Stars Collide by Janice Thompson

came in contact with knew exactly who she was and who she used to be. In other words, I’d build her up. Maybe I could even talk that so-called reporter into doing a separate piece on Grandma. Something affirming.
    She went back to reading. “ ‘Lenora Worth seemed a bit off-kilter, wearing a mink stole and sequined dress on a warm Saturday morning in July. One has to wonder if she’s been hitting the bottle again.’ ” Grandma made a grunting sound. She wadded up the magazine and tossed it over her shoulder into the backseat. I didn’t blame her.
    “Grandma, you . . . you okay?”
    “How could I be?” she said. “They think I’ve been drinking? And why would they say ‘again’ as if it had happened before? You know I’m not a drinker, KK. Why would they think that?”
    Looked like I had more to talk with the reporter about than I’d thought. How dare he say such a thing? And yet, as I thought about it, I realized she did appear pretty off-kilter to those who didn’t know her. I could almost see how they would assume her erratic behavior came from hitting the bottle. Almost.
    The most I could offer was a shrug. I knew this article had to hurt, but I didn’t know what to do about it. Secretly, I was dying to know what the reporter had said about Scott and me but didn’t dare ask Grandma to keep reading. I’d have to search through the magazine later on, when she wasn’t looking.
    She leaned her head back against the seat, tears now covering her lashes. It broke my heart.
    “You know, KK, I’ve always hated my name,” she said with a little sniffle.
    “What?” This was news to me. “Lenora is a beautiful name.”
    “No, my last name,” she said. “I hate the Worth part.”
    This intrigued me. She’d never let on that she didn’t like the Worth name.
    “I came to Hollywood as Doris Mayfield,” she said. “The studio gave me the new name. At first I enjoyed it. When I heard the word ‘Worth,’ it made me think of dollars and cents. You know? Like I would finally be ‘worth’ something once I broke into the movie business. But now . . .” She shook her head.
    “What, Grandma?”
    “Let’s just say it’s been a haunting reminder of how worthless I’ve felt lately. How washed up. A has-been.”
    “Grandma!” I gave her a stern look. “I hope I never hear you say anything like that again. Besides, you know that your worth isn’t in the things you’ve done . . . your accomplishments or your fame. It’s always been who you are in him. In the Lord.”
    “I know that in theory,” she said. “But feeling it—especially at my age—is tough. KK, you don’t know how many older people feel like I do, like their days of being valuable to others are behind them.”
    “I’m sorry you’ve been feeling that way, but you’re wrong about that,” I said. “You have so much to teach up-and-coming actors and actresses. You’re creative and imaginative, and you know what it takes to balance the spiritual life against any fame you might achieve in the limelight. Most of all, you’re genuine. You’re the real deal.”
    “No.” She shook her head and tears filled her eyes. “That’s just it. There’s nothing real or authentic about me.”
    Now I knew her memory was slipping. Obviously she’d forgotten just how real she’d been to me over the years. And to Carolina. And her fans. How dare she think she had no worth? Why, the very idea offended me at the deepest level.
    Thankfully Grandma shifted gears. She pulled a compact out of her purse and touched up her makeup. Interesting, since she already had on more than enough. The pancake base—in a creamy ivory—was lathered on pretty thick. And she certainly didn’t need to add any more of the coral-colored blush to her cheeks. However, that’s just what she did. Only when she reached for the liquid black eyeliner did I begin to get nervous.
    “Um, Grandma, are you sure you want to do that in the car?”
    “Drive slowly, KK. I