Louisa smiled. “Mine too.”
“Though I was also quite impressed by your office,” I said. “You and Barbra look like sisters!” I wasn’t trying to flatter her. With her high cheekbones and robin’s-egg blue eyes, she could have been Ms. Streisand’s silver-haired twin.
“She and I have had some laughs.”
“She’s kind of my idol,” I blurted. “Peabody, Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony—she’s one of only three people who’s won them all! I’ve always dreamed of meeting her, but if I did, I’m sure I would just burst out crying.” Oh my God, Ashley, shut up! Why couldn’t I ever be a character who keeps quiet?
“Oh?” my hostess said. So I just kept talking.
“I’m an actress,” I explained. “Trying to be an actress. Not that I haven’t worked—of course I have. People always ask ‘What have I seen you in?’ and I never know what to say. Because there hasn’t been that much.” Ugh. I sounded like a stammering idiot. Where’s Emma when I need her?
“An actress, how wonderful! I was a casting director for twenty-five years,” Louisa said, and my heart took flight like a rocket. Casting directors were like magical creatures to me, all-powerful Demogorgons whose superpower was to turn run-of-the-mill wannabes into sparkling chosen ones.
“That’s incredible!” I said. I had met plenty of casting directors, of course, but always from the wrong side of the conference table.
“I’m retired but I still have my ear to the ground,” she said, and I knew that my life was about to change. It was a hopeful feeling, like that moment when you know the sun is about to peek out from behind a cloud. Being a foolish optimist is a job requirement for an actress. Which, of course, was precisely what Louisa was counting on.
CHAPTER 10
* * *
LOUISA
The casting came to me in an instant—as soon as she said the word “actress.” I had of course fantasized about the moment many a time: that look on their faces, the blame game and infighting that would follow. In an instant the family would see who the bad guy really was, and that it wasn’t me.
“It’s been many years since you’ve worked in casting,” my nephew interjected. “The business has changed a lot.”
“What do you know about it—you’re in real estate!” I admonished. “I still keep up with my producer and director friends,” I said, to imply I was still relevant and influential. Truth is, I hadn’t so much as talked to a producer or a director since I’d retired seven years ago. But I still knew how to talk the talk, which, for my purposes that night, was enough.
“I’d be grateful for any advice you might be able to give me,” she gushed. And I pounced on her solicitation.
“It would be my pleasure,” I said. “Join us for tea?” The pot was still sitting there; it would be a shame to let it, and this tantalizing opportunity, go to waste. It’s not every day a struggling actress shows up on your door exactly when you need one.
“That sounds lovely,” my intruder said. Lovely indeed.
“I need to get going, Louisa,” Nathan said, leaning over to peck my cheek. I feared his exit would prompt her to change her mind, but it turned out my being a （former） casting director was enough to entice her to stay put.
“Why don’t you pour while I walk my nephew out?” I suggested.
I got up off the couch and met Nathan at the door. “What are you doing?” he hushed.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You don’t even know this woman.”
“Are you worried she might poison my tea?” I asked. He raised an irritated eyebrow.
“I didn’t know you were looking to make new friends,” he said, because of course I wasn’t; that’s not what this was about.
“I have an instinct about her,” I said. I had several instincts about this bright-eyed stranger, in fact. One, that she was ambitious; her midwestern vowels suggested she had come from far to pursue her dream. Two, that she was struggling to find work as an actress; not much of an insight, they all struggle, and she’d already all but confessed it. And three, that she was madly in love with my nephew; her blush when he gazed at her was so vivid you could have seen it from space. These three things combined all but assured she was—as we said in my day—ripe for the pickin’。
“Don’t lead her on,” he warned.
“You have a good night, too,” I said dismissively.