OLIVIA
Chapter Twenty-Nine

Olivia stood in front of the movie house where, the day before, she and Marietta had seen the poster for the moving picture playing. It took quite a lot for her to come back alone, but she knew she had to.

Cal had questioned her about her withdrawn appearance when they had returned home to the bungalow, but she passed it off as being tired from the trip and the heat. She tried to act as if nothing was wrong, but she simply could not stop seeing the image of the woman on the poster. Was it Rose? Was she alive? If so, how was it possible?

She slept fitfully all night, and when the morning came, she knew what she had to do. She told Marietta she was going to run a few errands and then meet Cal for lunch. She hated lying, she knew it was wrong, but no one could know what she had planned. She had Marietta call her a taxi to take her back into Los Angeles.

Now, here she stood, to face the truth, whatever that truth might be. She opened the door to the theater and walked in, glancing around the lobby as she did. She wasn’t sure how to go about finding out what she wanted to know, but whatever it took, she would do it.

A short, portly man came waddling through double doors and stopped when he saw Olivia. His eyebrows shot up as he took in her finely dressed appearance. Slicking his nonexistent hair back and adjusting his pants over his expansive waistline, he put on a smile and walked up to her. "Hello, there. May I help you?"

"Yes." She smiled. "I need to speak with the owner of this establishment."

"You’re speaking to him. Arthur Hyman, at your service." He nodded toward her.

"It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Hyman. I need to speak with you, if you have a moment."

"Sure," he answered. "What can I help you with, Miss…"

"Mrs.," she corrected him. "My name is Olivia Hockley, and I would like to ask you a question about the poster you have outside. On the front, there is a picture of a couple. Do you know anything about the young woman with the man?"

"Hmm…can’t say that I do." He frowned and shook his head. "Let me see what I have on hand. I usually just run them. I don’t know too much about who’s in them," he said as he waddled to a door that led to a room which Olivia assumed was his office. She heard the sound of papers rustling, and then he came back out, holding one sheet.

"Well, I have the invoice. I can’t tell you who the girl is, but I can tell you where it was made. It came from the Biograph Studio Company. That’s not far from here. I’m sure they can tell you who she is."

"Thank you, Mr. Hyman. I appreciate your time."

"No problem, ma’am. I hope you find what you’re looking for."

"So do I." She shook his hand and then headed outside. She told the driver to take her to the Biograph Studio. The landscape rolled by as they made their way across town. Finally, they pulled up in front of a large building with a white sign in bold block letters spelling out the name of the studio. Stepping out of the taxi, she looked at the building and took a deep breath.

"Wait here," she told the driver, and then walked up the short flight of stairs to the door, which creaked on its hinges when she opened it. She stepped into a small, dimly lit foyer which, in turn, led to two double doors. When she passed through those, she came into a large room with a high ceiling and partitions separating several replicas of rooms. A commotion near the back of the building had her straining to see what was going on.

A man with a green beret on his head and a bullhorn came storming from around a partition with another man quick on his heels.

"I’ve had it, Norman! It’s me or her! I refuse to work with her any longer," the man in the hat snapped loudly.

"Please, Victor, be patient. She’s just nervous," the other man nearly whined as he pushed his round spectacles up the bridge of his nose.

The man named Victor stopped and whirled around. "Nervous! My good man, that’s not nerves, that’s a lack of talent that is completely appalling. I will not have my name associated with the drivel she’s producing in there. Again, it’s me or her, but it’s not going to be both!"

"I’m sure if I speak with her--"

"Speak all you want. I’m finished! Let me know when she’s gone, and I will return!" he said as he slammed the bullhorn into the man’s chest and stormed away.

Standing still for a moment, the young blond man let out a defeated sigh and closed his eyes. Shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose, he started to turn away. Olivia stepped forward and cleared her throat, slightly intimidated by what she had just witnessed, but determined to follow through.

"Excuse me…sir, excuse me!" she called to the man, who stopped and looked around at her. He squinted his eyes for a moment, and then they opened wide. He looked her up and down, as if he couldn’t believe what his eyes were showing him.

"Can I speak with you for a moment?" she asked, stepping closer. "I’m looking for one of your actresses."

The young man smiled then. "Are you looking to become an actress?"

"No." Olivia shook her head quickly. "I think you have the wrong idea. I’m looking for an actress that has made one of your moving pictures here. I would like to meet her, if that’s possible."

Looking her over again, he crossed his arms. "Well, we have a lot of actresses who work here. Do you know her name?"

Shaking her head, she answered him. "No, I don’t know her name. I just know the name of the moving picture she was in."

"Okay. What’s the name?"

"The Daring Mr. Armstrong," she told him hopefully. "It’s playing at the Hyman Theater."

"Hmm…" He rubbed his chin. "We just sent that one last week. Who was in that? I think it was Ruby, no, no, not Ruby, I think it was Rose…" He snapped his fingers in the air. "That’s it. Rose. Her name is Rose Dawson."

"Rose Dawson," she repeated with a sinking sensation. The last name was different, but the first name was the same. Still, it was possible it was a coincidence. "Do you know where I could reach her?"

The man frowned then. "What business do you have with her? Is she in some sort of trouble?"

"No, nothing like that," Olivia assured him. "I just would like to talk with her. It’s…it’s of a private nature."

"Well…" He shrugged. "I’m not sure where she lives. As I said, we have a lot of actresses around here."

Olivia stepped even closer. "Please. This is important. I really must speak with her."

He stared at her for a moment, looking her over once again. He must have seen the desperation in her eyes, because he let out a breath and nodded. "Okay. I’ll try to find out where she lives. I can’t promise anything, though."

"Thank you. I appreciate this so much."

"Sure," he answered, and started to turn away. "You can sit over there while you wait."

Doing as he instructed, Olivia sat in a nearby wooden chair that had seen better days. She couldn’t help but look around as she waited for the man to return. So many questions swirled through her head. If this woman was Rose, how in the world did she end up here? And why? Why would she let everyone go on thinking she was dead? It made no sense, and the more Olivia thought about it, the more convinced she became that the woman was not Rose and it was merely a coincidence.

She had been sitting for nearly twenty minutes before the man came back to her. She was beginning to think he had forgotten about her. She stood as he approached.

"Sorry I kept you waiting," he said. "I had to take care of a few things first."

"That’s quite all right," she told him. "Did you find her?"

"The only address I came up with is this one. If it’s still the same is as much your guess as mine," he said as he handed her a slip of paper. "I’m Norman, by the way. Norman Wilder."

"Thank you, Mr. Wilder. I appreciate your time."

"Sure." He smiled as he pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Are you sure you’re not interested in becoming an actress? We could take a few headshots to see how you’d look on camera."

"No." She shook her head with a quiet laugh. "I assure you, I do not want to become an actress. I really must be going now. Thank you once again."

She bid him good-bye and then went back to the waiting taxi. She handed him the address and asked him to take her there. She sat back in the seat and released a deep breath. She was closer than ever to finding out the truth, once and for all.

Before long, the taxi pulled up in front a small cottage set in the midst of similar ones around it. There was nothing extraordinary about it that said who lived there had the ability to change her life forever. It was just a simple, plain little house. She stepped out of the taxi and once again asked him to wait for her.

She looked up the walkway to the door and felt her heart speed up a bit. This was the moment of truth. Taking tentative steps, she slowly made her way to the small porch and lifted her hand to knock. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tapped quietly on the door.

At first, there was no answer. Then, she heard the knob being turned and the door opened. A young, beautiful, dark-haired woman stood before her, dressed only a thin robe and slippers. She frowned at Olivia and looked her over as if she had never seen anyone like her before.

"Can I help you?" she questioned, tilting her head to one side.

For a moment, Olivia couldn’t find her voice. She wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or confused. Clearly, this woman was not the woman in the picture…far from it. Beautiful though she was, she was not her. Before Olivia could even respond, the woman raised her eyebrows and leaned against the door.

"I don’t have all day, lady. Is there something you needed?"

Clearing her throat, Olivia drew herself up and straightened her shoulders. "Yes. I’m sorry. I was looking for someone I thought might live here."

"Depends on who you’re looking for." She shrugged.

"I was looking for Rose Dawson. I was told this was her address."

The young woman gave nothing away. She merely gave Olivia a nonplussed look. "What do you want with her?"

"If she’s here, that is a private matter between Miss Dawson and myself," she answered firmly.

From inside the house, she heard another voice carry to them as if it were in another room. "Suzanne, have you seen my blue shoes? I can’t find them."

Suzanne looked over her shoulder as the owner of the voice made her appearance in the room behind them. Olivia felt as if the ground moved beneath her, such was her shock. As she stood there staring, she could hear her heart beating wildly in her ears. Silence, deafening as any loud sound, swamped her.

It was her.

It was Rose.

The two women stood staring at each other, one no more horrified than the other. Olivia couldn’t breath, she couldn’t think, she could barely formulate a coherent thought in her mind. She had hoped beyond hope that it was a coincidence, but it was not. It was her. It was really her. Rose was alive, and she was standing before her, flesh and blood alive and no longer a ghost.

Rose dropped the brush she had been holding as her face went pale with shock. "No," she barely managed to get out.

Suzanne whipped her head back around to look at Olivia. "Who are you?" she demanded hotly.

"I…" she tried to answer, but no answer could be found.

"What is going on here?" Suzanne looked from Rose to Olivia.

Rose stepped closer, shaking her head in denial as she did. "No," she said again. "Go away."

Olivia couldn’t stop staring at her. Her worst nightmares were coming to life, and the only thing she could do was stand there looking at it. Oh God, oh God, oh God, her mind raced. It was over. Her life was over. Once Cal found this out, it was over.

"Go away," Rose said, firmer this time. "I don’t know how you found me, but go away."

Go away? Olivia thought. How was she supposed to do that? Did she think it was as easy as her just turning and leaving? Did she think that would be the end of it? She snapped her eyes up at Rose and finally found her voice.

"I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. We need to talk, and I’m not leaving until we do."

Chapter Thirty
Stories