Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Delilah stifled an enormous yawn as she stepped off the plane. She longed for a cup of good coffee, and she felt sluggish and bleary-eyed after trying to sleep on her twelve-hour flight.
She tugged her carry-on suitcase along behind her. It made a kind of whirring sound as it rolled across the airport carpet, sounding as if it were some kind of eager little robot.
I wish I felt as awake and eager as my suitcase sounds, she thought with a chuckle. I feel half-alive right now, and I probably look it. I’ve got to find some place to freshen up.
She didn’t know if she would encounter any paparazzi in the airport, but she wanted to be prepared in case she did.
She’d learned the hard way that cameramen were likely to pop up when you least expected it, and that petty little magazines were always happy to post pictures of celebrities looking frazzled and fatigued.
She passed a row of windows that looked out onto the airfield.
Past the cement landing strips she could see a line of trees, and far beyond that a hint of blue that promised the ocean.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in Connecticut.
It made her think of clams and lobsters and snaggle-toothed fishermen.
She didn’t have anything against Connecticut, but her aching bones made her wish that she was on her way to a luxurious seaside resort instead of a little hotel that probably only had a five-star rating online because no one with high standards ever went there.
She found a women’s restroom and was pleased to discover that it was empty.
She pulled her makeup case from her carry-on and went to work on her appearance.
She applied a hint of blush, just enough to look natural but still wake up her face, a sheer foundation, and mascara.
She finished it all off with a dusting of powder and makeup setting spray.
The whole process took her less than two minutes.
She was used to making herself look good, and she didn’t want someone to walk in on her, Delilah Bates, the movie star, putting on her makeup out of a little cloth bag that had a hole in the corner and little faded strawberries on it.
Her mother had given her the bag many years ago and she adored it, but she’d been mocked by her peers about it on several occasions.
She heard someone walk past the bathroom and she looked up, wondering if it was paparazzi—and if they would try to come inside.
She hadn’t met up with the rest of the team that was going to make the movie yet, and she wasn’t used to traveling alone like this.
In the big cities, she was usually accompanied by a bodyguard and several other people.
The footsteps continued, however, and she found herself breathing a sigh of relief. Being famous was often exhausting, and she was already exhausted from lack of sleep.
Time for that coffee, she thought, looking her reflection in the eye and smiling.
She left the bathroom and made her way to the main part of the airport. As she stepped out of the narrow hallway into the lobby, her jaw dropped. She had never been in an airport that small before in her life.
It was beautiful, certainly. She loved the art hanging from the glass ceiling, made of colored soda bottles and old coins. It was imaginative and yet simple, and she pulled out her phone to take a picture of it.
The size, however, was not at all what she’d anticipated. She could see from one end of the airport lobby to the other, and it was clear that there were no paparazzi lying in wait for her. She chuckled and made her way over to a little coffee shop that was releasing heavenly aromas.
She ordered a latte and looked around the airport while she waited.
Through a line of windows she could see flower beds bordering the road, and past the airport parking lot was a cluster of buildings made mostly from red brick that looked as though they’d been around for many years.
The place was pleasant, certainly, but it was also Podunk.
“Here you are,” the barista said with a smile, and handed her the latte. Delilah accepted it gratefully, wondering if the young woman knew who she was. If she did, she wasn’t letting on. Delilah felt pleased by that. It was nice to go unrecognized for a little while.
She found a comfortable corner of the lobby to wait in and parked herself in an armchair next to a small fountain.
She took a sip of the latte and was pleasantly surprised to find that the quality was excellent.
She grunted with relief and took another sip, eager to let the caffeine rewrite her energy levels.
As she sipped her coffee and waited, she felt a kind of peaceful feeling sweep over her.
She wasn’t used to being in a place this quiet.
If she wasn’t surrounded by a film crew, she was usually out and about at some L.A.
event or another. She seemed always to be surrounded by buzzing excitement and noise.
And although she’d loved the excitement for many years, she had to admit to herself that it was starting to wear on her.
This will be a nice break, she thought, downing the last of her latte in one final gulp. It will be nice to be somewhere peaceful like this before I go back to the hustle and bustle of L.A.
Before long, a group of sophisticated-looking people spilled out of another hallway into the lobby, and Delilah felt sure that she’d found some of the movie crew. Sure enough, a moment later, she recognized the director, Carla Mackenzie, who waved at her eagerly.
Delilah went to join them and was soon bolstered by their energy and enthusiasm. They’d arrived that morning from L.A. and had significantly more energy than she did—not to mention the fact that two of them were at least ten years younger than Delilah.
After they’d all introduced themselves and exchanged pleasantries, Carla stepped to the side, excusing herself.
“Let me just order us a cab,” she said, pulling out her cellphone. “Everyone else should have arrived at our hotel in Rosewood Beach by now and we should get going.”
Rosewood Beach. Delilah felt a strange thrill when she heard it said out loud. Had Carla said it with a kind of dramatic flair? She didn’t think so. But when she’d heard the name of the town, a kind of shiver of joy had gone up her spine.
I’m just ready for some rest, she thought. I know that this’ll be a fairly restful shoot for me and I’m looking forward to that.
They fetched the rest of their suitcases from the baggage claim, and an Uber arrived for them less than ten minutes later.
Delilah settled herself in the back seat of the car, which was a sleek, clean black SUV. They were a little squished together since there were five of them in the car, and she felt already that this was going to be a production process unlike the glamorous experiences she was used to.
She was grateful to have a window seat, however, instead of being smushed in the middle.
As the car drove out into the countryside along the coast, she nearly pressed her nose to the glass like a child in excitement.
The sight of the sunlight sparkling on the water was breathtaking, as was the sight of the first flushes of green overtaking the spring landscape.
She felt something deep in her core stir, almost as if she was returning to a home that she’d forgotten about.
A few minutes later, they pulled into Rosewood Beach.
Delilah’s eyebrows lifted when she saw Main Street, which looked like something out of a Currier and Ives holiday card.
Most of the buildings were old, giving the town a charming, almost whimsical quality.
The buildings were kept in good repair, and many of them had been painted bright colors.
“Kind of European,” the production manager remarked.
“European?” Carla laughed. “This is small town America at its finest. I just know there’s a tiny little bakery somewhere in this town that makes cupcakes that’ll knock your socks off.”
Delilah laughed. She had to agree with Carla—the place was decidedly quaint, and it had almost a nostalgic quality to it.
It was a far cry from the people-packed, glamorous L.A.
or even the elegantly beautiful Maui—it was a far cry from anywhere she had shot a movie before, in fact.
She had to admit, however, that the place was growing on her.
It had a charm that she hadn’t expected when she’d first learned that they were headed toward a small town that she’d never heard of before.
The cab dropped them off on the far end of Main Street, in front of the quaint old hotel, which looked as though it hadn’t been redecorated since the 1950’s—and in some ways, since the 1890’s. A small printed sign in the window read, “No Check-In Before Noon.”
“Oh, that’s great,” grumbled the production designer. “What are we supposed to do until then?”
Delilah felt a wave of fatigue sweep over her, and she wondered how she was going to manage being stranded on a sidewalk with two suitcases until noon.
In the next moment, however, she got a whiff of something delicious on the wind.
She closed her eyes and breathed in the appetizing scents of bacon and fresh bread.
She turned in the direction of the smells and saw a sign for a restaurant called The Lighthouse Grill.
“Oh, how cute,” she said, laughing a little. “Very on-brand for this place. A lighthouse-themed restaurant. What about going there for a bite to eat everyone? We’ve got time before we can check in, so we should get breakfast.” She suddenly felt famished, and her stomach growled eagerly.
Carla shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think we need to worry. Maybe most people can’t check in before noon, but all we need to do is throw in Delilah’s name, and then they’ll let us all check in early. Rules like that don’t apply to movie stars.”