The Last Goodbye (The Women of Independence) (3 page)

BOOK: The Last Goodbye (The Women of Independence)
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The sun had disappeared behind the hills
to the southwest, and he knew without looking that the verandah would be deep
in shadow. He made his way down the stairs and around to the front.

Grayson sank into a large, comfortable
chair and a sigh escaped his lips. He’d looked forward to this decompression
time more than he cared to admit. He let his head fall back, closed his eyes
and thought about the weeks ahead.

He needed this film. How many times had
he heard the old expression “You’re only as good as your last film?” Dozens?
Hundreds? Whatever... he’d always brushed it aside, considering the expression
overly dramatic in a town accustomed to drama.

He still didn’t believe it had happened
to him... but it had.

Since his first real job in Hollywood, his
career had been built on a steady progression of good, profitable films. He’d
checked every box on the list of clichés: paid his dues, learned his craft,
brought his productions in on time and on budget, kept the talent happy, and he’d
never, ever, had a flop.

Until he’d made the mistake of agreeing
to direct the picture he now thought of as the picture from hell.

He’d sensed it when he took the first
meeting with the producer, but he was riding high, and he’d allowed himself to
get cocky. He’d directed two hugely successful movies in a row, surprising even
the money men. And he’d allowed his success to go to his head. He’d thought he detected
flashes of brilliance in an otherwise lacklustre script, but he’d been
mistaken. He’d also been mistaken to think he could draw a decent performance
from the actor chosen to play the leading man. Grayson wasn’t the only one who
hadn’t known about the actor’s cocaine habit, surprising in a town that thrives
on gossip. He still wondered how the production had managed to get insurance on
the actor.

Long before the film was released,
Grayson knew it was going to bomb. The trouble was, so did everyone else in
Hollywood, and the powers that be had refused to invest any more money in what
they had decided was a losing proposition – thus ensuring that it would,
indeed, become just that. Those in the know whispered among themselves that
Grayson’s hands had been tied from the beginning, but that didn’t excuse the
fact that he’d associated himself with the production in the first place; he
should have known better. It was a mistake he was unlikely to make again.

Grayson had worked with Sean Elliott
before and was grateful when Sean drew him aside one evening at a party and
told him about the current film. He trusted Sean as much as he trusted anyone
in Hollywood, but he’d still checked on every facet of the production before
climbing on board. One of the deciding factors had been Sean’s desire to come
up here to British Columbia for the exterior shoots. Grayson suspected that
Sean had invested his own money in this production, a definite no-no in the
film industry. But financing the film gave the producer the freedom to do
things his own way, a fact that Grayson appreciated. They could have found
acceptable locations in California, but Sean had confessed that he wanted to
shoot on his old friend’s ranch, and after seeing the preliminary footage, Grayson
had welcomed the chance to get away from Hollywood.

The only fly in the ointment so far was
the slip-up on the set they’d had built here. The girl was right... it was a
small thing, and could readily be fixed. He made a mental note to apologize
again for good measure.

He had a talented gaffer on this
production who could create virtually the same effect, but he’d become almost
obsessed with this scene. He wanted that warm, golden sunlight to fall on Andrea
in much the same way as the stray shaft of light had turned Danielle’s hair the
colour of ripe wheat. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine her hair
loosened and swirling around her face.

He frowned at the direction of his
thoughts. The last thing he needed now was a distraction. Especially one as
appealing as Danielle Flynn.

* * *

Danielle saddled Fleet and headed north
along the bottom of the valley. An old bridge spanned the creek in a narrow
spot, and she crossed slowly, checking to see if she could spot any trout
lurking in the shadows beneath the bridge. When she was young, she’d come out
here and entice the trout to dart out from below the bridge by tossing chunks
of bread into the water. After a while, she learned to recognize the dark
shapes facing into the current. She hadn’t checked on them in years.

She looked into the sky, judging that
she had a little more than two more hours of daylight. Enough time for a
leisurely ride up the far side of the creek, toward the old mining town of
Silverton. She wasn’t angry any more, but Fleet needed the exercise, and Danielle
wasn’t hungry yet. By the time she got back, the others would have eaten, and
she’d be able to grab a quick sandwich in the kitchen.

* * *

“There you are,
Mija
.” Esperanza
greeted Danielle as she entered the kitchen a couple of hours later. “Your
uncle was looking for you at dinner time.”

“I’m sorry, Esperanza.” Dani gave the
housekeeper a quick kiss on the cheek on her way to examine the leftovers in
the refrigerator. “I just didn’t feel like being with people tonight. I took
Fleet for a ride.”

The housekeeper muttered under her
breath.

Danielle spied a platter of roast beef
and placed it on the counter with some pickles and a loaf of crusty bread.
“What did you say?”

“I said you’re not the only one.”
Esperanza wiped her hands on her apron and turned to face the young woman who
had become like her own daughter. “
Senor
Crawford felt the same way.”

“And how was that?”

Both women turned to see Grayson
standing in the doorway.

Danielle studied him for a long moment.
He appeared more relaxed, and she offered him a tentative smile. “I was saying
that I hadn’t wanted to eat with the others and Esperanza said you felt the
same.”

Grayson eyed the food. “She’s right, but
I’m sure hungry now.” He addressed the housekeeper. “Is it okay if I make
myself a sandwich?” He made a show of licking his lips.

Esperanza looked from Grayson to
Danielle. “Go ahead. There are salads left over as well, if you’re interested.”
She dug out a chopping board and placed it in front of Grayson, along with
everything he’d need to assemble a sandwich.

Danielle’s eyes widened at the easy
camaraderie between Grayson and the housekeeper.

“Do you two know each other?” She
speared a pickle and popped it into her mouth.

“We met earlier.” Grayson grinned at
Esperanza and it was all Danielle could do not to groan aloud. She couldn’t
help but wonder how often he used that smile to get what he wanted.

He picked up the bread knife, cut two
thick slices and then waved the knife, a question in his eyes.

“Sure, I’ll take a couple as well.” She
grabbed two plates, handed him one, and set about assembling her sandwich.

He watched her for a moment, and then
did the same. Bread, butter, mustard, and a pile of thinly sliced rare roast
beef. She put a few slices of pickle on his plate and sat at the table in the
kitchen, where Esperanza had placed some large napkins.

“Beer,
Senor
Grayson?”

“Normally I’d love one, but tonight I’d
really like a glass of milk, if you have any.”


Si.
” Esperanza looked
questioningly at Danielle, who nodded. She wasn’t sure why Esperanza was
peppering her conversation so liberally with Spanish words. Maybe there was
something about Grayson that reminded her of home.

A couple of glasses of milk appeared and
Danielle realized that Grayson was waiting for her to sit down.

He raised one eyebrow. “Do you mind if I
join you?”

Danielle hesitated, torn between her
previous anger with him and the desire to get to know him.  “Not at all.” She motioned
to the seat across the table. He sat and looked eagerly at the sandwich.

“Before I dig into this, I need to get
something off my chest.” There was a hitch in his voice that made Danielle look
up. “I’m genuinely sorry for going off half cocked this afternoon. I hope
you’ll forgive me.”

Esperanza listened openly.

Danielle considered making him beg for
forgiveness, but thought better of it. “Apology accepted.” She closed her eyes,
said a few quick words of thanks, then picked up her sandwich. “Can we eat
now?”

There was that grin again. “Absolutely.”

Grayson moaned with pleasure. “This is
fantastic. Jake’s beef, I take it?”

Danielle considered his words. “You
know, except for restaurant food, I don’t know if I’ve ever eaten beef that
wasn’t
raised here on the ranch.” She paused for a moment. “Since I was eight, at
least.”

They ate in comfortable silence for a
few minutes. Grayson drained his glass and sat back, leaving the pickles on his
plate.

“You want those?” Danielle pointed to
the dills.

“No, thanks. I don’t care for dills.”

“More for me.” She slid them over to her
plate. “What was that all about this afternoon?” she asked between bites. “Out
there in the barn?”

Chapter Four

“What do you mean?”

Danielle waved a hand in front of her
face. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m asking.” She popped the last
pickle into her mouth. “That little temper tantrum wasn’t about the set. It was
about something else.” She tilted her head and regarded him steadily.

He studied the table for a few moments,
then raised his eyes. “You see too much, you know that?”

She shrugged.

He stood up, paced back and forth for a
few moments, and then stopped abruptly. “Let’s go sit out on the verandah.”

“Okay.” She rose, rinsed the plates in
the sink and placed them in the dishwasher before leading him through the great
room. “Do you want something to drink?” She motioned to the drinks cabinet. “I
was thinking of something strong and sweet. I don’t usually indulge, but
tonight I think I’ll make an exception.”

“I’d love a brandy, or a Grand Marnier.”
“We have both.”

“Brandy, please.”

“And I’ll have Grand Marnier.” She
poured the drinks and handed them to him.

* * *

Danielle settled into her favourite
chair. The high-backed rocker had been well used over the years, as evidenced
by the wear on the verandah beneath the rockers.

Grayson stood looking out over the lake,
his back to her. She was in no hurry, and gave him time to gather his thoughts.
Finally he turned and leaned against the railing, a puzzled expression on his
face.

“You’re awfully perceptive for someone
so young.”

Danielle took a sip of her drink and closed
her eyes as the warmth slid down her throat. “I don’t know whether to be
flattered or insulted.”

“Why would you be insulted?”

She sat up straighter. “For suggesting
I’m too young to see past your bluster.”

A small frown creased his brow. “How old
are you, anyway?”

“I’m twenty-nine this year.” She tossed
her head, as though daring him to challenge her.

“Really?” His gaze raked over her, from
her fly-away braid to the worn cowboy boots. “You look like a kid.”

“How old are you?”

He looked like he was going to refuse,
then gave a small shrug. “Thirty-four.”

She nodded slowly. “That’s about what I
thought. So tell me... what’s going on?”

His fingers tightened on the brandy
glass. “There’s an old expression in Hollywood that you’re only as good as your
last movie.” He shot her a quick glance. “Mine bombed. I really should have
known better, but I was walking on water at the time, and I thought I could do
no wrong.”

“So you’re a bit uptight about this next
one.”

“You could say that.” He lifted the
brandy glass to his lips and took a small sip.

In the near darkness she saw his tongue
dart out and catch an errant drop of liquid. She wondered what that tongue
would feel like on her lips, on her neck, on her body. She must be losing her
mind to be thinking of him like that. This man would be out of her life the
moment the last scene was shot.

She dragged her thoughts back to the
conversation at hand. “This failed movie,” she asked, “did it fail because of
your direction, or was it something else?”

He pulled out one of the big chairs,
angled it toward her and sank down. “My biggest failure was in not recognizing
the problems with the lead actor, and being too confident that the script could
be whipped into shape.” He brushed a hand over his face. “It never should have
been released; I made a bad judgment call and at the end of the day, as they
say, the boat went down on my watch.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Okay
now, that’s just too many overworked clichés.”

She could sense his smile more than see
it. “That
was
pretty bad, wasn’t it? Anyway, it went directly to DVD.
The only thing I’ve done since is a documentary.”

BOOK: The Last Goodbye (The Women of Independence)
9.07Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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