Feast of Saints by Zoe Wildau Page A

kid at the adults’ table. As soon as she saw Greg enter the hotel, she slid out of her chair and grabbed her portfolio, feeling a twinge of guilt that she was going to break her promise to buy him a drink.
    “Thank you for the cocktail,” she said to Jake. Turning to Phillip, she said, “Mr. Greer, may I call you in the morning to schedule another prep session with Mr. Durant?” Phillip looked inquiringly at Jake, who nodded. When Jake moved to help her with the case, she pulled it away from him and shoved it at Greg. “We’ve got to get going. Thank you, again.” Greg, never slow on the uptake, took only a moment to gawk at Maya before following Lilly out of the hotel.

Chapter 7
    On Saturday afternoon, Lilly was setting her buckets and tubs on the front porch, ready to cart over to Jake’s, when he pulled up in the shiny sports car.
    Phillip had insisted on sending a driver to pick her up when she’d called him to schedule the lifecasting session with Jake. She hadn’t expected Jake, himself, to be her driver.
    Lilly appraised the car as Jake slid out. It
was
the same car Greg had ooh’d and ah’d about the other night, she was sure of it. Had he come by to check on her progress before the Culver meeting? If so, why hadn’t he gotten out of the car?
    Given how things had gone at that meeting, and how ill-prepared she had turned out to be, she decided it was best not to confront him about it.
    Instead, when he reached her porch steps, she said, “I’m pretty sure my stuff’s not going to fit in that car.”
    “I thought it would be easier for you if we just did it here. Save you the trouble of packing and unpacking everything,” he said.
    She looked him over. Jake was dressed in faded jeans and a well-worn navy polo shirt. Not his usual tailored clothing.
    “Oh.” That was thoughtful. “Okay, well…” blocking the door to her bungalow, she mentally toured each one of the rooms in her home, visualizing what messes or embarrassing items might be in public view.
    “Just a second!” Scooting backwards, she shut the door on him. She scurried to put away the most pressing items, including the bras hanging from the bathroom doorknob. Madcap was seated in her favorite spot on the rolling chair in her studio. She closed the door, shutting the cat in with the plaster Jakes.
    Reopening the front door, she rushed to apologize, “Sorry about that. I’ve got a cat and she doesn’t like strangers.” That wasn’t a fib, although it was really the bras and Jakes she didn’t want him to see.
    Jake stepped in, carrying her buckets, which she directed him to place in the kitchen.
    While Lilly unpacked her supplies, he looked around. The furniture in her living area, just off the kitchen, was sparse. The walls, however, and a few corners, were crowded with items she’d picked up on TV and movie sets and in salvage yards.
    Hung on opposite walls were two large collages created from items she pilfered from the sets of Fox Hollow and Catillac Cats . They were abstract depictions of the sentiment that she loved most from each project. The Fox collage was soft and green. Cats was large, metallic and full of colorful and interesting junk. It stuck out all over at odd angles. The hodgepodge of parts included the rear taillight, complete with red and white tail fin, from the junkyard cats’ magical Cadillac.
    “This is from Catillac Cats ,” said Jake, then turned his attention to the softer, smaller montage across the room, “and that one is Fox Hollow .”
    “Yes,” she said. “Do you think Tyler would like one? I thought he might like the Cadillac.” She walked over and flipped a switch on the side of the frame. The taillight lit up, glowing red.
    Jake laughed. “That’s cool,” he said. When he laughed, his whole face lifted – temples, hairline, even his ears – softening the heavy masculine brow and giving him a distinctly boyish look. Once again, she marveled at the resemblance between Jake and