Fading Starlight Part 5

eight.

By the time Derek and his crew arrived, Lauren was already working some fertilizer into the soil around the fence line. Last night she'd bought a sack of bulbs and a large flat of pink and yellow pansies. Her great-aunt had taught her to bury the bulbs, then to plant the pansies right over the top of them. It would keep the ground colorful and beautiful now while waiting for the bulbs to work their magic and bloom in the spring.

The ocean breeze was brisk, but the sun was warm on her back as Lauren spent the day digging in the sorely neglected ground. It felt good to be working in the yard again. It had been several years since she'd had a lawn to tend, and only now did she realize how much she'd missed it.

As she worked, her mind kept wandering back to the conversation with Kendall. Something about her made Lauren uneasy. Maybe she really was overthinking everything because of Marisa's betrayal. Now she was having trouble trusting other people. Kendall could help her get her life back, a life that had been wrecked through no fault of her own, and it wouldn't hurt anything for Lauren to tell Kendall about what she'd seen her grumpy old neighbor wearing. It wasn't like she was spying on her personal life or anything, and Kendall already knew the woman dressed for dinner each night, so it wasn't like this was all hush-hush.

She turned her attention back to the flowers and reminiscences of working in the garden with Aunt Nell. Most of Lauren's happy memories from her childhood were of time spent with Chloe and her family, or in Santa Maria with Aunt Nell. A familiar pang pulled at her. She stood up to stretch out her legs and to clear her mind, her eyes wandering toward the large house at the end of the lane.

She still had several bulbs and quite a few pansies left over after she'd done what she'd planned to do at the cottage. What if she went across the street and planted these outside the fence? It wouldn't be violating the rules, as the area outside the fence was considered neighborhood property. It would make for a cohesive look around the cul-de-sac and would be something nice for Miss Montgomery to look at every day when, or if, she ventured outside the fence of her compound. Since Lauren had never seen her anywhere but on her own back porch, she wondered if Miss Montgomery ever came out front. Even if she didn't, it would be nice for the rest of the area residents to have flowers to look at. That was, after all, the reason they'd agreed to let her stay here for the next few months-to improve the upkeep on this place.

In the past several days, Lauren had met all the other neighbors. There was the middle-aged couple from the Tudor house, Christi and Elliott, who only lived here on the weekends. During the week they stayed in their downtown condo for convenience. They arrived every Friday evening, along with their pugs, Artoo and Detoo, whom they walked several times a day. And there was George from the oceanside Mediterranean, a seventy-something man who jogged by Lauren's cottage in the early-morning hours. His wife, Edna, kept to herself, but she still walked the lane occasionally. George and Edna were the parents of the mysterious neighborhood manager. Surely they, too, would appreciate a little sprucing up. But somehow Lauren knew that neighborhood appreciation had nothing to do with her reason for wanting to plant the flowers.

She hadn't been able to get her mind off the woman she'd encountered on the back porch of the Victorian. Maybe it was because of the repeated dreams she'd had since that encounter. Sometimes she dreamed of Aunt Nell's deteriorated planters, other times she dreamed of Aunt Nell walking with her along a rocky sh.o.r.e. Suddenly, Nell would be wearing a gorgeous antique ball gown, with jewels glittering around her throat. Then she wasn't Aunt Nell at all anymore, she was Charlotte Montgomery, and a large wave was coming in behind her. Lauren would scream at her to run, but she never did. She always stood perfectly still while the salt water slammed against her body, soaking her dress and drenching her hair. Then Lauren would wake up.

She'd puzzled over the dreams. Why would her subconscious keep lumping her grumpy neighbor into a dream with the one true and faithful person from Lauren's childhood? Perhaps it was because they were roughly the same age. Maybe it was because Charlotte Montgomery had been wearing the most gorgeous antique gown Lauren had ever seen-so much so that she was even dreaming about it?

Enough of this self-examination. Time for action. Lauren took over a bag of topsoil and spent the next few hours pulling weeds and getting the ground ready. Then she planted the bulbs and very carefully laid the pansies over the top. She stood back to admire her work. Yes. It looked satisfactory. Quite satisfactory, in fact. Hopefully this would bring a little bit of cheer to Miss Montgomery's day.

"That looks really nice. I hope the recipient appreciates it, although somehow I kind of doubt it." Derek Allen was loading some tools in his truck when she returned to the cottage.

"We'll see."

"Just remember, the gift is no less thoughtful, whether or not the receiver understands its value."

Lauren looked at him and smiled. "That is very profound." She needed to write that one down for Rhonda. Just the thought of that dear woman brought a twinge of something like being homesick.

Derek adjusted his ball cap. "I'm a philosopher at heart. Doesn't do much in the way of paying bills, though." He nodded toward the house. "Roof will be finished up tomorrow. Starting next week we'll be working on the deck and the exterior painting, but it should be a lot less mess and a lot fewer people inside and in your way."

"Perfect. Next week is when I'll be sewing full blast, so it will be nice to have a clean work s.p.a.ce."

"You've been a good sport about your tent."

"You were a good sport to make it for me."

He tipped his hat and climbed into his truck. "Enjoy your evening. See you in the morning at eight."

"Good night." Lauren made her way back to the cottage and rewarded herself for all her hard work with a nice hot shower, followed by a bowl of popcorn and an old black-and-white movie on TV. She watched Bette Davis saunter across the screen as Margo Channing, watched the story unfold of the young girl named Eve, who was trying to take over Margo's place as the high queen of the theater. But mostly, she watched the costumes. The clothes of that period were nothing short of divine. Even in black and white, the beauty shone through. Glamorous, yet not pretentious. And cla.s.sy-which certainly wasn't a word that could be applied to most of today's fas.h.i.+ons. Certainly not those worn by most of the stars on the red carpet.

Her phone rang. "h.e.l.lo."

"Good news, earthling. I come bearing good news." Chloe's voice was as perky as ever.

"I'm glad to hear that, my non-earthling friend. What might the news be which you are purveying to our little planet?"

Chloe laughed. "To put it in earth terms, due to some issue or other, Jasper has tomorrow afternoon off. We're hauling ourselves up to Santa Barbara. Prepare for some cabinet refinis.h.i.+ng tomorrow evening."

"Oh, Chloe, I can't have you spending a free afternoon two weeks before your wedding working on my little rental cottage."

"'Course you can. We all want to see that place. Even Mom is coming. Make sure we're all on your list, because otherwise we'll be picketing just outside the gate."

"Your names are on the list already, all three of you. In fact, your names are the only ones on the list. What time are you planning to hit the road?"

"Probably just after two."

"Perfect. I've got a fitting at the high school at two, so I should easily be back here by four."

"And we'll be arriving somewhere close to five, I imagine. Works great. I look forward to seeing you and to checking out your new beach pad. By the way, Mom says she'll bring a burrito ca.s.serole and a salad with her. She says there is no way that someone should be expected to provide food for self-invited friends less than a week after moving into a new place."

"Your mother is the best."

"Don't I know it. Oh, and by the way, Cody looked at the picture of the cracked wood and says he's pretty sure he can devise a new piece that will work. What?" Her voice trailed off, and Lauren heard other voices in the background. "Oh, sorry, I gotta run. Late as usual. Love ya. See ya tomorrow. Bye."

And that was that. Nothing else to do but watch the credits roll across her screen. She sank down onto a chair and took a deep breath as she watched the names of Bette Davis, Celeste Holm, and then Marilyn Monroe roll up the screen. In later years those names would rearrange in importance. She smiled as she watched the rest of them, until a name at the very bottom caught her attention. Charlotte Montgomery as the second autograph seeker.

What? Miss Montgomery, her neighbor, was in All About Eve? Surely it was a different Charlotte Montgomery. It had to be. What she wouldn't give to be able to hit rewind right now.

She promised herself she'd research her highly private neighbor later and see what IMDb would tell her. For now, well, if she was going to have a houseful of people tomorrow afternoon, she'd best get busy doing a bit more unpacking and fixing up around the cottage.

Charlotte had been giddy with excitement. Her father had secured her a spot in the new Bette Davis movie. It was a tiny spot. Only a couple of lines, lines that were shouted at the same time that several other people were shouting out their lines-"Miss Channing, Miss Channing" while holding out a piece of paper for an autograph.

Up until that point, Charlotte had been doing what her father called "paying her dues." Taking midsized parts in small productions. This one, though-this one was different. This one had a level of prestige that none of her other films had carried. In spite of the fact that her part was almost nonexistent, she would get listed in the credits. It was the next step up in her career, and she couldn't wait to keep moving.

Charlotte could still smell the cigarette smoke that hung like a cloud around the set. On screen, off screen, everyone smoked back then. One of the cameramen would sneak her the occasional Chesterfield, in spite of the fact that her mother had told her she wasn't allowed to smoke until she turned eighteen. But that didn't stop the shots of bourbon that showed up in her gla.s.s, either. It was a free-for-all on set. They were the elite, the privileged, and rules for other people simply did not apply to them. Everyone seemed to know and understand this.

She remembered walking into Schwab's Pharmacy one evening with her new friend Juliette. They had gone to the shop under the pretense of getting a soda, but the truth was, they wanted to see who might be in there. It was the Sunset Boulevard stop for so many actors and directors, not to mention Sidney Skolsky, the Hollywood gossip columnist for the New York Post. He had long since made the pharmacy counter his "office."

As the two of them approached the counter, they saw Sidney Skolsky right away. He was sitting beside a woman who had her back to them. This made it easier for them to gawk at the sable coat she wore. It was unlike anything Charlotte had ever seen, and her mother had more than a couple of nice furs. This coat, though, was on a whole different level of luxury, one that even most of the "mink crowd" would not have been able to afford.

Just then, the owner of the coat turned toward Charlotte.

"h.e.l.lo there, darling. Nice work on the set today." She inhaled deeply from her cigarette and turned back to face Sidney, conversation over.

Juliette's mouth had dropped open and remained there. "That is Bette Davis."

They were still new in their friends.h.i.+p, so Charlotte tried to play it cool. She shrugged nonchalantly, trying to pretend it wasn't the huge, gigantic deal that it was. "Yes, I know. We're working on the same film."

Of course, Charlotte knew that Bette Davis did not know her name, and the use of darling had been less an endearment and more of a cover-up. She also knew that Bette only recognized her because they had done Charlotte's one-and-only scene at the very end of the day. During a scene break, Anne Baxter had nodded toward Charlotte and said, "You're Collin Montgomery's daughter, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Is that so?" Bette Davis had said, looking Charlotte up and down. "Nice to have you here, dear." And then she'd turned and walked off. Just like that.

Charlotte had vowed that she would become a big enough star that she would someday be able to walk up to a total stranger and completely make her day by acknowledging that she existed in the same world. It was a laughable goal. She just didn't know it back then.

nine.

This is Priscilla. She'll be playing the role of Guinevere." Theodore Rivers gestured toward a beautiful blond teenager. She was tall and thin, and the slight tilt of her nose and lift of her chin gave her a regal bearing that did indeed make her appear to be a perfect Guinevere.

"h.e.l.lo, Priscilla. I'm Lauren, and I just need to take some measurements."

Priscilla nodded and stepped closer. "What do you need me to do?"

"Extend your arms first." Lauren pulled out her tape measure and began making notes.

"You used to work in LA, huh?" There was an edge of excitement in her voice.

"Yes, I did." No need for further comment. She didn't want to encourage this conversation.

"It must be thrilling to be there, in the middle of all the action. Better than being bored to death around here."

Lauren couldn't help but smile. She remembered her own dreams at this age. "Sometimes it is really exciting. Most of the time, though, it's just plain hard work, with loads of added stress. Still, I have to admit, there are times when it is magical."

Priscilla turned to regard her. "I hope that you are going to be more careful about your work on our costumes than you were back there. We are one of the top-performing high schools in the country, you know, and we only accept excellence. Sloppy work doesn't cut it here. We won't stand for it."

Her expression and voice did not change as she said it. Simply stating a fact, as if she were a far superior professional giving the ground rules to a novice. Everything inside of Lauren wanted to snap back at this rude little twit, or at least to defend herself. But she decided to keep her mouth shut for now, and when Kendall revealed the truth to the world-that it wasn't Lauren's mistake at all-it would be that much sweeter. For now, head down, mouth shut, she would wait for vindication. "I'll try to keep that in mind."

"Good." Priscilla tossed her hair over her shoulder and said nothing else.

Lauren managed to make it to her car before she burst into tears. She knew that she should not let the words of a teenager she'd never met before hit her so hard, but she was still so raw about all that had happened.

She had pulled herself together by the time she reached the neighborhood gate. She was glad that Chloe and gang were coming up tonight. It would help keep her mind too busy to stew and fret over the words of a teenage beauty queen.

"Good afternoon, Lauren. Are you still expecting your guests this evening? I'm looking forward to seeing some young people around here." Sam always had a smile on his face, always just so happy to see whoever pulled up to the gate.

"Yes. I believe they should be here in the next hour or so."

"I look forward to meeting them." Sam saluted as he opened the gate for her.

As she drove up the street, Lauren saw two people standing outside Miss Montgomery's fence. To their left was a smear of something brown, and beside that lay a large black trash bag. Lauren wondered if a neighborhood dog had been digging in the new flowers, which would definitely be a b.u.mmer. As she got closer, she saw that Miss Montgomery was standing out in the road beside a man who was kneeling at the fence-ripping out the flowers and tossing them into the bag.

Miss Montgomery gestured wildly with her arms, leaving no doubt that she expected Lauren to drive over to her immediately. Lauren pulled up beside them and rolled down her window. Miss Montgomery put both hands on her hips. "What is it, exactly, you are hoping to accomplish by attempting to commandeer the plot of land in front of my house?" She gestured toward the man and the pile of recently uprooted flowers beside him. "I had to pay Richard overtime to pull this all out."

Richard, a gray-haired man in tan coveralls, didn't look up. He dug his hand into the soil and tossed a flower toward the bag without looking.

"I'm not attempting to commandeer anything. It's just that I have been planting flowers over at the cottage, and there were some left that I was going to have to throw into the trash. Instead of wasting them, and since there was nothing growing out here, I thought I would plant them outside your fence. I was simply trying to be nice."

"I've encountered your kind of nice before. What that means is, you do what you perceive as a favor for me, and then soon enough you are asking for favors in return. No one does anything for free, I've lived long enough to know that." She was wearing a beautiful silk dress of the sort that wealthy women would have worn in the daytime back in the 1940s. It was white, with little blue flowers dotting the fabric, and quite stunning in its simplicity. Lauren would have asked about the fabric if she were speaking to Miss Montgomery under different circ.u.mstances-and if Miss Montgomery were a more pleasant person.

"You may have lived long enough, but you clearly have not lived around the right kind of people. I do apologize if my kindhearted gesture has offended you." Lauren had several more sarcastic words ready to spill out, but as she took a breath to continue, she remembered this morning's quiet time. Paul had been severely beaten after his arrival in Jerusalem. The Roman soldiers had to carry him out to keep the crowd from killing him, and they took Paul back to the barracks for his own safety. Yet he requested to speak. He then attempted to preach to the very people who had beaten him, the same ones who were still trying to kill him. He didn't ask G.o.d to avenge him, and he didn't defend himself in any way. He simply looked at the people for who they were-people who were lost, afraid, and in need of love. At the time, she had prayed for that kind of love. Now, in the heat of the moment, she wondered why she'd wanted it.

She noticed a glint at Miss Montgomery's neck and caught sight of a gigantic sapphire and diamond necklace, barely longer than choker length. Lauren was certain it was the same necklace she'd seen across the way during her previous encounter with Miss Montgomery. It glistened in the fading sunlight, demonstrating its full brilliance against the drabness of everything around it. Kendall would be more than happy to know about this, Lauren was sure. She drew in a deep breath and used every bit of her strength to keep her voice calm and even. "If you prefer, in the future I will throw my leftover flowers in the recycling. Again, I apologize for upsetting you. I can a.s.sure you that was not my intention."

This time Richard did look up. He offered a half smile, winked at her, then turned his attention back to the task at hand. Lauren was pretty sure she saw Miss Montgomery's mouth hanging open as she turned her car toward home.

Once parked, and still shaking from the encounter, Lauren removed a couple of costume pieces from the back of her SUV, then cast a glance back toward the road. Miss Montgomery whipped her head around, pretending that she hadn't been watching, when clearly she had been. She shook her head as if in disgust, said something else to Richard, then pushed open the wrought-iron gates and hurried up the walk to her house. What an unpleasant and unkind woman.

Lauren carried the pieces inside and put them in her bedroom, where she'd finally been able to set up a sewing station. Tonight's cabinet-refinis.h.i.+ng project shouldn't cause any problems back here. She paced around the cottage, still worked up by the way Miss Montgomery had treated her. Priscilla had been rude, but at least she had the excuse of being a teenager. Miss Montgomery, on the other hand . . . How could anyone be so mean? It seemed that no one considered Lauren good enough to do anything anymore. A little question niggling inside her wondered whether so many people could be wrong about her.

She shook off the thought. Aunt Nell would call it a pity party. Time to text Kendall with a description of the necklace. She had said she was particularly interested in a couple of pieces of jewelry and some gowns. Surely that spectacular necklace Lauren had seen today had to be at the top of the list-especially since it seemed to be a favorite. If Miss Montgomery was really a murderer, the sooner she was exposed, the better.

Be careful not to make a treaty with those who live in the land where you are going, or they will be a snare among you. Rhonda's verse ran through Lauren's mind once again. Lauren had no plans to make a treaty with Miss Montgomery. She didn't know why that verse kept coming to her mind.

Lauren picked up her cell phone, but something inside her made her pause. Why? She was not breaking any of the privacy rules of the neighborhood-she had encountered Miss Montgomery on the street, not on her private property. Besides, Miss Montgomery did not deserve her loyalty, that much was certain. Lauren simply was giving a few details about a piece of jewelry she'd seen her neighbor wearing while standing in the street.

She opened her contacts list and scrolled to Kendall's name. She typed out a brief description, but for a reason she still did not understand, she underplayed what she had seen.

Saw CM on the street today. She was wearing what appeared to be a sapphire and diamond necklace. Quite large, but I didn't get a great look. Will continue to watch for more details.

She pressed Send and went on with her day.

ten.

Charlotte Montgomery went in search of a good book. Her mind was crowded by memories she did not want to entertain. She'd put all those things far behind her, and now this new girl had moved in across the road and stirred up everything again.

In particular, shadows of Juliette Richards kept popping into her mind unbidden and would not be removed. Much as the real Juliette had done long ago. Charlotte could still see her face, remember her close-cut blond curls. She had been one of the prettiest and most popular girls in high school. She could choose any boy she wanted to date, and every girl wanted to be her friend. And Juliette had chosen Charlotte.

This friends.h.i.+p brought Charlotte a new level of acceptance from the other kids at school. The people at the studio had always been polite to her, of course. They didn't dare do otherwise, as her father could have them fired. But teenagers worked on an entirely different hierarchy of importance, and Juliette was at the top. Charlotte had always been somewhere near the bottom, partly due to the fact that she was not one of the prettier girls, and partly due to the fact that other kids' parents did not approve of her mother and father's living arrangement and forbade their kids to hang out with her. They seemed to believe that adultery and having children out of wedlock were not only pa.s.sed down genetically to the child involved but also contagious for their own kids. It was certainly a disease that no one wanted to catch.

One day Charlotte had been heading toward the library during lunch-she often sat in there and pretended to study to avoid the cafeteria. It was too humiliating to sit at the losers' table, and she wasn't welcome anywhere else.

"Charlotte, hi. How's it going?" Juliette had come right up to her, smiling like they were old friends.

"Fine." Charlotte hadn't been able to think of one other thing to say.

"Hey, listen, I was planning to walk down to Jerry's Place after school. You want to come get a soda with me? We can talk about our history project."