Page 1 of State of Grace

Chapter 1

Blake Calloway had been in denial for months that she’d eventually have to clean out her father’s house. It had less to do with the fact she was emotional over his passing and more to do with the fact that she had no interest whatsoever in rummaging through his belongings. Standing in the living room of his two-story townhouse, Blake looked around at the stacks of boxes she’d managed to pack over the last few hours.

She was surprised at how little her father kept in the house. Ben Calloway wasn’t a knickknack guy, but he always wanted people to know he had money. Everything in the house was an elegant designer brand, from the couch to his expansive collection of suits and ties. Overall, Blake found few personal items she was even considering keeping. Blake had packed his books away neatly and labeled them for donation along with the boxes of clothes that sat near the front door.

“That’s everything from the bathroom.” Her manager and ex-girlfriend Salem Cohen came out of her father’s bedroom with a large black trash bag in her hand. Blake had reluctantly accepted Salem’s help because she didn’t have many other friends in her life.

At the ripe age of five, Blake’s father had moved them from their upstate New York two-story house to a Los Angeles apartment so Blake could pursue her dream of acting. Her father hadn’t been the most loving of parents. He’d taken care of her, yes, but Ben had also served as Blake’s agent since before they moved to LA. Soon after arriving in LA, Blake was cast on a family sitcom that propelled her to the top of everyone’s watchlist.

Blake had landed several gigs on a handful of hit TV shows thanks to her father continually toting her around from one audition to another. She had by no means reached superstar status, but she was well-known enough to be noticed on more than one occasion when going to the grocery store. When Blake was cast in her latest role as Avery Romano on the hottest sci-fi show to hit the small screen since Star Trek, her life became even more alienated from any semblance of friends she might have had.

Despite all the success Blake had amassed over the years, her heart longed for a simpler life in which she was free to be herself. Blake wanted to be able to go to the grocery store without having to disguise herself and to buy two cartons of ice cream without a nosy paparazzi snapping a picture of her and blasting it over social media. Thankfully, Salem was able to take down most of the candid photos soon after they appeared online. That was the only good thing Blake could say about Salem.

“Thanks, Salem.” Plopping down on the recliner, Blake watched her toss the garbage bag into the large trash can they’d placed by the front door. Salem had pulled her auburn hair back into a tight bun, and she still had on her grey pinstriped pantsuit from work.

“Is this everything?”

“I think so?”

“Ok, well,” she pulled her phone out from her pocket, “the movers will be here later today to take this stuff to the donation center, and then they’ll take your stuff over to my condo.”

“Super.”

“Blake,” Salem groaned as she pinched the bridge of her nose, “don’t start this again.”

“I’m not starting anything.”

“I know this whole arrangement isn’t ideal, but it’s only temporary.”

“Whatever gave you that idea, Salem?” Blake didn’t bother to hide the annoyance in her voice. The two of them had gone back and forth on the issue so many times over the last several weeks that she knew there was no winning a fight about it. Although the current network had canceled the show after seven successful seasons, the writers and producers were trying to pitch it to other studios. Salem had insisted she stay in Vancouver until the final nail was in the coffin since there was still a fraction of a chance the show would be revived.

Which meant Blake was moving into Salem’s spare room.

It had never occurred to Blake to get a place of her own. She’d gone from living with her father to living with Salem, to moving back in with her father once he got sick. Vancouver was never home to her, and in the back of her mind, Blake always knew it was a temporary gig. Of course, she hadn’t thought temporary would turn into seven years with the prospect of more looming in front of her.

The Things We Left Behind was one of the top shows in their timeslot, but a shakeup at the old studio had led to its abrupt cancelation after the mid-season finale. They’d filmed the rest of the season, so it was up to Salem and the rest of the writers, producers, and agents to fight to get it aired on another network. The writers had also pitched a made-for-TV movie, which was why Salem was trying to get Blake to stay around if they needed to start filming.

“Blake, please.” Holding up a hand, Salem never looked up at her as she typed away furiously on her phone. “We have a meeting with another production company this afternoon, so hopefully, this whole thing is temporary.”

“I hope so.”

“If you’re going to have such an attitude about it, why don’t you take a few weeks and get away? It’ll give you some time to focus and recalibrate. You could go hang out with your friends in New York. Those crazy ones that are filming the crime show.”

“I might. I dunno.”

“Well, you can always help us try to save your career.”

“I’m at the top of my career.” Holding out her arms over her head, Blake smirked at Salem. She laughed reluctantly, but they both knew it was true. Even if Blake never landed another gig, she could say she was happy with the way her career had played out.

“As true as that may be, I don’t think you’re ready to call it quits quite yet.” Tucking her phone back into her pocket, Salem crossed her arms over her chest. “There are a couple more boxes in the attic if you could go through them before the movers get here. You can tell them to carry them down for you, but make sure they don’t have anything in them you want or need. I’m going to go, so I’m not late for this meeting.”

“Have fun.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes as Salem walked out the front door. Picking up her phone off the coffee table, Blake scrolled through her contact list. Several of her former co-stars on her first TV show would be happy to host her for a few days, but Blake wasn’t in the mood to see any of them.

Pushing herself off the chair, she headed to the small staircase that led to the attic and made her way up. There was barely enough headroom for Blake to narrowly avoid hitting her head on the rafters. She groaned as she saw that when Salem had said a couple of boxes, she’d meant quite a few plus an enormous chest that looked vaguely familiar to Blake. For a moment, Blake contemplated telling the movers to take everything to the donation center, but something about the chest drew her into the cold attic.

She haphazardly threw aside the old comforter draped over the chest; Blake gasped at the sight of her name hand-painted on the top with two large yellow daisies flowing out from the letters. She remembered the chest from her childhood room back on the East Coast, and the sight caused a wave of memories to crash into her heart and mind.

Ben had told Blake it was left behind in the move “on accident.”

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