“Hannah, it must be a thrill working with Ada,” Mitch said. “How long have you and she been together?”
“Less than a week,” she replied. “To be honest, the two of us are not exactly… What I mean is, she doesn’t even know my name yet. Won’t let me lift a finger to help her, or listen to one word of my pitch. So I’m basically just helping Spence out. I’m not complaining, the Lord knows. It’s just that I’m really desperate to make a documentary about Ada’s life. See, I-I’m a filmmaker myself.”
Spence said, “Hannah produced and directed Coffee Klatsch, that documentary about the old-time character actresses who hang out in the coffee shop of Sportsman’s Lodge. They ran it on Bravo a few months ago.”
“Oh, sure.” Mitch recognized her name now. “I saw it at Sundance last year. It had real heart. I loved it.”
“I know you did,” Hannah said, her eyes puddling with tears. “I wept with joy when I read your review.”
“And now you want to film Ada?”
“If she’ll let me. And if I can get the financial backing. Which, as you know, is no sure thing.” Hannah cleared her throat uneasily. “Mostly, I’ve been kind of regrouping back home in D.C. for the past few months.”
“Hannah’s name came up when the studio suggested that Ada hire an assistant,” Spence said. “We’ve actually known each other for years. We went through Panorama’s internship program together.”
“So you put the two of them together?” Mitch asked him.
“No, that was me, actually,” Aaron interjected from behind Spence.
Mitch thought he noticed Carly stiffen slightly. She turned to face the fire, tossing her long golden hair.
“Hannah approached me a few weeks ago in Washington through mutual friends,” Aaron explained. “It seems she wants nothing more than to follow the old girl around with a camera.”
Now Carly darted out of the taproom, her high heels clacking on the entry hall’s hardwood floor.
Aaron paid no notice to her departure. He was busy talking. And when Aaron Ackerman was talking, self- absorption took on a whole new dimension. “Quite frankly, I was impressed by the depth of Hannah’s interest, and by her passion for her subject. She seemed the ideal candidate. By the way, Mitch, it’s still your shot,” he pointed out, tapping his cue stick against the floor.
Mitch returned to the table and immediately drained his last ball. Called the eight-ball and dropped that, too. Game over. Aaron hadn’t sunk a single shot-and Mitch had actually been going easy on him.
“I guess this means I owe you ten dollars.” Aaron reached for his wallet.
“I thought we agreed on five.”
“No, it’s definitely ten.”
“Forget it. I don’t want your money.”
“Sure, we’re all friends here,” Les agreed from behind the bar.
“What are you, kidding me?” Aaron demanded. “The instant Mitch gets home tonight he’ll e-mail every liberal he knows that Aaron Ackerman stiffed him on a bet. By morning, it will be all over the Internet. Mitch and his New York media cronies just love to trash me. It’s what they live for.” Aaron started to hand over a ten-dollar bill, then stopped, glancing slyly at Mitch. “Of course, we could go double or nothing.”
Mitch smiled at him. He was going to enjoy this immensely. Really, he was. “Aaron, you talked me into it. Rack ’em up.”
CHAPTER 4
Des could feel the rear end of her cruiser shimmy on the curves as she made the climb up the long private drive to the castle. Black ice had formed on the pavement. Plus some windblown frozen rain was starting to come down, tapping against her windshield like BBs. She’d even heard rumbles of thunder. Just to play it safe, she’d checked in with the Westbrook Barracks on her two-way radio, but the National Weather Service was issuing no new watches or warnings for tonight. Their forecast called for flurries, diminishing winds and overnight lows in the teens. Nothing, in other words.
So why does it feel like something?
She parked near Mitch’s old truck. Grabbed her shoulder bag, got out and headed over the moat on the drawbridge, burrowed deep inside of her hooded coat, the frozen rain pelting her, the bare winter trees groaning and creaking against the wind.
She was just about to ring the bell when the castle’s massive front door swung open and there stood her doughboy in the warm glow of the lights, wearing a big happy smile on his round face. He looked like an eight- year-old boy who’d just gotten a new bicycle for Christmas. Make that Chanukah.
“You must be this new resident trooper I’ve been hearing so much about,” he said solemnly as he ushered her in. “Desiree Mitry, right?”
“That’s correct, sir.” She raised her chin at him sternly. “And you are…?”
“Berger. Mitchell Berger. I’m in vinyl siding. You need any durable, low-cost protection for your home, I’m your man.”
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
“I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, Trooper Mitry, but nobody told me you were a total hottie. Would you slap my face if I tried to kiss you?”
“Sweetness, you’d better do a whole lot more than that before this night is over,” she murmured, brushing his lips with hers. “It is getting nasty out there.”
He immediately put her in his big teddy-bear hug, making her feel more adored and cherished than she’d ever thought possible.
So why does he want to break up with me?
Des had been to Astrid’s Castle before. Les and Norma often hosted meetings of the Chamber of Commerce, of which Les was currently president. Still, she could never quite get her mind around how immense it was. And she had never been here at night, when the chandeliers were all lit. It was positively grand. Someone was even playing show tunes on the piano in the Sunset Lounge.
Les and Norma came to greet her. Les wore a welcoming smile on his face. Norma looked positively worn ragged. “Glad you could make it, Des,” he said. “How are the roads?”
“Getting a little slick, actually.”
“Sorry to hear that. If you have any qualms about driving home, we’ve got dozens of warm empty beds you can choose from.”
“So good of you to join us, dear,” Norma said with a bleary-eyed smile. “May I help you off with your coat?”
Before Des could respond, a tremendously self-important windbag started throwing himself a fit at the top of the staircase. “She is not in our room!” he shouted, clomping down the stairs toward them. He was a pear-shaped windbag possessing an exceedingly large head. “She is not in the morning room! She is not in the kitchen. She is not anywhere else!”
Des glanced over at Mitch. “And this is…?”
“Norma’s son, the great Aaron Ackerman.”
“Refresh my memory. What’s he great at?”
“Not to worry, he’ll let you know.”
“She must be found!” Aaron Ackerman roared. “I demand that she be found!”
Now an imperious old white-haired lady appeared in the dining room doorway. “Aaron, stop this appalling display at once,” she hollered at him. “You’re behaving like an overwrought little thumbsucker.”
“That would be Ada,” Mitch whispered to her.
“Good evening, Ada.” Des reached a hand out to the old woman. “I’m Des.”
“Of course you are.” Ada’s grip was firm and dry. “This is a genuine honor, Des. I’ve been so very anxious to meet you.”
“You have? Why is that?”
“Hel-lo, can I get some attention here?” Aaron cried out. “I can’t find Carly!”
“It’s a big place, Aaron,” Les pointed out mildly.
“And Carly’s a big girl,” Norma said. “If she wants to be found, she’ll be found.”
