“It’s positively wonderful that you decided to stop by,” Nan was saying as they all found spots around a table. “I heard you were in yesterday working. Your enthusiasm is contagious.”
“Have you picked a show yet, Emily?” Marisol sat right next to her.
“Marisol is the perfect person to assist you, Emily,” Nan said. “She’s studying theatre in Boston.”
“She told me,” Emily said. “I’m glad to have her.”
“Are you kidding? This will look so good on my résumé,” Marisol said. “I watched more Dottie’s World last night. It was, like, a really big deal back in the day, wasn’t it?”
Emily forced a smile. “It was, I guess.”
“It’s so cool that I actually know Dottie now.”
“Really?” Emily felt old.
“Really.” Marisol grinned. “I loved the episode where your backyard turns into outer space and you take the kids on an adventure around the sun. I especially liked how there was a cow in red boots floating around out there.”
“The cow who jumped over the moon,” Emily said, remembering. “And then apparently spent the rest of her days weightless in outer space.”
It felt like a lifetime ago, working in television. A million dreams ago.
“So have you picked a show?” Cheryl repeated. “I can get working on updating the arts center’s website and making flyers to take around town, hang in local businesses, drum up excitement for the auditions, and Marisol’s already working double time on the social media.”
Before she could answer, an inexplicable lump formed at the back of Emily’s throat and her eyes clouded over.
She managed to choke out a stifled “Excuse me” as she got up from the table and darted out of the room.
What was wrong with her? She found a restroom and quickly escaped inside and splashed water on her face.
“Get it together, Emily,” she said to her reflection.
The door to the bathroom opened and Nan stood there, Hollis-style concern on her face. “You okay?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m fine.”
“You sure? I didn’t mean to upset you by bringing everyone in.”
“No,” Emily said. “It’s not that.”
But it was that. It was exactly that. But not for the reasons Nan was thinking. Emily wasn’t upset by the fact that these women were here to help—she was moved by it.
Why were they so willing to help her? It was as if they were personally invested in her success, and she didn’t want to let any of them down.
What if I fail?
Nan quieted at her side. “It must be hard to be back here after all these years.”
And then there was that. Being here. Digging up the past with a trowel when what she needed was an excavator.
She looked away. “A little.”
Like her son, Nan seemed to have a sixth sense that made lying to her impossible.
“It’s just been a really long time since I had people . . .” She could end the sentence there, but it wasn’t the end, was it? Since I had people who cared about me like this were the words she decided not to say.
Nan reached over and took Emily’s hand. “You have lots of people now, hon.”
That stupid lump was back, and Emily wondered if she could swallow it whole.
“God’s doing a good job of taking care of you.”
Emily didn’t bother disagreeing. She didn’t want Nan to know how cynical she’d become where God was concerned.
“Now we’ve got work to do.” Nan clapped a hand on her back. “Are you up for this?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Sure?”
She smiled at Nan. “I’m sure.”
Nan squeezed Emily’s arm. “Well, if you get overwhelmed, we’re all here. You just tell us what you need.”
She followed Nan out of the bathroom, bolstering her own resolve with every step. Okay, Ackerman, you’ve got a job to do, and these women need a leader.
The fact that she was that leader was still a bit worrisome, but she was determined to make a go of this, if for no other reason than Jolie deserved it.
As they reentered the classroom, the chatter subsided, curious eyes trained on Emily.
“I’m so glad you’re all here,” Emily said. “I knew I wasn’t the only one who wanted to see the children’s show return.”
“We’ve just been waiting for the right person,” Pearl said.
They were all in front of her, this small army of worker bees, looking at her with kind anticipation, and they were genuinely excited about this project. She hadn’t had that for her failed play.
Maybe things would be different this time?
“Okay, ladies.” Emily clapped her hands together. “How do you feel about Alice in Wonderland?”
Emily left the arts center feeling ready and excited for auditions the following day.
Their production of Alice in Wonderland Jr. would be a musical adventure with vibrant, colorful costumes and sets, and as long as the kids came out for it, they were ready. Marisol had turned out to be a godsend—not only did she understand theatre; she knew almost everyone on the island. She and the other women Nan had assembled were finding ways to supply everything they needed.
Take that, Gladys. Emily tried not to be smug about their success—they had a long way to go. But knowing they’d already accomplished exactly what Gladys said they couldn’t—namely garnering interest from the families—made it difficult.
Those weren’t the only goals she had that Gladys found too lofty. She’d been walking through the lobby that afternoon when Emily was explaining her vision to her team.
“I know it may seem ambitious,” she’d said, “but I really believe kids will live up to our expectations, so I want to set them high. I want to push them. So when people leave the performance, they cannot believe what they just saw was a kids’ show.”
Gladys had audibly scoffed, drawing everyone’s attention away from Emily and onto the old woman.
Gladys waved as if to say, Don’t mind me but said nothing else as she walked upstairs.
“Well, I think it’s a great idea, Emily,” Marisol said once Gladys was gone.
“Me too,” Pearl agreed.
“You’re right,” Nan said. “These kids are going to surprise everyone. I just know it.”
In a very short time, this show had become important—really important—to Emily. She knew it couldn’t erase her past failures, but it was nice to have something to focus on other than that. Other than herself.
Dear Emily,
I’ve always grown up believing passion was a good thing. “Follow your passion” is the kind of thing I’d like to have cross-stitched on a pillow. If I liked cross-stitched pillows, that is.
I’m all for that. I believe in finding what you’re passionate about and pursuing it with everything you’ve got. Even though you’re still young, I see a lot of passion in you. For animals and people and creativity. You’ve got the same kind of spirit I do, and I love that about you.
But I’ll caution you with this . . . Follow your passion, follow your heart, but keep your head in the game too. Take your common sense along with you. Don’t let yourself get so wrapped up in passion that you forget you’ve got a big, beautiful brain in that beautiful head of yours!
Love,
Mom
CHAPTER 27
HOLLIS STOOD OUTSIDE the closed door to the audition room, pacing.
His mom left her spot at the check-in table and walked over to him. “Honey, I think you’re making the children nervous.”
Hollis glanced at the line of children seated in a row outside the room. They watched him with wide eyes. One little girl looked like she was seconds from bursting into tears.
He heard Jolie’s music start inside the room. “I’m so nervous for her.”
“She’s fine,” his mom said. “She’s been practicing all week for this.”
Didn’t he know it. Jolie ha
d decided to accompany herself on the ukulele (he didn’t even know she could play a ukulele) in a modern version of “Somewhere over the Rainbow.” To date, Hollis was pretty sure he’d heard the song 642 times. He thought she was amazing, had the kind of voice people would like to listen to, but he was her dad. And didn’t all dads think their kids were special and talented?
“Come back out to the lobby,” his mom said.
He listened for one more second, then followed his mom to the end of the hallway.
“Goodness, Hollis, you’re more nervous than she was.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m more nervous than my first game in the majors.”
One of the moms in the waiting area laughed. “Kids’ll do that to you.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” another mom piped up. “I’m always more nervous for things to go well for my kids than for myself.”
“Welcome to parenthood,” Nan said. “It never goes away. You remember how anxious I always got on your game days, don’t you, Hollis?”
He did, in fact. His mother had been his biggest fan. He wondered if there was any truth to what his dad had said—had she really not loved the game? She cheered like she loved it.
Mom smiled and took her seat behind the front table just as the door at the end of the hallway opened and JoJo walked out.
Hollis froze, surveying her expression. At first, she appeared stone-faced, but after she closed the door, her whole face lit up in a bright smile.
She coolly walked down the hallway, straight to Hollis, and whispered, “I think they liked it.”
“Are you kidding? I bet they loved it.”
She shushed him, tossing a glance at the rest of the auditioners over her shoulder. “Be cool.”
“Right.” Hollis affected a phony nonchalance. Inside, he was cheering. He was so proud of Jolie for going in there like a pro and singing her guts out. He certainly wouldn’t have had the courage to do that.
The door opened again and a dark-haired girl called out the name of the next auditioner. “Marta?”
Marta, it turned out, was the one with the teary eyes, and as soon as her name was called, Marta dissolved into a puddle of tears.
The girl standing at the door glanced at someone inside the room and slid her finger down her cheek to communicate they had tears. Was there protocol for this?
Jolie took a step toward the crying girl, and Hollis nearly melted. His daughter wanted to help this younger child, and knowing that made him love her even more.
But before anyone could reach Marta, Emily appeared in the doorway. She wore a pair of jeans, heeled sandals, a loose turquoise shirt, and a formfitting black blazer with rolled-up sleeves. Her hair was long and wavy, her lips a shade darker than their normal color.
She looked like a knockout.
Emily knelt down in front of the girl and smiled, placing her hands on Marta’s.
From where he stood, he couldn’t hear what Emily was saying, but he could see Marta nod once, then twice, then one last time, before standing. Emily took Marta’s hand and led her into the room.
Before she closed the door behind them, Emily met Hollis’s eyes for the briefest moment and smiled.
And for the second time in a span of just a couple minutes, Hollis turned to mush.
It was a side of Emily he’d never seen, and it proved what he’d been thinking all along—there was a lot more of her to discover.
“That was sweet,” his mom said over his shoulder. “Emily sure is good with these kids. That’s the second one she’s talked off the ledge. And earlier she found a way to make that Harris boy behave.”
“She told me I had a unique sound,” Jolie said.
“Is that good?” Hollis asked, pulling himself out of his Emily-induced trance.
“Sounded like a compliment,” Jolie said with a shrug.
“Of course it was a compliment.” Nan shuffled through a stack of audition forms. “Who wants to listen to someone who sounds like everyone else?”
They waited through a few more auditions, and Hollis caught another glimpse or two of Emily before he finally felt ready to go.
Jolie beamed. “So . . . ice cream?”
He’d promised her a trip to the Juice Bar, thankful she’d decided not to quit dairy after all. Even though he could’ve stood there for hours just waiting for another glimpse of Emily, he wasn’t about to break his promise to Jolie. “Let’s do it.”
They waited in line for longer than was humanly decent for a waffle cone, but the second Jolie took her first bite of homemade peppermint stick and he saw her eyes bug out of her head, he knew it was worth it.
Besides, she hadn’t stopped talking since they left the arts center. It was as if his daughter had finally come alive, and Hollis knew Emily was at least partially responsible.
If Emily hadn’t agreed to do this show, hadn’t pushed for it, his time with Jolie would be nearly over. Instead he had the rest of the summer to look forward to.
“What if I don’t make it into the show?” Jolie suddenly asked, panic-stricken.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hollis said lightly. “Of course you’ll make it.”
But his stomach dropped. He hadn’t even considered that all the kids might not be cast.
“Why don’t we talk about something else?” Hollis said. “Tomorrow you’ll know your fate as an actress, but tonight, you’ve got peppermint stick and your old man.”
Jolie took another bite of ice cream. They were walking along the cobblestone streets toward the spot where Hollis had wedged his Wrangler in between two tightly packed cars.
“I don’t know what else to talk about,” Jolie said. “The show is all I’m thinking about. All the girls in my group said they wanted to be Alice.”
“Sure,” Hollis said. “Everyone wants to be the lead.”
“Not me,” she said. “I kind of think it’d be fun to be the Cheshire Cat. Or maybe the Caterpillar.”
The caterpillar who was strung out on acid? That sounded like a fun part for his twelve-year-old daughter to play. He laughed silently at his internal dialogue, wishing Emily were here to enjoy his wittiness.
“What’s so funny?”
“Huh?”
“You laughed,” Jolie said. “You think it’s dumb for me to want those parts?”
“What?” Hollis floundered. Hadn’t he laughed silently? “No, of course not. Honestly I was thinking about Emily.”
“Da-ad.” Jolie stopped walking.
“Relax,” Hollis said. “I thought of something that would’ve made her laugh, that’s all. I think it’s awesome you don’t want to be the lead.”
“Emily told me once that the other parts are sometimes more fun to play. More interesting.”
“Is that right?”
“That’s what she said. And that was a long time ago, before she even knew she was doing the show, so it wasn’t like she was trying to make sure I didn’t get my hopes up or anything.”
A long time ago. Hollis smiled.
“What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Why are you smiling?”
“I just think you’re really cool.”
Her cheeks flushed pink, and even though her face was partially blocked by her ice cream cone, he could tell she was smiling.
In all, Emily and her team sat through eighty-five auditions. Eighty-five kids wanted to be a part of their show, and she was going to find a way to cast every single one of them.
Gladys had said the program had closed due to lack of interest. Again, Emily withheld a satisfied smile at the thought. Guess we showed you, Gladys.
Near the end of the last group, a girl about twelve years old had walked in and handed Emily her audition form. As Emily looked it over, her eyes fell to the parents’ names, Douglas and Shae Daniels.
Shae.
Not a common name. Was it possible this was the same Shae her mother had been going to see the night she died?
Emily listened as
the girl sang a lively rendition of “You’re Welcome” from Moana, and she instantly thought she’d make a perfect Caterpillar. That role would sing an upbeat version of “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah,” and she needed a kid with lots of energy. Shae Daniels’s daughter had that in spades.
“Great job, Alyssa,” Emily said when the girl finished singing.
“Thanks.” Alyssa grinned. “I’m super glad you’re doing this. My brothers play baseball, and I need something to do besides sit at the ballpark all summer.”
Emily laughed. “Is your mom here with you?”
Alyssa nodded. “She’s in the lobby.”
“Mind if I meet her quick?”
“Am I in trouble?” Alyssa’s eyes went wide.
“Oh no, nothing like that.” She stood and followed Alyssa past the last few auditioners and into the lobby, where a tall, dark-headed woman sat reading a novel.
“Mom, I’m done!” Alyssa called out as soon as they rounded the corner.
The woman looked up with a smile. “Great, honey. How’d it go?”
“She did very well,” Emily said.
Shae Daniels’s eyes landed on Emily. “So glad to hear it.”
“Mrs. Daniels,” Emily said, “I have a sort of strange question, but did you know my mother—Isabelle Ackerman?”
Shae’s eyes darted over to Nan, who was sitting within earshot at the check-in table next to Hillary. “I did, Emily,” she said. “Once upon a time, we were very good friends.”
Emily felt her breath go shaky. “The night she died—did you talk to her at all? Was she on the way to see you?”
Shae took Emily’s hands. “I wish she had been, but no. We’d lost touch a few years before. We’d run into each other occasionally, at the grocery store or down at the beach, but we hadn’t been close in some time.”
Emily hesitated. “So she wasn’t on her way to your house that night?”
Shae shook her head. “No, I lived in the opposite direction in those days. In—”
“’Sconset,” Emily cut in.
“Right. And the accident was out on Cliff Road.”
Emily’s heart dropped. Cliff Road. Just like the article said. The opposite of what her grandma had told her.
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