”
I did. “Vicki.”
Vicki holds up a hand. “I get in, Mom.”
I can’t help myself. I chuckle and raise a brow. “What do you get?”
“You kind of want to be everywhere, huh? I mean, like where all our family lives.”
She’s got me there.
“Grandma says you can’t be with anybody all the time, but it doesn’t change how much you love them.”
“It’s not quite that simple, sweetie.”
“I think you guys should do it.”
“Do what?”
“Make another TV show,” Vicki says.
“Vicki, you love it here, and?—”
“I love you, Mom.”
Vicki’s words leave me breathless.
“Oh, no. You're not gonna cry, are you?” Vicki asks.
I sniffle back my tears and shake my head.
“Don’t get mushy,” Vicki says. “I mean, it’d be really cool if you were in Star Wars or something—imagine where we could live?”
I know Vicki understands TV shows aren’t taped in outer space—even ones about galactic empires and space travel.
“Or like a princess. Then you’d be in a castle.”
This conversation seems more age-appropriate, and I smile. “You realize we wouldn’t live in a castle?”
“Yeah, but you’d work in a castle.”
“Or on a set,” I remind her.
“Yeah, one that looks like a castle!”
“Well, I’m afraid I haven’t had any offers to pilot spaceships or slay dragons.”
“Maybe if you do Momma’s show, someone will ask you,” Vicki says with a grin.
“Victoria, is the entire reason you want me to go back to work so you can pretend to be a princess?”
“Nooooo.”
I burst into laughter.
“No,” Vicki says. “I just think you want to.”
I sigh.
It surprises me when Vicki leans close and kisses my cheek. “You take care of everyone, Mom. You should get to have fun, too.” She leaps up from the sofa and smiles. “But if we move to Boston, I want to work in the aquarium when I’m old enough!” Vicki flashes me a grin and heads toward the kitchen.
I shake my head. “Oh, boy.” I pick up the script and flip to the first page.
INT. Emma’s Rowlands’ Car
We hear the beeping of horns as Emma sits in traffic. Her phone buzzes, and she moves to grab it, spilling the coffee in her hand all over her blazer.
I scratch my head and turn back to the synopsis of the show.
“Emma Rowland is a successful entertainment lawyer living in a swanky beachside home in Malibu. It’s not the fulfilling career she envisioned, but it keeps her busy. She spends her days and nights tirelessly preparing to assist clients with contacts and negotiations, all while actively avoiding personal relationships. Her only close friend is Kate Morrisey, her former college roommate and girlfriend (known only by Kate and her wife, Nia). Kate owns a local LGBTQ bar and restaurant called Idgie’s.
Emma’s on-again-off-again boyfriend, fellow lawyer Dennis MacMillan, wants to make their relationship permanent, but Emma continuously dodges the conversation.
A year ago, Emma’s mother, Claudia, passed away, leaving Emma feeling adrift without her anchor. Her father, Geoffrey, a successful businessman and investor, was always traveling for work. While he attended Emma’s milestone events, he was rarely home for more than a few days at a time, and she’s learned to be content with the occasional visit and weekly phone call from her father.
Emma’s predictable life takes an unexpected turn when she receives the news that her father has been killed in a car accident. She travels to Florida to identify his body and meet with his attorney, only to discover a shocking secret: Geoffrey Rowland had been carrying on a ten-year affair with Jenna Maddox, a 33-year-old bartender in his favorite watering hole. Not only that but he’s been married to Jenna since shortly after Emma’s mother’s death and has kept it all a secret from Emma.
To make matters worse, Geoffrey has three young children with Jenna: Willow (7), Meadow (4), and Geoffrey Jr. (1). With both of Jenna’s parents deceased, Emma becomes the legal guardian of her siblings. Without warning, Emma’s world flips upside down in ways surpassing even her wildest imagination.
Things take an interesting turn when Kate suggests Emma hire Chloe, a friend from her high school days, as a nanny. Chloe, a 35-year-old music teacher, recently moved to LA after catching her girlfriend in bed with the principal at her school back in Boston. Emma, with no other choice, reluctantly agrees to hire Chloe as a live-in nanny. Little does she realize her choice will transform everything she believes about herself and the life she wants to lead. Emma is about to face the one thing she has managed to avoid her entire adult life—becoming “Domesticated.”
“Well, she’s always said she finds value in my red pen,” I muse. I grab the papers, head into Addy’s office, and retrieve my trust red pen. “So, Emma, where should life take you?”