Sandcastle Beach--Includes a Bonus Novella

by Jenny Holiday

  “So hey,” Rohan said, drawing Law from his thoughts. “Pearl told me this place was written up in a Globe and Mail article?”

  “Yeah.” Law had to force himself to focus on what Rohan was saying. His brain was occupied with freaking the fuck out over the bomb that had just been dropped on him.

  “I’m working on a publicity plan for Much Ado about Nothing,” Rohan said, “and I was thinking I’d try to get a theater critic out here by shamelessly dangling Holden’s name. But then I thought maybe I should email that journalist, too, and build on this idea that Moonflower Bay is a cultural hot spot, you know?”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “Do you remember the name on the byline?”

  “Yes!” Anything he could do to help make the play a success. He grabbed a pen. “I’ll write it down for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” It was, it turned out, the least he could do—do his part to ensure the success of Maya’s latest play, since apparently he was responsible for the failure of her first one.

  Maya was learning that trying to coax what she wanted from Holden in rehearsals—including getting him to learn his lines, which was what she wanted most of all—was not the most effective method. He responded better to “spontaneous” conversations in social settings than he did to overt direction. Which was annoying, given that she was literally his director, but it was what it was. So she’d taken to strategically hanging out with him, often at the bar. And although the bar when a band was playing wouldn’t have been her first choice, Holden had seen the sign advertising Final Vinyl, the 1980s–1990s cover band Benjamin often had in, and here they were.

  She surprised herself by having a great time. Sometimes when there was a band, people would shove some of the tables aside and make a dance floor, and they had been dancing up a storm. During a break between sets, Maya went up to speak to the band. She knew the lead singer a little—he lived near Port Frederick, and she’d been trying to get him to be in one of her musicals for years.

  “Hey, guys, I know this isn’t your era, but any chance you know any Two Squared?”

  The bassist, who was younger than the other guys, cracked up. “I do. I secretly loved them when I was a kid.”

  She hitched her head toward Holden. “Well, that there is Holden Hampshire.”

  “No shit?” His eyebrows shot up. “We can do ‘Petal Power.’ I’ll give these guys the chords over the next break.” When the lead singer groaned, he said, “I’ll sing, dude. It won’t kill you.”

  During the break, she and Holden hit the jukebox. He was a Spice Girls fan, too, it turned out. “I mean, I sort of have to be, don’t I?” he said. “You don’t grow up in a band like Two Squared and not respect your elders.”

  When the band came back on, the bassist took the mic. “This one is in honor of a very special guest.” Holden smiled and waved as the whole bar went crazy, and the band ripped into a rock-and-roll-ified version of Two Squared’s biggest hit. Holden taught Maya and the girls the dance moves, even going so far as to modify them for Nora, who wasn’t able to boing around as much due to her belly. Holden could be all right when he wanted to.

  It was fun. Goofy, invigorating fun. Maya realized she hadn’t laughed like this in a long time. Impending financial ruin could do a number on one’s sense of humor.

  “I gotta go,” Nora said when the song ended. “My feet are killing me.”

  “Yeah, I’m done, too,” Eve said. “It’s almost midnight, and I’m about to turn into a pumpkin.”

  “Party poopers!” Maya said affectionately as she hugged them and caught her breath. The band, reverting to its 1980s roots, cued up a ballad—“Every Rose Has Its Thorn,” which brought her back to that evening on the roof with Benjamin, when they’d bantered about that song.

  It suddenly occurred to her that maybe what Holden needed in terms of his Benedick character development was lessons from Benjamin. Say what you wanted about Benjamin, when the banter was flying, he could keep up.

  “Dance with me?” Holden asked.

  She tried to wave him off. “Thanks, but I’m gonna sit this one out.”

  “Come on!” He started pulling on her arm. “You know you want to.” He started singing, but in a funny exaggerated way. He’d had a lot of beer, and he was happy. She did love this song. It lent itself to funny, exaggerated singing, but it was also just a cool song. Those big-haired metal bands from the 1980s knew what they were doing.

  “Okay, okay.” She let herself be propelled to the center of the makeshift dance floor. Holden took her into his arms, and they started swaying.

  “This is nice,” he said into her ear.

  “Mm-hmm.” She tried to look over at the bar, but she didn’t have a clear sight line.

  “I heard there’s a town tradition of throwing flowers into the lake?”

  “What?”

  “Flowers? The lake?”

  “Oh, yeah. But on nights with full moons.” They’d twirled around enough that she could see the bar now, but there was no one behind it.

  “Oh, bummer.”

  “Well, I mean, it’s not like there’s a rule.” She herself had been known to be loose with her interpretation of the tradition.

  “I was thinking maybe you could show me.”

  “Sure. After this song?”

  “Or you could show me your place.”

  “You’re in my place.”

  Oops. She hadn’t meant to say that. For some reason she didn’t want him knowing she’d evicted herself for him. She didn’t like people knowing how close to the edge she was. Well, except the girls. And Benjamin. Which was sort of strange. She hated the idea that Benjamin might think of her as weak, or incapable.

  Happily, Holden was too tipsy to understand what she meant. He pulled back, his face scrunched in confusion, and she took the opportunity to redirect. “I’m actually staying with a friend at the moment. My place has been undergoing some renovations.”

  “Ah. I could show you my place, then.”

  You mean you could show me my own place. She tried not to laugh. “Sure. I’d love to see your place.” It would be easier to work on his lines there. Though maybe he’d had too much to drink for that.

  “You on the pill?”

  What? She jerked in his arms, and they both stumbled. He righted them and shot her a smile. She threw her head back and laughed.

  “What?” He laughed along with her, but uncertainly. He thought she was laughing at him, and he wasn’t used to that.

  “Honey, you’re drunk.”

  “So?”

  “I’m your director.”

  “So?”

  “So that’s two avenues in which I could take advantage of the situation.”

  “Please do.”

  She stopped laughing and pondered him. Holden was ridiculously good-looking. And fun, when she wasn’t trying to get him to do his job—she’d truly had a great time this evening goofing around with him and the girls.

  And now it seemed that he was propositioning her. What even was her life?

  But aside from the moral yuckiness, he just…didn’t do it for her.

  He was looking adorably bewildered, so she kissed him on the cheek and was about to tell him to go home, when someone intruded on their circle.

  “I brought you a glass of wine.” Benjamin. Speaking to her but looking at Holden.

  “Thanks, but I don’t have my wallet with me.” That was a lie. She had it—it was in her purse—but it was empty. She was living on credit card fumes. “So I’ve been taking up space in your bar without buying anything,” she said cheerily to deflect from the fact that she hated doing that.

  Law withdrew his attention from Holden and transferred it to her. But only for a second before he was back to scowling at Holden. “I don’t know why your boyfriend here didn’t buy you a drink.”

  She was about to correct the record with a He’s not my boyfriend retort, but she stopped herself. She, to her cont
inuing surprise, did not even harbor one little speck of attraction to Holden, but Benjamin did not need to know that.

  “Oh, right,” Holden said. “Sorry. You want a drink, Maya?”

  She smiled sweetly at him. “I’d love a drink, thanks.”

  Holden pulled out a twenty, but Benjamin just stood there. She’d assumed he would hand over the wine, but that did not seem to be the plan. He might even have—she wasn’t sure if she was imagining it—pulled the glass a tiny bit closer to his chest as Holden tried to pay for it.

  Nope, not imagining it. In fact, he leaned his torso back, rotated, and handed her the wine. “On the house.”

  “Uh, thanks. That’s nice of you.” It was, even though he was being weird.

  “But isn’t your wine always on the house?” Holden asked. “Or at least the second glass?”

  Huh? She turned to Holden. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it sort of seems like when other people order a glass of wine, they get a glass of wine. But when we’re here working on lines and you order a glass of wine, you get a glass of wine but then you keep getting it topped up.”

  “That’s…”

  True? Also surprisingly observant for Holden?

  She’d assumed that was what Benjamin did for regulars. She searched her memory. The problem was her friends weren’t really wine drinkers. It wasn’t like he was going to take someone’s entire pint glass and refill it with beer for free. That was different from a little top-up of wine, wasn’t it?

  While she pondered, Benjamin turned his death glare onto Holden. “I charge appropriately.”

  I charge appropriately? What did that mean?

  Holden rolled his eyes. “Whatever, dude.” To Maya he said, “I’m going to hit the bathroom.”

  As soon as Holden was gone, Benjamin leaned forward. “Crystal Palace season opener next Saturday,” he whispered.

  She blinked, adjusting from the history of drink pouring to…“Is that your way of suggesting a truce?” She had been so stressed about the play, she’d lost track of time, but the season was due to start.

  “It might be,” he said.

  There wasn’t precedent for this, for him inviting her over. The way they normally played the truce game was she told him when she was coming over.

  When she didn’t answer right away, he asked, “And will you be coming over for it?”

  Well, regardless of all this weirdness, she wasn’t missing the first match of the season. “Yes.”

  “And do you want to watch it live?” he asked. “It’s on at ten a.m. our time.”

  They had never done that. They always watched archived matches late at night. “Yes,” she said, striving to keep her tone mild. “I want to watch it live.” How extraordinary.

  He snorted. “Don’t sound so excited.”

  She was excited, though. She was extremely excited.

  To his annoyance, Law started seeing Holden Hampshire everywhere after that night in the bar. When he ran across the street for something at Jenna’s, there Holden would be, chatting with Jenna and other customers. Or he’d show up at the bar, order a drink, and proceed to start mouthing his lines like a simpleton.

  The next Friday, Law met Brie for lunch at Sadie’s Diner. Brie had given her notice in Toronto and was in town looking at rentals. He needed her to sign an employment contract, and he’d suggested she do it over lunch—and there was Band Boy again.

  “Hey, Lawson’s Lager House, right?” Holden said, looking up from the phone that seemed to be his constant companion—when he wasn’t slow dancing with Maya.

  Law grunted in assent. But, realizing he was being rude, he said, “Brie Goodwin, this is Holden Hampshire. Holden, Brie.” At least Brie would be immune to Holden. She was too cool to care about a washed-up “celebrity” like Holden.

  Brie cocked her head. “Holden Hampshire as in Two Squared?”

  “Guilty.”

  She laughed in delight. “I loved you guys back in the day.”

  Dammit. Law shoveled fries into his mouth while Brie effused—did everyone love this guy?—and Holden affected modesty.

  “What does Two Squared mean?” Law asked once the other two were done with their exchange. “How’d you get that for a name?” It was a stupid one.

  “Well, see, there were four guys in the band,” Holden said, and Law refrained from pointing out that “band” might be too generous a label for the song-and-dance show he’d seen when he YouTubed the group. “And four, is, like, two to the power of two.”

  “That’s it?” That was even dumber than Law had imagined. He’d expected something less literal.

  “Two to the power of two is another way of saying two squared,” Holden said. “You know, that little number in the upper right of a regular number?”

  “I am familiar.”

  “Does he live in Moonflower Bay?” Brie, all agog, asked after Holden left.

  “No, no. He’s in town rehearsing a play. We have a great little theater company, and the director has lured him here to star in a show. It will be on before you get here, which is too bad. They’re doing Much Ado about Nothing, which I don’t know that much about, but she’s pretty much a Shakespeare expert and…”

  Brie was looking at him kind of funny. Maybe she wasn’t a theater fan.

  “So the job,” he said, forcing himself to concentrate on the topic at hand. He pulled the contract out. “I think this reflects what we talked about.” What they had talked about was her having the title “manager” and gradually taking over admin and supervision at the bar as well as covering a fair chunk of the shifts. But they’d also talked about her helping with the restaurant, and he’d built in a bonus structure that would compensate her for her insight and assistance on that front. “If you want to take the contract with you and read it and mail it back, that’s cool.”

  She had picked it up and was scanning it. “Nope, this looks great. Honestly, I kind of expected a small-town gig like this to be sealed on a handshake.” She rummaged in her purse for a pen.

  As she slid the signed contract across the table, he couldn’t deny he was a little nervous. Her salary was less than she’d made in Toronto, on account of the lower cost of living here, but more than he otherwise would have paid. She was clearly worth it, but it was a significant expense.

  “Can I get you two anything else?”

  Law eyed the smiling Sadie, who had come to clear their plates. He didn’t get out much, so he hadn’t seen her since the big revelation about Romeo and Juliet. He was tempted to ask her about it, but he couldn’t right now. What would be the point, anyway? They had done a crappy thing a long time ago. There was no getting around that. There was also no need to make her feel bad.

  After lunch, he and Brie went back downtown so he could point out Jason Sims’s house, which was still for sale. “This is the place I have my eye on for the restaurant.”

  “It looks great.” She glanced at him. “But you’re not sure?”

  “Not sure there’s enough room out back for seating and a pizza oven,” he said in a complete deflection from the truth. He didn’t want to tell her he was in a holding pattern until he found out if Miss I’ve Applied for Dozens of Grants in My Lifetime had kicked his ass.

  She contemplated the house from their vantage point on the sidewalk. “You’re going to keep doing pizza at the bar, right?”

  “I don’t see why not. The oven there is already built. It’s not like I can move it.”

  “So maybe don’t do pizza at the restaurant? Keep that the signature food for the bar. You want to make sure people keep patronizing the bar, and bars and pizza kind of go together anyway. Then you can come up with something else for the restaurant?”

  That was an interesting take. “I am kind of becoming known for my grilled-cheese sandwiches. I do them outside the bar on presses during town festivals.”

  “Perfect. You have a built-in audience, and that’s exactly the kind of food I hear you talking about wanting to serve
. Not fussy but capable of being classed up. You can use local cheeses and herbs and stuff.”

  “Hey, can I ask you a favor? The restaurant isn’t a secret per se, but I’m trying to keep the news under wraps until it’s a little farther along.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks. You want to see the rest of Main Street?”

  “Sure.”

  They strolled, and he pointed out local landmarks and businesses of note.

  “What’s with all the moonflowers?”

  “A town tradition. Everyone grows them. There’s a superstition that if you throw one into the lake under a full moon and make a wish, your wish will come true.”

  “That is disgustingly charming.” They walked in silence a way until she said, “Speaking of disgustingly charming, is this a florist? What an adorable name.”

  They’d stopped in front of A Rose by Any Other Name. “Yeah, it’s…” Maya was in there. That was rare. “This place is owned by the father of the theater director I was telling you about. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  He realized his error when he was halfway through the door. Holden was in there, too. Super close to Maya. In fact, both of them were behind the counter.

  “Hi,” Maya said, her brow furrowed—she was confused by his appearance.

  “We’re interrupting. You’re running lines.”

  “I don’t think it’s called interrupting when you enter a place of business that’s open,” she said.

  “Oh, hey, we meet again,” Holden said. “And we’re not running lines.” He grinned.

  They weren’t? Then what were they doing huddled so close together?

  “Because I have mine all memorized.” He did a little fist pump, and Maya tilted her head and raised her eyebrows slightly, suggesting she might not share Holden’s view on the matter. “High five, Brit!” Holden lifted his hand for Brie to slap.

  She looked at him blankly. “It’s Brie.”

  “Like the cheese,” Holden said.

  “Yes, like the cheese,” Brie said in a deadpan tone. Law liked Brie. He’d made a good move hiring her, even if it freaked him out a little.