Redwood Bend (Virgin River #18)(55)

Oh, man, Katie thought. That was pretty obvious. And boy did young Tom have a wrong number. Wouldn’t it be cruel to tell him, I’m a knocked-up widow with twin five-year-old boys—run for your life. “I’m widowed. I lost my husband in the war—Afghanistan.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said immediately, dropping his head. “If there’s any way I can help out—”

“That’s very nice, but my older brother is right here in town. He’s not off work yet today, but if I need him in a hurry, I can find him. And there’s Jack…”

“There’s always Jack,” Tom said. “But if there’s ever anything your brother or Jack can’t help out with…”

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for calling the game warden or whoever you’re calling. And nice to meet you. I’d better go grab those boys…”

When you’re the potential star in a movie, investors and distributors consider the weight of the cast in making their decisions about backing the film. Dylan had played the Hollywood game for three weeks, consenting to an interview about his consideration of a script, socializing with key people along with the producer and director and allowing himself to be photographed a few times. Lee Drake was still working on the contract, but he said it was moving in a very positive direction and shouldn’t be more than a couple of weeks before he could pronounce it satisfactory and ready to sign. Once that happened, there would be even more prepublicity buzz that would lend itself to making money for the movie. He’d eaten too much rich food, imbibed too much liquor, ran into family members altogether too often. Bryce had faded into that background but Blaine and Cherise seemed to coincidentally appear at some of the same restaurants he happened to be dining in. Thank God his number was changed so they couldn’t call him on top of all that.

He smiled as much as he could, but he hated it. At least the social aspect. He wasn’t accustomed to that lifestyle anymore.

There was one exception to his discontent—he had been spending a little time with his grandmother. He filled her in on all the details that led to his reading of the script and negotiating of a contract. “Lang said that while business is still down compared to previous years, he has bid on a few charters and has rented out planes here and there—so they’re hanging in there. With Sue Ann’s help, they can manage Childress Aviation while I’m here working. Stu is minding the store, taking care of the runway, maintenance, fueling, that sort of thing. I need to get back there and get things stabilized before I commit to any kind of filming schedule.”

“This is all so unnecessary…unless it’s what you absolutely want.”

“It’s completely necessary,” Dylan said.

“You’re my only living heir,” she reminded him. “And I’m loaded.”

“I make my own way if I can,” he said. “For all I know, you’ll get pissed off at me for some reason and give it all to your cat. Then where would I be?”

“I don’t have a cat…”

“Yet…”

It wasn’t exactly an argument; it was more of an examination of boundaries. He appreciated her in many ways, was grateful for all she’d done for him, understood that after all her many years of hard work she was more than a little comfortable. But she was seventy-six. With any luck she would live to be a hundred and six. Besides, these were the boundaries she’d pounded into his head during their retreat to Payne, that he wasn’t a little god who should have his way paid just because of some sense of entitlement.

She taught him to get over himself.

“I have only a couple of concerns about doing a movie,” he said. “One is that I’ll enjoy the acting and despise all the ancillary bullshit, not the least of which is my mother, stepbrothers and -sisters and half brothers and sisters moving in on me with requests. I don’t want to get hooked, which will have me putting up with that kind of B.S. again and again. And the other is you thinking it’s a mistake.”

She shook her head. “First of all, I think you’re past being the vulnerable kid star who doesn’t really understand what’s happening. Second, I’m an actor,” she said. “I still work because I love it and also despise a lot of the ancillary bullshit. I do it because I want to. Millions of people who are trying to just get a part in a commercial would kill me to have a tenth of the opportunity I have had, and believe me, I don’t take that for granted. But, Dylan, when I decide to take on a part, I’m happy. If this makes you unhappy, find another way.”

“It’s probably going to be six months of shooting,” he said. “And it’s a frightening amount of money.”

“How are you handling the family?” she asked.

“I’ve said no, I’ve changed my cell number, I’m ignoring them, but I admit, they make it hard. They’re everywhere, it seems.”

“And your mother?”

“Cherise is the hardest to ignore…” She was his mother. He hated her and loved her. That she would use him was so painful. And so predictable.

“Yes, I can imagine,” Adele said. “So, when do you leave for Montana?”

“In a few days. I’ll fly back to Northern California where I left my bike. I’ve decided to rent a truck and haul the bike home. After the last few weeks, I don’t think I’m up to a long-distance ride on the Harley.”