Acting Up (6 page)

Elizabeth pointed out a tween girl and a boy about the twins' age. “My other two kids, Susie and JJ.” She pointed to a younger brown-haired boy who was presently taking apart a toy truck. “Diana's oldest, Matty.”

Addison would never get all the names straight, but she nodded at each child.

Caroline put an arm around Addison's shoulders. “Dinner is a ways off. Why don't I fetch you something to drink and you can get to know everyone?”

“Sure.”

“Wonderful. You sit and relax.”

The dinner was the wildest event she'd been to in years. She couldn't remember the last meal she'd had with children present. At the parties she'd attended, children might be trotted out for viewings in their crisply ironed mini-adult fashions, but they were always quickly shuttled away. The Thomas children talked. All the time. They giggled and whispered secrets, which led to more high-pitched fits of laughter. They did say please and thank you, though in the case of the younger ones, it often came with a gentle reminder after the fact.

After dinner, Lori and her sister herded the younger ones out to the back yard. The decibel level inside the house dropped instantly. The men cleared the table while Caroline, Elizabeth, and Diana stored the leftover food and put the dishes in the dishwasher. Caroline refused to let Addison help, so she ended up standing on the sidelines watching them.

Addison marveled at their efficiency and grace. The trio had obviously performed the ritual many times before. The women navigated the kitchen like they were part of a choreographed dance. Their movements were accompanied by laughter and shared glances, a silent language that spoke of their deep affection.

At one point Jake came into the kitchen with a bowl, and as he placed it on the counter, he wrapped an arm around Elizabeth and kissed the back of her neck.

Elizabeth giggled. “I hope that's my husband.”

Diana snapped a dishrag at them. “Hey, wait till you get home.”

A sharp knife of envy plunged into Addison's chest. The searing jolt ripped through her body so sharply she was surprised actual blood didn't start oozing from the wound. She sought out a safe place to look, only to have her gaze collide with Ethan's. Although his face was impassive, she knew in an instant he was feeling the same stab of pain.

After a long moment he inclined his head, and she followed him to the deck out back. The kids were engaged in some kind of game involving a lot of running and shouting. The chaotic sound was a welcome balm. Addison went to the edge of the deck and leaned against the railing, watching them as they played. She sensed Ethan walk up beside her.

“How do you stand being around them all the time?” she asked.

“It was hard at first,” he said. “These weekly dinners turned into a special kind of torture. Even now the bite can still sneak up on me.” He turned to face her. “Listen, I was a bit of a jerk the other day.”

Addison didn't deny his statement. She simply waited to see where he was planning to go.

“My mom said she found you sitting out in the yard,” he said. “Looked like you'd been there a long time.”

“I was enjoying the weather.”

“She thinks you're depressed.”

“Great. Now I'm embarrassed,” she said, covering her face. “I sat down in a chair outside. Then I started thinking about my life and it wasn't pretty. I couldn't see much reason to keep going.”

“What you need is something to do,” a voice said from behind them.

They both turned as Caroline stepped onto the deck.

“Why do I think you have a suggestion?” Ethan asked with a wry twist of his lips.

“I came out to see if you two wanted coffee,” Mrs. Thomas said. “I couldn't help overhearing. As I was saying… Addison, it's going to be a few weeks before your aunt comes home. If you stay cooped up by yourself, you're going to wind up right back in the yard staring at the grass.”

“Should I go out and find a job?” Addison asked. “I'm not qualified for much.”

“Have you ever thought of directing a musical?” Curiously, she kept her gaze trained on her son.

Ethan folded his arms and regarded his mother with suspicion. “What are you doing?”

She gave him a breezy smile. “How many conversations have we had in my kitchen over the last couple weeks about the trouble you've been having finding a director to replace Mrs. Vanderlin? And all the chaos Mrs. Turney is threatening to cause?”

Ethan's frown deepened. “Mom…”

“You haven't found anyone since the last gripe session, have you?”

His jaw clenched. “I asked Meredith Vining.”

“Isn't she going to be in Nashville recording an album?”

“Yes, which is why she can't do it.”

Addison had no idea who they were talking about, but she knew exactly what Caroline Thomas was suggesting. For a moment Addison was so shocked she couldn't even react. Was Caroline going to suggest Addison star in the show, too? Talk about causing a stir on the pages of every entertainment magazine in the country.

“I'm sorry, but what's the big deal about this musical?” Addison asked.

Ethan gave a deep sigh. “Meredith Vining is the closest thing this town has to a celebrity…”

Addison arched a brow.

“…until you came back,” he finished. “She got her start doing the school musicals, and now everyone seems to think Covington Falls High is their ticket to stardom.”

“I see,” Addison said. “I'm not sure—”

“I understand,” Ethan said with a warning glance at his mother. “It's a crazy idea.”

The sting of rejection pinched Addison's nerves. He could at least give her a chance to say no. “Perhaps not crazy. I've just never directed anything before, let alone a musical with teenagers. I'm not even sure I like teenagers.”

“You see?” Ethan said. “Don't worry about it, Mom. I'll find someone else. One of the other teachers.”

“Who?”

There went the clenched jaw again. “I'll think of someone.”

Caroline held up her hands, as if knowing she'd pushed enough. “Do what you feel is best,” she said, before focusing on Addison again. “No matter what, I hope you do take my advice and find something to occupy your time while you're here. I meant it when I said it's not good for you to sit and stew about your life.”

“I'll come up with something,” Addison said. “Figuring out how to resuscitate my career should be a full-time job.”

Caroline didn't look convinced, but chose not to say anything more.

After saying goodnight to everyone, Addison headed back to her aunt's. She went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. The stillness in the house should have been a welcome respite after all the activity at Caroline's, but all it did was remind Addison she was alone. In desperation she dug her cell phone out of her purse.

What she needed was a bit of good news. She dialed her agent. Shirley Bascom was also a friend. She'd taken Addison on as a complete unknown and had shown unwavering support throughout the ordeal with Merrick.

Shirley picked up the phone on the second ring. “Addison. Did you make it to Carrington Falls all right?”

“Covington Falls, and yes, I did.”

She chuckled. “Sorry. How is your aunt?”

“She's doing fine, but she won't be able to come home for several weeks.”

“Mmm. Yes, elderly people need to be careful with those injuries. So, are you going mad there in your hamlet hideaway?”

“Of course not.”

Her laughter pealed again. “I can't believe you're a successful actor. You never could lie very well. So, what's up, my love?”

Addison stared out the window over the sink. The full moon cast a romantic glow over the back yard. “Any news yet?”

Shirley sighed. “Addison, I told you rebuilding your career would take time. Since the big news is out — you did see the announcement, right?”

She turned away from the moonlight and leaned against the counter. “About Merrick and Angela? Yes.”

“Well, the engagement is all anyone wants to talk about right now. Listen, people will forget, it's—”

“Going to take time. I know. I was hoping the time was going to be short.”

“Now, don't give up. We'll get back in the game when the time is right.”

“Great, I might really be forced to take a job directing a bunch of high school kids.”

“High school kids?”

Addison walked into the little breakfast nook and sat down. “My neighbor's son is the principal of the high school. Their regular drama teacher is going to China to adopt a baby, and she could be gone for weeks or months.”

“And this affects you how?”

“She can't direct the spring musical. It's a pretty big deal around here, and my neighbor suggested I step in.”

“Direct the kids' play?”

“Yeah. Crazy, right?”

Shirley went silent.

“Shirley?”

“Do it.”

Addison about dropped the phone. “What?”

“Addison, do you realize the kind of publicity you could get from something like this? ‘Hollywood star saves the show for her hometown.' It's a gold mine.”

“I don't know anything about directing a musical.”

“Honey, you can handle one show. It's a bunch of kids, not Broadway. I'm telling you, take the job.”

“You're serious.”

“I'm always serious. Call them tonight.”

“Shirley—”

“Do it. Tonight.”

She hung up. Addison stared at the phone. Even as she walked back to Caroline's, she wondered what she was doing. She rang the bell and had to fight the urge to turn right around and run away.

Elizabeth answered the door. “Hi… did you forget something?”

“Can you get Ethan?”

After a puzzled glance, Elizabeth went to get him.

Ethan appeared at the door a moment later. “Addison, are you all right?”

“Do you still need a director for your musical?”

He arched a brow. “I haven't found anyone in the last fifteen minutes.”

“Okay then, when are the auditions?”

Audition number twenty-five.

Number twenty-five had chosen the show-stopping number from the musical about singing felines as her audition song. Addison wanted to stop the madness right now. The girl on stage went for the big note. The resounding caterwaul was enough to make real cats arch their backs and hiss. Invisible fingernails raked down a chalkboard and lodged in Addison's spine.

Auditions. Hour two. Minute thirty-seven. She must have been out of her mind.

“Shoot me,” Addison said under her breath.

“I didn't think anyone could be worse than the last girl.”

Addison glanced to her left. Marjorie Shannon had introduced herself earlier as Addison's assistant director. Marjorie was a pretty woman in her mid-forties, who taught English and creative writing. With her red-gold hair, freckles, and a generous smile, she reminded Addison of a grown-up Laura Ingalls Wilder. Marjorie also had to be the most cheerful person Addison had ever met. So far, she hadn't said a critical word about anyone, and if
her
patience was thinning, Addison knew she'd never survive till the end of the day.

“You mean the girl who tried to reenact
Gone with the Wind
and played all the characters? Even the male ones?”

The other woman bit her lip. “She was original anyway.”

“Original and creepy. A lisping, feminine Rhett is a crime against humanity.”

Marjorie popped out of her seat. “Thank you, Georgiana.”

Georgiana squinted out into the auditorium. “I'm only on the first verse.”

“We have so many people to get through. You understand. Joe Larson!” Marjorie yelled. “You're next.”

Joe Larson was six-five with a girth the mid-'80s' Arnold Schwarzenegger would have envied.

“Good grief,” Addison gasped. “I've never seen anyone so big.”

“Football,” Marjorie drawled.

“Or the WWF.”

Joe opened his mouth and began to sing about a beautiful morning. Addison's morning took another nosedive. The corn wilted as number twenty-six mangled his audition song. He might have been worse than the shrieking cat girl. Addison now understood why the judges on those reality talent shows were so cranky all the time.

Addison groaned. “It's getting ugly in here. Is it possible he doesn't know how flat he is?”

Marjorie stared at the stage in disbelief. “Must not.”

Addison wasn't sure getting her career back was worth having her eardrums permanently damaged. What good was positive publicity if she couldn't hear the reports about her triumphant comeback?

Addison had arrived at the school earlier to find hordes of kids packed into the auditorium. They'd been everywhere, sitting on top of one another, sprawled all over the floor, and standing in the aisles. According to Ethan ninety-nine percent of the student body had turned out when they'd realized a celebrity was going to direct. About ninety-eight percent of them made her wish she were deaf. In the two hours and thirty-seven minutes since they'd started, Addison had seen only two boys and three girls who could even carry a tune. Not good voices, but not so bad she wanted to pull a Van Gogh and cut off her ear. Which was a problem.