Face lit with pleasure, Sal moved on to Maddie and Marty, draping a bear-like paw over each of their shoulders.

I leaned toward Tilton. “Thanks for being so nice.’’

He bowed. “No problem, Mace. We’re still on for our little chat later, right? Because you’re going to see more nice. This is the new me.’’

I hoped that was true; but at the same time I wondered. How much changing was Greg Tilton prepared to do?

_____

“Hey, need a hand?’’

At my question, C’ndee looked up from behind a big aluminum pan of pasta she was setting out for the late afternoon supper.

“I wouldn’t turn it down.’’ She slid the serving pan onto a long folding table, which was draped with a white plastic cover. The spot was reserved with words written on the plastic in heavy black felt marker, Baked Ziti.

I had to hand it to C’ndee. She was the boss, but she wasn’t afraid to pitch in right beside the people she’d hired to help cater the movie shoot. As I assisted, ferrying pans out from her mobile kitchen, I noticed a sheet cake waiting on the dessert table. It was shaped like an old-fashioned, clapper-style slate—not completely accurate, since modern devices for marking scenes now included digital readouts. But it looked good, in black-and-white frosting, with “That’s a Wrap!’’ scrawled across the top in big cursive letters.

“Cake looks super,’’ I said.

“Thanks. Barbara wouldn’t pay for anything extra, so I donated the cake and thirty gallons of ice cream. These people worked hard on the movie. They should have some kind of celebration for the final day of Florida filming.’’

“Speaking of working, or at least working the crowd …’’

I nodded toward the front of the tent, where Mama was making her entrance followed by her personal entourage: Sal, Marty and Maddie. She accepted congratulations as she went, like the silver screen star she now believed herself to be. I prayed her scene wouldn’t get cut in the editing process. She’d never get over it.

“I hear she did great,’’ C’ndee said.

I felt an involuntary surge of pride. “You know, she really did.’’

“You sound shocked.’’

“I shouldn’t be, right? We’ve always known Mama was a drama queen.’’

“You said it; I didn’t.’’ C’ndee grinned.

“Said what?’’ Mama, still bursting from the bodice of her Ruby-the-Protestant gown, sidled up beside us. She swiped a finger through the frosting at the bottom of the cake, where she thought no one would notice.

C’ndee slapped her hand. Not so long ago, that would have been the start of the Second Civil War. But after what they’d survived at Mama’s wedding to Sal, the Jersey Girl and the Southern Belle had become friends. Sort of.

“You should have seen me, C’ndee. I killed.’’

“Not literally, I hope.’’

Mama trilled, “Oh, honey, that’s just a Hollywood saying we actors use.’’

C’ndee wriggled her brows. “So now you’re an actor, after one line?’’

“Two, honey.’’ Mama held up her fingers. “I also got to slap somebody. Of course, we’re taught to pull our punches, so I didn’t actually hurt him. Film-making is all camera angles and sound effects, C’ndee. That and good acting, of course.’’

“Of course,’’ C’ndee said.

An hour later, the hordes had come and gone. Tiny specks of food were all that remained in the silver serving pans. The cake table looked like a desert scene from Lawrence of Arabia: vast, swept-over, and empty. I’d even seen one crew member scraping with a plastic knife at the last dabs of cake frosting on the cardboard sheeting.

C’ndee’s shoes sat on the floor beside her. With her legs elevated, she’d propped up her aching feet on a chair across from her. Mama and I sipped at cups of hot herbal tea as we waited for my sisters to show up.

I glanced at the entrance, and checked my watch again. Five-fifty. Tilton was now almost an hour late. The horses were waiting at the corral.

“Are we keeping you from something, Mace?’’ Mama asked.

I decided not to tell her I’d been stood up. So much for the new Greg Tilton.

Mama looked at me like I’d asked her to crawl all the way to the Mason-Dixon line and take up residence on the wrong side.

All I’d done was ask her to change out of Ruby’s dress, and give me a hand with the horses.

“Honey, I can’t do that. I’m expected at the wrap party tonight. All the actors are going. As soon as Sal finishes up here with security and all, we’ll go home and I’ll start getting ready.’’

I shook my head, but managed to hold my tongue.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady. You are not too old to get the switch. Aren’t your sisters coming back here to help you at the corral?’’

“They’re home, fixing dinners for their husbands.’’

“And they said they’d be back to help you feed and trailer the horses, right?’’

I gave Mama a grudging nod.

“Well, then, you don’t need me.’’

I hated to admit it, but she was right. Besides, escaping to the corral would mean I’d avoid the hundredth re-telling of her acting achievement. I’d miss the nonstop soliloquy on where in her house she should make room for her Supporting Actress Oscar.

Mace, how do you think my award would look on that shelf where I have all my ceramic cows right now? I could move the cows next to the gingham-collared ducks in the kitchen … but that would put the symmetry all off, wouldn’t it? You know, since the cows are bigger than the ducks. So, maybe I’ll move the ducks to that shelf with the bunny rabbits, since they’re about the same size. Then again, ducks live in the water, and the rabbits don’t even like to swim, so that doesn’t seem to make sense …

When I saw a re-energized C’ndee, waving me over toward the exit of the tent, I made my getaway, mid-discourse. I don’t even think Mama noticed. As I left, she was musing on the possibility of Sal building her Oscar statuette its very own shelf.

“I saved a piece of cake for Carlos,’’ C’ndee said, as she wiped down a table. “Where is he, anyway? I haven’t seen him all day.’’

I shrugged. “Probably at Kelly’s trailer, ‘interviewing’ the movie star some more.’’

C’ndee gave me a sharp look. “Oh, no. Are the on-again-off-again lovers off again?’’

I sighed.

“Why don’t the two of you get married, so you can make each other miserable full time?’’ she asked.

She picked up some stray plastic plates. I followed with a handful of dirty cups. “Spoken like a woman with two ex-husbands,’’ I said.

“Still two shy of your mother’s record.’’

“Yeah, but only if you count the one who died as an ex,’’ I said.

We dumped the garbage, and I helped her heft the big trash bags onto a trailer that would transport them to the county dump.

“How about your rodeo cowboy? What happened to him?’’

“He fell off the wagon big time last night. Plus, Jeb is not my cowboy.’’

“Whatever you say, Mace.’’

I gave one last glance around the tent. Still no Tilton. Mama had cornered one of the grips, and was yakking away, probably grilling him as to how to build a shelf that would support an eight-and-a-half-pound Academy Award.

“Well, I’m off to visit the horses,’’ I said. “If that drunken, shiftless cowboy hasn’t shown, I’m going to have to see to his cattle, too.’’

“If you spot Toby on your way, tell him I saved some cake for him.’’

“Toby hasn’t been around?’’

“Not many of the cast has. I think everybody’s getting ready for that wrap party tonight.’’

“Want me to tell Jesse you’ve got a piece of cake for her, too?’’ I grinned at C’ndee.

“Ha!’’ The word shot from her mouth. “I wouldn’t give that little witch a single crumb if she was starving. I bet we find out she’s the one who killed Norman Sydney, and caused all the trouble on this movie set since then. Little Miss Jesse is definitely the murdering type.’’