“It really is an extraordinary piece of work. You’ve done an excellent job. It’s like you could see what I was going for inside my head, but you made it happen.”

Justin smiles and sinks back into his chair. “It’s your footage. I can’t do anything without your vision. There needs to be trust between us for both of us to excel at our work.”

My cheeks color hotly and I don’t want them to. It is such a young woman thing to have allowed to happen, the chastised blush, but Justin’s comments bring Bobby’s back to hit me full force.

I stare at my pen as I tap it on the desk and search for something to say. Trust issues. Why is that all I hear from people lately?

“Can I give you some advice?” Justin asks politely.

I don’t really want it and I realize that’s a petty thought. He just pulled a small miracle with this documentary and I know that under our tug-of-war he is, in his own way, trying to mentor me.

I nod. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Justin smiles. “You’re a very talented filmmaker and you’ve molded this dispirited group into a top-notch team. We’re almost there, your vision for what you want us to be. All it takes now is you. It will all fall into place if you learn to hold on less tightly. It will fall into place much faster by just trusting us enough to let go.”

I stare at him, but it’s Bobby who flashes in my mind. I stand up. “Thanks. I’ll try to work on that.”

I walk toward the door. I pause to look back at him. “That’s the final cut, Justin. Do you think you can take the meeting with Rafe today without me and cover things around here for a while? I’m going to be gone for the rest of the day and probably tomorrow as well.”

Justin smiles. I’ve finally said something that pleases him. “Sure, Kaley. I’ll do the pitch meeting with Rafe.”

I nod. “Thanks.”

I hurry out of the conference room and back to the safety of my office. I lean against the closed door, breathing heavily. I suddenly feel frantic and shaky, desperate, and like the only thing that will make any of this better is to run to Bobby.

I want him to know I love him. I want him to know I trust him. It isn’t him who makes me act the way I act at times. It isn’t him, and he’s known it all along and has loved me anyway.

I feel on the verge of both laughter and tears, and I can’t make sense of that any more than I can explain the rest of this crazy day. Without need for thought, I decide my next move.

I’m out of here. I’m going back to Simi Valley and telling that wonderful guy he was right about everything.

I reach for my purse on the desk. Ding. I look at the computer screen. Shit, I must have forgotten to log out of my Fembot blog last time I was here. The chat box is patiently waiting.

I drop into my chair. I open it, already knowing it’s my cyber fan waiting there.

Love-struck Trainer: You weren’t drinking and blogging last night. Hot date?

I lift my hands above the keys.

Rapid typing: I’m not going to be blogging anymore.

Waiting. Waiting.

Love-struck Trainer: Why? I’ll miss our nightly chats.

Without hesitation, I type: I just found a perfectly perfect guy.

Love-struck Trainer: What makes him perfectly perfect?

Now that is a question.

Response: He knows me completely and loves me anyway.

Before Love-struck Trainer can respond, I log off and shut off the computer. By the time I get to the double glass doors, I’m practically running out of the building.

From the parking lot I text Bobby. I wait in the truck. No answer. Maybe he’s not back to the foundation yet. Maybe he’s tied up with the dogs.

I take a detour to Pacific Palisades. Forty minutes later I’m pulling into my parents’ driveway and I don’t even know why I’m here.

I climb from the truck and hurry up the front walk. When I open the front door, the first thing I notice is that the house is quiet. Mom’s not here. Only Dad. The house is never quiet when Mom is here.

I peek into the rooms as I make my way to the back of the house. I open a French patio door and step out. I spot my dad sitting in a chaise lounge, staring out at the ocean.

“Hi, Pop.”

My father leans forward and looks over his shoulder to face me as I cross the lawn. “There goes my quiet,” he teases and then laughs. “Unannounced visit. Which is it? Problem or money, Kaley?”

I roll my eyes and sink down on a chaise beside him. “Can’t I just stop by without a reason?”

“Sure you can.” He smiles. “That’s the best kind of visit. How’s my girl? You look tired.”

“Tired, huh? Thanks a lot. I’ve been working some long hours finishing a project, but I’m going to take some time off now.”

“Don’t let yourself burn out. It’s a marathon not a sprint.”

I crinkle my nose. “Do you save all these trite axioms for me or do you have other ones for the other kids?”

My dad laughs and relaxes back against his chair. “I have loads for all you kids thanks to your grandfather.”

I laugh, pulling my legs up in front of me to hug my knees. Oh, Grandpa Jack. Mom’s dad. He definitely has an axiom for every occasion.

“So what miracle did you work to get some alone time, Pop?”

“I’m not alone. Khloe is somewhere.”

“Shouldn’t you check on her if you don’t know where she is?”

My dad sighs. “I was just about to do that when you showed up.” His magnificent black eyes fix intensely on me. “Is everything OK?”

I flush. “Sure. I told you. Great.”

“Then why don’t you seem great?”

I shrug. “Where’s Mom?”

It hardly seems possible but those black eyes, so like my own, sharpen even more. “Chrissie’s out. And if you want Chrissie that means something is bothering you and you don’t need money. I’ll listen if you want to talk.”

I stare out at the ocean and pretend to give that one consideration. Chrissie? Why doesn’t he ever call Mom Mom? It’s almost like code to remind me that he will always come first with my mother.

There are things about my dad I’ll never get. Maybe I’d understand him if he’d been here my whole life. Maybe I’d understand him if my mom explained the history. They’ve loved each other for decades, but have been married only six years. There is so much in my parents’ complicated past that they will never share with me.

I find my dad smiling at me, but his eyes continue to probe me. It’s a very intimidating look. Like he can read me. See inside me.

People say we have the same eyes. The same stare. The same complex personality. The same intensity. But there is love in my dad’s eyes and I see it.

I lower my gaze to stare at my feet. Maybe he calls Mom “Chrissie” because he still thinks of her as the young girl she was when they met. That’s a nice thought. Sweet and romantic. I like it better this way.

I smile. “Who am I more like? You or Mom?”

My dad closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No, not stepping into that one. You know the answer. Why ask?”

I shrug. “No reason.”

I hear the French doors open. I look back at the house to see my seven-year-old sister, Khloe, hurry across the yard. She throws herself into my dad’s arms for a big, shaky bear hug. I watch their comfortable affection and suddenly feel just a touch sad. I’ve never had their kind of closeness with my dad. I try. He tries. For some reason, we’re just not there yet.

It’s Khloe who pulls away first to sit back on her heels and look indignantly toward Dad. “I’ve been waiting forever. Everything is set up. Why didn’t you come to my room, Daddy?”

He drops a kiss on her nose. “Kaley stopped in for a visit. Aren’t you going to say hello to your sister?”

Khloe turns to me. “Hello.” She exhales impatiently. “Now can we go play Barbies?”

I bite my lower lip. That one I’ll never get used to. My dad playing with Barbies on the floor of Khloe’s bedroom. I wonder if we’d be this close if my dad had been around to play Barbies with me.