Page 19 of For My Finale
“A scone,” Blossom said.
And she was about to explain, about to say more, but before she could, Lilah picked it up and took a giant bite out of the side. Her face went red and she looked like she might choke. Quickly, Blossom got her a glass of water.
“What the hell…?” coughed Lilah when she could get a breath. “That’s like eating… a sock.”
“Mmm,” said Blossom, trying not to laugh now that it was clear that a movie star was not going to choke to death in her cafe. “If you’d have let me finish, I was about to tell you that we cut it in half, spread it with jam and cream and then eat it. Traditionally.” She gave Lilah a look. “Although your way works as well, I suppose.”
“Jesus, I thought I was going to die for a second there. I hope you know the Heimlich.” Lilah peered at the cupboard. “Have you got something in there that isn’t a sock and won’t kill me?”
“Cinnamon roll?” offered Blossom as she started up the coffee machine.
“Perfect,” purred Lilah.
And Blossom was just about to start thinking that maybe this wasn’t so bad, that maybe having Lilah Paxton here could be like having anyone else here, when Daisy burst through the door like a tiny, round tornado.
“Did you see?” Daisy squealed.
Blossom sighed. “The sign? Yes.”
Daisy blinked. “What? No, not that. Lilah Paxton. Her car’s parked just over there. She must be in town somewhere.”
Blossom cleared her throat and gestured vaguely toward where Lilah was sitting at the counter.
Daisy’s eyes widened as big as saucers. “Oh. My. God.”
Lilah groaned. “Please,” she began.
“Daisy, be cool,” said Blossom.
“I am cool,” Daisy insisted, barely containing her excitement. “So, Lilah, I can call you Lilah, right? What’s it like being famous?”
Lilah took the coffee that Blossom offered her. “Exhausting.”
Daisy beamed. “Sounds amazing!”
Blossom stepped around the counter and gently started ushering Daisy out, reminding her that she had her rounds to do and that Lilah would be around town for a while yet.
When she was done, Lilah gave her a grateful look. “Thank you.”
“She’s harmless, just star-struck,” Blossom said.
Lilah neither agreed nor disagreed with this. Instead, she took a slow sip of coffee, then said, “So what’s up with the coffee chain opening up on the corner then?”
Blossom’s smile faltered. “It’s nothing.”
Lilah gave her a skeptical look. “It didn’t seem like nothing. When you saw that sign you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
“It’s nothing,” Blossom said again. “So, Arty seems to think that you need something to do. How do you feel about making lattes?”
Lilah’s expression was horrified.
Blossom laughed. “Just kidding. Kind of.”
Lilah rolled her eyes but, to Blossom’s surprise, she smiled. And it wasn’t a Hollywood smile. Not the perfectly practiced one that Blossom had seen in magazines. It was a real one. And just like that, Blossom realized that Lilah Paxton might be more interesting than she’d thought.
Chapter Eight
Lilah had always been good at entertaining herself. As an only child, she’d spent hours making up elaborate stories, acting them out in front of her bedroom mirror. As a teenager, she’d spent whole summers on set, running lines, absorbing every lesson into her DNA. And as an adult, she’d rarely been alone. Always at premieres or interview, photoshoots or sets, her calendar so packed that she barely had time to think.
