Set The Stage
Daniel De Lorne
romance.com.au/
Set The Stage
Daniel De Lorne
He’s the Banksy of the international theatre scene – daring, anonymous, renowned. So when playwright ‘Draven’ bequeaths his latest play to the rural Rivervue Theatre, the stage is set for drama.
While the redevelopment brief for Rivervue Community Theatre moulders on his desk, a phone call from an unrequited past love sends architect Gabriel Mora running back to his artsy hometown. Afraid of worsening his mother’s health, Gabriel is forced to hide his involvement in the redevelopment. It’s just one more secret to keep, along with his feelings for a certain red-headed stage manager.
Bruce Clifton can build anything. But the jobs mean nothing if he’s not getting paid. On the cusp of losing his home, Bruce needs to find a way to call in those debts without showing his community how much trouble he’s got himself into. With Gabriel’s return to town stirring up past hurts, soon it’s not just his home Bruce has to worry about losing, but his heart.
Can Bruce and Gabriel work together for the good of Rivervue, or will their hope for a second chance exit stage right?
About the author
DANIEL DE LORNE goes for the heart. Whether it’s irresistible vampires, paranormal paramours, or hot everyday men, he promises stories with a magic trifecta of ruin, romance and redemption. In love with writing since he wrote a story about a talking tree at age six, his first novel, the romantic horror Beckoning Blood, was published in 2014. This was followed with the rest of the Bonds of Blood trilogy and the romantic suspense Echo Springs series. In his other life, Daniel is a professional writer and researcher in Perth, Australia, with a love of history and nature. All of which makes for great story fodder. And when he’s not working, he and his husband explore as much of this amazing world as they can, from the ruins of Welsh abbeys to trekking famous routes and swimming with whales.
To get to the real heart of the matter, take a look around his website at danieldelorne.com and sign up to his newsletter for a free story.
Acknowledgements
The idea for Rivervue came from an off-handed chat with Nikki Logan over breakfast at the Romance Writers of Australia conference in 2018. Why weren’t there more romance books set in theatre? And why weren’t we writing those books? We love theatre! And so with little more than a few couple pairings, we approached Escape Publishing and pitched them the idea. This is that result. Nikki and Fiona, this has been a lot of fun and not without its own drama. Rewrites? Yep. But we got there and it was so great to work closely with you both and make this the best it can be. Next stop is to actually build Brachen. Thanks to the team at Escape and Harlequin Australia for thinking this was a good idea. And finally thanks to my husband Glen for his support and not being too annoyed when I point out narrative structure and therefore ruin movies, TV and books for him. Love you!
To my dad, John
Who slept through a lot of plays,
but always managed to stay awake during mine.
Contents
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing …
Chapter One
Rivervue Revitalisation.
Gabriel Mora had stared at those two words more over the past three weeks than at any others in his life. And every time he looked at them, he hadn’t been able to go beyond them. The initial discussion with his boss had involved talking about some of the designs and concepts the architecture firm was keen to include but when he sat alone at his desk, he failed to make it past the first page of the scope.
He hadn’t needed to.
He knew Rivervue so well he could have drawn it from memory. The scale might have been off—things had a way of seeming bigger to a kid—but the layout, the corridors, the backstage, the foyer and the landscape would have been easy to replicate by hand.
And now he had to disembowel the place and use its bones to turn it from a theatre for the Brachen community into apartments for the wealthy.
Rivervue Revitalisation.
More like Rivervue Wrecking.
‘Excellent, Gabriel.’
He jumped as his boss, Andrew Wyman, spoke behind him.
‘It’ll be good to have something from you on Rivervue soon. I’m excited to see what you come up with.’
Gabriel swivelled in his chair, hoping to block his screen and the obvious lack of work. Andrew was in his mid-forties and already had a shock of white hair. Behind thick-rimmed glasses his eyes were wide with encouragement; he looked like some trendy owl. ‘Of course, sorry I haven’t shown you anything yet. The other projects took longer than I expected.’
But not as long as he would have liked. A mixed-use residential complex in western Sydney and a boutique hotel in Surry Hills didn’t hold nearly as much emotional impact as Rivervue. Part of him wished Andrew would take the project from him and give it to someone else. Someone who wasn’t going to be a traitor to their hometown and mother.
‘And that work was wonderful. The clients were ecstatic but I’m keen to see how you bring your personal connection with Brachen to the revitalisation.’ He’d made a big deal of the insider-knowledge angle when he’d given Gabriel the assignment, thinking it would smooth the waters in the town.
Or act like a Trojan horse.
‘I’ll do my best, Andrew.’
‘You always do. But if you could get something to me by the end of the week …’ He raised his eyebrows.
That was about as impatient as Andrew ever got yet it was enough to twist Gabriel’s stomach. He nodded rather than bleat more excuses.
Andrew gave a friendly smile and returned to his office.
Gabriel spun back to his desk. He picked up a pencil and tapped the sharp end on the sketchpad, ready to catch a line or a curve to act as a starting point for his design. A design that Y Studio hoped would win awards.
Since starting with the firm three years earlier, he’d won them plenty. The validation should have been enough for him to feel he was doing what he was meant to be doing. But designing apartment blocks, office buildings or ‘iconic community concepts’ lacked the challenge he craved.
What took sweat, what took his whole attention, was fashion. He’d filled sketchbooks and gigabytes with faceless figures, men and women both, draped in designs of his own making. They’d found their way onto the corners of briefs or sketched onto the people walking through the promenades he designed. Stock images saved time, saved brainpower, saved creativity, but still he snuck in unique elements where he could. No-one had noticed.
What they had noticed was that he hadn’t produced anything for this latest project.
He twisted his pencil into the paper, gouging a hole.
Rivervue Revitalisation.
How could he do this? Sure, the theatre was in an exc
ellent location, the alignment on the banks of Brachen River an inspired choice as the sunrise burst upon its eastern face. The big windows would stay, as would the odd curves from the ’70s. But the exposed brick would have to be softened and the approach modified to be more user-friendly and open. He scrolled through the photos and the plans. His hand drew while his mind wandered, sketching out where to put the supports, which walls to knock down, the shape of the living spaces and how they’d integrate with the existing building. Buzzwords flashed through his head—‘organic’, ‘context’, ‘facade’—though they didn’t blare loud enough to blot out what this was really about.
Money.
He pushed on, unable to stop the ideas pouring forth. This was always the exciting bit, when he got lost in flow and sketched while the world faded into the background. Some trees would be removed; trees that had stood for fifty years or more. Light needed to get in—and so did the trucks and cranes.
Inside was the hardest, turning it into the five levels they demanded. The foyer gone, easily the ugliest part of the building. Carpets gone, stage gone, green room and workshops gone. Wardrobe …
He stopped like he’d slammed into a brick wall.
What would happen to all the costumes when it shut? And what would happen to his mother, Sofia? She’d become Rivervue’s costume designer soon after they’d moved there nine years earlier. Desperate for a way to involve herself in the community, she’d answered an ad to be a seamstress then became their costume designer. Later she added the role of set designer to her repertoire. And now he was on the demolition team. Wrecking her life.
He couldn’t do it. Not again. He was the reason she’d had to leave her old life behind in the first place.
Pages of his notes and scribblings spread out across the desk as he’d ripped the heart and guts out of Rivervue. He had to refuse to work on the project. And if that meant quitting Y Studio, then that’s what he’d do. If the people back home discovered he was within a whisker of the company engaged to turn their beloved Rivervue Theatre into luxury apartments …
He dropped the pencil and pushed back from the desk, gathering up the pieces of paper into a neat stack ready for shredding. Andrew sat in his office, the door open, staring at his screen. He’d taken Gabriel on even before he’d finished his degree and mentored him, but Andrew wasn’t family. He took a deep breath that struggled to reach his belly and calm the swell. He had to do it before Y Studio got further behind. He stood up and his mobile rang.
His mother’s name flashed on the screen.
In the middle of the day?
He sat back in his chair and answered the call. ‘Mamá, what’s wrong?’
A pause. ‘Gabriel, it’s Bruce Clifton.’
Bruce’s resonant voice vibrated at the base of his spine and radiated into his groin. Bruce Clifton. It’d been years since they’d spoken more than two words to each other but it was still a voice that did things to him. Lucky he wasn’t standing in front of the whole six-foot-five package.
‘Are you there?’
‘Yeah, sorry, hi Bruce. What’s up? Why are you calling from Mum’s phone?’
‘Your mum’s in the hospital. She’s okay but she collapsed earlier today. Did you know she was unwell?’
The vibrations crystallised to needles and shot into his chest. Sofia? Sick? She never got sick. He’d spoken to her the day before and she’d sounded fine.
‘No, I didn’t. What’s wrong with her?’
‘Hmmmm.’ That didn’t sound good. And there was something in his tone, something he was holding back, and it wasn’t the diagnosis. ‘I think she should be the one to tell you. When did you see her last?’
There it was. Guilt. Disapproval. All because he’d run away to Sydney five years earlier. If Bruce hadn’t stopped talking to him, he would have known how often he went to Brachen to see Sofia.
‘I visited last month.’ She’d seemed in good health, though a little tired. She said she’d not been sleeping well. When he’d pressed for more, she’d brushed aside his worries. ‘Is she awake? Can I talk to her?’
‘She’s asleep. They’re monitoring her. I’ll level with you. Her health’s not good. They say she’ll be fine to go home soon, but I think you should get down here. If you can.’
Gabriel was already shutting off his computer, distracting himself from Bruce’s passive-aggressive guilt trip. He didn’t need it; he’d bought tickets for his own, printed with enough questions to last him the journey. How long had she been sick? Why hadn’t he known? Why was Bruce there and not him?
‘You still there?’ Bruce’s tone pushed him to the edge of a cliff face.
He resisted. ‘I’m trying to leave as quickly as I can.’
‘I meant are you still on the other end of the phone.’ Another shove.
‘Of course I am,’ he snapped. ‘I’m sorry. This is a shock.’
‘I don’t understand how you didn’t know.’
‘She didn’t tell me!’ A couple of colleagues lifted their heads. He dropped his volume. ‘Look, I’ll be there by four.’ Three if he ignored the speed limits. ‘Which hospital?’
‘Shoalhaven.’
‘Right. Thanks for being there, Bruce. I appreciate it.’ Though not the condescension.
‘Someone’s got to.’ Bruce hung up before he could reply. Suddenly the long stretches of silence on Bruce’s part were more preferable. What the redheaded giant had to disapprove of, he didn’t know. He’d never known. Ever since he’d left Brachen, Bruce’s jaw had shut tighter than a tradie’s toolbox on Friday afternoon. Their old friendship had been locked inside and the hinges turned to rust. But that didn’t matter now. He had to get to his mother. He’d sort Bruce out later.
‘Gabe, are you okay?’ Andrew asked.
His head snapped up midway through stuffing his bag.
‘Andrew, I’m sorry. I’ve had a phone call that my mum’s ill and—’ He swallowed. ‘I’ve got to go see her.’
Sympathy carved lines into his boss’s forehead. ‘Of course. I’m so sorry to hear that. We’ll hold the fort until you get back.’
Tell him. Tell him you can’t do this anymore.
But he froze. People were watching, and he didn’t have time to explain that if Sofia was as sick as Bruce made it sound, him working on Rivervue would likely lead to her death.
‘I don’t know how long I’ll be away.’
Andrew dismissed his concern. ‘That’s fine. You come back when she’s better.’
If—when—she got better, he needed to stay with her to keep her strong while someone else destroyed Rivervue.
‘It might be a while.’
Andrew put his hand on his shoulder and guided him towards the elevator. ‘You give me a ring when you’re returning to work.’
The elevator doors opened.
He should tell Andrew, but he was being so supportive and so kind he didn’t want to add to his woes. Or his own. He’d return to Brachen then call the office and say he’d have to resign to take care of his mother. Truth or not, he couldn’t work on Rivervue. He whispered his thanks to Andrew and the doors closed on his last day at Y Studio.
Chapter Two
Bruce really needed to get back to work. Instead he was in Sofia Mora’s hospital room and sitting—sitting!—in a hard plastic chair that was barely large enough to hold him. He’d done the pacing thing, almost burning a hole in the scuffed hospital floor while talking to Gabe on the phone.
Not Gabe. Gabriel.
‘Gabe’ implied they still had a friendship. They hadn’t been close enough to have anything like that for years. It hadn’t been a difficult thing to call him using Sofia’s phone. He’d had the element of surprise and was ready to ream Gabriel out for not knowing Sofia was ill. For not being around. But hearing his honeyed voice—sting and all—on the other end of the line weakened him. Not enough to hold back his snark. His chest still prickled with the shame of trying to guilt a kid who would already be feeling bad enough.
Not that he had any proof. Gabriel hadn’t felt bad about anything before, why would he start now?
Bruce massaged the knuckles of his fist. He wouldn’t let Gabriel get to him. That saga with him and Jason was in the past and it could stay there. Gabriel would come back to take care of Sofia and they’d have nothing to do with each other.
Except for the fact that Bruce was meant to be at Sofia’s house right now building a gazebo in that stunning garden of hers. And then there was all the time they worked together at the theatre: her designing the sets, him building them. Her latest work, however … She was behind on Larrikin’s designs. The cast list had just been announced and the production was charging ahead—and hopefully wouldn’t leave her behind. He’d honoured her determination to not let cancer get her down, even when he thought it better for her to rest, but thanked Christ he’d been at her house when she’d collapsed. He’d come with her in the ambulance, stayed while she was examined at the hospital, then sat by her bedside hoping she’d wake.
At least she was breathing.
He wouldn’t have wanted to be the one to tell Gabriel she’d died. No matter the pain Gabriel had caused him, he wouldn’t want to be the cause of that much pain in return. Bruce knew what it was like to lose a mother, even if Sofia was nothing like his own.
He’d called Gabriel soon after Sofia had been admitted. Even accounting for traffic, it should only take Gabriel a couple of hours to get there. Bruce could leave and head back to Brachen, but the idea of her waking up with no-one around sat about as comfortable as the way he was sitting now.
But the longer he stayed, the less time he was working. And he needed to be working. And getting paid.
Or else he was going to be out on his arse.
That thought drove him off it and into the hallway. Back to pacing. It was the closest he could get to doing anything of use. But each footstep pounded out the reality of what was happening to him, and they’d gotten even heavier since Felicity had called from the bank. He was five months behind in his mortgage loan repayments and she couldn’t hold them back any longer.
Set the Stage (A Rivervue Community Theatre Romance, #2) Page 1