Page 36 of For My Finale

B lossom foamed some milk and surveyed the busy shop with satisfaction.

It had been two years since she’d opened the little bookshop and cafe, and she wouldn’t change a thing.

The shelves were packed with carefully curated books, the little tables were full of customers sipping tea and flipping through paperbacks, and the glass counter was almost empty of the day’s pastries.

Even better, Coffee-To-Go had finally closed up shop six months ago, unable to stand the competition.

She’d built something real, something that mattered, and Lilah had been there every step of the way, as promised. Well, when she wasn’t busy at her new job teaching drama in the next town over, that is.

In fact, she was expecting Lilah to walk through the door at any moment, probably to grumble about how Blossom hadn’t left any lemon drizzle cake for her to steal on her way to work.

Probably.

Blossom bit her lip and switched the coffee machine off. Truth be told, Lilah had seemed out of sorts recently. Only by a little. It was like her mind was elsewhere. Like she was thinking of something or someone else.

Not that Lilah had done or said anything concrete. It was just a lingering thought that Blossom was having, a thought that seemed to cut deeper every time she thought it.

She told herself to be realistic. But if Lilah was having second thoughts, that was realistic, wasn’t it? A big movie star stuck in a tiny village. It was realistic to think that after two years Lilah might be getting bored.

“Blossom?”

She turned to find Arty standing in front of her, empty cup in hand. “Sorry, Art, you want another?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he said. “And you looked like you were a million miles away.”

“Just thinking,” she said quickly.

“Business thinking or personal thinking?”

Before Blossom could answer, Mabel strode up to the counter. “I’ll take one of those Capuchins,” she said, her fox-tail hat bobbing as she spoke.

“Cappuccinos,” Arty said gently. “A Capuchin is a monkey. Or a monk.”

Mabel snorted. “Do better without either of those,” she said. “Make it a latte.”

“I’d better take a look at those shelves in the back,” Arty said. “I’ll have a latte too.”

He disappeared and Blossom got down to making more coffee.

But the question of Lilah was still gnawing at her. What if she missed the bright lights? What if she wanted something more? Would that be so unreasonable?

Which was when she glanced up just in time to see a familiar, high-heeled figure striding across the road. Her stomach sank.

She’d recognize Margot St. James anywhere.

???

Lilah had just picked up a loaf of fresh sourdough from the bakery when she heard the sharp click of high heels against cobblestones. “I’d know that sound anywhere,” she said, without turning.

“Lilah, darling,” said Margot, appearing like the devil himself.

“Margot, what on earth are you doing here? ”

“I came to see you, of course.”

Lilah lifted an eyebrow.

“Fine, I had a meeting in London and was over here anyway. I thought you might respond better in person,” said Margot.

“Better than what?”

“Better than hanging up on me every time I call.”

“Maybe because every time you call, you’re trying to get me to do something that I don’t want to do,” Lilah said. “And I’m assuming you’re not just here for a taste of the country life?”

“God, no,” Margot said. “Is there a green juice within fifty miles of here?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then I’ll stay where I belong, thank you very much,” Margot said. “And I have a flight to catch, so speaking of where people belong…” She thrust a sleek envelope into Lilah’s hands.

Lilah stared at it and tried to hand it back. “No.”

“At least look at it,” Margot said, putting her hands on her hips.

“If I look, will you leave?”

Margot didn’t answer, so with a sigh, Lilah opened the envelope and slid out a script. It was on weighty paper, already a cut above most scripts. But it was the name on the front that made her pause. Martin Leyland.

“I thought he’d made his swansong and quit again,” Lilah said.

“He wants you. You are literally the first actor to see the script,” said Margot. “And he made me swear to hand deliver it. So here I am.”

There wasn’t even a quiver of anticipation, not a shiver of a thought. Lilah smiled, slid the script back into the envelope, and handed it back. “No.”

“Lilah, this is huge, this—”

“No,” Lilah said again. “You can tell him thank you, but the answer is still no.”

Margot gritted her teeth and put the script back into her bag. “I told him as much. But he still made me come down here.”

“It’s nice to see you anyway,” Lilah lied. To be fair, Margot had mostly stayed out of her life. She called once a month or so, but generally she’d behaved herself. It helped that she still got a cut of Lilah’s royalties, which weren’t inconsequential.

“No, it’s not,” Margot said. “Don’t lie to your agent.” She sniffed. “Alright, I’m going. Look after yourself, Lilah. And if you change your mind…”

“You’ll be the first person I call,” Lilah said. She kept her face straight and still, knowing damn well that there was a chance she’d be calling Margot by the time she got back to California. And she was a good enough actress that Margot simply bid her goodbye and stalked off.

Lilah watched her go, feeling something settle inside her. She didn’t regret saying no, not a bit. She had more important things to think about. It was just a question of finding the right time to do what needed to be done.

???

Blossom didn’t consider herself a suspicious kind of person. But lately, she just couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was something going on right under her nose. And it wasn’t just Lilah acting strangely.

She slid a tray of freshly brewed tea across the counter to a customer, and from the corner of her eye saw Ives stabbing at her scone with a fork but not eating a bite.

“Did it insult your family?” she asked, making her way over to where Ives was sitting.

“What?” Ives said, looking confused.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“What?” Ives said again.

Blossom sighed and pulled out a chair. “Listen, I’ve got enough on my hands with Lilah acting all weird, I can’t handle you doing the same. So either tell me what’s wrong or I’ll prod you apart like you’re doing to that poor scone. Has Daisy set you up on another blind date with a serial killer?”

“Worse,” Ives said .

“Worse?”

Ives sighed and fiddled with the edge of her napkin before mumbling something under her breath.

Blossom frowned. “What?”

Ives exhaled through her nose. “Gloria told me I have to be in the next play.”

It wasn’t quite what Blossom had been expecting. “She what?”

“It’s Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,” Ives muttered. “She wants me to play Big Mama.”

“And?” prompted Blossom, still waiting for the punchline.

Ives finally looked at her, face twisted with something close to panic. “I can’t, Bloss. I’m not an actress.”

“And that’s why you’re acting weird?” Blossom said.

She laughed. “Ives, it can’t possibly be that bad.

I mean, we’ve still got half the village convinced that Blanche DuBois was a secret lesbian and whilst Lilah assures me that hidden homosexuality plays a big part in Streetcar, I’m not entirely sure that’s what Tennessee Williams intended. ”

“True,” Ives said, looking slightly less pale.

“And you’ll be wonderful,” Blossom said. “I mean, if you don’t want to do it, then don’t, don’t let Gloria boss you around. But if the only thing stopping you is fear, then don’t let it. You’ve got this.”

Ives looked down at her scone again, quiet for a long moment. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Then she looked up, a gleam in her eye. “What’s all this about Lilah acting suspiciously?”

“Weirdly, I said weirdly, not suspiciously,” Blossom said.

“Spill it,” said Ives, looking serious.

“It’s nothing,” Blossom sighed. “She’s just… She’s had a lot of phone calls. She’s not telling me something. And now… I saw Margot in town.”

Ives sat back. “Ah.”

“And then… what if she regrets all this?” Blossom said. Now that she was talking about it, it was hard not to let all the words spill out all together. “What if all this is just too small for her? What if— ”

“What if you actually talk to her,” Ives said, putting her hand over Blossom’s.

“Because I’m not doing this again. If I’ve learned one thing over the last two years, it’s that Lilah Paxton is absolutely besotted with you.

I didn’t want to believe it, but there it is.

So if you think there’s something wrong, then you need to go talk to Lilah about it. ”

Blossom inhaled shakily. Then she nodded. Because Ives was right. The only thing she could do was talk to Lilah. Even if she might not like what Lilah had to say.

???

Lilah had straightened the cushions on the sofa three times already.

She’d also checked on dinner, which was safely in the oven.

Since knocking the two cottages together, they’d had a large kitchen installed and Blossom had insisted on teaching Lilah how to use it properly.

Not that she’d ever be a master chef, but she could at least feed them both without resorting to calling the fire brigade.

She was trying to distract herself because she knew that the time had come. And nerves were buzzing beneath her skin.

Finally, she heard the front door open and the familiar shuffle of Blossom kicking her shoes off in the hallway. She went to the living room door and leaned on the doorframe, watching as Blossom shrugged off her jacket, marveling, as always, that this was her partner.

Blossom looked up and smiled, and Lilah’s heart expanded just a little more. After all this time, Blossom still made her breath catch, still made her want to make the world a better place. Still made her more nervous than any opening night ever had.

“We need to talk,” Lilah said.

Blossom stopped still, all color draining from her face.