Page 25 of Unspoken Tides

“It’s Ann Patchett,” Stella said, coming to the rescue. “She’s always brilliant. No explanation necessary.”

Hilary gave Stella a secret smile, grateful she’d kept her secret about returning to the film industry. It was probably puzzling to Stella that Hilary kept bringing it up herself.

A few times over the course of their brunch, Hilary considered telling them everything—about the film, about her dinner with Rodrick, and finally, about Max. But the immensity of her emotions pressed so hard against her chest that she thought her ribs would explode. Instead, she asked questions about their weeks, laughed at their jokes, ate bites of their pancakes, and eventually escaped after it was over.

“We’re thinking of going hiking this afternoon,” Stella said as Hilary scrambled to her car. “Do you want to join us?”

Under her breath, Hilary explained, “I have a few things to take care of for work tomorrow.” She squeezed Stella’s elbow. “Thanks for keeping it under wraps.”

Stella flinched. “I still don’t understand why it has to be a big secret. They’d be nothing but over the moon for you.”

“I just don’t want to make a big deal about it.”

“Your caginess is becoming a big deal,” Stella offered. “Like it or not, these women love you. They know you. They see you.” She sighed. “Just don’t lock us out completely, okay? We started this group to pull each other through.”

Because she was good, honest, and kind, Stella let Hilary off the hook that afternoon. But Stella’s words rang through her head all evening, keeping her awake deep into the night. And when Rodrick texted her again after midnight, asking her if everything was all right, Hilary erupted from bed and had a half-panic attack.

It was possible she’d never properly dealt with the past. Perhaps that was why it had a death grip on her. Maybe that was why she couldn’t have a candid conversation with Rodrick. Perhaps that was why she felt so weak.

Always with the Salt Sisters, Hilary preached “facing your past and accepting the person you’d once been.”

She was a hypocrite. She could never tell them the truth.

Hilary arrived on set a half hour early Monday morning to prep for the big scene ahead. In the story, it was just before the daughter ran away from the rest of the family—just a few days before the big hurricane destroyed their home, and the attention to detail on the daughter’s costume was essential. Hilary didn’t want to miss it.

With pins between her lips and a roar in her ears, Hilary stitched together minuscule holes, pinned costumes to extras, barked orders to her employees, and ran ragged until she sent the actors to set. As they began the scene, Hilary stood off to the side, wringing her hands, watching as Stacy, the actress playing the daughter, limped through the scene. She forgot lines left and right; she stuttered; she looked at the other actors around her as though she were drowning, and they refused to help. It was an outright disaster. Hilary felt betrayed.

This was an essential truth to filmmaking. Everyone had a part to play. And when one person dropped the ball, the entire ship went down.

After a perilous morning, Marty Zhang told everyone to get lunch. As Hilary joined the stream, she reminded all the actors to wear towels over their costumes to ensure they didn’t get stains on them. They would be re-starting the scene after a break, and they were already behind. Hilary wouldn’t have time to get stains out.

As Hilary waited in line for a bagel with lox and cream cheese, she heard a familiar voice just a few feet behind her. Her hair stood on end. Although she’d thought of him endlessly all weekend, she’d kept her head down all morning, frightened of what seeing Max would do to her. But Max had to eat, just like everyone else. And he’d positioned himself behind her.

Slowly, Hilary turned to peek at him. Her stomach thudded. He was in conversation with Marty, using his hands to articulate something, and his curls shook. He was ever passionate. A true artist.

His eyes found hers a split second later. A soft smile played across his lips. Marty noticed immediately and followed Max’s gaze to Hilary. Caught, Hilary waved at them both, then turned back around to get her bagel. She felt like a teenager.

Hilary fled to her trailer to eat. She sat at the edge with her feet on the pavement and chewed slowly, remembering the warmth in Max’s gaze. Just as she took a big bite, Max appeared between the trailers, carrying his bagel and a soda. He laughed when he saw her.

“Are you hiding yourself away?”

Hilary had too much cream cheese in her mouth to answer. She cursed herself and placed her hand over her mouth. After too long of a silence, she said, “I’m not pretty when I eat bagels.”

Max laughed. “Can I sit down?”

Hilary’s skin was aflame. What was he doing? “Sure.”

Max sat at the edge of the trailer with her and put his bagel on his lap. He looked serious. “I hope you aren’t avoiding me.”

Hilary was touched. She set her bagel down, too. “I’m not. Well, not really.” She pressed her napkin against her lower lip, praying she wasn’t covered with cream cheese. “To be honest, Friday was strange for me. I don’t normally do things like that.”

“Neither do I.”

Hilary smiled. “I don’t believe you. You’re a handsome bachelor in Los Angeles.”

“Believe me or not.” Max shrugged. “It was a rare but beautiful evening for me. And I’m so glad it happened.”

Hilary’s heart cracked. She fell into his big, dark eyes.

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