getaway. Just as I cleared the edges of the scene and stepped through the tape that held back onlookers, I heard a breathless voice call my name.
“Miss Teagarden!” The caller had a husky, sexy voice, and I turned to find Starlet Two hurrying after me.
“Yes?” I tried to sound more civil than I felt.
“Please, Miss Teagarden, I’m Meredith Askew.” She waited a moment, hoping I’d recognize the name. She gave a resigned little sigh when I didn’t. “Celia was hoping you could eat dinner with her tonight?” As though this were a great favor.
I bit back my first response, which was, “For God’s sake, why?” “No, thanks,” I told the girl. It sounded lumpishly ungracious, even to me.
“Oh, but. . .” Meredith Askew looked disconcerted and unhappy. I looked up at her with more attention. I’d believe this one was twenty-six, or twenty-one, for that matter. “Celia really wants to talk to you.”
“What about?”
“Well, about the script, I guess.”
“I don’t know anything about the script,” I observed.
“She’d like to know what you felt when your mother opened the chocolate box and almost ate one. And it was poisoned.”
“What do you think I felt?” I asked incredulously.
“Oh, please come,” Meredith said pleadingly.
She was an actress herself, so I should’ve known better. This not-too-subtle show of terrified innocence, intended to convey that the seasoned and ruthless older actress would torture Meredith if she didn’t produce me, couldn’t be real. But, I admit, I was beginning to wonder what all this was really about. Besides, what else did I have on my schedule, besides another evening at home with Madeleine?
“All right,” I said, sounding as grumpy as I surely was. “Where?”
“We made reservations in Atlanta at Heavenly Barbecue,” Meredith said, relaxing openly.
“We heard that was the best place to get a taste of the South.” I had to keep reminding myself that she was an actress, and that relaxing openly would be the reaction she selected, not necessarily her true feeling. “You can drive over there with us in one of the Range Rovers.
We’ll leave at eight.”
That seemed mighty late to eat, but I nodded shortly and agreed to meet them at the Ramada right off the interstate, where most of the cast and crew were staying. “Though Joel’s renting his own house,” Meredith said, trying not to sound too envious.
I’d turned to leave when a sudden thought rambled through my head. “Meredith,” I called.
The young woman turned to look at me, forcing her features into Concerned. “Will Barrett be coming?” I asked. She scanned my face to pick the answer I wanted.
“No,” Meredith said, finally. I was quite unsure if she were telling the truth or lying. Lying, I thought, and sighed as I thought of an evening of awkwardness. I’d accepted, though, and I would keep my word. Meredith turned away to go back to her business, whatever it was, and I plotted my route back to my car.
With some difficulty, I picked my way among the cables, trailers, and people. The fringe of the set was becoming heavily populated with Lawrencetonians who had nothing better to do, and I had to stop to meet and greet five or six people who had a thousand questions.
After staggering along the street for two blocks, I had to admit I’d lost my car. I pressed the Open button on my keypad, which would make the lights blink. I looked from side to side.
Nothing.
Okay, time to drag out the big guns. I hit the red Panic button, and just like a charm, I heard Honk! Honk! Honk ! just out of sight. A middle-aged couple turned to stare, and a dog began barking frantically. I just didn’t care. I flew down the sidewalk to pass a clump of sesanquas, and there was my car, honking away faithfully. I pressed the Panic button again to silence the horn. Within seconds, I was buckled up and maneuvering the car out of the space I’d wedged it in, thinking all the while about the
“Miss Teagarden!” The caller had a husky, sexy voice, and I turned to find Starlet Two hurrying after me.
“Yes?” I tried to sound more civil than I felt.
“Please, Miss Teagarden, I’m Meredith Askew.” She waited a moment, hoping I’d recognize the name. She gave a resigned little sigh when I didn’t. “Celia was hoping you could eat dinner with her tonight?” As though this were a great favor.
I bit back my first response, which was, “For God’s sake, why?” “No, thanks,” I told the girl. It sounded lumpishly ungracious, even to me.
“Oh, but. . .” Meredith Askew looked disconcerted and unhappy. I looked up at her with more attention. I’d believe this one was twenty-six, or twenty-one, for that matter. “Celia really wants to talk to you.”
“What about?”
“Well, about the script, I guess.”
“I don’t know anything about the script,” I observed.
“She’d like to know what you felt when your mother opened the chocolate box and almost ate one. And it was poisoned.”
“What do you think I felt?” I asked incredulously.
“Oh, please come,” Meredith said pleadingly.
She was an actress herself, so I should’ve known better. This not-too-subtle show of terrified innocence, intended to convey that the seasoned and ruthless older actress would torture Meredith if she didn’t produce me, couldn’t be real. But, I admit, I was beginning to wonder what all this was really about. Besides, what else did I have on my schedule, besides another evening at home with Madeleine?
“All right,” I said, sounding as grumpy as I surely was. “Where?”
“We made reservations in Atlanta at Heavenly Barbecue,” Meredith said, relaxing openly.
“We heard that was the best place to get a taste of the South.” I had to keep reminding myself that she was an actress, and that relaxing openly would be the reaction she selected, not necessarily her true feeling. “You can drive over there with us in one of the Range Rovers.
We’ll leave at eight.”
That seemed mighty late to eat, but I nodded shortly and agreed to meet them at the Ramada right off the interstate, where most of the cast and crew were staying. “Though Joel’s renting his own house,” Meredith said, trying not to sound too envious.
I’d turned to leave when a sudden thought rambled through my head. “Meredith,” I called.
The young woman turned to look at me, forcing her features into Concerned. “Will Barrett be coming?” I asked. She scanned my face to pick the answer I wanted.
“No,” Meredith said, finally. I was quite unsure if she were telling the truth or lying. Lying, I thought, and sighed as I thought of an evening of awkwardness. I’d accepted, though, and I would keep my word. Meredith turned away to go back to her business, whatever it was, and I plotted my route back to my car.
With some difficulty, I picked my way among the cables, trailers, and people. The fringe of the set was becoming heavily populated with Lawrencetonians who had nothing better to do, and I had to stop to meet and greet five or six people who had a thousand questions.
After staggering along the street for two blocks, I had to admit I’d lost my car. I pressed the Open button on my keypad, which would make the lights blink. I looked from side to side.
Nothing.
Okay, time to drag out the big guns. I hit the red Panic button, and just like a charm, I heard Honk! Honk! Honk ! just out of sight. A middle-aged couple turned to stare, and a dog began barking frantically. I just didn’t care. I flew down the sidewalk to pass a clump of sesanquas, and there was my car, honking away faithfully. I pressed the Panic button again to silence the horn. Within seconds, I was buckled up and maneuvering the car out of the space I’d wedged it in, thinking all the while about the
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