An Unfinished Storm, page 3
Needs slo-mo, but the golden hour light is not hurting.
Tousled brown hair, broad shoulders, and blue eyes could make any girl sigh, but it was Nash’s library sciences degree and ability to quote Shakespeare that had Tish head over heels for Emmet Charles Nash, and at this point, she didn’t even pretend it was otherwise.
Nash got closer, and Tish began to get a bad feeling. Nash was not smiling, and he had the awkward set to his shoulders he got when he was telling her that she couldn’t mess around in a police investigation.
But I’m not interrupting police business even a little bit today. I’m too busy.
“OK,” said Nash, holding out his hands as if she was the one who owned a gun, “I don’t want you to be mad.”
“Then you should stop now,” said Tish.
“What?”
“Literally, never in the history of humanity has anything followed that statement that didn’t make the other person mad. I mean, I understand not wanting me to be mad, but historically speaking, the odds are not in your favor.”
“Historically, like in the history of all mankind?” asked Nash, raising his eyebrows, his hands dropping to his side. “Or just the Yearly family?”
“Either,” said Tish. “I don’t make the odds, baby. I just report them.”
“Oh, God,” he said, facepalming himself. “I’m in so much trouble.”
“You’re just realizing this now? You’re the one who started out with not wanting me to be mad.”
“You just called me baby. Next up is some sort of film noir jargon. It’s the equivalent of Tobias calling me son. I just took a swan dive into being in deep shit with the Yearlys.”
“Once again, I do not make the rules here,” said Tish. “No one made you get out on the diving board. As far as I can tell, you do this for fun.”
“I am starting to wonder about that,” he said thoughtfully, but sliding an arm around her waist. “You really might be right. It’s like I have a death wish. It’s like you’re the roller coaster of my life.” He pulled her close.
“And you like to throw your arms up at the top and go wheeeeeeee all the way down?” Tish asked with a giggle.
“Apparently,” he said, grinning and leaning in for a kiss.
“Hey, Tish!” yelled a voice from the house. Tish looked over Nash’s significant shoulders and saw Nora Harlow waving from the front door.
“No,” said Tish and then flailed like she was four, letting Nash hold her up. “No, no, no, no, no! Nooooooo. I cannot!”
“She’s working tomorrow!”
“I’m aware of that,” hissed Tish. “I got her the job.”
Because I’m an idiot.
“Yes, and I have to say that has gone a long damn way to making co-parenting easier this summer. But her babysitter got sick, and they canceled the early morning ferry run because the Chetzmoka had engine trouble. So it made more sense to come out tonight.”
“The ferry? You’re blaming ferry repairs for the fact that your ex-wife is at your house?”
“With our daughter,” he protested.
Like that makes it better. Why would having Claire here make it better?
“Oh, my God, she’s staying the night, isn’t she?”
He grimaced. “All of her friends are off-island now.”
“What you mean is nobody on the island likes her enough to let her spend the night.”
“Well, Claire is staying here, so it would be kind of weird.”
“No, it would not be weird,” said Tish. “Claire is staying in her room because she belongs at this house. Where is Nora staying?”
“Also in Claire’s room,” Nash said firmly.
“Tish!” Nora yelled from the doorway. “Stop making out with my husband and come inside.”
Tish felt Nash physically wince like he’d been sucker punched in the kidneys.
“She’s joking. It’s just a joke,” he said.
“I’m laughing so hard,” said Tish through gritted teeth.
“I’m making dinner!” yelled Nora. “I want to hear all about everything.”
“She’s not making dinner,” said Nash. “Claire is making tacos. Nora’s drinking wine and making sure Claire doesn’t burn anything.”
Drinking wine and burn patrol are my jobs. If I cry, I’m going to be that girl. I can’t be that girl, but I really want to cry right now.
Tish shoved her emotions down and shook off Nash’s hug.
“You are never going to believe the day I’ve had,” she said brightly, turning to focus on Nora.
“Tish,” growled Nash, but she ignored him and walked toward the house.
“I have wine!” exclaimed Nora. “Come in and tell me all about it!”
Tish went up to the porch and looked down at the red-headed Nora Harlow, who always looked like a rock-a-billy pixie.
I always forget how tiny she is.
“Well, the director re-wrote the script without asking with a scene for the leading lady that contained nudity, and when I said he couldn’t do that, he threw a fit and stormed off.”
“Oh, my God!” gasped Nora. “But, I mean, we’re still shooting tomorrow, right?”
Nora’s acting ambitions pre-dated Claire’s unplanned arrival and had revived post-divorce. It had been one of the stumbling blocks between Tish and Nash. He had assumed that Tish’s past acting career made her too much like Nora for her to be an actual human being with feelings.
“Of course,” said Tish, with a smile. “But FYI for you, if Skip randomly starts asking if you do nudity tomorrow, that’s why.”
“Hm,” said Nora, looking thoughtful.
“What? No,” said Nash, stepping up to the porch. “No hm. The answer is no.”
“I don’t think you get an opinion,” said Nora tartly.
“Tish!” he barked, looking to Tish.
“What?”
“We’re not making nude-y movies on Orcas!”
“Nude-y movies? And people say I’ve been hanging out with Granddad too much,” said Tish.
“Hey, Mom,” said Claire, coming to the door, “I need you to get the cheese grater down.”
“I looked, baby. I don’t know where your father moved it to.”
“I’ll get it down, Claire,” said Tish.
“No, Mom can do it.”
“Maybe,” said Nora. “If he moved it to one of the tall cabinets, then we’ll need one of the beanpoles to get it.”
“You’re helping me,” snapped Claire. “You have to get it.”
“Claire,” said Nash, sounding surprised.
Don’t know why. She’s been acting like that since filming started, and Nora started spending time on the island.
“Mom is helping me!” yelled Claire and went back inside.
“Apparently, I’m helping,” said Nora, with a smirk, and followed Claire inside.
“Sorry,” said Nash, still sounding confused. “I’m not sure what’s up with her. But seriously, what’s going on with this director?” he demanded, switching topics.
“He’s a narcissistic, sexist jerk. Who also apparently tipped the scales for getting the movie greenlit. So I’m going to eat dinner, then head home to check the dailies and call the studio to see if I can avoid getting fired off of this movie.”
“You can’t get fired. Can you? You’re a producer.”
“And I’m providing investors and local facilitation. I can’t get fired, but I can get side-lined. It depends on how much the studio thinks Skip is worth. On the other hand, if we don’t start producing actual footage soon, they’ll cancel the whole thing.”
“That won’t happen,” said Nash, soothingly.
“Happens all the time,” said Tish. “Loads of movies don’t make it across the finish line. That’s why the studios take out insurance.”
“Oh,” said Nash.
“This is a multi-billion-dollar business,” said Tish. “The numbers have to pencil out, or they move on to the next one. They don’t care who gets steamrolled in the process.”
“Oh,” said Nash again.
“And no offense, but I’m on the clock. So I may just eat your food and head out.”
“I was making a fire pit.”
“Yeah, a romantic fire pit with your ex—my favorite thing ever,” said Tish, and then instantly regretted her tone. “Sorry. It’s just been kind of a day.”
“And it’s not over,” he said.
“Not really,” she said, forcing a smile.
He sighed. “I’m sorry.” He reached out and grabbed her hand. “I didn’t know she was coming, and I didn’t know how to say no with Claire staring at me. Believe me, this was not how I was picturing our evening.”
Tish laughed tiredly and leaned against Nash.
“You know what the worst part is? I have to get up tomorrow morning, go up to Mount Constitution, and watch other people re-enact our date. Although, for the record, they’re totally going to wire Taylor in so he barely has to climb up the tower.”
“Pssh. Weenie. Not climbing? Is he even quoting Shakespeare?”
“No,” she said, giggling. “Not even. So, you are way cooler.”
“Well, yeah,” said Nash. “That goes without saying.”
Tish leaned in to kiss Nash.
“Dad, come on,” said Claire. “It’s dinner time.”
“We’ll be right there,” said Nash.
“Is Tish staying? I only put out three plates.”
“Then we’ll get out another one,” said Nash.
Tish felt like someone had dumped ice water down her back.
“You know what?” she said, smiling brightly. “It’s fine. I’ll go eat with Granddad. I have to talk to him anyway.”
“No,” said Nash. “We’re eating dinner.”
“If there’s enough,” said Claire.
“There’s enough,” said Nash, glaring at his daughter.
“It’s fine,” said Tish, stepping off the porch. “I’ll see you both later.”
“Tish!” Nash turned to come after her.
“Dad, it’s going to get cold.”
“It’s fine,” said Tish.
“It’s not fine,” said Nash.
“Nash, I’m tired. I’m not up to this,” she said. “I can’t manage all of…” she waved in Claire’s direction. “I just want to turn off my brain for a bit. Go have dinner. I trust you. It’s not a thing. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Dad!”
Nash pivoted to look at Claire, and that was all the time Tish needed to get back to her car and escape.
Chapter 4
The Orcas Hotel
Instead of going home, Tish drove straight into Eastsound and pulled in at the Orcas Hotel. The restaurant was packed, but she skipped that and went to the bar. Flinging herself into an empty bar stool, she slumped down as far as she could.
“Hollywood life is going that well?”
Tish turned to look down the bar to where Matthew Jones was accepting an Old Fashioned. Matt was a dark-haired thirty-something who was on the verge of opening a pot delivery business. He usually wore jeans and a t-shirt and looked like any other island resident, except that he drove a yellow Ferrari and wore a watch that retailed for more than a used car. The pot delivery business was a start-up, but he wasn’t new to the industry. She was about to reply when another voice hailed her.
“Tish!” She turned and saw Elayne Doerty waving at her from a table. “Tish!”
Elayne was wearing her usual hippy skirt and Birkenstocks, with her long gray hair in two braids. She stood up from her table and leaned in with her eyes amazingly wide.
“I heard from multiple sources that Tobias is cheating on Eleanor with Brianna Meadows!”
“Uh…” said Tish.
“Oh my God, it’s true!”
She felt Matt gently press his cocktail into her hand.
“It is not true,” said Tish, knowing she’d already blown it. “I have introduced him around to the cast and crew. Brianna is the only one in the same age bracket, so, yes, they have spoken.”
“She is a beautiful woman who is casting her wiles at our Tobias,” announced Elayne.
“Uh…” said Tish.
“And do we really think our Tobias would do that?” asked Matt, perching himself on the stool beside Tish. “We all know he was in the CIA. You know he’s trained against the wiles.”
Elayne looked like this ridiculous theory actually held weight.
“Well, still!”
“Granddad and Eleanor are fine,” said Tish. “Everything’s fine.”
“I will be stopping in to see Eleanor,” said Elyane.
“And as her friend, you will not be repeating such nonsense,” said Tish. “Or helping others spread it around. That would be very hurtful, and if I hear more of it, I will know who to blame.”
Tish returned Elyane’s glare with one of her own. Elyane made a hmph noise and swished back to her table.
“We’re all fine here?” asked Matt quietly when Elayne was gone.
Star Wars, 1977. Harrison Ford ad-libbed that line.
Tish took a gulp of the Old Fashioned, feeling the pleasant burn of the whiskey as she swallowed.
“That’s the line you want to go with?” Matt continued. “You realize that’s, like, twenty seconds before they jump into a garbage chute with a monster and a squish-o-matic.”
“That never made any sense to me,” said Tish. “Why have a monster in there if you’re just going to squish it?”
“I assumed that the monster was an escapee who lived on garbage, and it had a way out under the water,” said Matt.
That’s actually a viable theory.
“Well, we really are fine here,” said Tish.
“Liar.”
Tish sagged. “My director is a narcissist. My cast hate him. We’re so far behind schedule I’m freaking out. My grandfather is flirting with an actress. And—”
“Here’s another Old Fashioned, Matt,” said Delbert, the bar tender. “Tish, when you’re done with Matt’s drink, do you want one of your own?”
“Yes. A Tobias special, please.”
“Bloody Mary, extra tabasco, etc. Got it. We’re so excited about this movie. It’s been bringing in a lot of tourists and cash for this early in the season. Keep up the great work!”
Delbert bustled away, and Tish groaned.
“And everyone keeps telling me how great it is that I’m bringing all this work to the island.”
“So, we’re all fine here,” said Matt, taking a sip, his eyes twinkling.
“Nora is spending the night at Nash’s with Claire because I got her a job in a speaking role.”
“Oooh. That is… not good.”
“It’s fine,” said Tish.
“That’s not fine.”
“I’m an idiot.”
“Maybe,” agreed Matt. “You know, I don’t have an ex-wife. You could always break up with him and go out with me.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do,” said Tish, rolling her eyes and taking another drink. Matt chuckled.
“Excuse me,” said a woman, brushing by them. Tish recognized Elayne’s best friend, Indigo, as she went to Elayne’s table.
“Do you think Indigo heard that?” asked Tish.
“Probably,” said Matt, and Tish groaned again. “Relax. It will serve Nash right if he hears through the grapevine that you’re leaving him for the devilishly handsome me.”
“I don’t think he’ll believe it, but I don’t think he’ll be happy about it,” said Tish.
“Then maybe he shouldn’t have let his ex-wife sleep over.”
He’s not wrong.
Matt waited for her to argue and then laughed when she didn’t.
“So what are the odds of me getting my investment back?” he asked when she took another drink.
“I will make this movie happen,” growled Tish. “It’s happening. Everyone who invested is getting their money.”
“I’m not worried about it, Tish,” he said, putting a hand on her arm. “I don’t invest what I can’t afford. Don’t kill yourself over this.”
“I’m not going to kill myself,” said Tish. “I might kill Skip Renfeld and every other man in my life right now, but… I’m sticking with justifiable homicide.”
“Come eat dinner with me,” said Matt. “You can complain about Nash, Skip, or whatever his name is, and your grandfather.”
“Do you mean that?” asked Tish woefully. “Because I will. I try not to, but right now, all the people I complain to are the people I’m complaining about.”
“Yeah,” he said, putting an arm over her shoulder and giving her a little side squeeze. “I mean it.” He waved at Delbert, who pointed them at one of the bar tables on the far side of the room from Elayne and Indigo. Matt pulled out her chair for her, and as she was sitting, Taylor and Emma came in.
“Oh, hey, Tish,” said Emma, smiling. Tish watched her assess Matt and come up with the wrong answer.
“Taylor, Emma, this is Matt. He invested in the film.”
“Oh, nice to meet you,” said Taylor, extending a hand. They shook, and Tish saw Taylor take in Matt’s watch and get the right answer. “Did Tish offer you a tour of the set? I love giving investors a chance to feel the movie magic.”
It was such a polished answer that Tish was surprised. Taylor had a more worldly grasp of the movie business than she had expected.
Matt chuckled. “You’re just out at Reginald’s, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, we’re going up to Mt. Constitution tomorrow,” said Tish.
“Reginald’s?” repeated Emma with a frown. “You’re the third person who has said that. Isn’t it Tish’s property?”
