Catch a Rising Star (20 page)

“Not pay for them. Just loan me the money. It’s not like I’m asking for a handout.”

“Right.” Semantics.

“Oh my gosh. I’ve never seen more beating around the bush.” Dancy stands and snatches the plates from the table. “Laini wants
you to be the one to bring up the subject of her needing to borrow money.”

“What?” I shriek. “You can’t be serious. I can’t bring up money to someone I’ve never even met. I’d be too embarrassed.”

“No,” Laini says. “You’re right. Now that I think about it, it’s not a fair request. It’s not your problem at all.”

“Oh, honestly.” Dancy squirts dish soap into the sink and turns on the water. “Laini, I can easily help you pay for college.
You know I have a trust I’ve never even touched.
I’ll
loan you the money.”

“No. No. No.” Laini shoves up from her chair. “I can’t borrow from my friends. I’d feel like more of a freeloader than I already
do. It’s Grandma, or I give up this silly dream and find an accounting job with one of Daddy’s friends.”

“Okay, I’ll do it.” I can’t watch her give up her dream. Especially when the only thing holding her back is cash.

“Are you sure, Tabs?” Laini asks. “My grandma can be… harsh.”

“Trust me, I have Sharon Blankenship eating from the palm of my hand. I can handle a little old grandma.”

Okay, the very last thing I would call Laini’s grandmother is a “little old grandma.” She’s more your Joan Collins type. Sophisticated,
face- (and other parts) lifted—multiple times unless I miss my guess. But she is obviously delighted to meet me. Mrs. Calhoun’s
house is your basic upper-middle-class offering located on Lido Beach in Long Island. Two stories, columns out front, white
siding, black shutters, well-kept lawn, all situated in a cul-de-sac with six other houses of similar style and quality. I
can’t help but think what a great place this would be to raise a family.

Mrs. Calhoun takes me into her arms as soon as Laini introduces us. “Darling!” she gushes. “How lovely to meet you.”

I’ve had the entire cast sign her taupe duffle bag and when I present it to her, I think she might actually swoon.

She ushers us into a simple but lovely dining room. “We rarely use the dining room,” Mrs. Calhoun confides. “Only on special
occasions.” She smiles a knowing smile.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m honored.”

“Now you two sit down while I go and bring in our meal.”

Laini and I exchange a look and neither of us moves to take a seat. “Grandma, can we please help you?”

“Absolutely not. I can’t allow a guest to set the table.”

If she only knew how many tables I’ve set in my day. “We’d love to help. As a matter of fact, I insist.”

“Well then, we’ll do it together,” she says, obviously making a huge concession. “Since you two insist.” She pats Laini’s
cheek as she passes by. The gesture strikes at my heart. I miss Dad. I haven’t been home since Shelly’s hospital visit, although
I’ve spoken with Dad every day.

I was going to take Shelly home from the hospital, but Brian did the honors and my services weren’t needed. I’m starting to
think that guy’s around to stay. I mean, you never know, but his persistence is definitely giving me reason to hope. That
persistence directed at the right woman is cute and endearing, rather than creepy and annoying, as it was when it was directed
at me.

Mom’s thrilled and doesn’t seem to remember pushing Brian at me at all. She’s acting like this relationship between Shelly
and Brian was all her idea in the first place. Mom’s definitely the queen of denial. Same guy, different daughter, Ma. Oh
well. Other than the fact that now I have no one adoring me—and by the way, he never did give me the Christmas present he
promised—I’m thrilled with the new arrangement.

We accompany Laini’s grandma into the kitchen and carry back stuffed cabbages, salad, and potatoes, which Laini confides have
been mashed with a blend of real butter and cream cheese.

“This smells wonderful,” I say.

“Good, you need to eat,” Mrs. Calhoun says. “You’re much too thin.”

“I have to be thin,” I explain. “It’s the nature of the business. They want me to lose another ten pounds, but so far I can’t
seem to stop eating great food like this.”

She waves her hand in dismissal. “Nonsense. You stick to your guns and be a healthy girl. No one has a right to risk your
health to force you to look like all those other sickly girls.”

Laini’s fighting back a grin; I can tell. And truthfully, I’m fighting it a little myself. I mean, this woman is talking about
me
giving in to pressure from the film and television industry? Hello? Miss Nighttime-soap-opera-heroine-from-the-eighties-look-alike.
Okay, that was a mouthful, but you get my point.

Anyway, the meal is delicious. And afterward, Mrs. Calhoun brings in coffee. This is where I decide it’s time to bring up
the subject. “I really love what you’ve done to this room,” I say, not so subtly.

“This?” Mrs. Calhoun looks around with a keen eye. “It’s rather outdated. I’m considering a remodeling project, but I’m not
sure I have the energy to mess with it.”

I couldn’t have set that one up better if I’d known she was looking to remodel. Sometimes things just work out the way they’re
supposed to. Laini nudges me with her pointed black boots under the table. I’m not sure if she’s saying “shut up” or “get
on with it.” So I’m going for it.

“You know, Laini here has quite an eye for interior design. You should see what she’s done to our apartment. Truly made it
a unique blend of the three of our tastes. Well, actually, Dancy and I really don’t have any taste when it comes to decorating,
but your granddaughter, she’s just marvelous.”

Mrs. Calhoun frowns a little like she isn’t sure what I’m getting at. “Well of course my granddaughter has a remarkable eye—for
an amateur, that is. But of course I’ll hire a professional interior designer if I decide to make a change.”

“Oh, I agree one hundred percent, ma’am,” I say. “But Laini is planning to go back to school for design, so maybe if you hold
off for a couple of years, you’ll have your very own private designer right in the family.”

Laini is just sitting there like a slug, not moving, not saying anything, looking like she hopes no one speaks directly to
her. Sheesh. Come on, Laini!

“Laini?” Mrs. Calhoun levels a gaze at her granddaughter. “What does this mean? Are you giving up accounting?”

Shifting in her seat, Laini clears her throat and slowly meets her grandmother’s demanding gaze. “I’d like to.”

“I see. And what do you think your daddy would say about that?”

Now that is just manipulation at its best. My mind conjures a combination of outrage and admiration.

“I-I don’t know, Grandma.”

Laini, Laini, Laini. How come I never knew she was this controlled by her need to please? I’m just about to open my mouth
and save the day when Dear Old Grandma breaks into a wrinkle-free smile. (I’m pretty sure it’s a smile, anyway.)

“I’ll tell you exactly what he’d say, my dear.” Okay, this could go either way. I watch, reserving judgment. “He’d say, ‘It’s
about time my daughter decided to live her own life and stop allowing her mother to guilt her into a field she hates.’ Your
father would never have wanted you to follow in his footsteps if he knew you didn’t want to.”

Yeah, I gotta say, I didn’t exactly see that coming. Apparently, Laini didn’t either because her eyes flood with tears and
laughter erupts at the same time. I’ve seen this sort of clashing of emotions in the movies, but truly never in real life.

“Now,” Grandma says, over the brim of her china cup. “How are you planning to make this transition? Do you need some money
to tide you over?”

And there you have it. Smooth as butter. When we walk away from Grandma’s house two hours later, Laini has a check in hand,
Grandma’s blessing in her heart, and peace of mind that she’s finally able to pursue her dream. I glance at my watch. Just
enough time to make it back home, change my clothes, and get a cab over to Sunday night services at Tonya’s church. This day
just gets better and better.

Okay, I’m not attending New Wine Fellowship in a blatant attempt to see David. Tonya invited me because the drama team is
performing a play she scripted. And that is the only reason I’m here. Except I do sort of wonder if David’s going to show
up.

The sanctuary is much smaller than the one at Eighth Street Community, but it’s packed a lot tighter. The atmosphere is trendy,
and I’m almost positive I passed a coffee shop on the way down the hall. A coffee shop in a church. Mom would freak. But it
works for me.

Tonya seems in her element here. Not only has she written the script, but she’s directing the play as well. She is absolutely
glowing when she approaches me leading a pleasant-looking brunette wearing a stylish Anne Klein dress.

“Tabby, this is Greta Leonard, my pastor’s wife.”

Warmth exudes from every inch of the petite thirtysomething woman. “Tabitha Brockman. It’s nice to have you visit.” She winks.
“I hope you won’t watch tonight’s performance with a critical eye. Our drama team members aren’t professionals.”

She knows who I am and is still smiling at me? I laugh. “Believe me, I’m in no position to critique anyone’s performance.
I’m looking forward to seeing Tonya’s creation.”

Greta turns a fond gaze on Tonya. “We’ve been wanting to start a drama team for two years. She’s a real answer to prayer.”

Tonya blushes under the praise. “I, um, have to get back to the team and make sure everyone’s ready.”

We watch her walk away, and Greta smiles after her. “If ever there was a girl who doesn’t know her worth, it’s that one. But
God is already starting to give her confidence.”

“I’ve noticed a change in her at work.” I never realized I was seeing a new Tonya because she was growing spiritually. Raw
pain shoots through my heart as I remember how I promised to do better too. To change. Only, I’m not sure I’m changing for
the better.

“Tabby?”

Greta and I both turn at the sound of David’s voice. My heart leaps into my throat at the sight of him walking up, with Jeffy
in tow. Dressed in a black sports coat and a pair of blue jeans, he looks handsome and so appealing.

“Hello, David,” Greta says. “I’m just getting to know Tabitha.”

“Call me Tabby,” I interject.

“Tabby, then.” She smiles. “It was nice to meet you. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get the music ready for the play.”

I nod. “Nice to meet you too.”

“We’ll see each other again, I hope.”

“Me too.”

She leaves us standing there in the sanctuary, next to a row of chairs, and I’m a little at a loss. I suppose I should find
a seat and not assume David’s going to invite me to sit with him.

“What are you doing here?” David asks.

“Tonya invited me.” Why? Doesn’t he want me to be here?

“We’ve been coming here for a while. It’s a great church.”

I nod.

“Where’s Jenn?” I ask.

“She’s right here.” Rachel’s singsong voice confronts me, filling me with a knot of dread. “We had to make a little side trip
to the ladies’ room.” She gives me a once-over, and only someone with a trained eye would notice how her nostrils flare in
distaste at the sight of me even as her teeth flash with her oh-so-fake smile. “How nice to see you, Tabby. Is this your first
time to our church?”

Our church?

I’m about to answer, but David takes the liberty. “Tonya invited Tabby to see her play.”

“Oh, isn’t it darling that little Tonya is finding an outlet for her creativity? It’s just too bad she can’t get someone important
to take notice and give her a real chance.”

Without even taking a second to stop and think, I let out a little laugh. “I can’t imagine getting anymore important than
God.”

David chuckles. “Tabby’s got a point there. Maybe our idea of important people isn’t the same as God’s.”

Well said. I send him a nice little smile.

Color drains from Rachel’s face, and I can see it’s an effort for her not to lash out. But she recovers and once again flashes
all that brilliantly expensive dental work. “You’re so right, of course. I just meant she could probably make a good living
writing scripts. I’m surprised Sharon hasn’t tried to connect the girl.”

Okay, how come no one is supposed to know about Sharon and Tonya being mother and daughter, and yet everyone seems to know?
At any rate, it doesn’t matter. “I don’t think Tonya wants to write scripts for the industry,” I say. “I think she really
wants to do makeup behind the scenes and use her writing for ministry.”

“Oh.” Rachel seems a little at a loss for words. “Then I suppose that’s what she should do.”

The worship team has assembled, and I notice we’re the few people still standing in the sanctuary.

“I’m going to find a seat,” I whisper.

“Tabby.” David’s hand grabs my elbow with a light touch. “Sit with us.” He pulls me along toward a row about a third of the
way from the front and nudges me ahead of him. I feel like a schoolgirl as he takes the seat next to mine. I’m also very gratified
to note that Jeffy and Jenn separate Rachel and David.

It doesn’t take long for me to become enthralled in the story of a young girl lost in the woods who has to choose which forest
animals to listen to and decide which trails to follow—an allegory of how lost we are without Christ. I laugh, I cry, and
I applaud profusely at the end, along with the rest of the congregation.

I turn to David as the lights go up. “Wow. That was really something.”

His eyes are bright, and I can tell he was moved by the allegory as well. “Very good.”

“I suppose it was good, for a children’s play.” Pity forms inside of me as I slip my gaze to Rachel. She missed the entire
point.

When I turn back to David, his eyes are on my face. A soft smile touches his lips. “I’m glad you came,” he says.

“Thanks. Me too. I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow at the studio?”

He shakes his head. “I fly to Japan tomorrow to do some consulting for a brokerage firm.”