Page 20 of The Unknown

“She’s the sole producer. Obviously, I get a say in casting, but not in this case. Honestly, I’m still confused by what happened. Lindy had been cast for a month. And I thought both of us agreed she’d be great in the role. Then, literally a week ago, Loretta told me out of the blue that she had fired Lindy. It didn’t matter that filming was about to start and that we were left in the lurch. Loretta was adamant that Lindy had to go.”

“Did she say why?” I ask, my self-doubt suddenly amplified.

“All she told me was that Lindy wouldn’t work out,” Ronan says. “And that it was my job to find a better replacement. Immediately.”

That’s where I come in. What remains unknown is if, in the minds of Ronan and, especially, Loretta, I’ll work out better than my predecessor.

“From what you’ve seen so far, am I a more suitable choice than Lindy?”

“It’s impossible to make a direct comparison,” Ronan says, tugging at the handkerchief around his neck as if it were a noose and not a pretentious accessory. “Lindy was intense. During her audition, she came off slightly deranged. Which I thought absolutely worked for the character of Daisy. But none of that matters now. You’re here, I’m happy that you’re here, and I think you’re going to be great.”

“Why are you so certain? I have zero experience.”

“That’s whyI’mhere. To guide your performance to where it needs to be. Your job is to remain open, fearless, and in the moment, just like you were during your audition.”

“But it wasn’t an audition,” I say, more frustrated than when I entered. “I told a story. What about that impressed you so much?”

Ronan takes a moment to think about it, again pulling on his neckerchief. A nervous tic I wonder if he’s aware of. “You allowed yourself to be vulnerable.”

That much is true. During my audition, I revealed my darkest secret, my private pain. I still don’t quite understand why. I’m sure part of it was simply the result of being swept up in the moment. I was an actress with nothing to lose in a small audition room with a big-time director I was certain I’d never see again. But I suppose the biggest reason was that I needed to finally unburden myself. Ronan, with his keen interest and intense gaze, made it easy.

He uses that same expression on me now as he says, “I know you’re nervous. It’s natural to feel that way. But instead of fighting it, use it. Let your vulnerability be Daisy’s vulnerability. Let your fear be hers.”

Coming from him, it sounds so simple. Like I can just snap my fingers and transfer all my anxieties to the character I’m playing. And maybe that’s the trick to acting, that ineffable magic that makes someone likeViolet so good at her craft. Which is another reason to be nervous. I have so many scenes opposite a living legend. There’s no conceivable way I won’t pale in comparison to Violet Wright. Who, by the way, barely acknowledged me once the table read was over. After the obligatory round of applause, she stood and said, “Wonderful. All of you, wonderful.” Then she was gone, leaving me wanting more.

“I will,” I say, wincing at how unconvinced I sound.

“Maybe this will help.”

Ronan fetches a well-worn leather satchel from a desk in the other room. He pulls a stack of paper from the bag and gives it to me. I look to the first page and the four words neatly typed at the top of it.

My name is Daisy.

“Is this her diary?”

“A transcript, yes. Word for word what the police found when they searched the island.”

“Where did you get this?”

“The Vermont History Museum in Montpelier. That’s where the diary is kept. They let me read it.”

Of course they did. Knowing Ronan’s clout, I’m surprised they didn’t loan it out to him like a library book.

“I asked if they could photocopy the whole thing, but I was told the actual diary is too fragile,” Ronan says. “This transcript is all we have. Read it. I think it’ll give you a little more insight into who Daisy was and how you should play her.”

It feels like I’ve just been handed a key that unlocks the door to Daisy’s psyche. Not an interpretation of it. Not Ronan’s adaptation of things. But Daisy’s real experiences, written in her own words. I stare at the pages, stunned and overwhelmed and excited. So absurdly excited that I throw open my arms and wrap them around Ronan in an awkward embrace. I don’t care if it’s inappropriate. Nearly every minute I’ve spenton this island has been fraught with anxiety. The arrival. The table read. Everything after. Now I need, just for a moment, to not feel so stressed. Or alone.

“In the future, if you have any doubts or worries or concerns, come to me,” Ronan says. “I’m not just your director, I’m also your friend. And your biggest supporter.”

I promise him that I will, break the embrace, and, clutching Daisy’s diary to my chest, prepare to leave the room. I get as far as the door when Ronan says, “Hey, Marin? Don’t tell the others I gave you that. I haven’t let them read it. They’ll think I’m playing favorites.”

Ronan winks, his message clear. This will be our little secret.

Outside his room, I tuck the pages under my arm when I spot Loretta inside the room on the other end of the hallway. Through the open door, I see her and Violet speaking in voices too hushed for me to make out what they’re saying.

Loretta notices me and edges into the hall. “You shouldn’t be up here, Marin.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I just needed to talk to Ronan for a minute.”