Finding Colin Firth: A Novel (38 page)

Bea read her fortune: “You can never be certain of success, but you can be certain of failure if you never try.”

Wasn’t that the truth. Bea slipped it in her pocket.

“What did you get?” she asked Maddy.

“A smile is your personal welcome mat.” Maddy rolled her eyes and grinned like a maniac. “How’s that?” She took a nibble of her cookie. “What’s yours say, Tyler?”

Tyler cracked his open and pulled out the fortune. “An inch of time is an inch of gold.” He raised an eyebrow, then popped half the cookie in his mouth.

“Let’s ask for new fortunes,” Maddy said. “Only Bea got a good one.”

“You get what you get and you don’t get upset,” Tyler singsonged, tapping Maddy’s hand with her unused chopstick. “Remember how Dad always used to say that?”

The famous eye roll was back. “He still does. And anyway, doesn’t that totally contradict Bea’s good fortune? If what you get sucks, you should get upset.”

Bea laughed. Maddy would be just fine with age and wisdom.

When they walked back to Main Street, where Tyler’s car was parked, Maddy got in and put in her earbuds.

“Can I drop you home?” he asked.

“Nah, the inn’s just right up the hill.”

He glanced up the twisty road, then back at Bea. “So maybe we could do something sometime?”

“Definitely.”

He smiled. “I’ll call you tomorrow then.”

He squeezed her hand and looked at her, then got in the car. As Bea headed up Harbor Hill Road, she glanced back, watching until the taillights were out of view. She had no idea where she’d be living in a couple of weeks. And Tyler would be traveling the world, working on films. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends. Maybe even more.

On her way to the inn, Bea pulled out her phone and called Veronica.

“Would you like to get together soon? This past week, I was thinking that I wasn’t sure I had anything left to ask you, anything more to tell you, but I was . . . running a bit scared, I think. Overwhelmed. And it turns out I have a lot to tell you.”

“Oh, I know all about that,” Veronica said. “And I have a lot to tell you too. How about tomorrow night at seven at my house? I’ll make you lasagna and you can help me bake a pie.”

“I’ll be there,” Bea said, thinking that Cora Crane would like Veronica Russo a lot.

It was so strange to be holding her order pad, wearing her typical uniform of jeans, white button-down shirt, and Best Little Diner in Boothbay apron, when there were three large cameras, microphones, and huge lights in every direction inside the diner. So many people stood on the sidelines. Veronica glanced out the window at the crowd of people behind a barricade across the street and was startled to see that nudge, Hugh Fledge, waving his arms at her over his head like a lunatic and blowing a kiss at her with a huge goofy smile. She hoped he was as harmless as he seemed—a pest who wouldn’t give up but wasn’t . . . unhinged. She’d talk to Nick about what she could do to get Fledge off her back.

For this scene, Veronica was the counter waitress. The new second assistant director, Joe Something (apparently Patrick Ool had been reassigned to equipment and wouldn’t be working with extras; rumor had it he’d been caught canoodling with a minor), told her she had wisdom, kindness, and Maine in her face, and he wanted her front and center.

Veronica wondered about the rumors about Patrick and worried for Bea, but perhaps it was part of all that Bea wanted to tell her. That and how her meeting had gone with Timothy.

I really do care about her, Veronica realized as Joe Something
went over the blocking—where actors stood for the scene—with one of the actors.
I tried so damned hard not to let her in, but she bulldozed her way
. Veronica smiled at the thought of petite, young Bea steamrolling her, Ms. Supposedly Tough.

The assistant director blew a whistle that he wore around his neck, which was his annoying way of getting everyone’s attention. Good, time to shoot—not that Colin Firth was filming today. Rumor had it that he was coming to town tomorrow, but if Veronica had a penny for every time . . . And besides, the fact that she wanted to get this scene over with so she could go to Gray’s Grocery and buy the ingredients for lasagna told her that her heart wasn’t so much in being an extra anymore. Bea was coming to dinner tonight; her heart was in that.

Each table in the diner was full of extras, and the counter was half full; Veronica got a good chuckle at the “typical Maine diner customer”: there was the crusty old man reading a newspaper and having the fried haddock and fries. Three teenage girls who looked like they stepped out of an L.L.Bean catalog. The reserved middle-aged woman in twin set and pearls, whose instructions were to dab her lips twice while eating her apple pie—one of Veronica’s. A dad and his young son, with an adult and child-size fishing pole leaning against the wall next to them. Two twentysomething hipster types with a map of Maine spread out in front of them. And Veronica behind the counter with her coffeepot.

All her counter needed was Colin Firth. She got her fix of seeing his handsome face by watching his films; over the past two weeks, she’d seen ten more of his movies—and had watched
Love Actually
twice more, since it made her so damned happy.

And so damned sappy. Veronica Russo, sappy. That was a wonder.

But she’d let go of the fantasy of Mr. Darcy. He was a character, an idea. A very good idea, but an idea. And Colin Firth, despite how much Veronica loved him, was an actor on screen. Nick DeMarco, on the other hand, was six foot two inches of reality, and she was ready for him. When she’d made her Colin Firth Pie the other night, it wasn’t Mr. Darcy she’d been thinking about as she stirred her cherries and sugar and vanilla. And it wasn’t Colin Firth she’d imagined as she’d eaten every last bite of a slice. She’d only thought of Nick.

The actors got into place, and Veronica gave the set her full attention. In this scene, the female lead and her fiancé were having an argument that involved her dumping a lobster roll on his head and storming out. They’d rehearsed the scene with an empty plate four times and had shot it twice today with the real thing, which meant hour-long breaks to wash the lobster bits out of Christopher Cade’s hair and change his shirt. Apparently, wardrobe had thirty of the same blue dress shirts at the ready.

As they waited for the sound guy to attend to whatever was the problem, Veronica relaxed behind the counter and decided that after dinner tonight, she’d teach Bea how to make one of her Happiness Pies. One of her own favorites: fudge.

Veronica had the lasagna in the oven and was mincing garlic for the Italian bread when her phone rang. Please don’t be Bea canceling, she’d prayed.

But it was Beth Macintosh.

“I wanted to apologize to you for how I acted,” Beth
said. “Timothy had always been torn up about whether or not he’d fathered your child, but ever since he saw you through the diner window several months ago, it’s all he’d talk about. Did I? Was I? What if? It got to the point where our marriage was strained. Then one day, friends of mine in town mentioned your name—not even knowing your connection to Tim—and your elixir pies, and I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone, as they say.”

“So maybe the pie worked in a roundabout way, after all,” Veronica said.

Beth was quiet for a second, but then laughed. “I guess I owe you fifteen bucks.”

“That one’s on me.”

“Thank you,” Beth said. And then she hung up—once and for all, Veronica knew.

Over Veronica’s delicious—if she did say so herself—lasagna, garlic bread, and a crisp green salad, Bea told Veronica about meeting Timothy and Beth.

“It was a bit awkward,” Bea said, lifting up a gooey forkful of lasagna. “I think he’s still uncomfortable with the whole thing, but Beth said they’d tell their daughter about me and would like to get together again.”

“I’m glad you found him. You’ve settled something, and gave him an answer to a question he couldn’t let go of.”

Bea lifted her glass of iced tea and clinked Veronica’s.

As they ate, Veronica told Bea that she’d sat down to an interview with Gemma Hendricks and poured out her life story, and Bea told Veronica all about Patrick Ool and why he’d gotten reassigned to equipment.

“Good Lord,” Veronica said, shocked to hear the news. “You just can’t tell with some people. I never would have pegged him for a creep.”

Bea smiled and reached for a piece of garlic bread. “That makes me feel better because neither did I.”

“So . . . are you and Tyler dating now, if I can ask?”

“Of course you can ask. But I’m over dating for now. I like him, that’s all I know. Considering I hated his guts a week ago, I think I’ll just take this one super slow. The cast and crew are heading to London to shoot for a week. And sometime soon, I guess I’ll be heading back to Boston to look for teaching jobs.”

Oh. Veronica should have known she’d be heading back to Boston. But she figured Bea would stick around for the summer, at least. “You have family there?”

“There’s no one, actually. Just me.”

“And me,” Veronica dared to say.

Bea looked at her. “And you.”

Maybe that was too much for Veronica to have said. She changed the subject. “You’re so lucky you know what you want to do. I never really knew. Sometimes I dream about opening up my own little pie diner. But that’s just that—a dream.”

“A diner of pies? That sounds incredible. And since your pie is the best anyone’s ever had, you should open your own place. Who wouldn’t swarm a pie diner all day?”

Veronica did have a lot of money socked away. Maybe she’d look into it. Huh. Veronica Russo, business owner. Owning her own place instead of serving. Staking her own claim. She liked the sound of that.

Bea took a bite of lasagna. “I thought maybe you wanted to be an actress or involved with films. Because you became an extra.”

“Oh, I only did that to get a glimpse of Mr. Darcy in the flesh. Colin Firth. He’s my secret heartthrob.”

Bea laughed. “I love his accent.” She did an imitation of him that Veronica recognized from
Bridget Jones’s Diary.
“You know what’s funny? Tyler ended up being a bit like Mr. Darcy. I thought he was the biggest jerk. Turns out, he’s pretty wonderful.”