One Perfect Moment. A.C. Arthur
of Temptation, Virginia.
For the last thirty minutes, her speed had slowed. After passing the large heart-shaped sign with “Welcome to Temptation” written in bright turquoise letters, she’d felt a bit of calm take over. The drive from the airport took a few hours, and she’d hurried at first, driving as if she was on her way to an emergency. She wanted to get this over with.
Except Ava knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. She hated that Jenner and Carroll had given her no choice in this matter. Or rather, she despised that their choice meant she would either have to shop her new idea to another network—and risk news traveling that she was difficult to work with—or do what she was told to do, something she’d sworn she was beyond doing.
Ava was not difficult to work with. Not on the set of the first network series she’d written for, or as the executive producer and writer of her own show. But that didn’t mean Carroll wouldn’t put that rumor out there, just to keep her from working anywhere else in television. That’s how the industry worked. There were lots of intimidation tactics used by those in controlling positions, and Ava was glad that hers had, thankfully, only included a delayed green light of her new show idea. She knew of too many women who had suffered in other ways.
Ava was going to write the treatment for this show. Taking the next step in her career meant that much to her. And while she was sure she could use her family’s influence to work with another network or even to produce her own movie if she wanted to, Ava chose not to do that. She wanted to do this on her own merit, and she would, even if it meant approaching a family who—she’d learned from the research she’d done in the last few days—had done all that they could to stay out of the spotlight.
Mature trees ushered her along the road, standing thick and tall on both sides. The sky was a perfect blue, accompanied by the fluffiest white clouds and shimmers of golden sunlight. She’d cut off the air-conditioning and rolled down the front windows, inhaling deeply the warm, fresh air. In the rearview mirror, looking as if they were somehow following her, were the peaks of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Ava figured they were just as majestic and beautiful up close as they were from this distance.
She wished this excursion would allow time for a hiking trip along some of the famous trails she’d read about during her research of the town. But she was on a tight schedule. Jenner wanted a thirteen-episode outline by Halloween—six weeks from now—and final consent contracts signed by each of the Taylor sextuplets no later than Thanksgiving. This would keep them on schedule for shooting to begin in January. Ava tightened her grip on the steering wheel and focused her mind once more on the plan she’d come up with.
Grayson Taylor was the CEO of Taylor Electronics and had recently returned to Temptation, found a wife with twins and renovated the old Victorian house where the original Taylor family had lived thirty years ago. Just three weeks ago, Grayson and his wife, Morgan, had welcomed a second set of twins, giving them a total of four children. Ava couldn’t imagine taking care of anyone but herself—four kids would definitely be out of her league. Grayson and his family would be the key to getting all the siblings on board. She’d concluded that because, as the oldest, he also seemed to be the spokesperson for the Taylor sextuplets.
She made a right turn that landed her on a dirt road and was just about to check her GPS when her phone rang. It was on the console, connected to the charger, and she pressed the button to answer without looking at the screen. She was more concerned with whether or not she’d taken a wrong turn.
“You said you were going to call me back. You didn’t. I despise lies, Ava. You know that.”
Ava rolled her eyes and silently chastised herself for not checking her caller ID before answering.
“Hi, Mom. I’m in the car,” Ava replied because she knew her mother hated her talking on the phone while driving—even if Ava used a Bluetooth.
“Then why are you answering the phone?” Eleanor immediately asked.
Ava smiled.
“I didn’t want to ignore your call. Listen, I should be at the bed-and-breakfast in about twenty minutes. I’ll give you a call as soon as I get settled in.”
“Bed-and-breakfast? Where are you? And who stays in a bed-and-breakfast when there are perfectly acceptable hotels throughout the world?”
Not Eleanor Cannon, that was for sure. Her mother would only stay in the best hotels, drive the fanciest cars, pay a small fortune for the most stylish clothes, and buy whatever else her inherited fortune would allow. Everything her mother did was done with style and grace, while Ava had adopted a more frugal lifestyle that drove Eleanor insane.
“I’m on a research assignment. I’ll give you a call with more details once I’m settled.”
Her mother would want the name of the bed-and-breakfast and a landline number to reach Ava in case cell service suddenly went down worldwide. Being an only child hadn’t been easy for Ava. In the past six years since Ava’s father’s unexpected death Eleanor had become even more overbearing.
“That will be fine. I’ll wait for your call. Drive safely,” Eleanor said before disconnecting.
Ava took that to mean she’d better call her mother back, or Eleanor might send out the cavalry to look for her.
Tossing the headset onto the seat, Ava returned her attention to the GPS. The directions took her down a long cobblestoned street. Hearty mums stuffed in big black pots circled each lamppost. Cute little storefronts had twinkle lights or harvest baskets, pumpkins and gourds decorating their slice of the sidewalk. People moved about, walking slowly and staring at the decorations or what the store had advertised in their front windows, Ava couldn’t tell which. What she saw on their faces, however, was, without a doubt, contentment.
She drove the remaining ten minutes until making the final turn to her destination. The Sunnydale Bed-and-Breakfast was a stately white colonial house with black shutters, nestled in the center of a cul-de-sac and surrounded by a number of beautifully mature trees. It looked like something straight out of Leave It to Beaver or one of those other old black-and-white family shows. Ava favored nostalgic television over today’s modern reality. But while recognizing the need to grow and accept change, she still tried to bring a sense of those old-time family values and simplicity into her writing. A fact, she hated to admit, that would come in handy for this project.
She parked the car and reached over to grab her phone and purse before stepping out. She traveled light, with only one huge duffel bag and her laptop, which she retrieved from the back seat before locking the car and heading up the brick walkway toward the house.
The bed-and-breakfast looked exactly as it had in the brochure, including the chubby shrubs lined up along the perimeter with picture-perfect precision. Ava smiled at the pair of stone bulldog statues guarding the premises as she stepped up onto the porch. Opening the door, she walked inside and was further warmed by the historic charm that continued. Scuffed wood-planked floors, and emerald-green-and-white textured wallpaper stretched throughout the front foyer and along the wall next to a winding glossy cherrywood railing.
She liked it here. Liked the ambience and was glad she’d selected this brochure from the three Saraya, her assistant, had given her. The research trip had been quickly planned once she’d decided to go through with the project. And once that decision was made, Ava had known exactly how she wanted to approach it—straight through the heart.
The Taylors had loved this town and the people who lived here. If Ava were going to write this show, she had to get to know the people here. What they liked, how they lived, what they feared, all of it. Then she’d tackle the Taylor sextuplets.
“Well, hello, ma’am. Welcome to Sunnydale,” an older gentleman said.
He stood behind the front desk—a continuation of the cherrywood, with a black marble top. There was a large fresh flower arrangement toward the end of the desk, closest to the wall, along with a shiny gold bell and a placard on the other end that explained all the forms of payment accepted.
“Hello,” Ava replied. “I have a reservation.