Sandcastle Beach--Includes a Bonus Novella

by Jenny Holiday

  That was a funny coincidence. “You should rename it. I don’t think ‘the pink room’ really telegraphs, Move into this room and you will get laid.”

  “I actually used to think of it as the Pink Room of Pain,” Eve said. “You know how there’s the Red Room of Pain in Fifty Shades?”

  They all laughed. “It’s actually always reminded me of a vagina,” Nora said. “I mean, I know given my line of work I see a lot more of them than you two do, but all this pink! Pink walls!”

  “The Vagina Room!” Maya exclaimed as the three of them cracked up. “There you go, Eve. That there is marketing gold.”

  “How about the Lucky Room?” Eve asked.

  Maya sighed. If only.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Brie, God bless her, agreed to come to town early when Law called her up and told her the whole story. He explained that he needed to disappear for a few days because he had to work on a project to show the woman he was in love with that he was dead serious, and was there any chance she could come to town earlier than planned?

  She’d said two things: “Sure” and “This is that woman from the flower shop, isn’t it?”

  “Yep,” he’d agreed easily. “The woman from the flower shop.”

  And then he’d texted Holden Hampshire, that asshole. This is Ben Lawson from Lawson’s Lager House. Can you do me a favor that’s actually a favor for Maya? A way to make what you did less shitty?

  He’d followed that up with meetings. Eve and Sawyer and Nora and Jake, first, who had embraced their assignments readily, if with a large dose of teasing.

  And then Pearl, Karl, and Eiko. Of course, they’d all come through. That was the upside to life in Moonflower Bay. The meddlers could be counted on to meddle for good when you wanted them to. There was an existing meddling infrastructure just waiting to be activated.

  Brie arrived Tuesday morning, and he showed her around the bar.

  “I know this is quick, and I know I’m asking a lot, but I need you to hold down the fort through Saturday. I’ve got Carter, who you’ll meet when he shows up later, all prepped. He knows you’re here, and he’s going to be working as much as he can.”

  Then he took Brie upstairs. Like Maya had done with Holden, he was lending out his apartment. Brie had done him a solid by dropping everything and coming, and he owed her.

  Also, he didn’t want to see Maya.

  Well, he did want to see Maya. It was all he wanted, basically. But he had to sacrifice her for the short term in order to make things right—really right—for the long term. He hoped.

  “I’m sorry this is sort of a trial by fire,” he said to Brie.

  “I’ll figure it out. And I can text you if I have any questions, right? It sounds like you’re going to be helming a major logistics push in addition to doing the grant stuff. I don’t want to bug you, but I assume you’re not going totally off the grid?”

  “Definitely text me anytime. And thank you. I appreciate this.”

  “No problem.” He started to thank her again, but she waved him off. “Go.”

  So he went—to his parents’ house to hunker down.

  On Tuesday afternoon, just under the “Give me twenty-four hours” plea Ben had made, Maya received a very surprising text.

  Holden: Hi. Have you blocked me, lol?

  Maya: I should have blocked you.

  Holden: Right. Okay, so I’m sorry for how I handled things. I’ve had a change of plans. Benedick will be there Saturday.

  Holy crap. Ben had done it—whatever “it” was.

  She wasn’t prepared for this. Her first impulse was to fire off a Screw you, I don’t need your charity text, but she made herself ponder the offer with her businessperson hat on. Which, she reasoned, probably meant it was okay to text her business partner.

  Maya: Holden just texted and said he can do one more show. What did you do?

  Ben: I had a chat with him.

  Maya: Did you break any of his bones?

  Ben: I did not.

  Maya: Did you have anyone else break any of his bones?

  Ben: Still no.

  Maya: I want to tell him to eff off, but I shouldn’t, right?

  Ben: Well, you know how much I loathe the guy, but if he does Saturday, you don’t have to cancel that show AND you get the Globe review, right?

  Maya: Yeah, I know. You’re right.

  Ben: Uh, what did you just say?

  Maya: You were right. Once. Don’t let it go to your head.

  Ben: Hold off on canceling Sunday, too. You never know how things will work out.

  Maya: Why? Are you going to break his bones in person on Saturday?

  Ben: I can say with 100 percent certainty that I will not break any of Holden Hampshire’s bones.

  Ben: 90 percent.

  Maya: But if I wait to cancel Sunday, I’ll only be giving those people twenty-four hours’ notice.

  Ben: Trust.

  So she trusted.

  They spent the next few days writing the first draft of their proposal—and bantering. But not the same way as usual. It was more like…bantering about spreadsheets? And also not in person, because Ben was gone.

  She went to the bar Tuesday night, only to find Brie working alone. She went up the back stairs and knocked on his door—no answer. And there were no lights on in his apartment. Judging by Ben’s texts, he was working hard on the application. But he wasn’t doing it at home.

  Well, okay. He was allowed to be somewhere else.

  And it wasn’t like he wasn’t in touch. The next day, he started emailing her ad budgets and research on theater-dinner packages in other places.

  Maya: Wow, you aren’t kidding around here. Don’t you think we’re a slam dunk to get this thing?

  Ben: Probably, but this is research we’re going to have to do anyway, once we have the money, so we might as well do it now and use it to bolster the application.

  Maya: Right.

  Not wanting him to be able to say she hadn’t pulled her weight, she’d thrown herself into tweaking her plans for next season.

  Maya: I was going to go back to My Fair Lady for the musical next year, but what if it’s Chicago instead, and you do Chicago-style hot dogs or deep dish at the restaurant?

  Ben: Great—plays with food tie-ins. Love it.

  Maya: Or there’s always Titus Andronicus, where Titus captures the sons of his enemy, Tamora, bakes them into a pie, and feeds it to her. You know I do like to do a Shakespeare every year if I can.

  Ben: Hmm. I’m going to say no on that one.

  And on they went, ideas flying. But it was only ideas that were flying. Conspicuously absent were innuendo and conflict. And the more progress they made on the grant, the more she would have given for one or the other—or, ideally, both.

  Maya: Where are you anyway? I haven’t seen you in the bar.

  That was a legit question, right? He didn’t owe her an accounting of his whereabouts, but it was okay for her to notice his absence. In a friendly way.

  Ben: Brie’s doing the heavy lifting while I work on this thing. I’ve gone to my parents’ place so I can concentrate.

  That was accompanied by a picture of his computer on his lap on a Muskoka chair overlooking the lake.

  So yeah, he hadn’t bailed on Maya, the grant coapplicant. But it sort of felt like he had bailed on Maya the person.

  When Law arrived at his parents’ place, he sat them down and told them everything. He had to. He could hardly show up, announce his intention to stay in their guest room for a week, and spend his days hovering over spreadsheets instead of at the bar.

  But more importantly, he wanted to. Not in the sense that he was looking forward to it, but in the sense that it was long overdue. And hell, he was apparently in the midst of overhauling everything else about his life, so no time like the present.

  “I wondered if something like this was in the works,” his dad said after Law explained about the restaurant plans, hiring Brie, the grant—and his intent
ion to take out a mortgage on the bar building.

  “You did?”

  “With the pizza, and the sandwiches, being so successful, it seems like the next logical step.”

  “It does?” He was aware that he sounded like an idiot, with his astonished two-word questions, but he was just so damn shocked. “You’re not upset?”

  “Why would we be upset, honey?” his mom asked.

  “Because I’m mortgaging the place you guys built? That Grandpa built?”

  “We took a mortgage out on the building in 1991 to raise some cash,” Mom said.

  “You did?” And there he went again with the two-word questions.

  “It was either that or close it,” his dad said.

  “Okay, then. This is different. The bar is doing fine. It’s doing well.”

  “Well, then this is a good time to expand, isn’t it?” Dad said.

  “Did you think we were going to be angry about this?” His mom reached across the kitchen table and patted his hand.

  Yes. “I don’t know.” He turned to his dad. “You’re always talking about the legacy of the place.”

  “Yeah, because I’m proud of it. I’m proud of what I did with it—keep it afloat. And I’m proud of what you’re doing with it.”

  “Even if you don’t always approve of what I’m doing with it? You were skeptical about the pizza.”

  “I’m not in charge anymore. I admit I have wondered at times about some of your choices, but it was never that I didn’t approve. I’m more conservative than you are, but you clearly know what you’re doing. You have an entrepreneurial streak I never did. You remind me of your grandpa that way.”

  “I do?” That was a huge compliment. “But,” he said, not sure why he didn’t stop talking and take yes for an answer, “you always used to joke that the bar was your second child. You don’t care that I’m risking it?”

  “It’s not that we don’t care,” his dad said. “It’s that we trust you. Because you’re our child. The bar is not our child. That was a joke—maybe a bad one, in retrospect.”

  His dad, never a very demonstrative guy, reached out and copied his wife’s gesture from earlier, laying his hand on top of Law’s. Suddenly choked up, Law had to swallow hard. He blamed Maya for making him all weird and emotional lately. But he also noticed that his dad’s eyes were extra shiny.

  “Speak for yourself,” his mom said to his dad. “I personally trust Maya way more than you, Benjamin.” As she turned toward Law, her twinkling eyes telegraphed that she was teasing. “If your new business is tied to hers, I don’t think you can go wrong. That play last week was phenomenal.”

  She was kidding, but it was true. Somehow, having Maya on his team made everything seem easier. Made his dreams seem more in reach.

  “Why don’t you invite her out for dinner tomorrow?” Mom said. “You two can sit outside and work on your application.”

  Nope. As much as sitting with Maya on his parents’ patio overlooking the lake sounded like heaven right now, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t see her until Saturday. “So about that. There’s actually something else I have to tell you.”

  When he was done relaying his second big piece of news of the evening, his mom got up, kissed the top of his head, and headed out of the kitchen.

  “Where are you going?” He’d thought she’d be all aflutter about his plan. Or that she’d tease him, at least. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

  “Oh, my darling, yes. I will be back momentarily, and I will say many things. But first I need to go buy some theater tickets for Saturday.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It hadn’t occurred to Maya that maybe she shouldn’t have trusted Holden’s sudden about-face. But at ten to two on Saturday afternoon, she started wondering if she’d been betrayed. Again.

  Maya: Where are you? Curtain is in ten minutes!

  He had said he wouldn’t be able to make the preshow cast meeting, and frankly, she hadn’t wanted him there. But they were on imminently.

  “Let me take that, hon,” Eiko said, reaching for her phone. “I’ll keep it safe for you during the show.”

  Huh?

  “It’s stressing you out,” Eiko added.

  “What are you even doing here?” Maya looked around. What was everyone doing here? Eve and Nora had come backstage to keep her company and calm her nerves while she did her makeup, but here they still were, and they had Sawyer and Jake with them. And her brother was lurking. He’d been acting as a jack-of-all-trades through the run, but as far as she knew, there was nothing that needed his attention right now. And…“Karl? Why is Karl here?” She turned in place. It felt like the whole town was here.

  But on the other hand, a handful of people in town knew about the Holden drama, so word had likely gotten out. Everyone was probably here thinking they were “helping” or “showing support” or whatever spin they wanted to put on their nosiness.

  She clapped her hands. “Hey, folks! I’m going to have to ask everyone who isn’t part of the cast or crew to go take your seats.”

  No one moved. They all just looked at her, many of them with strange smiles. Pearl—what on earth was Pearl doing backstage?—was grinning so wildly, she looked a little unhinged.

  “Listen, I appreciate all the support, but—”

  Someone tapped her on the shoulder. Ah, her tardy star. That explained the odd facial expressions. Everyone was still starstruck by the jerk. A burst of annoyance exploded in her chest.

  “It’s about time!” she snapped as she whirled and came face-to-face with…

  Benedick. Definitely Benedick, dressed as he was in the military officer’s garb of the opening scenes: double-breasted, gold-buttoned jacket; tight-fitting breeches tucked into knee-high boots; a scabbard at his hip.

  It just wasn’t Holden.

  “Ben…,” she said, trailing off.

  “…edick?” he finished with smiling eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked weakly, though she supposed it was obvious.

  “Saving the play?” His usual public-facing, breezy confidence was nowhere in evidence.

  Maya was not a swooner, generally. She was more of a get-on-with-it-er. But her knees suddenly felt like they’d gone on strike.

  “I know my lines and everything.” He winced. “Mostly.”

  “That’s where I come in!” Eiko stepped up. “I made cue cards, so we have backup. I was going to crouch in front of the stage, but it turns out I can’t really crouch thanks to my crappy hips, so Jake is going to be the croucher.”

  “That’s why I’ve been hiding all week,” Ben said. “I’ve been memorizing my lines.”

  “Eve and I made a Benedick costume that fits Law,” Pearl said.

  “One minute!” Ingrid, the stage manager, called, walking through the crowd with a clipboard and shooing the hangers-on into the wings.

  Maya eyed Ben warily. “Are you sure we shouldn’t—”

  “The rest of the cast worked with me on the blocking—that’s what you call it, I think?” he said. “But you do get that you’re gonna have to carry this thing, right?”

  “Places, everyone!” Ingrid called.

  Ben started backing away. He wasn’t in the opening scene.

  “But wait!” she called after him.

  “You can’t blame me if the Globe and Mail review is less than stellar,” Ben said with a perplexing degree of calm. “I mean, you can. You probably will.” He stopped walking and grinned. “I look forward to it, actually.”

  She…was out of words.

  “Oh!” he called. “There is one more thing.” He was still backing away, so the distance between them was growing as he spoke. “I’m in love with you.” He snorted, like he found the idea half-delightful, half-off-putting. “Completely and totally hung up on you, actually.” When she didn’t answer—if she thought she’d had no words a moment ago, she’d had no idea—he added, “Break a leg!”

  And then he disappeared.

/>   And the curtain opened.

  The first exchange in the play was between the governor of their fictional town and a messenger. Maya listened to them talk and tried to pull herself together. The bright lights prevented her from seeing beyond the first few rows, but in those rows were friendly faces. Eve was backstage working on costume changes, but there was Sawyer sitting with Nora. Pearl, Eiko, and Karl were there, too.

  Jake, the town’s odd-job guy, was, as promised, crouched in the space between the stage and the first row.

  And front and center were Ro and her parents. Her attention caught on her dad, and he noticed, because unlike the rest of the audience members, who were watching the actors who were speaking, he was looking at her.

  He smiled and gave her a big, dorky thumbs-up that made something in her chest catch.

  Everyone was here. All her people. Her village.

  For a moment it felt like they were all staring at her, all at once.

  Which, actually, they now were. It was her line, and she was just standing there like an idiot. She took a deep breath. “‘I pray you, is Signior Mountanto returned from the wars or no?’”

  Beatrice was asking about Benedick. Her nemesis. Her love.

  And there he was, striding onto the stage. Her nemesis. Her love.

  Who was “completely and totally hung up” on her.

  It boggled the mind.

  Some of the other men joked around, as the script called for, but Ben/edick didn’t have a line right away. He just stared at her—which worked for the script, because Benedick and Beatrice were basically obsessed with each other. He was looking very pleased with himself, no doubt because he had successfully ambushed her backstage, both with his presence and with his declaration.

  And then they were off, doing what they’d always done. Bantering.

  He wasn’t as polished as Holden. He could have projected better. He didn’t always know where to stand. He sometimes glanced at the cue cards, but always in advance of his next line, so he was never stuck with nothing to say.