Her Protector

by R. S. Lively

  "Well, we were actually discussing our relationship."

  "Oh, you were, were you? And what did you decide?"

  "That we're more than friends."

  He pauses and looks at me.

  "More than friends? That's the big conclusion?"

  "Yes. So, I guess he's my boyfriend now."

  Lee rolls his eyes and continues down the aisle.

  "Alice, you are a grown-ass woman. You don't have a boyfriend."

  "Do you prefer man-friend? Significant other? Boo? Bae?"

  Lee gives a shuddering flail and makes a facial expression that looks like a cat seconds away from having a hairball.

  "I'll take boyfriend. I'll take boyfriend." He shakes his head at me as I laugh. "Gross."

  "Do you want to know why my boyfriend was here today?" I cringe. "You're right. That just sounds wrong. We're going back to just Dean."

  "If that's the case, then yes, I would love to hear why Dean was here today."

  I give him a quick version of the events of the morning, and when the undignified squealing and jumping is over, Lee steps back from our celebratory hug.

  "I knew I liked that man," Lee exclaims. "Good taste in flowers and helping save our asses. Lots of brownie points happening for that one."

  All the brownie points.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alice

  Two days later…

  "Lee, we're not putting a chandelier in there."

  "Why not?"

  "Because it's a coat closet."

  He pouts.

  "You just have no eye for style."

  "As much as I believe the coats would feel special with their own chandelier, it might not be the best way to use our budget."

  "Fine. I guess we can focus on things like wiring and completely modernized plumbing in all the bathrooms."

  He says it with dismissive disgust, and I have to roll my lips together to keep myself from laughing at him. Lee's protests aside, I'm looking forward to being able to open sections of the theater that haven't been accessible and finish projects I've had to put aside. Pressing my hands to my lower back, I stretch back to try to loosen the tense muscles that have been aching for the last several hours I've been on my feet. The cushioned chairs of the theater are tempting, and I walk into the house, making my way to a specific seat before dropping down into it.

  The stage is empty, but I stare at it like it's teeming with actors, Luella at the center. She hasn't been back to the theater yet but sent a message with suggestions for improvements and information for who to contact for funding for the projects. It's beyond my wildest dreams, but everything isn't perfect yet.

  "I always find you in this same seat."

  Dean leans over from behind me and kisses my forehead. He climbs over the seats and takes the one to my left, kissing me again.

  "It's my seat," I explain. "Always has been." I pat the seat to my right side. "This was my father's seat. We always sat right here. I like sitting here. It's helps me think, like he's talking me through things."

  "What's he helping you through right now?"

  "Just everything that's going on. This morning was fairly eventful on the improvements front."

  "What do you mean?"

  "It turns out the contractors I used for the first renovations were about as useful as snails on the Pony Express. Every time we start working on something new, we find something old that either wasn't done or needs to be redone. I feel guilty for even having customers come in here at all since reopening it."

  "I'm sure it's not that bad. There are always growing pains any time a business opens, especially if it is opening again after a long time of being closed."

  "A wall fell down, Dean."

  "A what?"

  "A wall. In the basement. It wasn't original to the building or a load-bearing wall, thank goodness. According to Shannon, the woman heading up the renovations, it was probably added to try to divide the space into smaller rooms that could be used for different purposes. How did I not notice that when I first bought the building?"

  "Do you have some sort of particular familiarity with building structure?"

  "I'm familiar with walls. I hang out around them all the time."

  "I eat street hot dogs at least twice a week. That doesn't mean I'd be able to raise a piglet for market."

  My face scrunches.

  "Please don't ever do that."

  Dean rubs my back, then wraps his arm around my shoulders to cuddle me against his side.

  "It's only been a couple days, Alice. You can't expect everything to be perfect yet."

  "Yes, I can. That's what I do. Unrealistic expectations. Didn't you hear the story of how I bought this place?"

  He laughs, pressing a kiss to the side of my head.

  "Fair enough. What else is bothering you?"

  I let out a long sigh and look back to the stage.

  "Have you ever seen Field of Dreams?"

  "Not a musical." I give him the eyebrow of impatience. "Yes, of course, I've seen it."

  "That's what I do when I sit here. I look up at the stage and pretend I'm watching some big production when this place is popular again."

  "What production is it?"

  "I don't know. I can't let myself choose one."

  "Why not?"

  "Because what if it doesn't happen? All these improvements and renovations are getting more and more complicated. What if they take too long and the silent partner takes it anyway? Not only would all this be for nothing, but it would damage your reputation with Luella, too."

  "Have you heard from them again?"

  I shake my head.

  "They've been quiet for a few days. I want it to be a relief, but I'm just waiting for the other to shoe to drop."

  "I hate what they've been doing to you. It makes me so angry I can't even put it into words. But I don't want you to worry. If you haven't heard from them in a little while, maybe it's because they've decided to lay off a bit. They might not want to get into anything more with you, or they could have decided to be a bit more magnanimous. Just concentrate on the theater and turning it into what you've dreamed of. Then we'll start getting things in place for an actual real play up on that stage."

  Dean's phone rings and he glances down at the screen. He looks at me apologetically.

  "I have to take this."

  "Go ahead. I'm fine."

  "It'll just be a few seconds."

  "Take your time. I haven't seen Lee in a bit, and that's kind of concerning. I'm going to try to find him before he convinces Shannon to build him his own champagne lounge in the basement."

  He answers the phone in a low tone, taking long, deliberate strides up the aisle and out of the theater. I take another few seconds to myself, then head out to look for Lee. Wonderland feels awake and alive as I walk through it. Sounds of voices, construction, and distant strains of music reverberate off each other, creating a soundtrack to this new phase. I follow the voices until I find Lee in the prop room. He is in a far corner digging through boxes. When he stands up, I see he's prepared himself for battle with a chest plate left over from a very strange community production of A Funny Thing Happened to Me On The Way to the Forum years ago.

  "There is so much awesome stuff back here. Have you ever gone through it?"

  "Some, but it got overwhelming. What are you finding?"

  "A little bit of everything. This is my favorite." He comes over to me holding a thick binder and opens it to show me the stacks of newspapers in front of it. "I guess any time they did a play here and needed a newspaper as a prop, they used a real one. This is all of them."

  "That's amazing," I murmur, slowly flipping through the plastic-sleeved newspapers that date back decades. "It's like a timeline of the theater's place in the city."

  An alert on my phone breaks my concentration on the newspapers, and I pull it out. The email that appears on the screen makes me sit down hard on the Victorian replica couch.

  "What is it?" Lee a
sks.

  "An email from Q."

  "I thought he hasn't been messaging you anymore."

  "He hasn't. Not in a few days."

  "What does it say?" I shake my head and Lee sits down beside me. "Alice, what does it say?"

  "You have pushed us beyond the point of what we can tolerate. We've tried to be patient with you and show some level of understanding, but you've made it impossible. Let me make this situation very clear. This was not supposed to be a challenge. From the beginning, you seemed like you would be easy to overcome, and we would be able to get the theater for next to nothing because you weren't able to live up to your end of the agreement. Our opinion of you has not changed. It is still obvious to us you are not capable of handling this level of responsibility and pressure. At this point, you are doing nothing but wasting our time. The deadline is next month. If we do not receive full payment of the entire outstanding balance of the contract, we will enact the buyout clause and take possession of the theater. You will be expected to vacate immediately."

  The tone has taken on a new level of nastiness and aggression. Q isn't even trying to sound professional anymore. I guess he doesn't have anything to lose. The situation is about to turn in his favor no matter how he speaks to me. Lee drapes his arm around my shoulders and rests his head against mine. We hear our names being called in the distance.

  “That's Shannon. Do you want me to go talk to her?”

  I nod.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  “I'll be fine. I just need a couple seconds alone.”

  “Don't let them get to you, Alice. We're doing everything we can.”

  “I know.”

  He looks at me in that sad way that says he knows how deeply I'm hurting but doesn't know how to fix it. I'm only alone in the room for a few moments before Dean walks in.

  “Hey,” he says. “Here you are. You sure do love this couch.”

  There is a playful hint in his voice, and I remember what he said when we were sitting in the seats looking at the stage. The rage at even his limited knowledge of how Q has dealt with me was obvious even through his exceptional restraint. He had tried to sound calm and in control, but I could see the way the muscles on the side of the neck twitched and hear the tension in his voice. I decide he doesn't need to know about this new email. He's done so much for me already, connecting me with Luella and making it possible for me to even see a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel. I don't want to worry him by dragging him further into this.

  “I definitely do,” I say, tucking my phone away and reaching my arms for him so he will come to kiss me.

  He drops down onto the couch beside me and pulls me close.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “Newspapers Lee found in one of the prop boxes. They're all authentic from different eras of the theater. They're kind of incredible.”

  “Wow. these would make such a cool exhibit in the lobby.”

  I look at him with a smirk.

  “Cool?”

  “Yeah. I hear it's what all the hip kids are saying these days.”

  “You rushed away pretty fast. I hope that call wasn't anything serious.”

  “Not at all. Just a work thing. Some projects tend to be more involved than others. Show me some of these newspapers.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dean

  The next day…

  "No, I really don't think that's going to work out."

  I hold up two fingers to the barista, feeling guilty for being on my phone while ordering coffee. I hate being one of those people. Unfortunately, my brother Seth is one of those people, and has been talking almost nonstop since I picked up the phone.

  "Because I really can't see the mayor approving that."

  The dark-eyed woman behind the counter slides a cardboard drink holder with three cups toward me. I hold up two fingers again and she shakes her head, giving me a flirty smile. Looking at the cups I realize it is two cups of coffee, and the third cup has a folded piece of paper I can only assume contains various pieces of personal information about the barista.

  "Thank you," I whisper, taking the cup holder.

  I carry it with me over to the little island positioned in the middle of the coffee shop.

  "No, Seth, I'm not thanking you. I'm thanking the barista."

  I reach for the tiny pitcher of creamer and tip a generous amount into one cup.

  "The coffee. What do you think I'm thanking her for?"

  I roll my eyes as I set the cream down again.

  "Well, I'm glad you have figured out a tipping system both of you can live with. But back to Magnolia Falls. Are you seriously telling me no one has mentioned to Carson that attempting to tint the entire bay green for the Saint Patrick's Day Festival isn't a good idea?"

  I follow up the cream with a scoop of sugar and add a lid to the cup.

  "Because that's not how water works. It's not like there's some invisible barrier off the shore of Magnolia Falls that's going to stop the dye from changing the color of other water. How is he proposing changing the color, anyway?"

  Leaving the second cup black, I set a lid on it and pick up the carrier.

  "I'm fairly certain there are some environmental implications to him using kiwi-strawberry Kool-Aid, but at least it's nice of him to try to let the marine life be in on the celebration with a treat, too. Look, I've got to get going. I have a really important meeting, but are you planning on being in town all the way through the festival? No clients or anything until then?"

  I push the door to the coffee shop open with my back and step out into the windy morning. It's only a short walk, but I'm glad for the thick scarf wrapped around my neck blocking me from the sharp gusts.

  "I still don't know if I'm going to be able to make it. There's a lot going on here and since you scared the living hell out of Mr. Pfeiffer, I am back on call for whenever he decides to finish up the list. If I can work out some time in my schedule, though, I'll try to head home for at least the first day of the festival. Is Victoria setting up a table? I haven't talked to Preston about it yet."

  The sound of the seagulls in the background tugs on my heart. It's the sound of home. I have to remind myself it is likely also the sound accompanying Seth conspiring with Carson on his festive mission. Carson gets extraordinarily into his holiday celebrations. It doesn't matter the culture. He is an equal-opportunity reveler.

  "Well, I'm here, so I need to go. Tell everyone I say hi, and don't throw anything into the bay without permission. Bye."

  I hang up before Seth can get talking again. Through the front door to Wonderland, I can see Alice standing in the middle of the lobby with her hands pushed back in her curly red hair. The look on her face says someone has just told her something important, and she doesn't know whether she should believe it or start looking for a hidden camera. I open the door and cross the space to her. Lee is on the other side of her and smiles happily when he sees the cardboard holder in my hand.

  “Oooooh, coffee. Thank you.”

  He reaches around Alice and takes the cup augmented with cream and sugar turned toward him. I pull my own cup from the holder and stick the cardboard beneath my arm as I take a sip of the bold black brew. Alice turns a questioning expression toward me.

  “Good morning,” I say. My eyes flicker down to my cup and back to her. “You said you didn't want anything.”

  She stares at me blankly for another second, then shakes her head hard, like she's trying to come back into reality.

  “No. I didn't. Sorry. Hi.”

  She gives me a kiss and I search her face, trying to figure out what's going on. She hasn't sounded quite like herself in the last two days but hasn't given me any indication of what might be bothering her other than the chaos of the renovations. An impending visit from Luella to check in on the progress seems to be weighing heavily on her, but I feel like it's something more.

  “Everything going okay?” I ask.
r />   Alice meets eyes with Shannon.

  “Do you want to tell him?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “What she discovered in the basement this morning.”

  “Maybe I should just show both of you. It'll be easier to explain that way.”

  We start toward the staircase at the very back of the theater that leads down into a basement I haven't yet had the opportunity to see.

  “This doesn't happen to involve a body in any way, does it?” I ask.

  “No bodies,” Shannon promises.

  The view when we get down into the basement shocks me. I stop only a few steps from the bottom of the staircase to look around. I've been expecting one of the cold cement cellars common in the old buildings of New York. This is not one of those cellars. It's aged and neglected, pieces worn and broken, or obscured by various discarded pieces of debris and boxes containing more mysteries of the theater. Beyond all that, though, I can see the beauty that once existed here. The floor is smooth marble and tiles in various shades of cream, blue, and gold create a pattern across the walls. The space is bigger than I thought it would be, and in the somewhere in the distance, I imagine beneath the stage, is a wall with a heavy door. To the other side, I can see remnants of the wall Alice described falling over still clinging to the ceiling.

  “This is fantastic,” I say. “There must have been events down here. Parties for the stars and their guests.”

  “And swimming,” Shannon says.

  “Swimming?”

  “That's what I need to show you guys.” She leads us to the center of the room, towards what I’d thought was just another pile of junk. Getting closer reveals the mound in the middle of the floor is actually an oil cloth-covered stack of very old lounge chairs. Beside it are several small towers of boxes, but beyond that is a recently-excavated hole in the floor.

  “See that? Seems like this is a pretty swanky place. This used to be a swimming pool, but someone filled it in. Fairly haphazardly, I'll add.”