return.
Cars honked as they passed, their blaring horns a substitute for the crazy-lady insults the drivers must have been hurling behind closed windows. I dropped to the ground and leaned against the hot metal.
Such a close call. My hands were still shaking. I took a deep breath and stood, reaching for my tote.
Gone.
I dropped to all fours, patting the ground in disbelief. It had been here. Right behind that shrub. I glanced over the drop-off. No black bag in sight. Had someone pulled over and stolen the thing?
I pondered the unlikely thought as I headed up the hill to Cliffhouse. Losing my tote was no big disaster. The project packet, my notebook, and the bus pass had been its only contents. I could always get a copy of the packet from Denton. Celia could probably help me get a new bus pass from Dean Lester. And notebooks weren’t hard to come by.
I entered Cliffhouse through the side porch. Voices came from the kitchen as I passed. I paused, lingering to identify the speakers. Two women. The one with the Irish accent was no doubt Ms. Rigg. But the other?
My stomach growled. I used it as an excuse to snoop. “Hello,” I said, passing through the swinging door into the room.
The visitor stood to attention, shoving her hands in her pockets and wiping a smile off her face. She looked in her late forties. Bright orange hair dye failed to hide the tell-tale gray. A pale blue shirt over jeans and sandals highlighted her tanned, freckled skin.
“It’s Miss Braddock, Jane dear.” Commandant Rigg nearly clicked her heels at the introduction. “Miss Braddock, this is my daughter. She’s visiting from Los Angeles.” Jane offered a hand. I shook it. Behind her on the countertop was my missing tote.
“Oh my goodness. I thought I’d lost that.” I stepped around the Rigg daughter and sifted through the contents. All accounted for. “Where did you find it?” I turned toward the women.
Jane shrugged, hands in her pockets. “I spotted something behind the guardrail when I pulled in. I investigated,” she pointed at the tote, “and that’s what I found.”
I thought about the pebble that dropped on my head and wondered if it hadn’t been Jane who set it loose.
With a sheepish tilt of my head, I explained. “The bottom didn’t look so far down when I was standing at the top, so I thought I’d check out the surf.” An embarrassed titter. “But coming back up was a different story.” I grinned at Jane. “Wasn’t sure I’d make it up alive to claim my tote. Thanks for keeping it safe.”
“No problem, dear.” Jane gave me a condescending city-slicker smile. “Try taking the stairs next time. They’re just down a half mile.”
“Oh. Thanks.” I nodded. “So, what do you do in LA?” She smiled like a baby boomer magazine cover model. “I’m an actress. I’ve worked with De Niro, Streep, and Barrymore.”
“You worked with Lionel Barrymore?” I loved him from my favorite film classics.
Her face turned red. “Please,” she gave a snort, “I’m not that old. I was speaking of Drew Barrymore.”
“Oh, she’s one of my favorites. Which movie were you in with her?”
“The classic Cinderella tale, Ever After .”
“I’ve watched it a million times.” I squinted at Jane’s face. “I don’t remember you offhand. Which character were you?”
“I had a bit part.”
Ms. Rigg could barely restrain her excitement. “She served the prince his supper.” The Irish accent was in high gear. “ ‘Would you care for more wine?’ Jane asked him. It was a beautiful moment. Lovely, she was.”
I shook my head in confusion. “I don’t remember that scene.”
Jane’s glowing smile had simmered to one of annoyance. “Ever hear of the cutting room floor?” She turned to Ms. Rigg. “Please. I can blow my own horn, Mother.” A renewed smile as Jane looked back at me, somehow still in front of the camera. “It won’t be long before I get my starring role. I’m auditioning for a part
Cars honked as they passed, their blaring horns a substitute for the crazy-lady insults the drivers must have been hurling behind closed windows. I dropped to the ground and leaned against the hot metal.
Such a close call. My hands were still shaking. I took a deep breath and stood, reaching for my tote.
Gone.
I dropped to all fours, patting the ground in disbelief. It had been here. Right behind that shrub. I glanced over the drop-off. No black bag in sight. Had someone pulled over and stolen the thing?
I pondered the unlikely thought as I headed up the hill to Cliffhouse. Losing my tote was no big disaster. The project packet, my notebook, and the bus pass had been its only contents. I could always get a copy of the packet from Denton. Celia could probably help me get a new bus pass from Dean Lester. And notebooks weren’t hard to come by.
I entered Cliffhouse through the side porch. Voices came from the kitchen as I passed. I paused, lingering to identify the speakers. Two women. The one with the Irish accent was no doubt Ms. Rigg. But the other?
My stomach growled. I used it as an excuse to snoop. “Hello,” I said, passing through the swinging door into the room.
The visitor stood to attention, shoving her hands in her pockets and wiping a smile off her face. She looked in her late forties. Bright orange hair dye failed to hide the tell-tale gray. A pale blue shirt over jeans and sandals highlighted her tanned, freckled skin.
“It’s Miss Braddock, Jane dear.” Commandant Rigg nearly clicked her heels at the introduction. “Miss Braddock, this is my daughter. She’s visiting from Los Angeles.” Jane offered a hand. I shook it. Behind her on the countertop was my missing tote.
“Oh my goodness. I thought I’d lost that.” I stepped around the Rigg daughter and sifted through the contents. All accounted for. “Where did you find it?” I turned toward the women.
Jane shrugged, hands in her pockets. “I spotted something behind the guardrail when I pulled in. I investigated,” she pointed at the tote, “and that’s what I found.”
I thought about the pebble that dropped on my head and wondered if it hadn’t been Jane who set it loose.
With a sheepish tilt of my head, I explained. “The bottom didn’t look so far down when I was standing at the top, so I thought I’d check out the surf.” An embarrassed titter. “But coming back up was a different story.” I grinned at Jane. “Wasn’t sure I’d make it up alive to claim my tote. Thanks for keeping it safe.”
“No problem, dear.” Jane gave me a condescending city-slicker smile. “Try taking the stairs next time. They’re just down a half mile.”
“Oh. Thanks.” I nodded. “So, what do you do in LA?” She smiled like a baby boomer magazine cover model. “I’m an actress. I’ve worked with De Niro, Streep, and Barrymore.”
“You worked with Lionel Barrymore?” I loved him from my favorite film classics.
Her face turned red. “Please,” she gave a snort, “I’m not that old. I was speaking of Drew Barrymore.”
“Oh, she’s one of my favorites. Which movie were you in with her?”
“The classic Cinderella tale, Ever After .”
“I’ve watched it a million times.” I squinted at Jane’s face. “I don’t remember you offhand. Which character were you?”
“I had a bit part.”
Ms. Rigg could barely restrain her excitement. “She served the prince his supper.” The Irish accent was in high gear. “ ‘Would you care for more wine?’ Jane asked him. It was a beautiful moment. Lovely, she was.”
I shook my head in confusion. “I don’t remember that scene.”
Jane’s glowing smile had simmered to one of annoyance. “Ever hear of the cutting room floor?” She turned to Ms. Rigg. “Please. I can blow my own horn, Mother.” A renewed smile as Jane looked back at me, somehow still in front of the camera. “It won’t be long before I get my starring role. I’m auditioning for a part
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