Page 115 of Close Match
A stern look comes down on his face. “If you think, Evangeline, that I’d risk the gift you gave me by messing it up, we still have a great deal to learn about each other despite all our time together.”
It’s impressive that even at thirty-three, I feel scolded. “Yes, Dad.”
“But to reassure you, money may not be able to buy health or peace of mind, but it can help when one needs a private jet and a private car. And that limits my exposure.”
“Also, Bristol and Simon are having food brought in for us,” Char adds. “We’re not going anywhere for the next two days.”
Happiness floods through my system. “You all did this for me?”
My father slips an arm around my shoulder. “Bristol called and told us you needed us. So, here we are.”
Leaning into him, I lay my head on his chest. “I’m don’t know what to say.”
“I wish I could see them this visit,” my father says with regret. I immediately understand. With his immune system so delicate, he can’t be around Alex. “But next time, I should be in the clear.”
I squeeze him hard. “That’s good. Hey, if you didn’t see them, how did you get in?”
Char laughs. “They made arrangements with your doorman.”
I shake my head. Of course they did. “I’m such an idiot. Why are we just standing around? Do you guys want some coffee? Let me show you around.”
“Sweetheart, you know we’ll never turn down coffee,” Char declares. I smile at my stepmother before I move out of my father’s arms and quickly pour them each a mug.
“Follow me,” I say eagerly, excited about something for the first time in weeks.
* * *
“For being relatively small,those statues are damn impressive,” my father remarks about my Tony awards. “They’re heavy though.” He throws me a smile. We’re in my home office, the last place on the tour. Here’s where I have all of my theater memorabilia up on the walls and spread across the shelves. I listen to all of my scripts in here to prepare for a performance. This room, more than any other, is the essence of the life I led before I met him.
If only Monty were here to see it with them. Shoving those thoughts aside, I reach for the statue he’s holding and turn it over. On the back, it has my name, Best Actress,The Dream Sequence, 2014.
“When they call your name, it’s surreal,” I murmur. He passes the statue to Char before he takes my hand. She gasps. “And then you do that.” We all laugh. “All the long hours, all the hard work and sweat, and then you’re being honored the highest honor imaginable for a theater actor. It’s such a rush.”
He tugs me over to the sofa that’s nestled under a pre-war window. “Then what happens?”
“You’re caught up in a media frenzy that lasts for days, sometimes months, depending on the success of the show. And one day it ends. And you’re fighting for another role trying to do it all over again.”
“Do you think maybe that’s what your mother was talking about?” Startled, I jump a bit. “Don’t be so surprised, Linnie. Bristol’s worried about you. She told Char about what your mother wrote and how you’re handling it.”
“I think your mother was going through a dark time, sweetheart.” Char puts my Tony back on the shelf before coming to sit on the floor in front of me. “Add the alcohol to the mix…”
“Yeah…” I blow out a gust of air. “I guess I should try to let go of these feelings?”
“No, what we think is that you should be talking about them with your therapist,” Char says firmly. “You’re still going to see her, right?”
I squirm a bit.
“Damnit, Linnie,” he bites out. “I thought you were still going.”
“I was doing so much better after everything that I bailed on the last few appointments,” I say weakly. “Besides, work started picking up. Anyway, this didn’t have anything to do with the accident.”
“They’re all connected. If reading what Elle wrote set you back, what’s reading something from Monty going to do?”
I open my mouth and then close it. He’s right. I have no idea what would happen if I ever heard from Monty. But that hasn’t happened, so the point is moot.
“Monty is dealing with his guilt, Linnie. We all have our own to deal with,” Char shares. My head snaps to her. “When we saw him…”
I don’t let her finish. “You…saw him?” My lips tremble. “How…”
