The Postman Always Purls Twice (12 page)

“J
ust got the email with instructions for tonight. Alicia put our names on a list with security. There are a lot of other dos and don'ts for visitors on the set. Alicia is very efficient, isn't she?”

Maggie had printed the email and showed it to Phoebe. Her assistant looked up briefly from the newspaper she was reading but didn't reply. Perhaps she thought Maggie was intimating that her own assistant was not as efficient? Maggie didn't mean it that way at all . . . though the two were completely different. Still, given the choice, she'd choose Phoebe's creativity over Alicia's crisp efficiency any day.

On Thursday morning, Maggie and Phoebe had opened the shop at the usual hour, but would have to close early, definitely by three.

That was when the movie company would arrive to set up again. They planned to start shooting at five, though there was no telling when they would be done, Alicia had mentioned in her note. She'd also hinted it might take hours to film a single scene before Nick Pullman was happy with it.

Maggie knew she wouldn't last that long. She just wanted to watch the actors for a little while and get a sense of how it was done.

From all that she'd heard so far, watching the process of filming a movie certainly threatened to ruin the magic. Like seeing how sausage was made. A saying of her mother's that seemed to apply fairly well.

Phoebe should have started setting up for a class, Knitting 101, but she was still sipping her coffee and paging through the latest edition of
The Plum Harbor Times
.

“Alicia told me that they've added a knitting group to the scene we're going to see, sitting in the background,” Maggie told her. “That will be fun. To see actors who are supposed to be . . . well, us. Don't you think?”

Phoebe frowned, still staring down at the paper. Maggie could tell she was in a pout about something.

“
We
should have been extras in the scene, playing
ourselves
. We gave Jennifer the idea.” She glanced over at Maggie and back at the newspaper again. “I was reading about it online. There's some dumb rule, even if she did ask them to hire us. The movie company has to hire a certain number of union actors first, like thirty or something, before they can hire amateurs. So unless they were doing a big crowd scene, we didn't have a chance.”

“Too bad. Maybe next time.” Personally, she was relieved. Maggie had always been more of an observer than a performer. Expressing herself through mediums like yarn or paint, that was her way of performing.

But of course, so much of life required a little acting. Being a shopkeeper and a teacher, for example. William Shakespeare had been right: all the world was a stage, and men and women merely players, with their exits and entrances, and one man playing many roles in his lifetime.

“Did you print out the instructions and the picture for the class?” Maggie asked.

“It's all in the folder, next to the register . . . and the needles and yarn are in the storeroom.” Phoebe finally looked up. “Look at this, a big article about the movie.”

Phoebe turned the paper so she could see. The article took up two pages side by side, with several photos. Still shots from the movie that would probably be used in promotion—Jennifer and Heath, embracing on the beach, and one of Jennifer and Trina in the shop.

“Another? I thought the paper did an article last week, when the crew came to town.”

“This one has a different slant. It's more about Jennifer growing up in Newburyport. There are photos from her yearbook. She was in the chorus and Drama Club . . . and the Science Club.”

“The last is a surprise, but the first two seem logical,” Maggie replied.

“Look at that hairdo . . . I barely recognized her.”

“It's a challenge,” Maggie agreed, taking in the big-hair style of the era and the shoulder pads in Jennifer's dress that made her look like an NFL player in drag. “Why is it that when we look back at old styles, we always think that we looked hideous, but at that time, we thought we looked so good?” she murmured.

“I'm still wearing the same styles since high school. I guess I'm not old enough to figure that one out.”

That was true, Maggie thought. Though she did wonder what Phoebe would think twenty years from now, seeing her streaked hair and piercings. Or maybe she would still dress that way. She was very much her own person.

Phoebe picked up her coffee again. “I guess it's fun for her fans to see the old photos. And read about her memories growing up here.”

“And generate some positive publicity. After the fire,” Maggie noted.

It seemed the movie crew had been in the news every day since they'd come to town. Reporters who had been on the set Saturday had witnessed the light fixture fall and added that to their fluff story about the village being used as a location for the big feature film.

Then there was the fire, just a few days later.

Not to mention the stalker who had cornered Jennifer at the shop Monday night and crept up as close as the star's hotel room door the night after. That situation had not made the news, effectively contained by the powers that reigned. But it would be equally newsworthy, if it had been discovered, Maggie thought.

Phoebe glanced over the article once more. “They interviewed Heath O'Hara and Trina Hardwick. And Nick Pullman, too. They asked him what it's like to direct his wife in a love scene.”

“That's a good one. What did he say?” Maggie asked curiously.

“ ‘We're all professionals and close friends. We actually have a good laugh afterward.' ” Phoebe looked up at Maggie. “Do you think that's true? He doesn't feel the least twinge of jealousy watching his wife kiss a hunk like Heath?”

Maggie wondered about that herself, considering Nick's hot temper. “Who knows? If he does, it's unlikely he'd ever admit it to a reporter.”

“True.” Phoebe closed the newspaper and stretched. “Time to get cracking on our summer tanks and cropped tops. It's heating up out there.” She picked up the paper and fanned herself.

She's mocking me, Maggie realized, though she couldn't take offense. She actually had to smile. She was glad to see Phoebe in better spirits. Moving past the disappointment about her thwarted acting ambitions already.

“Yes, it is. I hear the mercury will hit the midfifties today. We should serve the class umbrella drinks. But we'll have to make do with tea and coffee. Let's get ready. It's a short day. It's going to fly by,” Maggie predicted.

And so it did. The trucks were already lining up on Main Street as Maggie closed out the register at three. A few of the movie crew people came into the shop, with their ubiquitous clipboards and headsets.

Maggie gently chased out the last of her customers and headed home. She and her friends had agreed to meet back at the shop at seven. Alicia had warned in her email that waiting in between takes was sometimes tedious and they ought to bring something to do as a diversion. Like their knitting.

An ironic twist, considering they would usually be sitting together on any other Thursday night for their knitting group meeting. This time, they'd be watching a movie being filmed . . . . with a knitting group in it. Like looking in a mirror, inside a mirror, inside a mirror.

Maggie didn't dwell on the confusing notion very long. She really didn't have time.

When Maggie returned to the shop at seven, equipment trucks and actors' trailers were parked in a row along Main Street again. The yellow sawhorses and film crew security guards were stationed around the shop, as they had been on Saturday. A group of fans hung around on the sidewalk, but far fewer than she'd seen on Saturday morning. Maybe the good citizens of Plum Harbor had already grown immune to the lure of celebrities in their midst. Or since it was a weeknight, most were at home, cleaning up dinner dishes, helping kids with homework, and getting to bed at a decent hour.

She met her friends across the street from the shop. No one had dressed up for the event, except Suzanne—of course. She looked stylish in a long black skirt, black boots, and a big cream-colored cowl-neck sweater. Not to mention freshly blown-out hair and a new manicure.

“You look ready for the red carpet, Suzanne,” Lucy noted.

Suzanne shrugged. “I couldn't resist dressing a bit for Heath. I don't want to look all raggedy when I ask for his autograph.”

Just then, Phoebe appeared in the drive next to the shop. She'd come down from her apartment from the outside entrance, though she easily could have gone down to the set from the stairs inside the building. She trotted across the street to meet them.

“I'd rather go in with you guys than go down from my apartment. I don't want to be standing there alone . . . with all those movie stars and officious crew people.”

“And your name is on a list with a security guard at the gate,” she told them. “So it's probably better that you didn't just appear,” said Maggie. “Security is tight, from what Alicia told me in the email.”

Maggie took the message out of her knitting bag, in case there was some question with the guard. Perhaps they'd tightened up entrance to the set since Jennifer's flower delivery incidents and the falling light fixture. Or maybe it was always like this. She had no way to judge.

The security guard looked over the email and checked the list for each name, then looked inside knitting bags and purses with a flashlight. No body pat-down or metal scanner like at the airport. Maggie was relieved at that.

He finally let them pass and they entered the shop.

It was buzzing with activity, but not quite as frantic as Saturday.

A section toward the back of the shop was set off for the scene, circled by the big lights on tripod stands. Overhead hung a microphone hanging from a long pole. Front and center, a big camera on a rolling mechanism with a seat was positioned next to a canvas chair that said “Pullman” on the back.

She saw Jennifer standing nearby, talking with her husband, Nick, and Trina. Both the actresses were in full makeup and outfitted in character. Jennifer wore a beige turtleneck and a nubby brown cardigan with patch pockets that all but camouflaged her perfect figure. The big sweater definitely looked handmade, found in a thrift shop by some costume designer, Maggie suspected, along with a brown wool skirt.

Is that what Hollywood thinks knitting store owners look like—dowdy, timid librarians? Is that what
I
look like? she thought with horror. The cliché of a librarian, actually. All the librarians Maggie knew dressed very fashionably.

Maggie stared down at herself, relieved to see a stylish—even sexy—dark red cardigan with a draped neckline and hem, designer jeans, and black suede boots.

Never underestimate the power of a cliché.

Trina wore a much more glamorous outfit than Jennifer's, a tailored satin blouse, with several buttons undone, slim black pants, and stiletto heels. Huge hoop earrings could have doubled as bracelets, and her cocktail ring would have come in handy for self-defense. Layers of mascara and a slash of vibrant red lipstick were bold accents to Trina's heavy stage makeup.

“I guess Trina is playing a ‘Real Housewife of Plum Harbor' role,” Suzanne whispered.

“If her film career stalls out, she'd definitely have a chance in reality TV,” Lucy murmured back.

Just then, Jennifer strolled over to greet them, along with a young man Maggie could not recall seeing before. He wasn't dressed in the movie crew uniform, no headset or black T-shirt. He wore a light blue sweater with jeans, had thick, reddish brown hair, and large glasses that gave him a serious, intellectual air. He carried a movie script, Maggie noticed, and so did Jennifer.

“You made it. That's great . . . Did Alicia tell you? I told Theo about the knitting group, and he worked it into the scene.”

“Yes, she mentioned that,” Maggie replied.

“Too bad he couldn't come to the shop to observe before he did the revision, but we had to call the extras and do the costumes on the fly.” Jennifer paused and turned to her companion. “Theo, this is Maggie Messina, the owner of this beautiful shop. These ladies are her friends and knitting group. Theo is Nick's son. He's done a lot of work on this script. Really brought it along. He's very, very talented,” Jennifer added effusively.

Though the way her glance darted to the side as she delivered the compliment made Maggie wonder if she really believed it.

“Nice to meet you.” Theo nodded politely without quite making eye contact. He seemed shy. Or maybe just anxious, Maggie thought. Certainly eager to be on his way. Quickly dismissing them as fans and “looky-loos”? Maybe he had important work to do before they started filming. Everyone on the set seemed a bit keyed up, she noticed.

“I'd better get to work. Alicia will show you where to sit.” Jennifer turned to her assistant, who had appeared like a loyal pet and stayed with the knitting group once the star left to join her husband and Trina on the set.

“I saved a good spot back here.” Alicia led them to a circle of plastic folding chairs about midway through the shop, off to one side and a few yards back from the set.

“Hang out as long as you like. There's plenty to eat and drink. Please help yourself.” She pointed to a table near the front door, laden with catering trays—sandwiches, cookies, bottled drinks, coffee, tea, and other snacks. “They're doing a last check of the sound and lighting for Jen and Trina. In a few minutes, the lights will dim and you'll hear ‘Quiet on the set.' An assistant director will check the sound and another one will make sure the camera is rolling. Then they'll announce the scene and the take number. Be superquiet until you hear someone say, ‘Cut.' Nick can flip out if he thinks the actors are being distracted,” she added in a whisper.

Maggie's friends listened to the instructions with solemn expressions. Even Suzanne paid complete attention.