Page 66 of Claim to Fame

Amelia laughed. “Not at all.”

“Exactly. Attractiveness is a subjective quality. Like being tall. I’ve lost parts because the creative team thought I was too tall, and I’ve lost other parts because they thought I was too short. It’s subjective. It’s just that ‘attractive’ is a much more loaded description than ‘tall.’”

Hannah let the silence settle between them as Amelia turned over her words, sentiments that had taken years of therapy and months of outpatient eating disorder treatments to ring even remotely true for Hannah, things she hoped would be easier for Amelia to believe than they had been for her.

“When everyone thought I was going to play Tracy, no one had a problem with it,” Amelia said slowly, her forehead furrowing as she stared at her twisted cuffs again. “But when Ms. Proulx announced I was going to be Audrey, I could tell some of the other girls didn’t think I deserved the part.”

“And what didyouthink?”

“It’s easier when you play the parts they expect you to.”

Hannah blew out a breath. “It is. It’s also easier to believe you don’t deserve something than to believe you do.”

“Yeah.”

“But you know what? That’s the character. Audrey doesn’t believe she deserves the things she wants. ‘Honest, sweet, vulnerable, insecure.’ That’s the whole point ofSomewhere That’s Green. She wants to be loved, to be happy, but she doesn’t think she deserves it and she’s too afraid to demand it.” Hannah met Amelia’s eyes, smiling softly. “Maybe you and Audrey have more in common than you think.”

∞∞∞

“The library is so thrilled to be hosting Reader Fest at Nuthatch this year.” Mrs. Alcott extended a frail hand towards Ethan and he was careful to grip it lightly. Her skin was papery beneath his palms, the blue veins along the back prominent in a way that made him feel protective over the older woman.

“We’re happy to have you,” Ethan said.

“Well, of course, it won’t beme,though,” Mrs. Alcott said as she gathered her things.

“What do you mean?” Baz asked, a scowl beginning to form.

“Didn’t you hear? I’m retiring at the end of the month. This is my last week on the job.”

“Congratulations,” Ethan said. “You’ve been the Director of the library since—”

“Since you were in diapers,” Mrs. Alcott said with a smile.

“Who’s running the festival then?” Baz asked, always one to cut straight to the point.

“We are.” Ethan glanced up to see the grandma gang, pink jackets and all, in the doorway to his office, Mrs. White at the head of the pack. “After we stopped by last week, we told Joanie the vineyard would be the perfect place for this year’s Reader Fest.”

“The town will need time to find my replacement, you see,” Mrs. Alcott explained, “so when Helen and the girls volunteered to step in, well, it was too good to be true.”

Baz grunted in a way that somehow managed to sound sarcastic.

“Well, I’m off! I know you all will make me proud,” Mrs. Alcott said, squeezing Ethan’s hand one final time before sending air kisses towards the other women on her way out the door.

Mrs. Blumenthal sank into one of the seats in front of Ethan’s desk and began pulling manilla folders from her rattan handbag. “We’ll need to get started right away. Of course, we’ve asked Gavin to take a stab at revising the marketing plan for this year.”

“Gavin knew about this?” Ethan asked.

“We just left him, dear. Do try to keep up,” Mrs. Kemp said.

Ethan ran his thumb and forefinger over his eyes, pressing hard enough that he saw spots. “I really don’t need to be a part of the planning process. Let me know what you need from the vineyard, how many chairs, that sort of thing.”

“I told you he wouldn’t want to participate,” Mrs. Greene grumbled, nudging Mrs. White.

“I’ve never readMoby Dick,” Ethan said by way of explanation.

“No one has, dear,” Mrs. Kemp said.

“That’s why we’re diversifying this year’s festival,” Mrs. Blumenthal said, opening a folder to reveal a stack of looseleaf paper covered in her neat, slanting script. “Why have an entire festival about just one book?”

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