She and Stevie waited for Chloe to come out of customs. She knew Stevie was coming to the airport, but she looked stunned when she saw her mother.
“You came?” she said, amazed, throwing her arms around her. “Should you do that? Are you okay?” She looked worried, but thrilled, which made Carole doubly happy she had come. It had been well worth the effort to see that look on Chloe's face, of amazed delight and appreciation. She was reveling in her mother's love, which was just what Carole had wanted.
“I'm fine. I saw the doctor today. I can do whatever I want, within reason. This seemed reasonable to me. I couldn't wait to see you,” she said as she put an arm around her daughter's waist, and Stevie went to get the car. Carole wasn't driving yet, and didn't plan to for a while. The doctors didn't want her to, and she didn't feel up to the pressure of L.A. traffic.
The three women chatted on the way back from the airport, and Carole told her about Stevie's wedding plans. Chloe was thrilled for her too. She had known Stevie almost all her life, and loved her like a big sister.
Stevie left them when they got home, and Chloe and her mother sat in the kitchen. She had slept on the flight so she was wide awake. Carole made her scrambled eggs, and they ate ice cream afterward. It was nearly midnight when they went to bed. And the next day they went Christmas shopping. Carole didn't have anything for anyone yet. She had two days to do it. It was going to be a skimpy Christmas this year. But a good one.
By the next day, she had gotten everything she needed at Barney's and Neiman's, for Jason, Stevie, and both her children. They had just come through the door, when Mike Appelsohn called her.
“You're back! Why didn't you call me?” He sounded hurt.
“I just got in the day before yesterday,” she apologized. “And Chloe arrived last night.”
“I called the Ritz and they said you checked out. How are you feeling?” He still sounded worried about her. She'd been at death's door a month before.
“Great. A little tired, but I would be anyway, with jet lag. How are you, Mike?”
“Busy. I hate this time of year.” He made social chitchat for a few minutes, and then got to the reason for his call. “What are you doing next September?”
“Going to college. Why?” she teased him.
“You are?” He was surprised.
“No. How do I know what I'll be doing in September? I'm just happy to be here now. I damn near wasn't.” They both knew how true that was.
“Don't tell me. I know,” he said. She was still touched by his trip to Paris to see her. No one else would have done that but him, on an overnight flight from L.A. “Well, kid, I've got a part for you. A great one. If you don't do this picture, I quit.” He told her who was doing it, and who the stars were. She had a starring role with two major actors and a respected younger actress, and she was getting lead billing. It was a fabulous movie, with a big budget, and a director she'd worked with before and loved. She couldn't believe her ears.
“Are you serious?”
“Damn right I am. The director is starting another picture in Europe in February. He'll be there till July. And he can't start this one till September. He has to wrap up postproduction on the other one in August. So you'd have time off till then to write your book, if you're still doing that.”
“I am. I'm already working on it.” She was thrilled by what he had said.
“There'll be some location shooting in Europe. In London and Paris. They'll shoot the rest in L.A. How does that sound to you?”
“Tailor-made.” She hadn't told him about Matthieu yet. But what he had just said fit perfectly with her current plans, to spend time with Matthieu in Paris, and in L.A. London was the icing on the cake, and she could spend time there with Chloe.
“I'll send you the script. They want an answer by next week. They've got two other actresses lined up behind you, who would kill to do this. I'll messenger the script over to you tomorrow. I read it last night and it's great.” She trusted him. He always told her the truth, and they had similar taste in scripts. They usually liked the same ones.
“I'll read it right away,” Carole promised.
“How are you feeling, seriously? Do you think you'll be up to it by then?” He still sounded worried.
“I do. I'm feeling better every day. And the doctor here gave me a clean bill of health.”
“Don't push,” he reminded her, as Matthieu had. They both knew her too well. She always pushed, it was just her way. She drove herself hard, and had since the beginning of her career, although she had slowed down in recent years. But she could feel her engines revving up again. She'd taken a long enough break. “You'll regret it later,” he warned.
“I know. I'm not that stupid.” She was well aware of what she'd been through and how taxing it had been. She still needed time to convalesce. But she had no major plans for a while. She and Matthieu could take it easy too. And she was going to write the book at her own pace. She had eight months now before she had to go back to work.
“Well, kid. You're going to be back in business on this one.” He was thrilled for her.
“Sounds like it. I can't wait to read the script.”
“You'll go nuts,” he promised. “I'll eat my shoes if you don't.” It was a tall order. He was a big man and wore a size fourteen.
“I'll call you the day after Christmas.” The next day was Christmas Eve, and Jason and Anthony were flying in from New York.
“Merry Christmas, Carole,” Mike said, sounding choked up. He couldn't even imagine it if she were no longer here, if they'd all been mourning her. It didn't bear thinking, and would have been a tragedy to him, and so many others.
“Merry Christmas to you too, Mike,” she said, and hung up.
She told Chloe about the script over dinner, and saw a shadow come over her face. It was the first time she had realized how much her daughter really resented her career.
“We'll be on location in London, if I do it. That would be great, I could spend that time with you. And you can hop over to Paris while we're there.” Chloe's face lightened at the words, she knew how hard her mother was trying, and it meant a lot to her. Whatever her sins of the past were, in Chloe's mind, she was atoning for them now.
“Thanks, Mom. That would be fun.”
They had dinner alone that night. They ordered Chinese takeout, and the nurse went to pick it up. Carole didn't want to waste a minute with her daughter. Chloe slept in her bed that night, and they giggled like two little kids. And the next day Chloe and her mother went to pick Jason and Anthony up at LAX. Mercifully, Stevie was off. It was Christmas Eve, and she'd earned it. She wasn't coming back to work till the day after Christmas.
The script Mike had told her about had arrived that afternoon. She had glanced at it, and it looked great so far, as good as he had promised. She was going to try to read it on Christmas night, after everyone went to bed. But she was already fairly sure she would like it. Mike was right. And the part they wanted her for was fantastic. She had told Matthieu about it on the phone. He was excited for her. He knew she wanted to go back to work. And this sounded like a perfect part for her.
Anthony and Jason were among the first off the plane. Chloe drove them home, and they all talked at the same time on the way back. There was giggling and laughing, and embarrassing stories from Christmases past. They talked about the year Anthony had accidentally knocked over the tree when he was five, trying to trap Santa as he slid down their chimney in New York. There were dozens of stories like that that touched Carole's heart and amused the others. She remembered almost all the stories now.