After they’d stored all the food at the house, Seth retouched her makeup and they headed back out again. In Prairie Lakes, they parked and walked. It was another pleasantly cool, crisp, brilliant fall day. Prairie Lakes was a picturesque small town, especially with all the trees dressed out in brilliant autumn regalia. It was no Vulture’s Canyon, but it was far from bustling. Walking from the car down Main Street, they passed all of four people.
They stopped in a pharmacy on Main Street to pick up some supplies, including some battery candles Seth wanted for Daisy’s jack-o’-lantern. Gia nudged Seth with an elbow to the ribs when she spotted the old-fashioned soda fountain on the far wall.
“Would it be too un-Jessie-like if we went for a sundae?” she asked under her breath.
“Yeah,” Seth murmured. She nodded in understanding.
“But it would also be Uncle Seth–like to ignore Jessie’s cocky attitude. Jessie really needs to work on that. So we’re going,” he said without a break in his stony expression. He handed her a pack of razors. She barely hid her grin as she examined the package with undue fascination and followed him out of the aisle.
* * *
They ate lunch at the nostalgic diner, where they were the only patrons. Even on weekends, traffic downtown was probably slow, but on a weekday afternoon with school in session, Main Street seemed cast under a sleepy spell. Afterward, they ordered coffees to go and wandered through a nearby wooded park. Spotting a bench near a burbling spring, they sat down, inhaling the crisp fall air. She noticed Seth unobtrusively scanning the entire area for possible observers. When he relaxed his militant tension ever so slightly and took a sip of his coffee, Gia assumed that he saw no potential threats to their privacy.
“Did you like being in military intelligence?” she asked him quietly.
“I would have liked it better if my skill for disguise and makeup was used one hundred percent of the time. Whenever the opportunity came up, I thrived on the challenge. That’s how I knew for a fact I wanted to work in special effects makeup full-time when I left the Army. But I do miss the . . . substance of the disguises I did while I was in the military.”
“Substance?”
“Yeah. Knowing that my makeups really meant something important—an individual’s safety, a successful mission, people’s lives.”
“Is that why you still do consulting work for people like Charles and Madeline when you get the chance?”
He nodded.
“Do you really think of film work as substanceless?” she asked hesitantly after a moment.
His gaze flickered over her. “I think it has substance. Entertainment is important. Creative expression is important. I’m just glad I had the opportunity to use my art to help people as well.”
Gia nodded. She understood what he was saying, but it unsettled her for some reason. What had she ever done to directly help people? She did some charity work but always felt on the fringes, distanced from the possibility of making a concrete, measurable difference in someone’s life.
“What you do is important, Gia,” Seth said forcefully under his breath. She blinked, realizing he’d noticed her bereft expression. “You shouldn’t listen to half the things I say about Hollywood. I’m old and I’m cynical.”
“You’re not old,” she chided.
“I see you don’t correct me about my cynicism though,” he added wryly, taking a sip of his coffee. “The truth is, someone like you influences tens of thousands of people every day. Maybe in subtle ways, maybe in not-so-subtle ways. Certainly in ways you’re likely never going to know about firsthand. I think movie stars have a huge potential for making a difference.”
“Really?” she asked, doubtful not for her own part, but as to whether or not he truly believed it.
He nodded soberly. “Look at the fact that you want to play Eleanor Roosevelt, for instance. Given your status with young people, you’ll expose a generation of females to an important, powerful woman. You’ll make someone who formerly seemed like a boring history lesson approachable and interesting by mixing some of your magic with hers. You could have just listened to the naysayers and your agent and dismissed the role as not commercially viable, but you didn’t.”
She made a face. “I didn’t insist on the part because I wanted to make a difference in young women’s lives though,” she admitted with a sinking feeling.
“Why did you then?”
Gia thought for a moment. “Because her story inspired me.”
He shrugged and leaned back on the bench. “Exactly. And your inspiration in combination with your talent will inspire others.”
“Do you really think that?”
“I do,” he replied simply.
“But you look down on actresses and actors so much,” she said.
“Not all of them. There are a few I respect.” She studied his stoic profile anxiously. He must have noticed because he turned and met her stare. “One actress in particular. More and more so every day.”
Even though he couldn’t touch her while they were out in public and the bright light of day, his words and small smile felt like the equivalent