Dean shook his head with a sigh, the lines on his weathered face deepening with concern. As an elder, he found himself in a delicate position, hesitant to step in directly and halt the unfolding drama.
"All we can do now is hope Mara gets the message that she's barking up the wrong tree, that she has the sense to back off before things turn uglier than a Thanksgiving turkey left in the oven too long."
Alyssa felt a pang in her heart for Ivy. She was relieved that the recent awkward confrontation had not unfolded before Ivy.
If Ivy had witnessed that mess, Alyssa could only imagine the storm of hurt that would have churned in Ivy’s heart.
"This can't go on. I need to find the right moment to have a heart-to-heart with Balfour. The man's married, for heaven's sake. He should not be cozying up to another woman like that."
Watching his wife's firm resolve, Dean knew no amount of sweet talking would change her mind.
Meanwhile, at Colton’s film set, the crew was on pins and needles, each day at work filled with the dread of hearing the dreaded words of dissolution from the director or producer.
Thalia and Margot, with little to do on set these days, could not bear the thought of twiddling their thumbs at home. So, they turned up at the set, ready to lend a hand wherever possible.
Lunchtime had rolled around, and the two sat together, each with a box lunch.
"Thalia, when do you reckon the crew will return to our normal groove? I took a peek on Twitter with a burner account, and the audience is roasting us like we're the main course at a barbecue festival. It hurts to see, especially since none of this mess is our doing. The director won't let us clear the air either. How long will this limbo last?"
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