“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.”
“If this is supposed to make me feel better, it’s not working.” Steve turned and gave Eula Mae a stern look that he hoped she would not ignore.
“Right.” She grinned. “I forgot I was supposed to be making you feel better. Got distracted.”
“Obviously.” Steve cleared his throat.
“So what are you afraid of? Just spit it out.”
He did his best to stifle the groan that threatened to erupt. “It might sound weird, but I’m concerned that this whole Camelot thing is going to turn out to be strangely prophetic.”
“Prophetic?” Eula Mae’s brow wrinkled. “Ah. Meaning that Lancelot will eventually steal Arthur’s woman?”
“Yeah.” Steve rose and walked to the window. He separated a couple of the blinds, and a sliver of sunlight came jutting through. Steve squinted through the tiny slit and glanced out at the parking lot. He watched as Woody’s Mustang buzzed by, going way too fast.
“Just because it happens like that in the musical doesn’t mean it’s going to happen in real life,” she said. “Your story is going to have a different ending.”
“How do you know that?” He turned from the window, wishing he’d never opened up in the first place. Is it getting hot in here? “We don’t have any way to predict the future. And even if we could, I wouldn’t want to know.”
“I can feel it.” She pointed to her heart. “Besides, even though Jackson is rugged and handsome and really, really buff doesn’t mean that Amy has noticed any of that.”
Steve groaned. “Again, I have to ask…is this supposed to be making me feel better?”
“Hey, can I help it if the guy is captivating? You have to take that up with God. He’s the one who created him. He’s also the one who gave Jackson those great cheekbones and bright white smile.”
“I’m sure he paid to have his teeth whitened,” Steve said. “For that matter, I think his tan is fake, too. I’ve never really seen that skin color before, have you?”
“Whatever.” Eula Mae grinned. “The point is, there are always going to be beautiful people in the world, and we can’t help looking at them. But in the end, most are just a distraction.”
“Are you saying that Amy’s distracted by him but not really interested?”
“Well, she’d have to be a fool not to be interested.” Eula Mae giggled. “I mean, would you not be interested if Miss America walked in and took a fancy to you?”
“I’d like to think I’d turn my head and look the other way.”
“Think again.” Eula Mae chuckled. “As I said, we can’t help staring at those who are physically appealing. And man, is Jackson physically appealing.” She seemed to drift away for a moment but shook her head and came back to the conversation. “But remember, Steve, real beauty comes from the inside. Amy sees that in you. We all do.” She paused and gave him a motherly smile. “And just for the record, you’re not too shabby-looking either. Except for that ridiculous stubble on your face and that shaggy hair.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“No, really.” She nodded. “You’re a handsome guy, Steve. If you don’t believe me, just ask Gwen.”
“Ugh.” He sighed. “That’s not exactly the person I’m trying to attract.”
“I know, but it just proves my point. She finds you extremely handsome. I’ve heard all about it.”
“She does?”
“Sure.”
Steve shook his head, uncomfortable at the very idea. “She’s pretty but definitely not the kind of girl I’m looking for. I like a more natural girl, not one who spends hours every morning plastering on the makeup and spraying her hair.”
“So I guess Blossom’s out of the question then.” Eula Mae laughed and slapped her knee. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. That girl goes through a bottle of hair spray a day. And Lucy Cramden is pretty heavy-handed with the Mary Kay. Not that she’s your type anyway.”
Steve chuckled. “I’m sure that dozens of woman in Camelot are beautiful, but the only gorgeous woman I’ve ever known is…” He sighed.
“Yep. I’m a beauty queen inside and out!” Eula Mae laughed. “Can’t help but admit it. Then again, I suppose you were really talking about Amy, not me. She is a thing of beauty, to be sure. A real Camelot princess, through and through.”
“And I can tell Jackson notices.” Steve felt his jaw tightening. “That’s the hard part. I want him to know she’s mine.”
The wrinkles between Eula’s Mae’s eyes deepened as she frowned slightly. “Does she know that?”
“Well, I’ve…” Kissed her. Told her that I care about her.
“Have you told her that she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you?” Eula Mae’s gaze narrowed. “Have you told her that the stars don’t come out at night until you’ve seen her? That the sun doesn’t rise in the morning until you’ve whispered her name? Have you written her a song?”
“A song?” Good grief. “No.”
“Well, you’d better get busy, then. Women like to be wooed, and I have a feeling Jackson is the type to woo her. I think a nice love song would do the trick. Chances are pretty good he’s crafting the second verse of his as we speak. She can already hear his melody in her head, and that’s not a good thing. Not if you’re going to stand a chance.”
“But I’m not a songwriter.”
“Doesn’t matter. Just make something up. That’s what Woody did.” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oops.”
“Woody?” No way.
Eula Mae giggled, and her wrinkly cheeks turned the prettiest shade of pink. “That old fool’s been in love with me for years. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed it.”<
br />
“Um, no. Sure haven’t.”
“He’s a great actor. Always has been. But he’s drawn to things of beauty.” She winked and gestured to her wrinkled face. “Do you think for a minute he’d look twice at another woman—Lucy Cramden, for instance—when he could look at this instead?”
Don’t say a word, Steve.
“I think not.” She giggled. “He’s drawn to me just like Amy and the other girls are drawn to Jackson.” Her expression shifted. “But, anyway, don’t fret. Jackson is just a handsome distraction. You’re the real deal.”
“What does that make you?” Steve asked. “A beautiful distraction to Woody?”
“No.” Eula Mae shook her head. “I’m the real deal too.” She gave him a playful wink. “And if you ever want to know how he really feels, ask him to sing a verse or two of ‘Eula Mae’s Star Song.’ ”
She walked out of the office humming an unfamiliar tune, and he plopped into his chair, deep in thought. As he did, several of Eula Mae’s words came rushing back at him.
“Okay,” he spoke aloud, “so Jackson Brenner is a thing of beauty.”
“Um, he is?”
Steve looked up, stunned to find Amy standing in his doorway. He flinched. “Oh, hey, I…”
She leaned against the doorjamb. “Steve, is there something I need to know?”
He felt his cheeks grow warm. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Well, that’s good.” She laughed. “Had me worried for a minute there.” A smile lit the room, drawing him to his feet. “You ready to go to rehearsal?” she asked.
“With your hand in mine,” he offered, “I’m ready to fly to the moon.”
Not exactly a song…but a step in the right direction.
Amy stared at Steve, trying to figure out where he was headed with that “fly to the moon” statement. Kidding around, most likely.
No, as he swept her into his arms for a memorable kiss, she had to conclude that he wasn’t kidding around. The fiery passion left little to her imagination.
“Wow,” she said when the kiss ended. “I don’t know what you and Eula Mae were talking about in here, but if it prompted this, I’d like to hire her to counsel you every day.”
“She’s pretty witty,” he said, “in her own oddball sort of way.”
Amy chuckled. “Must’ve said something to get you stirred up.”
“The only person who gets me stirred up is you,” he whispered.
“In a good way, I hope,” she echoed. “Because I somehow manage to get everyone else worked up in a not-so-good way with most of my crazy ideas.”
“Oh, you get me stirred up in a good way, I assure you.”
Steve pulled Amy close once more and planted a kiss on her lips that answered any lingering questions she might have about his feelings for her, whether she happened to be crazy or not. And right now, wrapped in his arms, she decided she would gladly trade every moment of sanity for one more sizzling kiss like that.
Chapter Fourteen
If all the world’s a stage…I want better lighting!
Anonymous
Just three weeks after the first rehearsal, Amy drove to the Civic Center, her Jeep Liberty loaded with props and costume materials. Her mind reeled with thoughts and ideas related to the show. Much progress had been made, especially in the last couple of rehearsals, but they had a long way to go before this musical could debut. A shiver ran down her spine as she considered what the critics might say if they stumbled across a rehearsal. And critics weren’t the only adversaries on her mind. She pondered Steve’s suggestion that they invite Fred Platt—the county official—to a rehearsal. Why would we want to do that? So he can see what screwballs we are?
“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” she reminded herself as she made the familiar drive. Indeed, all good things took time to build.
Oh, but they had come a long ways, hadn’t they? She smiled, thinking of the more humorous moments in their last rehearsal—say, the part where she and Steve had learned the choreography to “What Would the Simple Folk Do?” And the moment when Grady had—thanks to Jackson’s gentle coaching—finally spoken his lines without a serious twang. Yes, with Jackson at the helm, most of the other knights were in pretty good shape too. Better than she’d dared hope, actually. And the work they’d done on the set pieces took her breath away. Camelot was starting to look like a real place.
She giggled, realizing, of course, that it was a real place. Her home. Her own private kingdom. A town worth saving.
Thank goodness for progress. And the theater build-out was coming along nicely too. She whispered up a prayer that Camelot would stay the course. And that she would have the stamina to see this thing through, even if she hit a few bumps in the road.
Amy pulled into the parking lot of the Civic Center, deep in thought about today’s upcoming rehearsal. They’d finally arrived at the one scene she’d most dreaded—the lusty month of May. Today she and Annabelle would officially pair up the knights and ladies-in-waiting to begin choreography. Another quick prayer helped quiet the anxiety over their decision. Who should be paired with whom? It could be catastrophic if she mismanaged this scene. Maybe Woody should be involved in the decision. Yes, surely he would know.
As Amy slipped her car into Park, she paused to whisper a prayer of thanks that things would continue to go smoothly. Across the parking lot, Steve got out of his truck and waved. Her heart did a little flip-flop thing as she remembered their last kiss. Mmm. Every day her heart entwined a little more with his. Sure, he hadn’t really opened up and shared his heart. But his kisses spoke volumes. Right? Surely the words would come in time.
Amy had just started in Steve’s direction when something caught her eye. Officer O’Reilly pulled his patrol car into the parking lot and stopped. Strange—the good sergeant usually parked his car in front of the diner or in the City Hall parking lot. Sometimes he sat perched just beyond the bend in the highway, hoping to catch would-be speeders. Hmm. Must be some reason he’d shown up here today.
Amy approached and peered through the open window of his patrol car. “Joe, what’s up? Something happen?”
“Not yet.”
Steve drew near, slipping his arm around Amy’s waist. He gave O’Reilly a curious look. “What do you mean?”
O’Reilly shook his head, his eyes narrowing. “I’ve been keeping a close eye on Woody.”
“Woody? Why?” Not quite what Amy had expected him to say.
“He’s got no business driving that old car of his,” O’Reilly said. “The inspection’s been out for years, and it won’t pass emissions testing. Not even close.”
She sighed. “I know. But Joe…”
“Don’t ‘But Joe’ me. The man is a hazard on the road. Besides that, he can’t hear a thing. If an ambulance went blazing by him, he’d never know it. I’ve given him dozens of warnings, but he’s just not taking any of them seriously.”
“We’re planning to buy him a new hearing aid,” Steve said. “We’re going to vote on it at the next city council meeting.”
“But until then, the man can’t hear a train coming around the bend. And he obviously can’t hear my siren. I’ve tried stopping him on three different occasions when he just whizzed right past me. If it had been any other officer”—Joe shook his head—“he’d be in jail right now for evading arrest. That’s all I’ve got to say about that. And the few times he did stop, I found myself in a predicament.”
“What kind of predicament?” Amy asked.
“He’s got a couple of outstanding tickets on file. One for speeding, another for the registration and inspection issues. But he refuses to pay. Says he doesn’t have to.”
“Refuses?” Amy sighed, wondering what possessed Woody to be so stubborn.
“Is it the money?” Steve asked.
“No. The old guy’s got a lot of money. It’s not that. He’s just set in his ways. And he seems to have some sort of issue with authority figures. Said he wants proof that I clocked him goi
ng eighty in a forty-five. That kind of thing. He doesn’t have a leg to stand on, and I think he knows it. But he still won’t deal with it. Just prideful and stubborn.”
Amy released a breath. “I don’t know what to tell you, Joe. I will talk to him, though. Maybe I can get through to him.”
“Someone needs to,” O’Reilly fidgeted with his badge. “Because I’m going to have to put out a warrant for his arrest if he refuses to take care of the tickets.”
“A warrant?” Yikes. Amy swallowed hard. “Does he know that?”
“I tried to tell him, but, again, he didn’t believe me. Told me to take it up with his attorney.”
“Does he have an attorney?” Steve asked. “I don’t know of any in town.”
“Who knows?” O’Reilly sighed. “I just know that he’s a crusty old soul who’s getting on my nerves.” He muttered something under his breath about a few others in Camelot who also got on his nerves. “He thinks he’s above the law, and that’s never good. Frustrates me to no end.”
“You’re right.” Steve shook his head. “He’s got to take care of this.”
“So I can count on you to say something to him?” Joe gave him a hopeful look.
“I’ll do my best.”
“Thanks. I’m counting on it.” With the nod of his head, Joe slipped his car back into gear and headed out to the road.
As the officer disappeared around the bend to the east, Amy looked at Steve and released a slow breath. “It’s like a soap opera around here, isn’t it?”
“Yep.” Steve chuckled. “As the Stomach Turns.”
Amy laughed. “No kidding. Definitely filled with quirky characters.”
“We are an interesting lot. No doubt about it.”
She nodded. “Yes. A lot of what, I’m not quite sure.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “If anyone had told me I’d be working with a cast like this…” Her words drifted off as she found herself distracted by something off in the distance. “Um, Steve?”
Love at Center Stage: Three Theatrical Love Stories Page 45