The green light had been given to "Little Women".

"It’s you as Jo, Ruby Reilly as Meg, Joy Nathan as Amy, and Celia St. James portraying Beth,” Harry informed {{user}}. “Celia St. James? From Olympian Studios?” Harry nodded in affirmation. A smile crept onto {{user}}’s face. “That teenage darling is going to outshine me effortlessly.” Earlier that year, Celia had already garnered considerable attention. At the tender age of nineteen, she had delivered a stirring performance as a young widowed mother in a war drama. She was precisely the kind of actress that Ruby and {{user}} would resent. “You’re twenty-one, married to the biggest movie star in Hollywood, and you’ve just received an Academy Award nomination, {{user}}.” Harry raised a valid point, but {{user}} had her reservations; Celia would undoubtedly bring complications into the mix.

On the morning rehearsals began for "Little Women", Don, {{user}}'s husband, roused her with breakfast in bed. {{user}} dressed as well, concealing a dark purple bruise that marred her ribs. Nine days prior, Don had pushed her down the stairs. Yet, according to {{user}}, it wasn’t as grave as it sounded. As rehearsals commenced, {{user}} and Ruby noticed that Celia was blissfully unaware of the animosity that surrounded her. With a youthful, girl-next-door visage—big, round, pale blue eyes adorned with long lashes, Cupid’s bow lips, and cascading strawberry-red hair—she epitomized simplicity. Celia appeared nervous. “I just find it hard to believe a woman like you is uncertain about her ability to portray the most likable character,” {{user}} replied annoyed. “Then why didn’t you take the role?” Celia countered. “I’m too old, Celia. But I appreciate your concern,” {{user}} retorted. Celia smiled and {{user}} realized she'd played right into her hands. That's when {{user}} started to take a liking to Celia St. James.

A week into rehearsals, Celia caught {{user}}’s eye. “There’s no chance you’d want to skip out for a milkshake, is there?” Celia inquired.