Даниэла Стил - Neighbors

“I’m thinking of going to L.A. the week after Thanksgiving,” she said to him when they got back to the house. He lit a fire, and handed her a glass of wine. “I wanted to go before then, but things keep coming up.”

“Would you like me to go with you?” he offered, and she smiled.

“I’d like that. But I want to spend some time with my granddaughter. Do you have something to do there?”

“I have two clients I need to see. I can see them when you’re with your granddaughter.”

“That sounds good,” she said. Their plans and schedules had been dovetailing nicely. “I don’t know if she’ll see me. I want to call her once I’m there, and be casual about it. If I try to set it up in advance, she might turn me down. If she’s anything like her mother, she’s not warm and fuzzy. But I haven’t seen her since she was a child of ten, when she last visited me in San Francisco, and I’d like to get to know her. She has an amazing talent, and she looks like an interesting girl.”

It seemed sad to him that Meredith had to put so much thought into it, and done some careful juggling. His relationship with his own daughter was easy and effortless. Meredith’s daughter sounded like a tough customer with an axe to grind about her mother, even a chip on her shoulder, which left Meredith almost daughterless, and she expected her granddaughter to be the same way. She was looking forward to meeting Charles’s children, who seemed to have a friendly, relaxed relationship with their father. They called him once or twice a week, and often for advice, and it was obvious that he enjoyed them. But every family was different, and some family members were more difficult than others. Kendall had always been cool and distant, and aloof, even as a child, even before the divorce and her brother’s accident. Meredith liked her husband, but never had the opportunity to talk to him. She was hoping to salvage some kind of relationship at least with her granddaughter. It was the only family she had.

The two days in Napa were just what they both needed. They went for a bicycle ride on Sunday, another long walk, bought cheese and pate at the Oakville Grocery, and by the time they went back to the city on Sunday night, Meredith felt as though she’d had a two-week vacation. They had slept late too, and made love when they woke up, without the intercom ringing every five minutes, and someone needing her attention.

She had discovered too how easy her house was to run without Jack and Debbie. They had always made a big deal about how complicated it was, in order to make themselves seem important and essential. Instead, as soon as they left, she realized how much easier it was, and less expensive, without them skimming the cream off the top, to put in their pockets, or inflating what they spent. The more she saw, the more she understood what crooks they had been, and was embarrassed she hadn’t figured it out sooner. The new couple was simple and straightforward to deal with.

“How was the weekend?” Tyla asked them when they walked in. Their cheeks were pink, they looked healthy and relaxed in jeans and heavy sweaters.

“Perfect,” Meredith answered with a smile.

“I knew I rented that house for a reason,” Charles said, as they made sandwiches for dinner. “I thought I’d never use it.”

“What about you?” Meredith asked Tyla. She could see that she was feeling better.

“Nice. I took the kids to the science museum and a movie.” It was so wonderful not to have to worry about Andrew coming home, and having a fit about something. The children were more relaxed too. No one was going to get angry at them or beat their mother.

—

Another week flew by and then it was Thanksgiving. Arthur, Peter, and Ava came to dinner at Meredith’s as planned. They all dressed nicely in suits and dresses, and the new couple served the meal in the dining room. Meredith had hired a chef to prepare it, and the turkey was delicious. The conversation at the table was lively and fun. Arthur was about to fly off to do another concert, and since he had someone who traveled with him, Peter and Ava would have a break while he was away. Peter had bought theater tickets to surprise her. They lived on a small budget, unlike her life with Joel. But they both enjoyed simple pleasures, and Ava didn’t miss having a Ferrari. She thought about Joel at times, and wondered if he thought about her at all. He was part of her history now, but she felt as though she and Peter had been together forever, and it seemed like the perfect fit. Joel never had been. He liked to show her off like an object, but he had never valued her as a person. Peter did.

—

They left for Los Angeles the Monday after Thanksgiving. Charles had set up his client meetings. They were planning to stay at the Beverly Hills Hotel, and had taken a bungalow. The hotel had a charming 1950s Old Hollywood flavor to it. Important people and big movie stars still stayed there. She and Scott had stayed there often and loved it. She hadn’t been back since they separated, because she was trying to avoid the paparazzi when they first split up and they would have had a feeding frenzy there. And since then, she had no reason to go to L.A.

They treated her like returning royalty when she and Charles checked in. He was as handsome as any actor, with his thick white hair, bright blue eyes, and trim, athletic figure.

“Wow! They never treat me like this when I stay here,” he teased her. There was a magnum of champagne in the room, three enormous vases of long-stemmed red roses, all her favorite magazines, pastries, petit fours, chocolates, and caviar in the fridge, as a gift from the manager.

“This is mecca for old movie stars.” She grinned at him. “They all come here to die, like ancient elephants.” He laughed at her comment.

They had lunch at the Polo Lounge before he left for his first meeting. And there were two important stars and a flock of agents having lunch there.

When she went back to the bungalow after lunch, she opened the thick file she’d brought with her about Julia, with articles about her, some photographs, her agent’s contact information, and a bio she’d gotten from the Internet. She’d even checked out her Instagram and liked it. As she sat looking at the pages in the file, she knew that she was stalling. What if Julia never returned her calls, wouldn’t answer, or hung up on her? She might be a little diva, or the carbon copy of her mother.

She finally decided to call Julia’s agent first. It was a woman, who was apparently young and had started her own agency after working for ICM, and handled mostly young talent.

A receptionist answered the phone, and Meredith put on her best Hollywood voice, which she hadn’t used for years. It was fun for a minute.

She asked the girl for Julia Price’s phone number, as though she had a right to it. The receptionist asked for her name, and that was the fun part.

“Meredith White,” she said grandly, “I’m her grandmother.”

“Meredith White? Meredith White ?” The poor girl sounded as though she’d been struck by lightning. “Of course…oh…yes, right away, Miss White. Please hold while I get it for you. I won’t be a minute.” Meredith then got to listen to a rap concert while she waited, and three minutes later a young, crisp, efficient voice came on the line.

“Hello, I’m Sarah Gross, Julia Price’s agent. Who is this?” She obviously didn’t believe the receptionist, and Meredith didn’t blame her. A lot of crackpots or opportunists called actors with crank calls. She was surprised that the agent was on the line herself, instead of an assistant.

“Thanks very much for taking my call,” Meredith said breezily, feeling more like herself than a diva. “I’m Meredith White, Julia Price’s grandmother. I’m in town for a few days, I’d like to get in touch with her, and I don’t have her number.” She was simple and direct and the agent was smart enough to recognize the real deal.