Take a Bow, page 21
Erika: We should stop calling her Jay Orlando’s sister. Her name is apparently Mimi.
Jules: Sexy.
Erika: And she’s a librarian.
Jules: No way. I think I’m in love.
Erika: Exactly how many people are you crushing on right now?
Jules: Not enough.
* * *
From The Sawyer’s Cove Rewatch Project Podcast: Reboot Roundup Redux
Six weeks later
Mimi was in her office, rocking out to her favorite album. The Nash Speedwell Experience was excellent cleaning music, and her office needed a thorough cleaning. She didn’t technically need to be at work, but she was leaving early tomorrow to be Nash’s date to the Sawyer’s Cove wrap party, so she’d decided to put in an extra hour.
Pauline stuck her head around the door. “I’m taking off.”
“Sounds good, dear. Fun plans?”
“Colin and I are going to try that new tapas place in Southville.”
“Things still good with you two?”
“It’s going surprisingly well.” Pauline smiled.
They’d officially transitioned from dating to together for about a month, and Pauline had confided over beers at The Cove that he’d been very open about the parameters of their relationship. Colin wasn’t asexual, but they’d figured out how to communicate what they were and weren’t up for. Mimi was happy her friend was able to be with someone who cared about her so much and seemed to understand her sexuality.
“Well, say hi for me,” she said.
“Going to The Cove this weekend?”
“Yeah, I think we’ll be there Sunday night.”
“Let’s text,” Pauline said. “Later.”
“Later.”
As she went through a pile of papers on her desk that were mostly sailing toward the recycling bin, her phone dinging was another interruption. She picked up her phone and saw a text from her brother.
I’m trying to get your boyfriend to do a few songs at the wrap party. Could you work on him for me?
Mimi bit her lip. She was always in favor of hearing her top singer-songwriter play live, but aside from an impromptu living room concert he’d performed a few weeks ago for her, Jay, Cami, Trevor, Crosby, Pauline, and Colin, he hadn’t picked his guitar up to play in front of other people since the night of the fundraiser.
Baby steps. But I’ll try.
Nash was a bit of a pushover when it came to asks from the Orlandos. If both she and Jay were encouraging him to do something, he’d probably do it.
Before she could set the phone down again, it rang in her hand.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, sweetie. I was wondering if you’d heard Caroline Russell put the family house on the market.”
“No, I hadn’t.” Mr. Russell’s house was one of the old Victorians on the north side of town. She remembered going there as a kid to trick-or-treat, being intimidated by the imposing late 19th century architecture, but persevering because everyone knew the man gave out books instead of candy, and Mimi had always had a voracious reading appetite.
Later, she’d gone to visit Mr. Russell when he was retired and sick. He’d been set up in the front room in a hospital bed, frail and wan, but he’d given Mimi a smile, told her how happy it made him that she was working at the library. The visit had been short, but it was one of her most cherished memories. His daughter had been living in Newport and came to stay with him until the end. When he died, the house sat empty while she went back to her life in Rhode Island. Mimi drove by it sometimes, wondering what would happen to the place.
“How much are they asking?” she asked her mother as she tried to sort through the other items on the desk, not really seeing them.
The number her mother quoted wasn’t a steal, but it was fair for the house and land that surrounded it, though Mimi wasn’t sure what kind of shape the house was in. It probably needed a lot of work. Besides, it was much too big for one person.
“Anyway, I have to run. See you for brunch Sunday? We need to talk about the Thanksgiving menu.”
“See you then.” They were planning a family-and-friends meal at Jay’s for the upcoming holiday.
Being part of a couple hadn’t impacted her social life as much as she'd thought it would. She still went out on the weekends, still hung out with her family. Nash went to work in the morning, just like her, though sometimes he had random days off, and then they’d meet for lunch downtown. In the evenings, if he was done with his day, they usually went back to his place and had dinner. She was introducing him to her British procedurals, and he was getting her to listen to more country music.
Sometimes they stayed at her place, but it was becoming more and more of a place to store her clothes and books and less an actual living space.
Problem was, all of that was going to have to change. Sawyer’s Cove was officially done with shooting as of today. The first episode was due to air on Christmas Day, and they were going to show a rough cut at the party tomorrow night. Which meant except for his press obligations, Nash was officially out of work.
The charity album had come out a few weeks ago and done well. He’d been noodling around with a few new songs, and they’d talked about him recording a second album in the new year. Mary-Anne had been surprisingly understanding about his turning down Moonshot, having been able to land a role for another of her clients in the franchise.
But another deadline was looming large—Nash’s lease on Warner’s rental house ran out next week. She’d slowly started thinking of the little beach house as theirs, but it had already been rented to someone else for the winter. She tried to imagine Nash moving into her small apartment. He might be up for it, but there was barely enough room for the two of them when he did stay over—where would they put his guitar and clothes? He didn’t have a lot of stuff here now, but she knew he had a bunch of things in storage in Los Angeles. He had kept a place there for several years and packed everything into a storage unit when he went overseas to shoot the first season of Hawk and Bone.
But all of this brought up the issue of whether he was going to make Misty Harbor his permanent residence. And if he was, then were they going to live together? And if they lived together, where would they live?
Mimi sighed. She supposed these were things she should discuss with her boyfriend rather than ruminating pointlessly on them in her office when she was supposed to be working.
Though working was difficult when she kept getting interrupted. A knock at her door had her looking up in irritation. Her scowl gave way to a smile when she saw who it was.
“Well, if it’s not my favorite singer.”
Nash grinned. He looked a little manic—his hair was ruffled out of his careful Will O’Connell coif, and his jacket collar was half-up, half-down. His eyes were bright, and he practically bounced into her office and gave her a smacking kiss on the lips.
“What’s going on?”
“How much longer until you can leave? I want to show you something.”
“Well, since people keep interrupting me and I can’t get any work done, I guess I can leave now.”
“Perfect!” He watched her pack up, buzzing with impatience. “Am I really your favorite singer?”
“Totally,” she said. “You and Nina Simone.”
“Good company.” He tugged her toward the door. “Let’s go!”
“Where are we going?”
“Do you know Sonia the real estate agent?” he asked as she switched off the lights in her office and locked the door behind her.
“She helped Jay buy his house.”
“Great, well, she has a house to show us.”
Mimi’s stomach flip-flopped. “Us?”
Nash’s steps slowed in the library’s lobby. “Yeah. Us.” He swallowed nervously. “Is that okay?”
“You mean you don’t want to live in my shoebox? I’m shocked.”
He relaxed a fraction. “I just thought we could both use a little more room. And wait until you see this place. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for. It needs some work, but it has—” He started toward the door. “Well, you’ll see.”
“Have you seen it yet?”
“No, it just came on the market.”
Mimi felt a prickling on the back of her neck. “Wait—is it a big Victorian up by the woods?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Misty Harbor grapevine. Faster than social media.”
She followed Nash to his new truck—he’d replaced his rental a month ago with the same model, only this one was shiny black, with even more features. She’d been aghast at the gas mileage but had to admit, the sound system was kicking.
“I’ll bring you back to get your car later,” he said, then he tore out of the parking lot with an actual squeal of the tires.
“Calm down, I don’t think the local real estate market is exactly on fire.”
Nash took his foot off the gas slightly, but they still got to the north side of town in record time. It was dark outside, but the house was cheerfully lit. A car was parked in the driveway—Sonia’s, Mimi assumed.
“You know whose house this was, don’t you?” Mimi asked as they climbed out of the truck and walked up the gravel path to the front steps.
Nash sounded surprised. “No. Whose?”
She didn’t get to answer before Sonia greeted them at the doorway and started singing the praises of the house. It had been years since Mimi had been inside. It was basically empty, and it felt bigger than she remembered. It was deeper than it looked from the front, and it had more bedrooms than she could ever imagine them needing, even if they ended up with triplets.
They’d talked about kids once or twice, both agreeing it was something they were interested in talking about more. Mimi never had been against the concept of having kids, but she’d also decided, given her lifestyle, they were a remote possibility. Now that she and Nash were in this for the long haul, that was just one more thing changing in her vision of the future.
“Can we see the basement next?” Nash said after they’d seen the large but antiquated kitchen.
Sonia led them downstairs through a door in the kitchen. The basement looked like it was recently finished, with a carpeted floor and bright white walls. “This was all redone in the last few years. The owner thought about turning this into a rental property before she decided to sell.”
“This is one of the things that got me so excited,” Nash said. “I could totally convert this into a music room, even put in some recording equipment. It’s all soundproofed.”
“Really? That’s so cool.” She loved the idea of Nash having a place to concentrate on his music.
Nash asked Sonia more questions, and they went back upstairs. “Okay, and now the other part I really wanted you to see,” he said.
Mimi couldn’t understand what could have him so excited. She shrugged at Sonia, who looked between the two of them and smiled. “Of course. Right this way.”
To the side of the kitchen was a more modern extension of the house, a story-and-a-half room that had picture windows in the back that looked into the big back yard and woods beyond. All three of the walls were made of built-in bookshelves. There was space for what looked like thousands and thousands of books.
“Oh. My. God.” Mimi stepped into the center of the room and looked around. “This is incredible.”
Nash was smiling like a little kid. “You like it?”
“I had no clue this was here.”
“Mr. Russell had this addition built and the bookshelves installed about twenty-five years ago,” Sonia said, looking down at her notes.
“Mr. Russell?” Nash asked.
“This was Arthur Russell’s house,” Mimi said. “I used to trick-or-treat here growing up. His daughter inherited it but never did anything with it until now.”
“I had no idea,” Nash said. “I just saw the pictures of this library, and I—well, I wanted you to have it.”
Mimi’s heart swelled in her chest until it almost hurt. “You’re Beauty and the Beast-ing me?”
He looked momentarily perplexed, then nodded. “I guess I am. Is it working?”
She walked over to him and put her arms around his shoulders. “Nash, do you want to buy this house and live here together and be surrounded by books and music and laughter and maybe even kids one day, and oh my God, I can’t believe I’m saying all of this, but I can’t help myself because I love you and being with you makes me so happy.”
He looked into her eyes, and she felt her future was going to be so much bigger, so much brighter, and so much more full of love than she’d ever imagined. “Yes,” he said. “Very much, Mimi.”
She twisted her head over her shoulder to see Sonia quickly averting her eyes, with an amused smile on her face.
“We’ll take it.”
Epilogue
Ten weeks earlier
Selena checked the house number against the address in her phone for the third time. The sleek, mid-century modern house looked completely out of place on this stretch of beach road, but she supposed the views afforded by the giant floor-to-ceiling windows would be spectacular.
She’d left finding a place to stay for the duration of the Sawyer’s Cove shoot until the last minute, and she’d had to beg Cami to help her find something—anything—that meant she wouldn’t have to stay at the Misty Harbor Inn. She’d stayed at the Inn earlier in the summer during a location scouting trip, and it had been lovely, but she needed her own space. She needed a kitchen and windows that opened and unrecycled air.
This place was completely extravagant, but it was only a ten-minute drive to the set in one direction and ten-minute drive to downtown Misty Harbor in the other. And she wasn’t renting the entire house anyway, just the pool house. Or that was the way Cami had described it to her, anyway.
She left her rented hatchback in the driveway behind a minivan and hesitated. She’d been told to collect a key from the owner of the house, her landlord for the next few months, but the house looked dark. The driveway ended in a wooden gate. Presumably, her pool house would be found beyond the gate.
God, it was hot. The sky was overcast, but that just seemed to make her feel warmer, a natural greenhouse effect. She was sweating in her airplane outfit of stretchy jeans and sweatshirt. She paused to remove her top layer and tie the arms around her middle. That was better. She adjusted her glasses. They were practically fogging up in the humidity. She was Southern Californian, born and bred. She liked a dry heat.
Before she could decide about going up to the front door, the gate swung open. A man walked through—he didn’t see her right away, but took in her rental car with a frown.
“Hello,” she called, and his gaze swung immediately toward her.
The guy was about six feet, wearing jeans and dirty work boots and a mud-streaked T-shirt that might have been white when it first came out of the multi-pack at the chain store. He was white, but his skin had been tinted a reddish bronze by the sun. She couldn’t see his face well under the battered ball cap pulled over his eyes, but she’d peg him to be about her age, thirty-seven, or maybe a little older. She hadn’t seen a workman’s truck, but this guy was clearly in the middle of some manual labor.
“I’m looking for Warner,” she said. Maybe the guy knew if the owner was home.
“You the renter?” he said shortly.
“That’s me.”
“I’ve got your keys. Just a second.”
He passed in front of her and went to the door, opening it as if he owned the place.
The penny dropped, and she smiled to herself. Well, she guessed he did.
She felt only a little bit bad about assuming he was a maintenance man or landscaper. How many times had she walked into a room and been taken for the assistant, when she’d worked her ass off to become a staff writer by the age of twenty-five?
He came right back out, a key ring in hand, and walked past her to the gate. “I’ll show you around. I haven’t had a renter here before, so if there’s something that’s missing, let me know. I’ll give you a number you can text.”
“Okay. Thanks. I’m Selena. I appreciate this, by the way. Cami said she had to pull some strings.”
He didn’t reply, just kept walking. She followed him through the gate into the back, where there was indeed a pool, beautifully landscaped garden, and small building set about a hundred feet back from the house. It wasn’t the same style, more of a generic wooden structure, but it was as nicely landscaped as the rest of the place, and it looked like the perfect spot to hole up while she got through the shoot.
“This is so beautiful,” she gushed. “The roses are incredible.” She paused to sniff at the deep velvet red blooms. She spotted a part of the flower bed that looked freshly turned, as well as a pair of gloves and some kind of digging implement. Selena was no gardener.
He didn’t stop, and she had to hurry to catch up to him as he showed her the two locks on the door to the small house.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked, to find out if he answered direct questions.
“There’s no security system on this building, but I do have a perimeter system and a camera system.”
“Okay.” She hadn’t been particularly worried about security.
“Try not to park behind me. I’ll move over so we can park side by side.”
“Got it.”
He showed her the fuse box and fire extinguisher and headed for her front door.
“Enjoy your stay,” he said to the doorjamb, then walked through.
“Wait!”
He stopped and turned around before she’d had time to come up with a reason to keep him there besides her curiosity about a guy who lived in a modernist mansion who was borderline rude and liked digging in the dirt.
“You said you’d give me a phone number.”
He nodded and waited for her to pull her phone from her back pocket. He recited a ten-digit number.
