Lord of the Rings and Star Wars over and over. Maybe I should ask him if he knows Peter Jackson or George Lucas.
The door clicks open, and Uncle Don emerges from the pantry, then heads straight for his plate. He takes another bite as we stare at him. “What?” he asks when he looks up.
“Well?” Chloe prods. “How did it go?”
“Oh!” He brightens. “You got the job!”
My heart stops. “What job?”
“As Tommy’s assistant. His last one quit to go work for an underwear model. So, perfect timing, I guess.”
Chloe raises her arms in the air and starts humming the theme song for Rocky, which is an annoying thing she does whenever she has a perceived victory, major or minor, in any area of her life. “This is it!” she squeals. “Annie, you’re getting a job on a movie! You can show Tommy your screenplay and meet your Tom Hanks!”
“Tom Hanks is in this movie?” Uncle Don asks, putting down his fork. “I love that guy.”
I shake my head and put my hands over my face, then decide that isn’t enough and slump over the island, talking into the counter. “Everybody loves him. That’s the entire point of Tom Hanks. But no, he’s not in this movie. Just . . . never mind.”
Chloe and Don are silent, and then I feel a hand on my shoulder. Don’s. “Sweetheart,” he says. “Your mom would be so proud of you.”
I lift my head a little and peer up at him. “Yeah?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
And I know he isn’t going to say anything else—isn’t going to give me an emotional speech about what romantic comedies meant to my mom or a pep talk about how I can do it. Neither of those are things Uncle Don would ever do, or may even be capable of doing. But in those few words, and in the look on his face, I get what he’s trying to tell me. That he misses his sister just like I miss my mom. That she wouldn’t have wanted me to be here, still, static, instead of pursuing something I’ve always loved. That she would be so happy to know I was going to be on an actual movie set, even if it’s only in German Village, even if it’s only for a few days, even if I’m only an assistant.
“Thanks, Uncle Don,” I say, sitting up as tears start to tingle the edges of my eyes. And although I’m still nervous (that’s putting it mildly), maybe what Chloe said is true. That this is meant to be, and maybe my mom had some hand in making it happen. I just wish I could tell her about it.
Chapter Four
Filming doesn’t start until Monday, so I’m not employed yet, but crewmembers are already closing down the street, putting up signs, and moving cars.
“This is ridiculous,” Nick says, handing a coffee to a customer. “You can’t shut down an entire neighborhood because some Hollywood big shots want to make a movie.”
“They took over an empty storefront and closed down one block,” I point out. “And it’s not even this one.”
“Still,” Nick grumbles.
“You’re such a negative Nancy,” Chloe says, squirting whipped cream onto a drink. “It’s like if you don’t have something to complain about, you’ll shrivel up and float away on a breeze.”
“What are you doing?” Nick grabs her arm, looking at the cup.
“Adding some sprinkles,” she says with wide eyes.
“Does this look like a sprinkle smiley face to you?” Nick asks the customer, a middle-aged man in a puffer coat and a knit hat.
“It does indeed,” he says.
“And how does it make you feel?” Chloe asks with a smile.
The man appears to think about it. “Pretty good,” he says finally, taking his cup and walking out.
“See?” Chloe asks. “Customers like a personal touch!”
“Just serve the coffee, okay?” Nick asks as “What a Fool Believes” starts playing. “Chloe.”
“What’s that?” Chloe asks, suddenly very interested in the espresso machine.
“Did you mess with my playlist again?”
“Hmm?”
I stifle a smile as I watch the scene that plays out almost every day.
“Is this or is this not the Doobie Brothers?” Nick asks, crossing his arms.
Chloe turns around and throws her hands up in frustration. “Fine, it is! Do you know how upsetting your sad music is? I’m so tired of listening to Sufjan Stevens!”
“‘Carrie and Lowell’ is a masterpiece,” Nick grumbles.