Emma was going toask for Wednesday afternoon off to see the twins play. She didn’t know how she’d say it, didn’t know whether she’d admit to Jo that she knew or if she’d just surprise her by being at the game. But she woke up Wednesday to rain. The one day it rained in Southern California.
When the rain hadn’t stopped by noon, it was clear the game would be canceled. At least Emma didn’t have to figure out how to talk to Jo about it.
She was trying to be less awkward with Jo, to not show her feelings—frustration and hurt and maybe,maybea crush or whatever—quite so obviously. Jo had noticed, had asked her about it, and Emma didn’t want her to push. Not that Jo would, of course. She probably didn’t even care that much. Emma only had to make it until Monday for the cast and crew to come back. Then she could distract herself with work and other people.
Jo invited Emma into her office for lunch. Emma went, but as soon as she finished, she started packing up to go back to her own desk.
“I have a bit of a surprise for you,” Jo said.
Emma stopped crinkling up the wrapper to her sandwich. “What?”
Jo was focused on her own lunch, a sly smile on her face. “Barry Davis is coming to set.”
Emma’s jaw dropped.
“And you’re going to be shadowing him.”
She almost fell off the couch.
Barry Davis was her favorite director. Her absolute favorite. And she was going to shadow him? An Oscar-nominated director?
Jo was looking at Emma now, that smile turned into a rare beam.
“I called in a couple of favors,” Jo said. “He could direct an episode, maybe, but mostly he’ll be here for you. To learn from. To impress, in all likelihood. He’d be a great connection for you.”
This couldn’t just be business, could it? Jo didn’t call in favors to bring Emma’s favorite director to set for abusiness expense. It had to be more than that.
Jo’s smile slowly faded as Emma took too long to respond.
“You like Barry Davis, right?”
“No, yes, of course,” Emma said. “Yeah. I’m—that’s great. I’m really excited. I’m speechless.”
It was true, at least, that she didn’t have words. She couldn’t even understand how she was feeling, much less explain it. She was still confused, still hurt at Jo keeping everything with Avery from her. But she couldn’t not be excited for Barry freakin’ Davis.
“When is he coming?”
“Tuesday. Not next week but the week after,” Jo said.
Whatever was going on between her and Jo, the cast and crew were coming back from hiatus on Monday, and Barry Davis was coming to set the next week. That much, at least, was great.
9
JO
Jo always enjoyed the first day back from hiatus. It was more of a reunion than a day of work. The schedule was never tight, plenty of room for people to reconnect and reminisce. It was like a wrap party with less alcohol and more responsibilities. Lunch was a big catered event, and this year Jo got breakfast, too, croissants and honey cakes and a variety of pastries she didn’t know the names of. Emma squealed when they arrived in bags with the Floured Up logo on the side.
Emma spent much of the day squealing, really. She seemed back to her usual self, filled with enthusiasm for her coworkers. Tate hugged her hard enough to lift her off the ground even though she had an inch on him. She grinned widely at Chantal, who was categorically not a hugger. Aly, Gina, and Holly all clamored around Emma, voices overlapping with updates andit’s so good to see yous. Emma bumped one of the props assistants—Phil, Jo thought his name was—out of line around the pastries, laughter booming over his outrage.
Jo stayed to the side of the room, sipping her coffee and considering getting a croissant. Chantal joined her, and Jo felt a bit likethe adults at a kids’ party—everyone else thrilled and boisterous. She hadn’t had enough coffee to be too excited about anything.
Before Jo gathered the energy to even say good morning to Chantal, Emma swooped in, pressing a napkin holding a filled, crescent-shaped pastry into her hand. Their fingers brushed as Jo took it from her. It was as close as they’d been to each other in a week.
“Okay, I know you don’t like sugar in the morning but you need to try this,” Emma said. “My sister makes thebestrugelach. Eat it, you won’t regret it.”
And she was off again, not giving Jo the chance to protest.
Jo watched her go, then looked at Chantal in hopes of commiserating—Can you believe this girl?—but Chantal just had one eyebrow raised at her.