California Girls

She and Nigel were still playing nice. The paperwork had been signed to sell the house and the For Sale sign would go up in a week. They’d divided the bank accounts and were beginning the process of conscious uncoupling, as it was called these days.

Finola carried boxes into the garage. Her mother had borrowed folding tables from a friend for the smaller items. There were racks with clothing ready to be wheeled onto the driveway and stacks of books and games, along with boxes of old toys. Finola had written up a list of furniture available so people could know what was for sale before tracking into the house. Once items were sold, they would be crossed off the list.

Ali had taken care of advertising the estate sale. She’d used both social media and the Los Angeles Times website to let people know what was available. This being the land of Hollywood and movies, there would be a special interest in all the Parker Crane memorabilia, and she’d made sure to highlight that.

Zennie and Ali would be at the house by six thirty and the estate sale would start at eight. It would be a busy day. Finola was hoping to move everything on Saturday so they didn’t have to deal with a second day. With luck, all she and her sisters would have to do was run whatever didn’t sell over to a donation center. Once that was done, their mother would get the carpets cleaned and put the house up for sale.

Finola returned to the house for another load of boxes. Her cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen and recognized her agent’s number.

“You’re working late on a Friday.”

“I am and only for you,” Wilma said dramatically. “Because you’re my favorite.”

“You say that to all your clients. We’ve talked about it and none of us believe you anymore.”

Wilma chuckled. “I’m all right with that. So, I have news.”

“Based on your tone, I’m going to assume it’s the happy kind.” Which she believed she was due for, she thought with a smile.

“It is. It’s fantabulous and I don’t say that lightly.”

“Tell me.”

“The network wants you to guest cohost the 10:00 a.m. hour of the national show. For a week.”

Finola walked over to the sofa and collapsed. Her heart thudded in her chest and there was a ringing in her ears.

“Are you serious? They’re asking me?”

“They are. I’ve been hearing rumors that one of the morning show hosts was leaving so everyone moves up a rung on the ladder, leaving a spot open for someone and I want that someone to be you. This is an audition, Finola. You need to kick ass that week.”

Going from AM SoCal to the ten o’clock hour of a network show was huge. Bigger than huge.

“I’ll do it. Of course I’ll do it. When is it?”

“In three weeks. Can you be ready?”

“Yes. I’ll have to call my producers and let them know.”

They wouldn’t be happy but they also couldn’t refuse a network request.

“There’s more,” Wilma told her. “They’re going to let you produce a weeklong series, if you want. One segment per show per day. You pick the topic. It will be a lot of work, but you can show them what you’re capable of.”

“I’ll do it,” she said without considering any other option. Because she didn’t need to make a decision. “I already have a topic. Why marriages fail.”

Wilma gasped. “That’s insane. You can’t talk about that.”

“Why not? It’s relevant. Everyone knows someone who has gotten a divorce. They’ll be thinking about my marriage anyway. Why not get it out in the open?”

“That’s a gutsy move, Finola. It’s going to take a lot of strength.”

“I can handle it,” she said. Yes, it would be painful and yes, she would feel exposed, but she had a feeling she would feel a lot lighter and more free when she was done.

“I’ll email you the details,” Wilma told her. “Take the weekend to think about the topic and get back to me.”

“I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Take the weekend.”

Finola grinned. “Yes, ma’am. Talk to you on Monday.”

They hung up. Her mind was spinning with possibilities. She started to dial Rochelle only to remember her assistant was moving on. She had a great opportunity here. Dangling New York would be a distraction. Better for Rochelle to become an associate producer here than be Finola’s assistant in New York, assuming the audition turned into an offer.

“I can do it myself,” she said aloud, mostly to hear the words. She had plenty of free time. She would put together an outline for the segments, then talk to the booker about getting the appropriate guests. She was interested in a thoughtful, informative series that helped the viewers. If she got closure herself, well, that was just a bonus.





Chapter Twenty-Eight


“Go back to bed,” Zennie said with a laugh as she drove through the quiet streets of Burbank, just after six in the morning. She adjusted the volume on her speakers so she could hear the Bluetooth call more clearly. “Clark, it’s Saturday. Why are you even awake?”

“You’re pregnant and Ali has a broken arm. That’s going to limit the workforce.”

“It’s an estate sale, not ditch digging. And me being pregnant doesn’t change anything. I’m on my feet all day at work, so I’m used to it.”

“You’re on your feet all day at work, so you should stay off your feet on the weekends. I want to come help.”

“We discussed this at dinner.”

“Yes, we did and you told me no. I’m pushing back.”

Since getting back in touch with her and offering friendship, Clark had been around a lot more than she would have expected. Even more surprising, she kind of liked it. He was steady and calm. Given her current emotional state, those were both qualities she needed right now. True to his word, he hadn’t pressured her about anything. They were hanging out—nothing more.

“Fine,” she said. “Come by around ten and you can man the cash register while I take a thirty-minute break, but then you have to leave.”

“Great. See you at ten. Want me to bring doughnuts?”

She thought about the whole wheat waffle barely covered by nut butter and organic berries she’d had for breakfast and the gross protein shake she’d brought with her.

“I would kill for a maple bar,” she whispered. “But you can’t tell.”