Page 9 of Unspoken Tides

Hilary read the script all night and into the morning, eventually retreating inside when the wind off the sound became too frantic. She turned on the fake fireplace in the living room and continued to run through the lines. She tried to imagine who would play the lead actor and actress. Surely, with filming right around the corner, they’d already made those decisions. Her fingers tingled with excitement, imagining what they would wear.

She needed to know if she was going to leap into the film in just two weeks. She couldn’t wait.

After she reached the end, Hilary picked up her phone and called Rodrick. He answered on the second ring with a bounce in his voice.

“Rodrick,” she gasped, “you have to let me work on this film.”

Rodrick laughed gently. “I’m the one begging you, remember?”

Hilary smiled into the phone. It was almost as though he were here, sitting beside her in the dark as the fireplace roared.

“Who are they?” Hilary asked. “The main actors and actresses.”

“We have Brett Vanders for the father.”

“Oh! He’s incredible.” Hilary had seen nearly all of his movies. She remembered telling Stella that he was “the real deal” in terms of acting. He hardly had to say a word for you to feel the immensity of his emotions in a scene. Once, he’d been nominated for an Oscar based on ten minutes of acting.

“For the mother, we have Candace Grune. The children are newcomers. Stacy Binion and Nathanial Etterson.”

“Wonderful. I’m assuming someone has their measurements for me?”

There was a pause.

Hilary arched her brow. “Rodrick, what aren’t you telling me?”

“There was an incident with the previous costume designer.”

Hilary rubbed her temple, cursing herself for her lack of foresight. Of course, she hadn’t been the first pick.

“To be honest, I told her I didn’t want her to work on the feature,” Rodrick said. “Because I wanted to hire you instead. You can imagine how enraged she was.”

“You hired her and took it back?”

“The director jumped the gun before I gave the okay,” Rodrick said. “I was always planning on reaching out to you. I couldn’t very well make a film on Nantucket without you.”

Hilary filled her lungs and allowed a soft smile to play across her lips. “I can’t imagine you could.”

There was silence. Hilary could guess what was on Rodrick’s mind. She hated that it was on hers, too.

“The previous costume designer isn’t sharing the measurements nor her plans for the costumes,” Rodrick explained. “But I imagine that won’t be difficult for you.”

“I’ll measure them as soon as I see them,” Hilary said, her mind racing with all there was left to do now that she’d agreed. She hoped she wouldn’t regret it.

“And I’ll arrange for them to be on Nantucket in the next few days,” Rodrick assured her. “I want them to get the lay of the land, anyway. Our set guys are already out there, creating a 1970s Nantucket. You won’t believe how brilliant it’ll be, Hilary. I can’t wait to see what magic we create together.”

It was straight out of a romance novel, Hilary thought. Yet at the mere idea of Rodrick’s arms around her, his breath hot in her ear, their love as powerful as ever before, the edges of her heart cracked. She wasn’t sure she could take it. It was like staring too long at the sun.

“I can’t wait,” Hilary heard herself say, stretching her smile so wide that now, it felt fully fake. “I’ll be here to welcome them.”

Hilary fell into the chaos of the next week and a half. She met with the actors to take their measurements and get a feel for their personalities (both within the script and in real life), drove to Boston to hand-select numerous costumes, met with seamstresses who would ensure each costume fit securely, and generally pulled her hair out at the stress. But sometimes when she passed herself in a mirror, she paused and smiled at herself. A frantic energy sparkled in her eyes, one she hadn’t seen in decades. And with so much to do, so many people to meet, and all of Hollywood watching her (or so it seemed to her), she felt useful and vibrant.

Hilary and Rodrick spoke on the phone every second day. Hilary shared her visions for the costumes, asked questions about the script and the characters, and dug deeper into the mind of Rodrick, the visionary. Rodrick was tying up loose ends in Los Angeles and preparing to fly out to Nantucket in the coming days. He’d rented a house on the coast, just ten minutes from Hilary’s place (where, of course, they’d once said their vows and pledged their lives to one another). Hilary felt as though the edges of her life were fuzzy. It was like walking through a dream.

It was funny when Stella called her one afternoon and asked, “Where the heck have you been?”

Hilary was halfway home from another spontaneous trek to a costume designer in Boston, who was lending her a series of 1970s dresses for extras.

“I can’t catch myself coming or going,” Hilary answered honestly. “How are you?”

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