Chapter Four #2
I move through the woods, again emerging from the trees near the iron archway.
I march beneath it, following the stone path toward the main house.
On my way, I glance at each cottage as I pass.
To my right are No. 1, my cottage, and No.
2, which belongs to Heather, who presumably is still behind it, listening to Susie shit-talk me.
Susie’s cottage, No. 3, is the first one on the left, followed by Julianne in No. 4.
After ducking under a low-hanging branch of the massive oak, I’m at the main house itself, hopping up the porch steps and past the hex sign carved next to them. Inside the house, I head straight to the only place I’m familiar with—the parlor.
Inside, I find Brad futzing with the candlesticks and mahogany box atop the sideboard. My sudden burst into the room startles him. There’s a sharp intake of air, followed by the clang of brass hitting brass.
“Sorry,” I say, momentarily distracted by the candlesticks and ornate box. “What are you doing?”
“Getting ready for tonight.”
“What’s tonight?”
“Ronan wants to hold a séance,” Brad says with a shrug. “When in Rome, and all that.”
I think about the séance in the script. The inciting incident from which the rest of the scary story flows. Re-creating that—in the same location it allegedly happened, no less—again strikes me as a very bad idea.
“Do all of us have to take part?”
“I’m afraid so,” Brad says. “Ronan’s orders.”
“Speaking of Ronan, have you seen him?”
Brad points to the ceiling. “He’s in his room upstairs. Last door on the left.”
I retreat back down the hall and head to the stairs, taking them two at a time.
There’s another hallway here, tighter than the one downstairs.
Hotter, too. The narrow walls and low ceiling trap the late-August heat, making the place stuffier than an attic.
Beads of sweat form on my brow as I turn left, heading for the closed door at the end of hall.
Before knocking, I pause to collect my thoughts. I have no idea what I’m going to say to Ronan. It’s probably not a good idea to say anything. But I have too many questions and concerns to remain silent. Whether it’s wise or not, I knock.
Ronan answers the door immediately, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. A faint hint of a smile that lets me know he’s been anticipating my arrival.
“Why did you hire me?” I blurt out. Not the smoothest move.
“Because you’re a great actress.”
“But you’ve never seen me act. You’ve only seen me tell a ghost story.”
“Which is all I needed to make an informed decision,” Ronan says.
“But it’s such a big part.”
“Are you saying you no longer want to do it?”
“I’m not sure I can do it,” I say, which—let’s be honest—is my real concern, despite still being pissed at Susie and having lingering questions about LG’s departure.
“Then why did you audition?”
“Because I didn’t think I’d get cast.”
Ronan opens the door wider in silent invitation.
I peek inside, where several oil lamps illuminate a space the same size as my entire cottage.
The master suite, most likely. It’s broken up into several smaller rooms that lead into each other.
Sitting room. Bedroom. Bathroom that’s larger and fancier than my own, but no less old-fashioned.
All the windows are open, the fresh air a coolish balm against the unrelenting heat of the hallway.
After I enter, Ronan leaves the door open.
A small but important sign that Susie’s wrong and he doesn’t plan on seducing me or the other way around.
Next he closes the door to the bedroom, another gentlemanly gesture that puts me at ease.
When I drop into a chair in the sitting room, he takes the one farthest away from me.
“Marin, it doesn’t matter if you think you can do it,” he says. “What matters is that I think you can.”
“Why did the actress previously cast as Daisy quit?” I say.
“Why does that matter?”
“Because she texted me today.”
Ronan’s mouth forms a perfect O of surprise. He might have been expecting me, but he clearly wasn’t expecting this. “Lindy texted you?”
“Is that her name?”
“Yes,” Ronan says. “Lindy Garrett.”
The name doesn’t sound familiar, making me assume she’s just like me. An unknown whose initials are stitched on the velvet bag in which my phone now rests. I wonder if she’s sent more texts—and what they say.
“She told me I’d regret coming to the island,” I say. “Why would she do that?”
“Likely because she’s pissed about being fired,” Ronan says.
“I was told she dropped out.”
“Because that’s nicer than saying Loretta got rid of her.”
The news lands like a grenade. “Wait. Loretta fired her?”
“She’s the sole producer. Obviously, I get a say in casting, but not in this case.
Honestly, I’m still confused by what happened.
Lindy had been cast for a month. And I thought both of us agreed she’d be great in the role.
Then, literally a week ago, Loretta told me out of the blue that she had fired Lindy.
It didn’t matter that filming was about to start and that we were left in the lurch.
Loretta was adamant that Lindy had to go. ”
“Did she say why?” I ask, my self-doubt suddenly amplified.
“All she told me was that Lindy wouldn’t work out,” Ronan says. “And that it was my job to find a better replacement. Immediately.”
That’s where I come in. What remains unknown is if, in the minds of Ronan and, especially, Loretta, I’ll work out better than my predecessor.
“From what you’ve seen so far, am I a more suitable choice than Lindy?”
“It’s impossible to make a direct comparison,” Ronan says, tugging at the handkerchief around his neck as if it were a noose and not a pretentious accessory.
“Lindy was intense. During her audition, she came off slightly deranged. Which I thought absolutely worked for the character of Daisy. But none of that matters now. You’re here, I’m happy that you’re here, and I think you’re going to be great. ”
“Why are you so certain? I have zero experience.”
“That’s why I’m here. To guide your performance to where it needs to be. Your job is to remain open, fearless, and in the moment, just like you were during your audition.”
“But it wasn’t an audition,” I say, more frustrated than when I entered. “I told a story. What about that impressed you so much?”
Ronan takes a moment to think about it, again pulling on his neckerchief. A nervous tic I wonder if he’s aware of. “You allowed yourself to be vulnerable.”
That much is true. During my audition, I revealed my darkest secret, my private pain.
I still don’t quite understand why. I’m sure part of it was simply the result of being swept up in the moment.
I was an actress with nothing to lose in a small audition room with a big-time director I was certain I’d never see again.
But I suppose the biggest reason was that I needed to finally unburden myself.
Ronan, with his keen interest and intense gaze, made it easy.