“And you don’t think he does?”
Jill grabbed a handful of chips and crunched irritably. “I flat-out asked if he thought he might, some day. He looked ready to puke and didn’t say a word.”
“Oh, Vin,” Elena said quietly.
“The worst part is, I miss him. It’s been only a few days, but I miss everything about him. About us.”
“We need more wine,” Elena muttered. “And a plan.”
Elena came to sit beside her and grabbed her hands. “Jill, Vin may not know how to tell you with words, but take it from someone who grew up with the big oaf… this is Vincent in love.”
Jill drew in a sharp breath, and Elena squeezed her hand harder. “He may not even know it yet. He has no idea what he’s doing. I’m guessing he’s terrified. But he’s trying, Jill. His ugly flowers… that was him trying. That was him loving you.”
Jill squeezed her eyes shut.
“Oh God,” she said quietly. Her chest felt tight. Swallowing was suddenly difficult. “He must have felt so… rejected.”
Elena’s face was sympathetic. “If it’s any consolation, I’m sure he didn’t handle it well. And I’m not trying to tell you how to feel, or what to do. I’m just asking—well, okay, begging actually—give him a chance, Jilly. You matter to him. And I know it’s hard, because you and Vin have been soul mates for like half a decade, but don’t forget that this element of your relationship is new.”
Jill groaned and dipped her forehead toward her knees. “Oh jeez. I basically asked him to propose after two weeks of dating.”
Elena laughed and patted her head. “Well, yours is an unconventional love story, sweetie.”
Jill sat back up. “So what do I do?”
Elena stood and took both of their wineglasses to the kitchen. “Call him. Tell him to come over. And then be naked. But for the love of God, wait until I leave.”
Jill stood, dodging the newspaper articles scattered around her floor as she went to join Elena in the kitchen. “You’re not staying?”
“Got things to do, places to be, love. And none of them involve being around while my best friend and brother hook up.”
Jill walked Elena to the door.
“We’re good, right?” Elena asked, shrugging on her jacket.
Jill smiled. “We’re great. Way too good of friends to let something as silly as your dumb brother come between us.”
Elena smiled. “So you’ll implement the naked plan we talked about?”
Jill rested her cheek against the open door. “I’ve got to figure out what to say first.”
“Don’t overthink it. And definitely consider the naked plan I laid out for you.”
Jill rolled her eyes and hugged her friend good-bye.
She stood still for several moments after shutting the door.
“I’m such an idiot,” she muttered.
Jill headed toward her cell phone, but the paper all over her floor caught her eye.
The mess seemed to have grown since last time she looked, and since Jill knew herself well enough to know that the longer she waited the more burdensome the task would become, she forced herself to clean it up now.
She wasn’t particularly organized by nature, but when it came to work, she had to be, so she carefully sorted the mess of papers by order of date, in case she’d need to quickly find something later.
Not that it would likely make much of a difference for Lenora Birch. This case seemed determined to stay cold—ice cold.
Finally Jill got to the last scanned article. It was over fifty years old, and the original must have been so faded that the scanned image was barely legible.
In fact, it was so hard to read, and so old, that Jill had barely glanced at it the first time. It was a local story from Lenora’s hometown of Lorrence, a tiny town in Ohio barely big enough to be on most maps. Understandably, a local girl getting cast as the lead in a major Hollywood film was a big deal.
A Love Song for Cora went on to garner an Academy Award nomination and was the movie that launched Lenora’s career.
Jill placed the article on top of the pile and sat back on her heels. She couldn’t help the wistful smile as she glanced down at the article. She wondered if its columnist—a Bill Shapiro—had had any idea that his little article would be the first of hundreds on a Hollywood legend.
Her eyes skimmed the hard-to-read print. Bill Shapiro’s writing was amateurish, at best, and his irritation at being unable to get a statement from the producer, the director, or Lenora herself was thinly veiled.
Ultimately the only “insider” willing to speak with Bill had been an assistant casting director, Miles Kennedy, and Bill had obviously done his best to add a bit of drama, despite the lack of big-name references.