by Janice Hanna
Steve still looked confused.
“We’re building a theater so that people will come. And come, they will. But what will we feed them if they show up in Camelot the day before the production? Or the day before that?” She paused for breath then raced ahead. “We’ve only got one little diner in town with the Hardee’s a few miles away. What are we going to do if three hundred people turn up the day before the show and need to eat? And for that matter, what if they drive in from out-of-state or something and want to settle in for a day or two? Where will they go? We don’t have a motel. Or an RV park. And they’ll wonder why we don’t have other things to offer. Like shopping.”
“I feel a headache coming on.” Steve groaned.
“Anyway, here’s what I’ve been thinking.” She took a seat on a nearby bench. “We’ve got that old piece of property on the south end of town where King Arthur’s Court used to be.”
“The trailer park?”
“Yes. We can clean it up and use it for RVs. What do you think? We’ll call it King Arthur’s RV Court.”
“I think it sounds like a lot of work.” Steve took a seat next to her and gave her a pensive look. “But it might be possible. I just don’t know if we can get it done before the show kicks off.”
“We’ve got to try. And now that Lance has moved on, we’ve got that big, empty used car lot,” she added. “Why not take advantage of that and use it too?”
“As another RV park?”
“No, I’m thinking we could use that space for vendors to sell their wares. You know, like an arts-and-crafts thing, with food too. That way we can kill two birds with one stone. Locals can make a little extra money selling their goods, and we can feed the guests too.”
“Hmm.” He shrugged. “Could work.”
“Sure. It would give the people something to do when they’re waiting to see the show. They can buy from Camelot residents. That might give some of those people who donated a way to earn their money back.”
“Only one problem with that,” he said. “Half the town is going to be busy with the show.”
“Nah. Not half. There are only thirty-two people in the show. We have over a hundred more people in town who could help with the things I’m talking about.”
“I like that you’re thinking ahead, Amy. Wise move on your part.”
“I’ve just been so concerned about all this that I’ve had a hard time sleeping. It almost feels like we’re building the town from square one.”
“True. But you know what? God’s got this one under control. We don’t need to worry.”
Easy for him to say. This isn’t his idea. She gave him a faint smile. “Thanks for the encouragement. I know you’re busy.”
“Never too busy for fair Guinevere.” He leaned over and gave her a kiss so sweet that it nearly made her forget about her troubles. Nearly.
She offered up a little wave as Steve joined the other men, and then she leaned back, her thoughts reverting to the RV-park idea. A few moments ticked by, but she couldn’t get a handle on things in spite of his encouragement. How could they ever accomplish so much in such a short period of time?
Amy caught a glimpse of Jackson Brenner walking up. From the looks of things, he had something on his mind that wouldn’t wait. She signaled him to join her. “Everything okay?” she asked as he drew near.
“Yes.” He nodded and took a seat next to her. “Just been thinking things through. I had a few ideas to share about the theater’s layout. Who should I talk to about that?”
She squinted against the sunlight, looking around, and finally located Darrell standing with a group of workers. Amy pointed to him. “You need to talk to Darrell, Steve’s brother.”
“Will do. I think I have a few ideas that will cut back on the workload. Believe it or not, I’ve done a theater build-out before. This isn’t my first rodeo.” He gave her a wink—and for some inexplicable reason, her heart skipped a beat. She quickly reeled herself in. Amy had too much on her plate today to be swept away by this handsome Lancelot, even if he did happen to have answers to her problems.
“You okay?” Jackson asked. An inquisitive look followed. “You look a little anxious.”
“Yeah.” Amy nodded. “There’s just so much on my mind. Steve and I have been talking through a plan to turn an old trailer park into a place for RVs. I think we’re going to need it once tourists start rolling into town.”
“I like it.” He nodded. “Sounds like a worthy plan.”
“It’s such a mess, though. The weeds will have to be cleared, and who knows what we’ll find underneath. I don’t even know if the plumbing is intact, but I guess we’ll figure that out as we go along.” She sighed and gestured to the workers. “Not that I happen to have an available plumber in my back pocket waiting for this job. Every man in town is busy with the build-out of the theater.”
“I know a plumber.”
“Oh?” Amy’s heart quickened. “You do?”
“Yes, and he owes me a favor.” Jackson told her about his friend—a guy named Thomas—and before long, they had a full plan of action for the plumbing at both the potential RV park and the restroom facilities at the new theater.
“Wow, that would be great, Jackson,” Amy said as he finished. She gave him a smile that she hoped would convey her thankfulness. As she did, her burdens seemed to lift. Truly, the Lord had sent Jackson Brenner to Camelot. Maybe he really was a shining armor after all. Or maybe he was just a nice guy who didn’t mind helping out a town in need when the situation called for it. Either way, she was plenty grateful he’d ridden into Camelot on his white steed just in the nick of time.
“You okay, Steve?”
Steve looked up as Caroline came over with a tray of sandwiches in hand. “Yeah. Guess so.”
“Distracted by Sir Lancelot?”
Steve shrugged. “Doing my best to ignore that situation, thank you very much.” He turned his gaze to Amy and Jackson, trying not to make too much of her doe-eyed look. Surely she didn’t realize how her demeanor had changed the moment Jackson stepped into the scene. Not that Steve wasn’t grateful for Jackson’s presence. No, it looked like the guy had a lot to offer, both onstage and off. And he seemed like a nice person, to boot. Just one more reason to be concerned. Steve did his best to shake off his concerns, but this handsome stranger surely made things difficult.
“Amy’s a smart girl, honey.” Caroline patted his arm. “Your fears are in vain.”
“Fears?”
She gave him a knowing look then pressed a sandwich into his hand. “Tuna fish. Made it just for you.” She headed off to feed the other men.
Steve took a bite of his sandwich and let the sound of the bulldozers drown out any concerns he had about Amy and Jackson. For a minute, anyway. Above the roar of the machines, a voice rang out.
“Steve, can you come here for a minute?”
He turned to find Amy waving. Steve took a few steps toward her, intrigued by the excitement he saw in her eyes.
“Jackson just offered to bring in a friend to help with the RV park.” She raised her voice. “A plumber.”
Of course he did.
Thankfully, the bulldozer came to a halt and Steve could hear himself think once more.
“I’ll give him a call in a few minutes,” Jackson said. “But in the meantime, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. I had an idea.”
“Oh?” Steve braced himself. Everyone was full of ideas today.
“I know you two have a lot on your mind,” Jackson said. “But I thought of something that might make your jobs a little easier.”
“What’s that?” Steve asked.
“I’ve been thinking about what the real Lancelot did.” Jackson offered up a sheepish grin. “Do you remember?”
“How could I forget?” Steve crossed his arms at his chest. “He swept into town, stole the hearts of the women, and wreaked havoc on the kingdom. Then he tucked his tail between his legs and went back to France. Is that what you m
ean?”
Jackson’s eyes widened. “Oh.” A pause followed. “Actually, I was referring to the part where he came up with the training program for the knights of the Round Table.”
“Ah.” Steve pursed his lips, feeling like an idiot.
Jackson forged ahead, that perfect white-toothed smile still blazing. “I was thinking it would be kind of fun, since I’ve had a little theater experience, to take the guys who are playing knights under my wing, so to speak, and teach them the ropes. Stage directions. Body language. Projection. Basic acting skills.” He looked at Steve and shrugged. “That sort of thing. I also thought it might give me the opportunity to get to know them better. And we don’t have to limit this to acting skills, either. I know a lot about set construction too. I think we could get a lot done if we all work together, and I’m willing to lead the way, if you think it will help.”
Shame washed over Steve. So Lancelot wasn’t trying to steal the girl…at least not in this moment. He just wanted to help. Go figure.
“Jackson, I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Amy reached out and touched his arm. “And very generous. I can’t believe you would go to all of this trouble when you don’t even know us. Not really, anyway.”
“Yes,” Steve nodded in agreement. “I think it’s a great idea. Very generous.”
“Well, you’ve been the people who’ve cared for my grandfather,” Jackson said, “while I’ve been off doing my own thing. It’s about time I gave back. He needs me, but I think on some level I need him too. And heaven knows I could use the small-town life to settle me down a little. It’s been pretty crazy where I’ve been.”
“In Pigeon Forge, you mean?” Amy asked.
For a moment, a hint of sadness reflected in his eyes. But just as quickly, he brightened. “I was actually referring to my time in Nashville. I did some recording in a studio there. Tried to get an album off the ground. When that didn’t take, I sang in a lot of clubs…but finally got fed up with that. A friend invited me to audition for a show in Pigeon Forge and I took him up on it. That was two years ago. I’ve been jumping from show to show ever since.”
“And you love it?”
He shrugged. “Like I said, it gets a little wild. I’m happy to be here with Gramps. And I get the feeling he’s happy to have me here.”
“I am.” Sarge’s voice rang out. Seconds later he joined them. “Why, I remember one weekend when Jackson was just a kid. He stayed with me and I took him camping in the Smokies. Lost the poor little guy.”
“Lost him?” Amy paled. “Seriously?”
“I wasn’t really lost,” Jackson said. “I was just hiding out in the bushes. But a snake happened along and almost got me. Gramps came along just in time to shoot him.”
“Wow.” Steve and Amy spoke in unison. Steve gave Sarge an admiring look. “So your aim is pretty good, sir?”
“Always has been.” Sarge reached out his hand and pointed his index finger in a gun-like pose. Unfortunately, his hand trembled uncontrollably. Jackson reached out and took hold of it, giving it a squeeze.
“This hand saved my life. I’ve never forgotten it.”
“Shoot.” Sarge laughed. “It was just a water moccasin. Wouldn’t have hurt you too bad.”
“Still.” Jackson released his hold on his grandfather’s hand. “To an eight-year-old, it was a life-or-death situation. And you were my hero.” He paused and his eyes began to shimmer. “Still are.”
“Aw, go on with you now.” Sarge waved him off. “Go round up those knights and get to work. They need all the help they can get.”
“This isn’t a rehearsal day,” Jackson responded. “I don’t want to take them away from the construction work. Just thought I’d give them a knightly pep talk to set the stage.” He paused and chuckled. “Ha. Set the stage. Funny. Didn’t even mean to say that.”
As usual, Amy began to giggle. Steve tried not to let her response to Jackson’s little joke set him off. After all, she was just being nice to the guy. And why not? He seemed like a great man.
Maybe a little too great.
Jackson headed off to the construction area. Steve watched as he rounded up Grady, Pete, Chuck, Pastor Crane, and a couple of the other men. Not wanting to miss a word, Steve pulled up close to the group just in time to hear Jackson’s pep talk.
“I want to be the first to officially dub you knights of the Round Table of Camelot.” Jackson gave the fellows a nod. “And here are your first instructions.”
He went on to give them the qualifications necessary to rise above every task…even construction. From there, he shared his heart about his love for theater and the impact it could have on the community. Then he veered and began to talk about his faith, honing in on the call God had placed not only on his life, but on the lives of every man in Camelot.
The newly dubbed knights hung on his every word. In fact, Pete looked downright enraptured. So did Chuck Manly. And as Jackson finished laying out their plan for the new program, the men drew close, stacked hands, and gave a cheer. This was followed by a round of backslapping. Steve watched it all, half-mesmerized and half-nauseated. For, while he wanted to join the rousing chorus of voices, he still couldn’t help but wonder if Jackson Brenner’s presence would serve as more of a distraction to one fair maiden in the kingdom.
No doubt about it—Lancelot had definitely taken the locals by storm. Now if only Steve could figure out how to stop that storm before it swept them all away.
Chapter Thirteen
I just love the hours of the theatre; I love the way it operates. I always say that when you’re doing a play it’s like getting a shot of B-12, and when you do television for a long series you need a shot of B-12.
GAVIN MACLEOD
“Steve, you’re the mayor.”
Steve winced as he heard Eula Mae’s voice. He turned away from the window, where the early morning sun peeked through the blinds and sent ribbons of sunlight across the room. “Yes, I am.”
She took a couple of steps in his direction, closed the blinds with a clack, then crossed her arms and stared him down. “Don’t you think you should wear a suit every now and again?”
“Why?” He dropped into the chair behind his desk, wondering what had brought this on. Not that he wasn’t used to it. He got this speech from Eula Mae at least once a month.
“Well, you’re representing our fair town, and we want to put our best foot forward, especially with those government officials chasing us like dogs after a rabbit. You don’t want to end up on the end of someone’s keychain.”
“Um, okay.”
“And since we’re talking about canines, can I ask why you look so scruffy all the time?”
“Scruffy?” Steve ran his palm across his chin, feeling the stubble. “Hmm. Well, you know how it is, Eula Mae. I shave, but my five-o’clock shadow shows up at noon. Besides, it’s the trend to be a little scruffy-looking these days. Some people like it.”
“Even if you’re the mayor?” The elderly woman squared her shoulders and gave Steve a sideways glance. “I tell you, if I was the mayor, I wouldn’t let my hair get long like that. And I’d drive to Knoxville and buy a suit.”
“I own a suit. I wore it to Maggie Sampson’s funeral, remember?”
“I wouldn’t wear those sandals, either,” Eula Mae said, pointing at his feet. “They’re not professional. Don’t you own any dress shoes? Or boots?”
“Jesus wore sandals,” he countered.
She responded with a glare.
“Is there anything about me you wouldn’t change?” Steve’s patience took a dive.
“Hmm.” She looked him over. “Well, I probably wouldn’t change the hair color. It’s a nice shade of brunette. But when that fella from the county comes prancin’ in here, he needs to see that we’re taking our jobs seriously.”
“I do take my job seriously.” Steve raked his fingers through his hair, wondering if, indeed, it did need a trim before the county official returned for round two of the interroga
tion.
“Well, then, stop showing up to work in blue jeans,” she said. “And see if you can find a real dress shirt to put on sometime.” She took the time to remind him about how men used to dress back in her day. Finally she paused and gazed at him, as if awaiting a response.
Steve narrowed his gaze. “There are some things I just don’t understand about you, Eula Mae. You claim to hate government officials, but you seem to adore me. When you’re not slicing and dicing me, I mean. I would think you’d be happy that I don’t look like the rest of the pack. I’m an individual.”
“Hmm.” She continued to stare but said nothing.
Steve paused, deep in thought. Something about her expression didn’t ring true. He began to put two and two together. “I’m starting to think you have something else up your sleeve.”
“Oh?” Her gaze shifted to the window.
“It’s not the county officials you want me to impress. Am I right?”
She plopped down into a chair across from him and stared him down. “And if I admit you’re right, then what? Will you think I’m meddling in your personal life?”
“Eula Mae, I don’t know what I’d do if you stopped meddling. So go right on and tell me. I’m a big boy. I can take it.”
“I think you’re nervous.”
“About this conversation?” he asked. “Maybe. A little.”
“No. And not about the play, either. Or that theater you’re building. You’re a nervous wreck that Jackson Brenner has swept into town to save the day. And I think a grown man should be able to admit when he’s nervous.”
Ah. “Well, nothing like cutting to the chase.”
“I knew it.” She slapped his desk with her open palm. “You’re jealous of him. Admit it.”
Steve shrugged but didn’t respond. Jealous wasn’t exactly the word he would have used. Frustrated was more like it.
“I’ll have to admit, he’s a handsome guy.” Eula Mae sighed. “Those eyes of his could see right down into a woman’s soul. And those broad shoulders! Who has shoulders like that? I haven’t seen such a sturdy fellow since Jack LaLanne.” She paused and seemed to drift off in her thoughts. A curious smile brightened her face as the conversation began again. “And have you seen his hair? I usually don’t like highlights on a man—you know how I am about such things—but they really work for him.”