“Well, for starters, I’ve been thinking about those old movie posters we found in the office. I’m trying to determine how we can make the most money off them. I did some research, and there is a market for reproductions as well as originals. The important movies like Gone with the Wind and The Philadelphia Story—you know, the classics, and Oscar winners—can bring in a nice amount. I’m just not sure if we’d make out better selling reproductions on eBay or offering the originals to a dealer.”
“Once the original is gone, it’s gone. But if we can keep making copies . . .” Cara thought aloud. “Then again, we could make copies of the originals before we sell them to a dealer. Get top dollar for the original and still have copies to sell directly.”
Des nodded. “Though there’s something about having those original posters.” She sighed. “Maybe a good way would be to test the waters by sending one or two originals to an auction that specializes in movie memorabilia, see what kind of money we can bring in.”
“I remember talking about having movie nights, maybe showing one of the old films that we found in the cabinet. We don’t have to have all the renovations completed to do that. Of course, we’d need a projector,” Cara pointed out. “I doubt the old one still works.”
“I’ll take a look at the projector while we’re there this afternoon.”
“A screen would be nice, too. The one we have is ripped on one side.”
“Maybe we can tape it?” Des made a face. “More likely we’ll have to replace it.”
“So what else is on the list?”
“We’d talked before about doing a book of photos from the early days of the theater, and Barney said she wanted to work on that. Remember the pictures she showed us of our great-grandparents all dressed to kill standing in the lobby, holding a martini in one hand and shaking someone’s hand with the other?” Des stretched out one arm and held an imaginary glass. “Barney’s got a list of people she thinks might have some old photos. She’s been calling them to see who has what and what we can borrow.”
Cara smiled. “I love the story those photos tell about the people who lived in Hidden Falls back then. The ones who’d lost their jobs during the Depression but still got all dressed up to go watch a movie or see a play or hear a concert, all for free on a Sunday night.” Cara’s voice had gone soft. “He must have been quite a guy, that first Reynolds. All he did for this town. And can you imagine anyone today treating their employees the way he did?”
“It’s hard to imagine. But his coal mines had made him a fortune, he didn’t have to answer to a board of directors, and there were no shareholders. He made the decisions, and good or bad, he stood by them, so Barney says.”
“She said his son—her dad—was the same.”
“Makes you wonder about our father, doesn’t it? Looks to me like Barney got all the strength and conviction in their generation.”
“Dad had his strengths and convictions. They just didn’t follow convention. He was convinced enough about your mother’s talent that he left his family and moved across the country to help her chase her dream. He loved her enough to do that. And she did become a movie star.”
“For a while. Until she drank herself out of one role after another.”
“That was on her, Des, not him.”
“Maybe he drove her to it. Maybe she knew about—” Des stopped, then blew out a long breath. “I didn’t mean to imply that his relationship with your mother made her drink. I honestly don’t think she knew about that, and frankly, I doubt if she’d have cared. Mom drank because she wanted to. And besides, the drinking came long before Dad met Susa.”
“There’s no point in speculating. We’ll never know what caused him to fall in love with my mom.”
“And it really doesn’t matter, I guess. He’s gone and they’re both gone—Nora and Susa—so they’re all together in the afterlife.” Des grinned. “Wonder how that’s going for the three of them.”
“Yeah, it probably wasn’t the happiest of reunions,” Cara mused. “Then again, maybe the slights and hurts of this life don’t follow us from one side of the veil to the other.”
“You believe there’s a veil that separates one world from the other?”
Cara shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. When my mother was dying, she said something about how what happened next was all a big secret, and she was finally going to find out what it was. She didn’t fear death at all.”
“It would be nice to have that kind of faith.” Buttons curled up in Des’s lap and went to sleep.
Cara looked up at Des. “Maybe that’s what it was, a kind of faith. Susa was open to all of life’s experiences. She always said you had to open each new door and walk through to see what was on the other side. I think she saw death as just another door to be opened.”
“She must have been a very spiritual person.”
“She was. Not so much in a traditional religious sense, but in her own way she definitely was spiritual.”
“I can’t imagine what it would have been like to have someone like that for a mother. Mine was materialistic and totally of this world and out for herself.”
“So we’re full circle back to the opposites thing. I guess that says a lot about our dad. He had to have seen the contrasts. It makes me think there must have been something in him that was attracted to both, the spiritual and the worldly.”
Cara’s car pulled up the driveway, Allie behind the wheel. She parked in front of the carriage house and got out, a tote bag in her arms.
“Where’ve you been?” Des asked her.
“Oh, I just ran a few errands. Thanks again, Cara, for letting me use your car.”
“You’re welcome. Anytime.” Cara nudged a chair with her foot. “Sit with us.”
“I just want to run inside for a moment.” Allie started toward the back steps. “Anyone want anything from inside?”
“No, thanks,” they both replied.
Five minutes later, Allie was back. She grabbed a chair and pulled it into the garden, then sat and stretched her legs out.
Cara reached her hand toward the nearest peony and touched the petals with her fingertips. “If I ever got married again, I’d want an armload of these. The scents and the colors are heavenly.” She paused, then made a face. “Oh, but not the white ones.”
“Why not the white ones? White peonies would make a beautiful wedding bouquet,” Des noted.
“Wait, is someone getting married?” Allie leaned forward.
“No one’s getting married.”
“Then why are we talking about wedding flowers?” Allie turned to Cara. “Good lord, don’t tell me you and Joe are already talking about—”
“No, no. I just mentioned that if—if—I were ever to marry again, I’d want peonies in my bouquet. Just not white ones.”
“What’s wrong with white peonies? They’d be perfect,” Allie said.
Cara sighed. “The mother of my ex’s new wife worked in my best friend’s bakery. Every morning when I stopped in for a muffin on my way to the studio, this girl’s mother would start talking about their wedding plans, as if I were dying to know.”
“How insensitive. Way to rub it in.”
“I know, right? So one day she was talking about how her daughter wanted white peonies and the florist told her she couldn’t get them and the mother asked me if I knew where she could locate some.”
“Wait, this woman asked you where her daughter could get flowers for the daughter’s wedding to your ex?” Allie’s eyes widened. “Her daughter who was sleeping with your ex before he was your ex?”
Cara nodded.
“That’s incredibly bitchy. Just flat-out mean. Even I wouldn’t do something that rude.”
“And we know how high that bar is set.” Des snickered.
“Ordinarily, I’d have a retort for that, but right now, I’m all out of snark.”
“Allie, your snark well has never run dry.”
“Well, it did today, Des. I used it all up
on Clint.” Allie grinned. “But it was snark well spent, believe me. He’s agreed to let Nikki fly directly here from Chicago after her visit with his parents and stay until the week before school starts.”
“Well done.” Cara clapped.
Des nodded approvingly. “Snark well spent indeed.”
“I was brilliant, if I do say so myself.” Allie beamed. “I told him I’d go back to the judge and show how Clint has violated the original custody agreement. He countered that I had approved it, but I told him I’d maintain that he’d given me no choice since he was the one who moved and enrolled Nikki in a new school without consulting me.”
“Well, as long as we have her company for the entire summer, I don’t care what tactics you used. But I am proud of you, taking the logical approach instead of resorting to name-calling and hysterics,” Des told her.
“New territory for me. But it worked.”
“Must have caught Clint off guard.”
“It did, and that made my day. Now all I have to do is survive the anxiety over the fact that his elderly parents will be taking Nikki to the Chicago airport and whether or not they get her onto the right plane.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine, Allie. You don’t need to angst over every little thing.”
“Until it’s your child, Des,” Allie shot back.
“Nikki’s very smart and very resourceful,” Cara reminded them. “She’ll get herself onto the right plane. I have total confidence in her.”
“Good point. Thank you for that.” Allie rested her elbows on the arms of the chair. “Anyway—here’s something totally random I’ve been thinking about. Don’t you think the kitchen could use a little update in décor? It’s almost depressing.”
“It does appear a bit . . . tired.” Cara took a more diplomatic route. “Maybe a little paint.”
Allie rolled her eyes. “Please. White walls with ivy stenciled all the way to the ceiling? How 1990s is that? The cabinets are just shabby chic enough to be cool—they do have that authentic vibe, especially the ones with the glass doors—but that yellow linoleum floor has seen its day come and go.”
“So what would you suggest? We update here while we’re redoing the theater?” Des took a drink from her bottle of water. “Personally, I have enough on my plate right now. Besides, it’s not our kitchen. It’s not our house. It’s Barney’s. We’re here because she’s letting us stay.”
“Well, maybe we should talk to her about that. It would be nice for her to have something fresh and pretty to work in since she does like to do most of the cooking,” Allie said. “It might help her to move on a little.”
“What do you mean, move on?” Cara asked.
“Hasn’t it occurred to either of you that it looks as if little or nothing has been done in this house in, like, thirty-five or forty years? Since Barney’s fiancé died and Dad left?”
Des and Cara fell silent for a very long moment. Then Des said, “Yeah. It’s as if after Gil died, her life just stopped. Except for her job, that is.”
“Not that she’d ever forget either her lost love or her brother. But seriously, wouldn’t a little change-up be nice for her?”
“I think you’d have to ask her, Al,” Des replied. “But I agree that a change might be a good thing. Maybe if we could get her to change her surroundings a little, we could help her to move on in other ways.”
“Well, there she is.” Cara nodded in the direction of the driveway. “No time like the present.”
The three women watched their aunt’s car disappear into the garage. Barney emerged, closed the garage doors, and walked toward the house. She was almost to the patio when she noticed her nieces sitting in the sun near her flower garden.
“Well, don’t you three look relaxed.” At the sound of her voice, Buttons jumped off Des’s lap and ran to Barney, who knelt down to make the appropriate amount of fuss over the dog.
“Want to join us?” Des stood. “I’ll help you bring your lounge over.”
Allie turned in her seat. “Because we know you can’t sit in a wooden Adirondack chair like the rest of us.”
Barney laughed out loud. “Why would I sit on a wooden chair when I have this lovely lounge with its comfy cushion?”
Together Barney and Des moved the lounge to the lawn. Barney repositioned the back, then sat and slipped off her shoes. “It’s another warm one, girls,” she said as she shrugged out of her jacket.
Buttons stared longingly at the lounge until Barney patted the cushion next to her, and the dog happily jumped up.
“How was the luncheon?” Cara asked.
“It was lovely, thank you, and I think we raised a few more dollars for the scholarship fund at the high school.” Barney looked from one face to the next. “What’s up?”
Des shrugged. “Nothing, really. Just enjoying an early summer day in the garden and waiting for Joe to let Cara know when all the scaffolding is up.”
“I got a text from him awhile ago. A few more sections are going up this afternoon. He’ll let me know when the rest is in place. Shouldn’t be long now.”
“Let me know as soon as you do. The insurance agent wanted to stop in and take a look,” Des reminded her. “She said all she needed was a fifteen-minute heads-up and she could meet us there whenever.”
“You’ll know when I know,” Cara assured her.
“So what were you talking about before I joined you?”
“Oh. We were talking about an idea for your house,” Des said, a note of caution in her voice.
“What sort of idea?” Barney paused. “And it’s not my house. It’s our house. Someday it will pass to the three of you. You’re entitled to whatever your father would have been entitled to if he’d died of old age.”
“He was sixty-eight,” Allie reminded her. “He was old.”
“You hush, child. Sixty’s the new forty. I thought everyone knew that. So what was your idea about the house, Des?”
“Actually, it was Allie’s . . .”
“I was just thinking it would be nice if we worked with you to freshen up the kitchen a bit.” Allie softened the message.
Barney surprised them by agreeing. “Well, it’s been awhile since anything was done here. I think I had the walls painted and the ivy stenciled back in . . .” She paused to think for a moment as she tucked her blond hair behind her ears. “Let’s see, it was the year that I . . . oh, Lord, could it really have been that long? Nineteen ninety-one? Where the devil did the time go?”
“I could help you paint, if there was a color you liked,” Allie offered. “I painted all the rooms in my house in L.A. I’m pretty good at it.”
“I’m sure you are and I’d be delighted to hand the project off to you. I guess I’ll have to get to the hardware store and pick up some paint brochures for inspiration.”
“I see hours of HGTV in your future, Barney,” Des teased.
“As if I don’t watch enough TV already,” Barney replied.
“I don’t think those morning game shows spend much time on decorating trends.”
“Oh, you.” Barney swatted playfully at Cara. “Now you’ve got me thinking. What would you do if you were me?”
“I’d freshen up the white paint,” Allie said without hesitation, “and cover up the ivy. Assuming you don’t want to replace the cabinets—and there’s no reason to, they’re in great shape—I’d go with light gray doors on the top and a darker gray on the bottom. Maybe replace the counters with a white granite or quartz that has shades of gray and maybe something else in it.”
“That was all off the top of your head?” Des asked.
Allie nodded. “Gray is very popular right now, and both shades—the dark and the light—would pick up the gray in the fireplace. The stones also have a bit of gold and some taupe shades. The mantel is lovely and the stone is in great shape. Do you ever use the fireplace?”
“We used to a lot in winter when we were kids. Mrs. Allen, the housekeeper, would come over early to light a fire before she
started making breakfast so that when we came down into the kitchen, the room would be cozy and warm. Didn’t matter how cold it might have been outside, or how loudly the wind might be blowing, how deep the snow, it was always warm in the kitchen.” The apparent pleasure of those memories brought a smile to Barney’s face.
“If we’re still around next winter, maybe we could use the fireplace in there. Like when you were younger,” Des ventured.
“I agree. Except for the one in the sitting room, I haven’t used the fireplaces in forever. I don’t know why I stopped.” Barney paused and seemed to reflect. “I guess I didn’t want to bother only for myself. I should probably call a chimney sweep in to make sure they’re okay to use.”
“Well, we’re all here now, and we’d love to have those fires burning again. Though maybe not until the weather cools off.” Des smiled at the thought of having that first cup of morning coffee in a cozy room on a cold morning. “Maybe we could put a chair or two in front of the kitchen fireplace.”
“That’s assuming we’re all still here come the cool weather,” Allie broke in. “Once the theater’s done, we can leave. I know I for one am outta here on the first plane.”
Des caught the crestfallen expression on Barney’s face. “I don’t know,” she said hastily. “Who knows how long it’s going to take? And besides, even if it’s finished, who’s to say we wouldn’t come back for Christmas? I’d come back, if Barney wanted me to.”
“Nothing would make me happier than to have you all here with me for Christmas, regardless of the state of the theater. And the icing on the cake would be to have Nikki here as well.”
Allie appeared to think that over. “I don’t know if Clint would agree to that.”
“Oh, just convince him it would be romantic to take his girlfriend to London or Paris for the holidays,” Cara suggested. Her phone pinged and she dipped a hand into her pocket to retrieve it and read the incoming text.
“That could very possibly work.” Allie nodded slowly, then stopped. “But we’re getting ahead of ourselves—it’s not even June.”
“Joe just texted to let me know that the roofers put more scaffolding up and he and Ben were going to climb what’s there to get a better look at the ceiling.”
The Sugarhouse Blues Page 3