Page 48 of The Unknown

“Or longer,” Julianne chimed in.

The rest of us let that sink in a moment. An uneasy silence during which we all estimated just how long it could be before Loretta returned. I thought about the time it took to get here on Pete’s boat, which was bigger and faster than our own. That was at least fifteen minutes. Add in a half-hour ambulance trip to the hospital, another half-hour cab ride back to the dock, then another lengthy return to the island. I ran through the different scenarios, concluding that even in the best of cases—Brad recovering minutes after reaching the hospital—Loretta might not be back until dawn.

Now dawn has arrived, and from the steady silence outside the cottage, I assume she still hasn’t returned.

After wasting another half hour lying awake in the gray morning light, I decide the best thing to do is just start the day. Before we all went to bed, Ronan had made it clear that Brad and Loretta’s hopefully temporary absence didn’t alter our plan.

“For the time being, we should just keep doing what we came here to do,” he said.

“Even after what just happened?” Heather asked, incredulous.

“Especially after that,” Ronan said. “Now you really have no choice but to live like the women of New Avalon. They were stuck, too. Remember how you all feel in this moment and use it when we start shooting next week. In the meantime, the same rules apply. Period clothes, period behavior, period everything. As far as I’m concerned, we’re living in 1926.”

As silly as it seems right now, I obey his rules once I drag myself from bed. Off comes the nightgown. On goes the blue dress. But the granny panties and laughable bras left for me in the dresser remain there, realism be damned.

I leave the cottage just as the sun starts to rise over Lake Faraday. A thick mist on the water diffuses the light, turning it soft pink. In this cotton candy haze, I pass the other cottages on my way to the main house.Everyone else still seems to be sleeping. I guess I’m the only person on the island kept awake by worry and inexplicable scratching noises.

Lucky me.

Yet when I enter the kitchen, I’m surprised to see Violet there, standing over the stovetop in her high-necked lavender dress. She moves with confident ease, nary a bead of sweat on her face, as if this is her daily routine. There are two pots on the stove. One is just boiling water, while the other contains a thick batch of oatmeal that Violet stirs with a wooden spoon.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she confesses. “I kept worrying about Brad, the poor boy. And Loretta, of course. I spent all night waiting for her to come back.”

“I assume she didn’t.”

“Not yet,” Violet says, tapping the spoon against the pot. “But she’ll be here soon. Any minute now, I suspect.”

I move to the pantry, finding a paper sack of ground coffee. I pour some into an old-fashioned percolator sitting on the counter, add a few ladles of the boiling water, and set it atop the stove.

“I heard you made a wonderful dinner last night,” Violet says. “I figured you’d try to make breakfast, too, and wanted to beat you to it. You shouldn’t be saddled with the cooking.”

“I don’t mind. I enjoy cooking.”

Violet shakes her head. “You don’t want to be known only for that. First rule of a set. Never volunteer to do anything on a regular basis, because that’s all you’ll be asked to do.”

I assume she’s speaking from experience. Based on her filmography, years in the business, and sheer number of awards won, I suspect Violet could teach a master class in being on a film set.

“Any more advice you’d like to share? Specifically acting advice?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare tell a fellow actor what to do,” Violet says, resuming her stirring. “Everyone’s method is different. All I’m comfortable sharing are the three things told to me when I made my first movie. One,always be on time. Two, know your lines. Three, always be aware of where the camera is placed. That way you don’t need to wonder or worry about it. Note its location on the first take. After that, pretend it’s not there.”

I suspect it’s not quite as simple as that. Maybe to Violet, but not to me.

Julianne drifts into the kitchen then, also in costume, although not looking nearly as fresh as Violet. She’s more like me. Wilted and tired and overheated.

“Good morning,” she says. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Marin is looking for acting advice,” Violet says. “A task better suited to you.”

I check the percolator before looking to Julianne. “You teach a lot, right?”

“Hmm,” Julianne says sleepily. “Unfortunately, being a character actress isn’t as lucrative as it used to be, which even then wasn’t all that much. Teaching helps pay the bills. It’s fulfilling, too, knowing I’m helping shape the next generation. Those who want to be shaped. I swear, half my students care more about their number of TikTok followers than their craft.”

Violet playfully lifts a finger to her lips. “Not in front of Marin. She’ll think we’re positively ancient.”

“Some days, I feel ancient,” Julianne says. “Including now, although I think that’s from lack of sleep. Last night was too…”

Her voice trails off, leaving me to finish the sentence for her. “Dark? Quiet?”