Julia tried very hard not to bite her lip as she stared unseeingly down at the menu. She blinked hard, doing her best to remain calm and composed. The outdoor terrace of the restaurant was filled with tourists, some of who were already gaping at her. The last thing she needed was to be on the front page of the tabloids again, especially for something like a breakdown. Mentally, she cursed her wayward agent and representative. She'd told him before. She had informed him about this day, about what it meant to her.

But he had forgotten. She should have known. Julia had planned to spend her day hidden inside her house, away from prying eyes, grieving quietly. She had intended to spend the day alone, save a few jars of Nutella and a season of CSI. Ruby, she knew, would probably be out, partying the day away. The girl was never much affected by the past, and was the polar opposite of Julia, who often let herself become wrapped up in it.

Today was the anniversary of her mother's death.

Her mother had been beautiful, that much she knew. She couldn't quite remember her mother's face clearly through the haze of time, but she had a photo that she kept in her wallet. She looked more like Ruby, in stature and facial shape, but Julia had inherited her mother's eyes. It was one of the only physical traits that the pair shared, and Julia envied her younger sister for just that reason. Ruby had always been able to twist their father around her little finger because of her resemblance to his deceased wife.

Julia hadn't known her mother long enough, in her opinion, and couldn't recall very much about her. She did, however, remember her mother's breezy, carefree attitude. Even in the picture that Julia now pulled out, she looked at ease. Joyful. Happy. Nothing had ever fazed Elizabeth Ogden; not even the cancer that had taken away her life. Her father and mother had worked perfectly together, and Julia was well aware that without her, he was incomplete. He was stubborn and hot-tempered, narrow-minded and uptight. She had been calm and collected, open-minded and even-tempered. Without his wife, Robert Ogden's worst qualities had been brought to the fore. Julia and her father clashed on many matters, and had not spoken in roughly six months. She knew that today, of all days, she should build bridges- but she couldn't bring herself to make the call. Her father was archaic and as stubborn as she was. The chasm between them was too wide.

Yes, Julia remembered those things about her mother, but it was what she didn't know that frustrated her. What had been her favorite color? Her favorite films? Why had she insisted upon giving her first-born daughter the name of Julia, when her father had wanted- shudder- Myrtle? She missed a mother's presence in her life, plain and simple.

"Julia!" Thomas slid into the chair across from her, flashing a comradely grin.

Julia jumped and almost spilled her water all over herself. The ginger-haired agent caught the glass just in time, and then put it away firmly. "You're jumpy today, Ogden," he commented, and Julia glared at him.

"You surprised me, that's all," she snapped, and Thomas' eyebrows shot up, almost into his hairline. "No need to be like that, sweetheart," the man said in a placating manner, to no avail. Julia continued to glower heavily, slipping easily from misty sadness to annoyance, and Thomas calling upon a waiter and ordering a bottle of wine only broke stony the silence. Julia knew better than to assume that he was ordering the bottle for both of them; she had seen him go at alcohol before.

It was a while before either of the pair spoke. Thomas scrolled through his phone, occasionally chuckling or clucking at what he read, while Julia nibbled aimlessly at a piece of bread. She had no desire at all to speak to her slimy agent- she quite simply simmered with fury toward him at the moment- but she figured that she would have to be the one to set the conversation in motion. "And then I can get out of here," she murmured to herself, quietly, fiddling with the napkin folded neatly in her lap.

"Huh? Did you say something?" Thomas asked, looking up at last from his phone screen.

"Nothing at all," Julia said, certain what she had envisioned to be a pleasant tone was coming across as hostile and confrontational. She took a deep breath and counted to ten, and began again. "I assume there is a reason you've called me here?"

"Of course there is. A professional agent like me would never just want to see his client."

"I'm a little bit insulted," Julia said dryly, and she breathed in deeply once more. "I do hope this isn't about Mr. Garland. I've made my views perfectly clear on the matter."

Thomas frowned, just a bit, and then his brow cleared. "No. I've given up on that," he said, his smile widening further as the bottle of wine was set before him.

Julia narrowed her eyes, attempting in vain to scrutinize his gleeful expression. "I'm glad to hear it," she said finally, and she sat back, folding her arms and trying not to stare too pathetically at the glass he had just poured for himself. A drink would definitely be welcome right now.

Unfortunately, after taking an enormous sip out of the overfilled glass, he noticed. "No," he said hastily and brusquely. "Get your own. You can bloody well afford it."

"I knew I chose you to be my agent for a reason, Thomas," Julia said, mock serious. "Your generosity and kind-heartedness completely astounds me."

He grunted and waved a hand. "Let's just get this over with. I have places to be and people to see, and you obviously don't want to be here."

"Lets," said Julia, more eagerly than she had intended, taking her eyes off of his beverage.

"You finish filming in three and a half weeks, and I know that you like to keep busy. I've scored you a television gig- one episode. The filming will take about four days, there's a strategic Tim Hortons by the studio, and the money's good. The show is one of the most popular ones airing currently, and therefore the publicity will be excellent-"

"-I want to read the script before I accept," she interrupted, and then tacked on a grudging: "But it sounds pretty good. The light work will make a change for me."

"I figured you'd say that," Thomas said, resigned. "I sent a script ahead to your house, along with the interview dates that I've arranged. They're pretty sparse- a few radio, a few magazine, and one on live television. I've also caught scent of a few potential blockbusters; I'll keep you updated on those. We need to make sure you'll never be out of work, even for a moment. I also sent over a list of the press you'll have to do."

Julia took a moment to appreciate how Thomas had belted all of that out without even a single breath in between, and then she frowned. "Press? What kind of press?"

"The usual kind. Red carpet appearances, premières, a few interviews with cast-mates. They want you to do some charity events with Garland as well. All for publicity, and there's no ifs or buts." He broke off to glare at her warningly. "It's in your contract."

"Fine," Julia said moodily, now picking at the breadcrumbs that littered her plate. "I'll do what's in my contract. Nothing more, nothing less."

"I wouldn't dare to ask for anything else," Thomas replied, his charming grin returning. "I also wanted to talk to you about your première event next week." He refilled his glass.

Julia brightened visibly. Though she had only played a small part in the film, she had enjoyed production thoroughly and was looking forward to being reunited with her cast-mates. She was also elated to be returning to her home-city of Toronto for the event, and planned to stay for seven days afterward. Julia realized she missed her home, with an almost physical ache. She had learned to love New York, but was certain that Canada- and, specifically, Toronto- was where she belonged. It would be refreshing to set foot on Canadian soil after an almost unbroken three-year stretch in the States.

"I knew that would cheer you up a bit. Ruby says you've been rambling about it for days now," Thomas chuckled with a wink. He realized his mistake a few seconds after he'd made it.

"Ruby? Why on earth are you talking to Ruby?" Julia asked sharply, her eyes boring into Thomas. He grimaced and shrugged helplessly. "She was… looking for a manager."

"And you said?" Julia prompted icily.

"I said no. Obviously. Said I… could only handle one high-profile client at a time. She was a little huffy, but we parted on good terms. That girl doesn't need my help, anyways. She knows exactly how to get publicity. The paparazzi are all over her, and she doesn't even have to try. I wish you were more like her, sunshine."

Julia exhaled in relief. She was well aware that her sister was already on a foolish path, and her agent would do nothing but egg her on and worsen her faults. The idea of Ruby having a manager, however, was not half-bad. It would have to be somebody who could handle her difficult ways, somebody who would be firm and be able to sort out the troubles her young sister often got herself into. Lost in thought and biting her lip hard, Julia missed what Thomas said next. She caught his pointed look and straightened up, listening half-heartedly to his speech about making sure to talk to prominent businessman Terrance Meyers, who owned Shaftesbury Films, and about what door she was to enter and exit from in order to avoid the always overwhelming crowd of fans. Her thoughts floated between her mother and images of Toronto, and it was only at the word 'contest' that her agent snagged her undivided attention. "Contest?" she asked, puzzled. "I didn't hear anything about a contest. Does it have anything to do with me?"

"You weren't listening to me, were you? Shaftesbury thought it up as a promotional for the premiere. It's just a little thing that you can enter online- you can win a free ticket to the première of the movie," Thomas spoke with exaggerated patience.

She relaxed, leaning back against her chair, quite relieved. "Good. I'm just reassured, I suppose, that this contest isn't like the last one you forced me into. The one in which I had to have coffee with the contest winner- who happened to be a forty year old man?"

"I had security put on you the whole time," he defended himself, "and besides, all profits went to your favorite charities. Wasn't it worth it? And I in no way forced you into it."

She spluttered at that. "You agreed to my role in the draw before I had consented to it myself! You completely backed me into a corner. I had no choice in the matter!"

Again, Thomas waved an airy hand, something he obviously did quite often. "It's all water under the bridge now, isn't it, sweetheart?"

Her succinct response was overridden by his obnoxious and very loud ringtone, a distinct opera tune she didn't quite recognize. Julia had tried it and had found she hadn't much taste for the opera. She'd gone once with Thomas reluctantly, as a show of appreciation for all he did for her, but the harrowing experience had put her off for good. The day had been long and grueling, and Julia had made the terrible mistake of falling asleep mid-show. Needless to say, she had left the theatre half deaf and since had quite the aversion toward any kind of opera. Her agent was a nutcase in that division.

"A minute," Thomas said to Julia, clicking a button on his phone and lifting it to his ear. Julia watched with a mild degree of interest as he spoke heatedly into the device about deals and transactions. His shrewdness toward business always surprised her when it showed; he seemed to be a simple-minded man. Honestly, it surprised her when he showed he was able to think about more than booze, his wife, and his children.

"Sweetheart, I have to run. I've told you everything you need to know, I think. You can handle looking over the scripts and deciding what to say for your interviews." He didn't wait for her response, jumping up and barreling across the restaurant terrace, still talking rapidly into his phone.

Julia groaned aloud as she realized he'd left the bill with her, and she put her head in her hands, returning once more to the quiet grief she'd thus far successfully held at bay. As she twisted in her seat to look out at New York, it registered that it was a beautiful day. The sky was a light periwinkle, with feathery white clouds strewn across it. The harsh lights of the city didn't seem to penetrate the glowing golden sunlight that bathed the buildings and cast dark shadows upon the dusty gray-white pavement below. It seemed a peaceful day, one to relax, but New York was the city that never slept. Nobody took a slower pace as they bustled by; the chatter that arose into the muggy, humid air was anything but subdued. The cool breeze, a welcome reprieve from the clamminess of the summer day, brushed Julia's face and tugged lightly at her hair.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, and then turned her face to the sun. It was then that she made a decision- subconsciously at first, and then she realized what she intended to do, just after she had retrieved her phone. She was going to phone her father.
Julia could see her mother clearly now, in a rare moment of lucid memory.

She ran to her mother, throwing herself into her comforting arms, burying her face in the crook of her neck. Tears streaked down her cheeks and her chubby toddler hands clutched at a worn patchwork blanket. Her mother stroked her back for a moment, and then she gently lifted Julia up. "Come on, let's get you to bed," she said gently, shooting a baleful glance at her husband. As they walked- up the tall, twisty staircase that had always intimidated Julia, even as she had grown- her mother had whispered in her ear. "Don't mind Daddy," she murmured, and Julia had looked up at her with wide eyes. "Daddy's just tired and stressed. He loves you to bits, no matter what. Always remember that, won't you, Julia? No matter what disagreements you have."

Julia put the phone to her ear and maintained her neutral expression even as a gruff voice answered. "Mr. Ogden. Who is calling?"

"Hey, dad- father. It's me," Julia said softly. There was a short, abruptly shocked silence. And then: "Julia? Is that you?"

"Can we talk?" she asked hesitantly, standing up and leaving the paid bill on the table. Fully aware that many pairs of curious eyes now rested upon her, she picked her way slowly away from the restaurant and into the crowded streets. The hush on the other end of the phone was absolutely killing her, and she felt a few cracks form in her careful poker face as she walked blindly.

"Of course we can," her father told her, and there was no hint of the cold businessman he had become in his tone. Julia's voice faltered a bit. "Are you busy?"

"Not any more," he replied immediately, his own voice a great deal steadier than hers. Despite herself, Julia's heart lightened considerably and the traces of a smile began to form on her face.

Perhaps building bridges wouldn't be so hard after all.