“I told you I was putting her on a flight to New York unless you came up with a better solution,” Eunice reminded her, her tone self-righteous. “I gave you until the weekend.”
“You still could have let me know she was on the way.”
“So you could have tried to buy more time with promises you never intended to keep?”
“So I could have met her at the airport or at least been here to welcome her.”
“Yeah, right,” Eunice said sarcastically. “Let’s not kid ourselves. You’re not mad because I didn’t tell you. You’re mad because she’s there.”
Callie clung to her patience by a thread. “Maybe so,” she admitted honestly. “It’s not the best time for me, but I wouldn’t have let her see it. She’s our mother, for goodness’ sake, not a shipment of corn.”
“I’m surprised you’re aware of the distinction, for all the effort you’ve put into her care.”
“God, Eunice, you are such a selfish pig,” Callie muttered, and slammed the phone down before she really got angry. Maybe in her own way, she was just as selfish, she admitted to herself, but she wasn’t cruel. That was the real difference between her and her sister.
As her mother slept—or hid out in her room, which is what Callie suspected she was doing—Callie considered her options. Her bank account, healthy enough when she’d first lost her job, was dwindling. There were no alimony payments. Pride had kept her from accepting one thin dime of Chad’s guilt money. She wasn’t in any immediate danger of starvation, even with another mouth to feed. But she could no longer be quite as cavalier about her joblessness.
Then she considered the size of the salary in that contract Jason had been waving under her nose. It was on a par with what she’d been earning on Wall Street and then some. Temptation whispered through her. If she accepted the offer, there would be enough money to send her mother back home and hire help for her, if that was what her mother wanted.
In addition, Terry’s job would be safe, as well as the jobs of all those other cast and crew members Jason was threatening with unemployment. She wasn’t entirely sure how seriously to take his remarks about canceling the soap, but it had been evident to her earlier that Terry was taking him seriously.
And then there were the threats Terry claimed he’d been receiving. For all of his pretended nonchalance, she knew he was worried. And the image of that falling file cabinet had been coming back to haunt her ever since he’d mentioned the mysterious notes he’d been getting. Maybe he could use another pair of eyes— albeit untrained eyes—to watch his backside in case the sender truly was dangerous.
She picked up Jason’s business card, or the one closest to her. There must have been a dozen scattered around the living room. One had come with each flower arrangement. He’d dropped a few more each time he’d visited. He’d scrawled his home number across the back of each one. He obviously hadn’t been taking any chances on her not being able to reach him when—not if—she changed her mind.
Could she do it? Could she actually get in front of a camera every day and pretend to be somebody else? Given the state of her own life, she thought ruefully, it might actually be a pleasure. At least she ought to explore the offer more thoughtfully than she had up until now.
Before she could change her mind, she grabbed the phone and dialed.
“Who is it?” Jason growled irritably when he picked up on the second ring.
Obviously his reserves of charm had worn thin. “Jason? It’s Callie.”
“Callie,” he repeated, his voice softening to that sexy Southern drawl of his. “I didn’t expect to hear from you.”
“Yes, you did,” she contradicted. “You probably just didn’t expect it to be this soon.”
He chuckled at that. “Maybe so. What’s up? Still furious with me?”
“Yes, but that’s not why I called. Actually, I was wondering something.”
“What?”
She sucked in a deep breath, then blurted, “Exactly what role would I be playing if I should happen to decide to consider joining the cast of Within Our Reach?”
“The same one you played in your walk-on,” he answered matter-of-factly.
The lack of triumph in his voice was to his credit, she decided. She tried to sound as cool as he had. “A cop’s not especially glamorous.”
“Depends on who’s playing the role, wouldn’t you say? Besides, I’ve told the writers to get you out of uniform.”
“It’ll get a little drafty running around without any clothes on, won’t it?”
“Oh, you’ll be dressed,” he said, his voice suddenly tight. “Just not in dreary blue.” He hesitated, then asked, “Are you going to do it?”
“I might consider it,” she admitted. “But I’m not committing to anything without more information.”
“Such as?”
“How long is the contract for?”
“A year, with options.”
A year, she thought. That wasn’t so long. If she truly hated it, she would never have to set foot on a soundstage again. She could arrange for the character to be murdered in the line of duty, to go out in a blaze of glory, so to speak.
“Would I be working mostly with Terry?” That prospect implied a certain comfort level that was critical.
“That’s the plan. He has the highest TVQ on the show. The viewers love him. Pairing you with him will guarantee awards as the hottest soap couple on the air.”
How ironic, Callie thought wryly. She suspected even Jason must have guessed after meeting Neil that Terry was not quite the heterosexual hunk the public believed him to be. Just in case he was still clueless, though, she was careful not to spill
