Page 51 of Every Star that Shines

Delanie watched him laugh and joke with her family as though he had always been a part of it and wondered what Thanksgiving would have been like if she’d brought Josh Rosenburg home to dinner. He would have stuck out like a sore thumb. And the more Josh would have tried to ingratiate himself to her family, the worse he would have made it—the Fletchers had very little patience for flattery, which was almost the only language Josh spoke.

Looking back on their relationship now, she could hardly believe she’d dated him for as long as she had and hadn’t noticed. That’s three years I’ll never get back. When had she lost the knack of noticing when someone was a fake? Had the superficiality that often pervaded the film industry permeated her so completely? Or had she just been that desperate to impress someone that she took whatever she could get?

She gave Caleb a sidelong glance, taking in his rugged profile as he listened to her father tell a funny story one of the guys at the machine shop had told him yesterday. Was it fair to compare Josh to Caleb? After all, how much better would Caleb fit into her world in Vancouver, with its parties and press conferences and weekends spent thrifting before a night at the theatre? Could she truly picture him feeling at home there?

Maybe. I hope so.

She fidgeted with her fingernail under the tablecloth. He had wanted to come with her once. Why wouldn’t he be able to make a home there now?

“So, Caleb,” Bill said, changing the subject, “Delanie tells me you’re considering a move to Vancouver. That’s a big change.”

“What?” exclaimed Cheryl, blinking first at her husband, then Caleb, then Delanie. “Moving to Vancouver? Since when?”

“Nothing’s been decided yet,” Caleb said, giving Delanie a look of consternation. “I’ve got my daughter to consider, and I still need to figure out how I’m going to make that work.”

“We’re taking it one step at a time, Dad.” Delanie glanced at Caleb apologetically. Sorry, she mouthed. When her father had asked her how she and Caleb planned to date long distance, she’d mentioned her hope that Caleb might move to Vancouver if things worked out. She hadn’t thought he would bring it up before she and Caleb even knew what they were doing. Would Caleb think she was pressuring him?

“That’s sensible, Caleb,” Bill said. “I admire your sense of responsibility.”

Cheryl pierced a glazed baby carrot, glaring at it as though it might try to escape. “In my day, the woman didn’t expect her beau to move across the country for her. She was the one to make concessions.”

Delanie gaped at her mother. “I guess it’s a good thing the world has progressed past Mad Men then, isn’t it?”

Cheryl transferred her glare to her daughter. “Is it so crazy to think you might want to stay here in Peace Crossing? After all, what have you got to go back to? A tiny apartment and no job? A fickle mob who ruined your career over something someone else did?”

Delanie’s jaw dropped. “I . . .”

But she had no words to follow the one she had managed to choke out. Savannah had frozen with a forkful of turkey slathered in cranberry sauce halfway to her mouth, watching the proceedings with tense interest. Caleb met Delanie’s eye, his jaw working. Delanie wanted the floor to swallow her up.

“Now, Cheryl,” Bill began, but his wife cut him off.

“No, Bill, she needs to hear this.” Cheryl’s gaze swivelled back to Delanie. “It’s time you woke up and grew up, Delanie. You’re busy chasing dreams, and in the meantime, life is passing you by. So you go back, and what? In another ten years, you may have had some success, but, most likely, you’ll be looking back at another decade of jobs that didn’t quite turn out how you wanted them to. And who will be there for you then? Who will look after you? If you leave Peace Crossing this time, you’re throwing your life away. And I don’t want to watch it.” She glanced around and saw everyone staring at her in open-mouthed shock. “Excuse me.”

Cheryl pushed her chair away from the table and retreated to the hallway. Her footsteps thumped up the stairs, followed by the sound of a door slamming.

Delanie’s face burned, and tears prickled behind her eyes.

Bill swallowed, then turned to Delanie. “Sweet Pea, you’ll have to excuse your mother. Since Nan died, she’s been a little—”

Delanie stood abruptly, cutting her father off. “Sorry, Dad. I just . . . I just need some air.”

Caleb had risen to his feet when she did, and as she fled to the front hall and ripped her coat from a hanger in the closet, she heard him excusing himself and following behind her. She thought he would try to talk her into coming back to the dining room. So when she felt him take her coat and hold it up behind her so she could put her second arm into it instead, she glanced over her shoulder in surprise.

“Thanks.” She turned to face him as she buttoned.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” he asked quietly.

She gave him a weak smile. “I’d love that.”

Caleb kept both hands on the steering wheel, occasionally glancing across the dark truck cab at Delanie. She hadn’t said a thing since he’d helped her up into the truck—a tricky climb in heels and a slim skirt. She had only stared through the window at the thick, fluffy flakes that had started falling during dinner. He turned onto the highway and headed toward town. She glanced his direction, and he offered her his hand. Giving him a strained smile, she slid her slender fingers between his and they rested their hands between them on the console.

When Caleb pulled up in front of the dark Mackenzie Playhouse on a street that was completely deserted of cars, Delanie blinked at him in surprise.

“Haven’t we been spending enough time here lately?”

He quirked his mouth at her. “I thought it might be a good place to calm down.”

Delanie hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

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