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My head was spinning. "I have no idea what I'm doing."
"Join the club," he said, pulling on his coat. "This is a good place to be lost though, I promise. Don't leave tonight, okay?"
I watched him leave, pulling his phone from his pocket as he went out the door and calling someone on the sidewalk as he walked away, head down against the wind. I had about fifteen minutes of relative silence during which I tried to figure out what to do, when the door opened again, and my day got even weirder.
“Hello,” the movie star said, coming in the door and stamping his feet on the mat to get the snow off. "Hey Lottie, Gran." He fixed his famous icy blue eyes on me. "You're April?"
I nodded as Ryan McDonnell sat down in the seat Cormac had just vacated.
"Let's talk about production," he said, and I decided to just give myself over to the strangeness of Singletree.
22
Wizarding Dickens
Callan
Ihad to admit that I’d been ready to give up. I’d allowed myself to be a little bit defeatist, spending the day after April had filmed my house feeling sorry for myself and grumbling around my big empty house. But when Cormac called and told me she wasn't leaving town immediately, it seemed like maybe it was time to slap myself around a bit and get to work.
Cormac's words helped too.
"No one else is going to set up your life for you, bro. You'll have to actually do something."
It was true. For years, other peoplehadpretty much set up my life. Soccer had come naturally to me, and when the scout had seen me play in high school, it really had felt like everything just happened after that. College, more scouts, my agent—they'd all arranged things so I really didn't need to think too much. I’d just had to do what I loved, and continue doing it well.
Until I couldn't.
But now? Now my brother was right. There were no more scouts, no agents coming to make me offers that were too good to be true. I’d have to take some responsibility. And though the realization was a little bit scary, it was also exciting.
And I was going to start with April. But I’d need a little help.
I was on the phone most of the day, and by that night, everything was in place. The only thing left to do was to see if I could get April to cooperate, and Annabelle promised she would help with that.
The call came earlier than I was expecting, and I was glad. "So she's in for the night?" I asked Annabelle, my heart rising into my throat.
"Yes. She said she has a lot to think about and after eating muffins all day at the bakery she didn't want dinner."
"Are you ready?" My heart was beating furiously, and I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans.
"I think so," Annabelle said. "I had Andrew set up the television like you said. Hopefully this will work!"
"If everyone plays their parts, it will," I said. "Though I have no idea how April will react." I tried to imagine her face—the last time I’d seen her she’d been so closed, so cold. A spike of fear shot through me. What if this didn’t work? What if I’d been reading it all wrong?
"Really?" Annabelle sounded skeptical of my doubt. "She's in love with you, Callan Whitewood. I'm sure of it."
Even hearing Annabelle say it made my heart rise with hope. "She's mad at me though."
"She won't be able to stay mad after this," Annabelle said.
"I hope not."
"I better go," Annabelle said. "I'll see you when you get here."
I was already dressed and all I needed were my car keys. I flicked on the Christmas lights, took one long last look at Christopher the tree, which would always remind him of April, and went out.
The drive to the Candlestick Inn had me feeling nervous and worried. The slick roads around town didn't help either. Winter had well and truly arrived, in the form of freezing temperatures and black ice. I wondered absently if we’d be having a real white Christmas, but I cleared my head of that thought. I couldn't think about Christmas yet—I was too busy working on today.
I parked and went inside, meeting Annabelle at the desk.
