FELICIA’S OFFICE WASN’T DESIGNED to impress. It was smaller than any room in Del Corwyn’s house, with the exception of his bathrooms—and even those were close to it in size. A far cry from the offices and buildings that had opened to him over the course of his career. And yet, Del felt at peace here.
Her desk sat beside a small window at one end of the room, its surface tidy with a couple of open books and a computer that hummed. At the other end of the room, he noticed a small coffee table with a sofa and two living room chairs, which Del assumed she used for counseling. Potted plants rounded out the décor. On the wall hung a replicated painting that depicted Jesus as a shepherd, as well as two other historical paintings which, to Del, appeared religious in nature. A tasteful, decorative cross hung behind her desk.
The church itself was small and tucked away like a piece of yesteryear. Del guessed it had been built in the 1950s, if not earlier.
Maple bookshelves lined the walls. Upon arriving here, Del had scanned the shelves and found them filled with theological books and various copies of the Bible, some translations commonplace, others more obscure. As a child, he’d memorized the books of the Bible during Sunday school classes, and recognized their names as he’d browsed centuries’ worth of commentary on Felicia’s shelves. She seemed to have at least three volumes of commentary for each book of the Bible.
“Did you have a conversation with the home buyer?” she asked.
Sitting across from her at the desk now, Del crossed one leg over the other and sucked air. “I did.”
“And?”
“No dice. It seems the buyer is thrilled to own the home where a piece of Hollywood history was uncovered.”
Felicia regarded him a moment, and Del could see in her eyes that her heart reached out toward his.
“I’m sorry, Del. I know how much you wanted to remain there.”
“It was worth a try, right? Anyway, it means I need to kick my home search into high gear.” Del clasped his hands around his knee. “It’s not like I couldn’t buy another home in California, but I can’t buy the memories of the people who have come and gone. And those memories live in my home.” He hesitated, sensing his vulnerability on the rise, then sighed. “It’s all I have, Felicia. My home—it’s all I have.”
“It sounds as if Del Corwyn has done some soul searching.”
Is that what it was? “The last month has been a rollercoaster.”
“I think your sensitive side is sweet.”
“Yeah, well…”
“Maybe it’s an opportunity for a fresh start, a change in environment. A chance to make new memories.”
No, Del intuited, this sale wasn’t the sole reason he lacked happiness.
“It’s not just the house, though,” he said.
“You mean your career? Making all things new?”
“Here I am, with my pick of deals. And believe me, they are exquisite. One in particular—have you heard of Bernard Schulman? He offered me a plum role in the film, too.” Del marveled at the thought, which grew more tantalizing by the day. “It’s better than I would have imagined.”
Felicia tilted her head, nodded.
“Have you ever faced something extraordinary,” Del continued, “something you’ve waited decades for, and when it finally comes, it’s…flat?”
Felicia compressed her lips. “Flat?”
“As if your heart isn’t in it. Or perhaps not your whole heart,” he said. “Why am I not enjoying this as much as I thought I would? Everyone wants a piece of me these days.”
“I can empathize, Del. For most people you’re talking to, this is part of their news cycle, something that could make a historic mark on the industry in which they work. But for you, it’s greater than that. This holds a sentimental aspect for you.”
“Sentimental. Maybe that’s it.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. As Del allowed his mind to stroll along that course of thought, another sinking feeling emerged in his heart. “Have you ever thought you had everything you could ever want, then discovered you have nothing? Not in a literal sense, but you take another look around your life with new perspective, and suddenly, much of it strikes you as meaningless?”
“And this is how you feel?”
This was difficult. Del wasn’t accustomed to talking to anybody this way, and especially not a woman of romantic interest. But he found Felicia refreshing, a trustworthy soul. He wanted to confide in her his latest realization that his cohorts in Hollywood sought him for the treasure in his hands, not for who he was as an artist. But he wasn’t ready to admit that to anybody else.
“I’m not sure how I feel about it,” Del replied. “On second thought, my comment was ridiculous. Forget I mentioned it, okay? Please.”
Felicia appraised him, then relaxed in her chair and appeared resigned to what she would say next. “What if this isn’t about signing paperwork for this particular project? Have you considered that possibility?”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe you fear what will come after you strike a deal.” She paused. “Or maybe you fear what won’t come next.”
Dammit, how did she do that? The woman could shoot an arrow at his doubts and hit the bulls-eye, the place he felt most susceptible, and pierce it.
When Del didn’t reply, Felicia gave him a tentative glance, then asked, “Have you ever considered how brief this life is, and what happens when this life is over?”
“You mean eternity?”
“Eternity is the biggest part of it. But also the impact you make today, which will echo after your life ends.”
“I can’t say I’ve thought much about after I’m gone. Isn’t life as we know it enough of a treadmill?” It seemed that way to Del. All the stress, the worry, the strict adherence to his health habits. On occasion, Del wondered if those efforts were nothing more than subconscious attempts to prolong his life. And when his life needed to end, he didn’t want friends and acquaintances showing up at his funeral, speaking flattering words about his career while knowing, in reality, Del Corwyn had ended up a disappointment.
Felicia tapped her fingernails on the desk, three decisive raps to punctuate her thoughts, then arose from her chair. Grabbing her purse from the bottom drawer, she made her way to the door. A confused Del followed her with his eyes.
“Come with me,” she said.
“Now? Where are we going?”
“Trust me. You’ll see.”
Caught off guard, Del didn’t move, unsure of what he was about to step into.
“What’s the matter, Del?” Felicia winked at him. “Did you have something more critical on your calendar than sitting here in my office, shooting the breeze?”