922 - Fruitlessly, Tate tries to open the door. "Help me!" he cries, cringing against the door. The creature comes at him. Tate shuffles away, trying to escape. The werewolf spots Tate's painting of Chris and knocks it off the easel (he may not know much about art, but he knows what he likes--and doesn't). The animal attacks Tate, who screams. Grant, in the meantime, comes to the door...
Grant opens the door (although I don't know how) and races in. He finds Tate lying in the floor, clothing torn, face bloody. The animal attacks Grant, clawing at him; the two get into it, fighting viciously. Grant delivers a good punch; nevertheless, the werewolf comes at him again. Only when Grant holds up a silver candlestick does the animal run off in fear. Grant watches him leave and shuts the door. He finds Chris' portrait, then checks Tate. What happened? he asks the injured artist--where's Chris Jennings, the man who was here before? Tate, a bloody mess, writhes on the floor and asks, "Do I know anything anymore?" "Oh, no, you're the man I talked to before," says Quentin, a sick expression on his face, you're Tate--how can it be--what happened? "The other one was my masterpiece," Tate mutters through mangled lips, "creature destroyed me!" Where did the creature come form? asks Grant. There's no time to tell, insists Tate--there's no phone. I'll go down the road and call a doctor, promises Grant--don't move, he warns Tate. Don't go, begs the latter. I must get a doctor, insists Grant. Tate gasps out, I helped you, saved you (as Quentin)--now save me, save me, please!
Julia brings Olivia the samples of her own and Amanda's handwriting, pointing out how similar they are. Not surprising, says Olivia--my grandmother taught me to write. I have an expert who swears they were written by the same person, insists Julia. Experts have been wrong, Olivia points out. True, agrees Julia, but I want some proof--where is your grandmother buried, and do you know any people who knew you as a child? The phone rings. It's Grant, very upset, asking for Julia. She takes the phone--how bad is he? she asks--I'll be right there--Grant's all right, Julia assures Olivia, but someone else has been hurt--I've got to go. Olivia volunteers to go with her. That's a good idea, agrees Julia--the name of the man who's been hurt is Harrison Monroe.
Grant has helped the blood-stained, moaning Tate onto the sofa, and hovers over him. You'll die soon, too, says Tate, I can see it over your shoulder--death, waiting, not fooled because you're young! (a bad cut here) Grant comes out and tells Julia and Olivia, Tate isn't going to last long. I'll do what she can, says Julia, you should stay with Olivia. She pulls Grant aside and whispers something in his ear--do you understands? She asks. Grant doesn't, but says I'll do it anyway. What's wrong with Mr. Monroe? Asks Olivia. Quentin, outside the door, explains, but I can't hear it. Julia goes in to Tate, takes his pulse. What do you want? he asks. Where is Quentin's portrait? she asks. It was destroyed, insists Tate. Not true, says Julia, because Quentin isn't a werewolf, so it must exist somewhere--but where? I'll tell you what you want in exchange for what I want, he says--life, that's what I want--you can't, can you? No, says Julia, I can't. Then there's nothing else I want, gasps out Tate. Yes, there is, says Julia. She goes back into the hallway and asks Olivia to come in. Julia brings the actress into the room--call him by his first name--Charles, says Julia. Olivia goes over to the ancient, bloody artist, who, upon seeing her, calls her "Amanda--you've come back!" Olivia gazes down at him, stunned.
I knew you'd come back, someday, mutters Tate to the actress. Who is this man? demands Olivia. Charles Delaware Tate, says Julia. Oh, no! says Olivia, backing away. I brought you Amanda, Julia tells Tate--now tell me where Quentin's portrait is. It's too late--Tate dies. He's dead, Julia tells Olivia, then goes out to the entryway and tells Grant, call the police--he's dead. Olivia, beginning to cry, asks Julia, why did you bring me here? I thought you'd want to see Tate, says Julia. I've got to go, Olivia insists. Why are you taking his death so hard? Asks Julia--considering he's only someone who painted your grandmother, not someone you knew, who had gotten old, someone. . . Leave me alone, demands Olivia. Julia continues, relentlessly--that you are Amanda Harris--first your handwriting showed it, and now your tears. No, it's just that death frightens me, says Olivia, and leaves the house.
The werewolf returns to his favorite rock. Olivia is on the other side of it, snuffling. He leaps down, intending to attack her, but changes his mind and instead leaps to the other side of the rock.
At the hotel, Grant tells Julia, this creature cam flying at me; I figured I was a goner, then I reached for this brass statue, the heaviest thing I saw, and then...then I did the craziest thing--I put down the brass statue and picked up this small silver candlestick--if that creature hadn't turned and run from the room when he did, I'd be as dead as Tate, I was lucky.
No, not lucky, corrects Julia--you knew what to do, or more exactly, Quentin Collins knew--very deep inside you, he knew that silver is one of the few defenses against werewolves. "Werewolves?" asks Grant--"I guess I am lucky--and so is Chris--he escaped, too, I don't have any idea how."--I wonder where he is now. Julia, licking her lips, suggests evasively, Chris is getting over the experience somehow. Yes, agrees Grant, I think that's what I'm going to do. It's 10:50.
Olivia returns to her room and, taking a brooch necklace into her hand, says, "Quentin, I was so frightened. The creature came after me and I thought it would kill me, I thought I would die tonight before you knew about us--oh, Quentin, when will this darkness lift? When will you know?" Julia has overheard every word from the next room. Why are you spying on me? asks Olivia. So you are Amanda Harris, says Julia, taking the brooch into her own hand. To AH from QC, says the locket. You've done something, Amanda, says Julia--something that's kept you young--do you regret it now?" You knew me, laments Amanda, why doesn't he? He will, in time, says Julia. There's so little time, says Amanda, it's almost ended. I want to know about the beginning, says Julia. That was another ending, reveals Amanda--Quentin came to my hotel room to tell me we had to say goodbye--I couldn't accept it, and finally I called him, begged him to give me another chance--I hoped to change his mind, make him see we loved each other and belonged together no matter what the danger to me, but it was even worse than before...
Flashback - Amanda chases Quentin down a bridge. Listen to me! she begs. There's no possibility of us waiting, he insists. Why not? she pleads, don't you realize how much I love you?
--I don't care if it takes 5-10-20 years to find what you're looking for?--what's the matter? Suppose it did take 20 years, demands Quentin, and I came back then--we couldn't love each other as they do now. Why, because we'd be older? she asks. "YOU would be older," he says, "I would still be the same!" What do you mean? she sobs. I mean there's no chance for us, he says--this is goodbye. He gives her the locket--remember me, he says, but not for long. She throws her arm around him, sobbing--I'll never love anyone else! she cries. He pushes her away--you'll marry someone else, have a good life, he promises. . .goodbye. "There is no life without you!" she screams, but he's gone. "Quentin!" she wails, finally sinking down, murmuring, to herself, there's no life without him. She seems ready to leap from the bridge, but a man appears and says no, Amanda. Leave me alone, she says. And let you do what you're planning?--no, he says. Don't come near me, she orders--you don't know what this is about. Yes, I do, he says, I heard your Quentin say it clearly. Amanda bursts into tears--no chance for us. You can't say that at your age, insists the man, you're so young. Stay back or I'll jump! She threatens. You have a whole lifetime ahead of you, he says gently. What does it mean, except for living without him?--I don't want it, she cries. Amanda, he tells her, you're so beautiful, other men will love you; if I were different, I might love you myself--Amanda, listen to me, please, I can give you a chance. . .no! Amanda has already jumped from the bridge!
You actually jumped? asks Julia. That spot on the bridge is called Dead Man's Leap, says Amanda, smiling ruefully. No one's ever survived it--except me--I heard Mr. Best's voice pleading as I fell, and lost consciousness when I hit the water--next thing I remember is sitting in a place I'd never seen before, a hotel lobby. We see what appears to be the lights from a disco ball, and we're in the past again. All around me, relates Amanda, I could hear people laughing, talking, moving about, and yet I was all alone, until someone called my name--Mr. Best, who asks if I remember him. What are you doing here? she asks--what is this place? The Stopping Off Place, he answers. What am I doing here? asks Amanda. Everyone gets here sooner or later, he says. Why do I hear people talking but don't see anyone, except you? she asks. Because the others have already come and gone, leaving only their memories behind, he answers. Gone where? she asks. Do not speak of other people, he urges, only yourself--I offered you a chance, and am offering again--you were meant to live a long, natural life, and I'll give you the rest of it--say that I'm an incurable romantic, that the sight of a lovely young girl ready to die for love touched my heart, whatever the reason, I'm giving you the rest of your life to find Quentin Collins. Thank you, she says, but you'll have to give that chance to someone else--Quentin left me because he's never going to grow old, even if I leave here and find him, it would only be to lose him again. A place like this has very strict rules, says Mr. Best, but I'm going to break them for you--you will stay as young as he does, for the rest of your natural life--and if you find him before the time you were really meant to die, and can convince him to stay with you this time, the two of you will have each other forever--I promise. How can you promise--who are you? demands Amanda. How do I know you're meant to have a long life, and stay young? he asks--I just know. And how do you know when my time is up? queries Amanda I'll come back for you, he says, on the day you're meant to die--till then, it's up to you and your Quentin. Amanda considers it.
We return to the present. I remember waking up on the bridge, as if I'd dreamt the whole thing, relates Amanda. But you hadn't, says Julia. No, says Amanda, and as the years passed, my mirror told me I didn't. (Some very poor cuts here.) There's no way of telling when my time is up, adds Amanda, but it's going to be soon, I know it--I'm so terrified that I've found him and he'll never even know. There must be a way, asserts Julia--today, faced with a reality out of Quentin's past, Grant behaved as Quentin would--if we can find more realities like that, perhaps we can get him out of the mist--I'm going to Collinwood--I'll be back--don't give up--and she leaves. I mustn't give up, Amanda tells herself. There's a knock at her door. Grant! she says--but it's not, it's Mr. Best. I waited until your guest had left, he says, "I hope you're...ready?"
Amanda is terrified--it's time--death has come to collect her!
NOTES: Boy, I sure wish someone like Mr. Best had made that kind of deal with me! I'd love to stay young for my entire natural life.
Bye bye, Tate. You had plenty of time to tell Grant everything, but wasted it all.
Julia is really in the thick of everything, pretty much on her own, and doing such a great job of helping everyone.
So many cuts in this episode, badly done, too, and they really detract from the story. Booo!
I gather Tate's powers disappeared when Petofi died (if he did), but he lost them somewhere along the way, because obviously, his painting didn't help Chris at all. I guess it needed to be blessed by Petofi, as Quentin's was.
You've got to feel sorry for Amanda, waiting all these years for Quentin. Will she get him before Mr. Best gets her? For those who believe they belong together, let's hope it works out.
Doesn't it seem as if Philip is getting out from under the Leviathan's influence? He told the brat he and Megan still have their own lives, and the shop is their dream. Also, Philip seemed more like a real father to Michael today, speaking to him as a real father would. He really should advise his "son" that subtlety works far better with women. Michael's approach to Carolyn--giving her stolen jewelry--just won't work if he wants to woo her.
923 - Olivia/Amanda studies her face in a mirror. When she opens the door, Mr. Best is standing there, hoping that she's...ready.
Don't you remember me? he asks. Her answer is to try to close the door on him. Oh, come now, he says, entering her room and closing the door behind him. His face is solemn. You can't take me right now, she wails. "But you've had such a long, glamorous life, Miss Corey," he reminds her, studying one of her many headshots--"or would you rather I call you Amanda Harris?--you've done astonishingly well." She holds up her hand in a "stop" gesture. I'm proud of myself, he says, since I was the one to notice that lovely quality that made you a star. You've got to give me more time, she begs. Why is no one ever willing to simply come with me? laments Mr. Best. "Because you're death," she replies--you ARE death! She walks away from him, then reminds him, you listened to me once--do it again!--I found Quentin! Why are you so afraid of me? asks Mr. Best--I promised that if you found him again, and he shared your love, you two would be happy forever. Quentin doesn't know me, she says--he's lost his memory. Are you making this up? he asks. He was in an accident, explains Amanda--he has no idea who he is--he's in the next room; I did find him at last, she says desperately. But he doesn't know you, states Mr. Best. Upset, she asks, when am I going to die--"Tell me!" Are you positive you want to know? he asks--some people find it most disconcerting. Mr. Best pulls out a gold pocket watch and consults it. I'm most punctilious, he says, I drove that beast in the woods away from you because your time had not yet come--as of now, you have four minutes. Amanda races from the room and bangs on Grant's door, sobbing. He isn't there, she cries, I don't know where he is--there's nothing I can do, she says hysterically. You can hope he comes back...remembering, says Mr. Best, pocket watch still in hand. Amanda looks as if she's praying that his words will come true.
Collinwood - Julia looks through a photo album, noting that every picture of Quentin is gone. One empty space says Christmas, 1895. She ponders who took them from these albums, I must find one; surely if Grant sees a picture, he will remember. Quentin at the picnic, 1895 reads another empty space, but where are the photos--who has them? I must find out--for Amanda's sake, as well as his! Julia resolves.
Amanda hears someone heading down the hall. Mr. Best reminds her--the time. It might be him, let me see, begs Amanda--but it's not, she says, and starts to cry. How much more time do you want, he asks, then realizes what a stupid question it is, proving how easily moved I am--or perhaps it's simply you, I wish I were that man you stand waiting for (what would it be like to be married to Death)? Could you give me more time? she asks.
And this "punctilious" man, who probably doesn't make deals like this very often, gives her seven more days--if, at the end of them, Quentin Collins has not professed his love, I'll be moved no more--you can be sure of that--he shuts the pocket watch with a decisive snap. (she is lucky!)
Collinwood - Carolyn is bringing down a tray from upstairs when she hears Sabrina banging on the door, begging to be let in. She puts the tray down on the table in the foyer and races to the door. The moon, moans Sabrina without preamble, looking up at it. (I cannot tolerate this actress or this character. I wish the blasted moon would swallow her up!) Carolyn asks, why are you here? You must see, insists Amanda--come with me! Carolyn, realizing Sabrina has run away, wants to call the rest home--I want to help you. Come with me, don't ask, just come, begs Sabrina. If I do, says Carolyn, you must do as I tell you later. Sabrina won't answer--I just want you to come see! Carolyn grabs her coat while Sabrina stares up at the full moon. They leave, Carolyn holding a flashlight.
Amanda's room - Seven days, muses Julia--we will make his memory come back, she assures her. We haven't yet, says Amanda, he'll never remember! We must not waste time, says Julia, I'm going to find the one thing that will definitely make Quentin remember. (what?)
Carolyn and Sabrina go to Tate's house. Who does it belong to? asks Carolyn--surely you can tell me that. Sabrina opens the creaky door; Carolyn follows her in, calling her name. Who lives here? asks Carolyn. No one now, says Sabrina, turning on lights. Why have you brought me here? asks Carolyn. A man was murdered in this room tonight! cries Sabrina.
This disconcerts Carolyn, who looks around. Just as the moon started to rise, continues Sabrina. Who died? asks Carolyn. A man named Monroe, a painter, explains Sabrina. Spooked, Carolyn says, I don't want to stay here. Sabrina stops her from leaving. What does this have to do with me? asks Carolyn. Don't you know? demands Sabrina, can't you even guess? No, says Carolyn, I can't--I'm sorry if this man was a friend of yours. I wish I HAD known him, says Sabrina. This puzzles Carolyn--if you didn't, what are we doing here? I would have told him, says Sabrina. What? demands Carolyn, what is the purpose for our coming here? Sabrina shushes her. Carolyn persists--how do you know about this murder?--what do you know about it? Do you feel him? asks Sabrina--in this room--I do. A wolf howls. Listen, says Sabrina. It's a dog, says Carolyn. No, says Sabrina. I'm getting out of here, insists Carolyn. No, says Sabrina, not until... They hear someone else enter the house. Carolyn asks who it is, and moments later, the frightened women realize it's Julia Hoffman, also holding a flashlight. Carolyn is so relieved to see who it is (Julia's definitive shadow on the wall told me who it was), she runs into Julia's arms and hugs her. What are you doing here? asks Carolyn. Sabrina answers, "She's here because she KNOWS." The other two women look at her. I knew the first time I saw Julia that she knows, and has always known, says Sabrina--"You're here to find him--you're helping him, hiding him!" Julia, afraid Sabrina is about to reveal what she's worked so hard to conceal, shakes her head. You know it!--you know, you tell her because I don't want to tell her, you tell her! screams Sabrina,. Julia silences her by slapping her across the face. (wish I could have had the honor). Carolyn, take her back to Collinwood, orders Julia. Come with me, Sabrina, urges Carolyn, leading the sobbing woman away. Julia watches them go. Sabrina turns and starts to speak, but Julia says, Sabrina, you can't do anything here--take her to Collinwood, call the rest home, Carolyn--they'll come for her. To Sabrina, Julia says, try not to be upset. Sabrina nods, but she looks extremely upset as Carolyn leads her away.
Julia searches Tate's home, looking for papers. She sits and reads, concentrating on what she's found, for a long time. She continues to flip through Tate's paperwork, and finds a batch of form letters, all signed by Harrison Monroe. One reads, "Sir, for many years I've been trying to find a large Tate canvas which disappeared following a fire at the turn of the century." Just before the fire in his studio, realizes Julia--he painted over Quentin's portrait! She continues reading, "The painting was titled, a View of South Wales. It is of paramount importance that I find the painting. Would you kindly check your records and see if your gallery has had the painting at any time--if so, would you kindly advise me who the purchaser was--money is no object, I must have the painting to complete my Charles Delaware Tate collection. Very truly yours, Harrison Monroe." A View of South Wales, repeats Julia. Somewhere in this room there must be answer to this--where? Where? She continues her search.
At Collinwood, Carolyn stirs up the fire while Sabrina sits on the sofa. The last time we were together, says Carolyn, you warned me about Chris, said he'd kill me. Sabrina nods. Did Chris kill that man tonight? asks Carolyn--is that why you took me there? Not Chris, says Sabrina haltingly, not Chris! But what?--tell me about Chris, please, begs Carolyn. You love Chris, says Sabrina. No, says Carolyn--I don't know if I ever did, and know now I never will--but YOU love him. Yes, admits Sabrina, I love him--and bursts into tears.
Julia brings Amanda a copy of a bill, dated July 19th, 1968, for A View of South Wales, from the Mannix Gallery of New York. The painting was sold to a Mr. Schuyler Rumson, Little Windward Island, Maine, which means that Quentin's portrait is 50 miles away. You don't know it's Quentin's portrait, says Amanda. Why did he send all those form letters out, if that weren't the case? Asks Julia.
Rumson's in New York, says Amanda--he's a famous publisher. I called him, says Julia--he and his wife will be at the island tomorrow--I plan to be there, too.
The Rumson mansion, Little Windward Island - Sky is on the phone, ordering a plane to be here at 7 sharp--and have a helicopter waiting to take us into the city--Mrs. Rumson isn't going with me to Washington, he says, unfortunately, so cancel all appointments next weekend, we're coming back here...no arguments!--do it! commands Sky. Julia is waiting until he finishes this phone call (luxurious living room!) I'm sorry for keeping you waiting, says Sky. It kind of you to let me intrude, she responds. I don't know how you found us, says Sky, few people do. There was a reason, she says. If it's business, says Sky, call my office in the city, any weekday--if you're soliciting for a charity, get in touch with my executive secretary. He jabs a cigar in his mouth. It's about a Tate painting you own, explains Julia. A View From South Wales? he asks. Yes, says Julia, is it here, can I see it? You're something new for me, says Sky--driving 50 miles, hiring a launch just to see a painting. It's most important, she assures him. You must be a true art lover, comments Sky, who leads her to a wall and turns on a light over the painting. She examines it, thinking to herself, it's the right size--but how can I tell if there's anything beneath it?--I must get it to Prof. Osmond. You look as if you're angry with the painting, says Sky. It's beautiful, she says. You're lying now, says Sky--I have a gift, and I know when people lie; it's not a particularly good painting. One of his later ones, says Julia--could I borrow it to show in a collection I'm arranging--chuckling, she asks, who must I speak to to arrange that? Not my secretary or my lawyer, he says, someone much more important--my wife--Lord knows why, she has exquisite taste in everything else. Could I speak with her? asks Julia. In seven and a half minutes, says Sky, consulting his watch; we flew up in separate planes--I hated to do it, but I was breaking one of my own rules about having a conference here earlier. Do you mind if I wait? she asks. It's obvious to her that he does mind. Tonight is our six month wedding anniversary, says Sky, how about that? Would five minutes matter so much? asks Julia. It always matters, says Sky, and if I don't have to entertain you...it's rude, but I have some business calls, and want to get them over before my wife comes--there are other pictures you might be interested in seeing, including Mrs. Rumson, the most beautiful of all, of course. He leads her into an alcove and turns on the light about a picture that makes Julia gasp.
We see the ancient portrait of Angelique that Vicki once brought to Collinwood from an antique shop. Proudly, Sky says, "That's her--that's my Angelique."
NOTE: Angelique has returned, at least on canvas. What does this mean? Has she finally forsaken Barnabas and moved on? She married a rich guy who apparently loves her--good for her! What is she doing with this potential painting of Quentin? Does she know something? Julia is a GREAT detective! Look how quickly she found the Rumsons. Get ready to say hi to a long-missing character in the next show (like you can't guess who)!
Will Julia be able to restore Quentin's memory in time for him to remember he loves Amanda and save her from being taken away by Mr. Best (odd name for death--is death best)? They sure do know how to keep it interesting, don't they?
Love, Robin
