Everything Leads to You

Charlotte grimaces. “Not the most professional move on our part.”


“Yeah, not really,” I say, exiting the freeway and turning right onto Ruby Avenue. “But it’s okay. We met Frank and Edie under strange circumstances. We don’t need to get super-professional with them all of a sudden. And at least she’s part of the film now.”

When we get to the house, the station wagon is in the driveway; the front door is open.

“Hello, Frank and Edie,” I call inside. “It’s Emi and Charlotte.”

“Is someone there?” Frank calls. I can see him working his way out of his chair and walking over to us.

“Girls, hello!” he says from halfway through the room. Soon, he is standing in the doorway, welcoming us inside.

“We brought you guys cookies,” I say.

“Plain ones,” Charlotte says.

“Edie will be thrilled,” Frank says. “The perfect afternoon snack. She’s getting her hair done right now. Gretchen, our daughter-in-law, takes her every Tuesday. Such a sweet girl.”

We follow him into their living room and it’s even more right for the film than I’d remembered. The plastic-covered maroon couch, the careful piles of magazines. Frank has the wood-paneled television tuned in to a Dodgers game, a vintage TV tray with brass legs set up in front of a mint green easy chair. Everything is old but in such good condition. I take a closer look at the TV tray—the top of it is a fruit basket design in a muted color palette of gold and—yes—coral.

“Frank,” I say. “I’m here with a request.”

“Oh?”

“Last time we were here I believe that we told you what our jobs were.”

“Yes, you did. Every time Edie reads something about The Agency she talks about you. Very exciting. And you’re both so young.”

“We started working on a new movie. It’s very small but we hope it will get picked up by a big studio after it’s been made.”

“It’s called Yes & Yes,” Charlotte says. “The script is really beautiful.”

“I’m the production designer,” I say, and I get such a thrill from saying it that actually gives me goose bumps. Frank is watching us deliver this information so patiently, looking at us with these wise old-man eyes, turning his ear just the tiniest bit toward us when we speak so that his hearing aids will work.

“I was wondering whether we might be able to use your home in the film,” I say. His white, wiry eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

He turns his head to survey the room as though he’s expecting to find himself suddenly elsewhere.

“Here?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say. “Unfortunately, we have a limited budget and could only offer you a hundred dollars per day, but we have a very respectful crew and we’d only need five days. And maybe it would be exciting to see your house in a movie?”

“Why our house?” he asks, so I explain the part to him and I can tell that he likes the idea of it because he keeps looking around in awe and saying, “Who would have guessed?” and smiling.

“I’ll talk to Edie,” he says. “It’s fine with me, but you know who’s in charge around here.”

He winks, and just as I’m winking back, Ava calls, “Hello?” from the doorway.

“I can’t remember the last time I had so much unexpected company,” Frank says.

Charlotte says, “This is Ava.”

“Come in,” Frank says, and when Ava steps inside I get goose bumps again but for an altogether different reason. Her hair is swept off her shoulders with bobby pins. She’s wearing a camisole as a tank top, a light green satin that makes her eyes even brighter, makes me want to be nearer to her.

“Hi,” she says to all of us, and the rasp in her voice is enough to make me swoon.

But then I remember what she’s here for and that I didn’t have time to give Frank any warning.

“Frank, remember how we were looking for Caroline Maddox last time we were here and you told us that she had a baby?”

He nods yes.

“We found her. This is Ava.”

Instead of turning to Ava he looks harder at me. At first I thought he might not have heard me, but then I realize that he’s just taking a moment to process this news, and I feel a trace of what I felt when I opened the door to Ava that first night. Like I’m trespassing again.

“I hope it’s okay that I came,” Ava says.

He finally turns to her.

“Sure, sweetheart. Sure. Come into the living room. Let’s have some of these cookies.”

He turns off the TV, and I feel even worse because clearly all he wants is to watch the Dodgers in peace and here we are ruining it.

Charlotte places the pink box on the coffee table next to all the magazines and opens the top. The cookies glisten up at us. Frank reaches for one.

“I suppose you want to hear the whole story.”

“If it’s okay,” Ava says. “The woman who adopted me never told me what happened.”

“That’s a shame.”