Page 63 of After the Red Carpet
Ella smiled and headed to her office. Walking into the magnificent room, she stopped to take it all in and see it anew: the sparkling Eiffel Tower, the old map of Sweden, the books, the photos, the globe they had examined each time Finn booked a job on location. She crossed the room to her laptop, turned it on, and took a slow, deep, deliberate breath. She began skimming the notes she had been compiling for years, then opened a blank document and typed a single word:love.
Standing in front of the open patio doors in her office, Ella was thinking about how quickly the last year had flown by: Georgia, the comedian of the household, was running around at full toddler speed. Betty, now four, was coming more into her own each day. While she still had a ways to go, her book had finally taken shape and was more than halfway done. Suddenly, a knock on her office door jarred her back into the present. “Come in.”
“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Joyce said as she stepped into the room.
“Not in the slightest. I love how the air changes at the start of autumn. I was just soaking it up. Are the girls back from their playdate at the orchard?”
“No, but I expect the sitter will bring them back any time now. If they come home with bags of apples, what would you like to do with them?”
“Oh, I was thinking I’d teach them how to make applesauce, and maybe a pie or muffins, depending on how many apples they have.”
“Let me know if I can help. I just came to drop this off,” Joyce said, handing her a piece of mail.
“Thank you,” Ella replied. Joyce closed the door behind her as she left, and Ella looked down at the return address. She inhaled deeply, then tore open the envelope, removed the letter, and quietly read it aloud.
“Dear Ms. Sinclair, Congratulations! The University of Cambridge is pleased to inform you that you have been chosen as our Spring Philosophy Fellow . . .” Her eyes instantly welled up. She took a breath, gazed around her beautiful office, a big room designed to inspire big ideas, looked back down at the letter she clutched in her hand, and stood perfectly still, savoring the moment.
The quiet was broken with another knock on the door. Joyce peeked her head in. “Sorry to disturb you again. The sitter just pulled up with the girls.”
Ella blinked away her tears of joy and slipped the letter into her pocket. “On my way.”
A few hours later, Ella and the girls were in the backyard playing ring-around-the-rosy. They all tumbled to the ground just as Finn approached the joyful scene.
“Well, this is a cheery sight. How are my girls?” he asked.
Betty jumped up and ran over to him, tugging his hand to come join the fun. Georgia stood up and started shaking with excitement from her head to her toes. “Dada! Dada!” she screeched, her little toddler body unable to contain her unabashed joy.
“Hello, little peach,” he said, scooping her up, tickling her belly, and kissing the top of her head. He carefully set her down and gave Ella a delicate kiss. “Hi, love. How was your day?”
“It was great. The girls had a blast at the orchard. You should probably start calling Georgia your little ham instead of your little peach. I heard she was a riot at the playdate, trying to make everyone laugh, as usual. I also heard Betty was an angel, helping all the little ones. Wemade all kinds of treats with the apples they brought back. Oh, and I have something to tell—”
“Dada! Dada!” Georgia said, pulling on his pants, then tugging at his hand.
“I think she wants you to take a spin with us,” Ella said with a wink.
They all held hands and sang “Ring Around the Rosy,” toppling to the ground in laughter. The girls crawled on top of Finn, Georgia giggling hysterically and Betty blabbering a mile a minute about their apple-picking excursion. “We made a pie too. Mommy said we can have it with ice cream for dessert,” Betty said.
“Speaking of ice cream, I have some pretty big news,” Finn announced. He looked at Ella lying in the grass beside them and asked, “How would you feel about spending a couple of months in Italy?”
She raised her eyebrows.
Georgia squealed.
Finn laughed, picked up Georgia, and held her up in the air above his body. “We might just be going to Italy to have gelato.”
“’Lato!” Georgia repeated.
“What’s that, Daddy?” Betty asked.
“It’s the best ice cream in the world. I like chocolate, and your mommy likes mint chocolate chip,” he said, glancing over at Ella. “What flavors do you think you’ll try?”
“Strawberry and vanilla,” Betty said thoughtfully.
“So, what’s this all about?” Ella asked.
“I was offered the lead in a film with a director I’ve been itching to work with. It’s shooting in Rome in March and April. How fantastic is that?” Ella smiled faintly and he continued, “With Betty starting school next September, this is the last time we can take advantage of a location shoot outside of summers. What do you think?”
Ella looked at him holding their girls, both bursting with joy, so much love and affection between them all. Suddenly, she saw flashes of their life, like a film reeling through her mind: the soul-shattering hurt on his face when she ended their relationship, the hope in his eyes when he proposed, the curve of his lips when he read a script in bed, the first sonogram image of Betty, the resolve in his eyes when he contemplated quitting acting, Betty sound asleep on his chest, Georgia safe in his arms. Ella swore she could still feel his breath on her cheek the first time they danced, his fingers woven into her hair after they made love, the warmth of his arm around her pregnant belly when she lay in bed crying, his kiss on the back of her head. As the feelings took hold, it was as if there was a soundtrack to the film in her mind. She could hear the sound of their cries when Betty was born, and Georgia’s insatiable laughter.
