by Thea Dawson
As Assistant Director of Corporate and Foundation Relations, Joy wouldn’t have been expected to study up on Chris’s eligibility as a donor, but she felt a twinge of embarrassment that she hadn’t even thought of him as a potential donor. Falls State had many successful alumni, but she wasn’t aware of any others who could lay claim to actual stardom.
Then again, even if she had, trading on her former friendship with him to impress her boss or rebuild Lawrence Hall would have felt ... tacky. She was glad to leave research like this in Taylor’s hands.
“Good thinking, Taylor.” Harvey nodded approvingly. “Why don’t you set up a file on him for us, everything you can find out. Maybe even track down some of his old professors, see if they can shed some insight on what might appeal to him.”
Taylor nodded brightly. Joy frowned. The last thing Victor needed right now was people badgering him about Chris. And Simon didn’t need people badgering him about Victor. She made a mental note to talk to Taylor privately about the situation.
The meeting went on. Joy took a few notes but said little, and finally Harvey released them to go back to work.
A couple of hours later there was a gentle knock at her office door. She looked up.
“Working through lunch?” Harvey stood in the doorway, a file in his hand.
“Yeah. You remember I’m leaving early today, right? Charlotte and I are going into Portland to do some last-minute prom dress shopping.”
“That’s fine. Sounds like good mother-daughter bonding time.”
Joy laughed. “Or arguing time, depending on what kind of dress she wants. What can I do for you, Harv?”
Harvey stepped in and took a seat in front of her desk. He was a handsome, well-built man in his mid-fifties, with silver hair and a broad smile. Like many people who worked in fundraising, he was professionally charming, able to approach billionaires and ask them for money, but he was also personally charming, as interested in the janitor’s weekend plans as he was in the Chancellor’s. Joy had worked for him for almost six years and liked him immensely.
“You did a great job on the Gradios account,” he began. “In fact, you’ve done a great job ever since you started working in this department. So please understand that what I’m about to suggest isn’t a criticism in any way.”
Joy’s smile started to feel a little forced. “Okay ...”
“You have over three months of vacation time saved up. Are you saving it for anything in particular?”
Joy pressed her lips together for a moment before speaking. “Well,” she said, “at one point, Scott and Charlotte and I were going to try to go to Indonesia for a couple of months, so I was saving vacation time for that ...”
Harvey nodded slowly. He was too tactful to point out that she’d been formally divorced for a year now, but he knew as well as she did that a family vacation anywhere, let alone eight weeks in Indonesia, wasn’t going to happen.
“I guess I just got into the habit of not taking vacation,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.
“No plans for over the summer?”
“Maybe a long weekend or two. Charlotte’s got a summer job, and I’m sure she wants to spend one last summer with her high school friends before they all go off to college.”
Harvey gave her a gentle smile. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“What do you want?”
“What do I want?” Joy repeated stupidly. “What do you mean?”
Harvey uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, placing the file on her desk. “Like I said, Joy, you’re doing a great job. This isn’t a complaint about your performance at all. But over the past year or so, I haven’t had the feeling that your heart is really in it.”
Joy pressed her lips together for a moment before answering. Her heart wasn’t in it, not anymore. She’d move into Development from Corporate Relations several years ago. Initially, she’d enjoyed the challenge of raising money for the university, a delicate dance of matching big donors with worthy projects. Since the scandal that had blown apart her marriage, however, she’d lost her appetite for it. She could no longer bring herself to care if Engineering got new imaging equipment or if Lawrence Hall got a new roof.
These things didn’t matter to her anymore ... but she wasn’t sure what did.
Still, she needed the job. She sighed. “The last year and a half have been a bit rough, Harv. You know that. And maybe I’ve been distracted with Charlotte about to graduate. But she’ll start college soon, and then no more distractions. I can focus on the job 100%.”
“Because you won’t have anything else to do?”
Joy stared at him, unable to think of a response.
“Joy, I’m talking to you as your friend right now, not your boss. I can tell that right now you’re not here because you really want to be. You’re bright and talented and have a ton of skills, but you’ve lost your spark.” He paused. “And now I am talking as your boss, and in strictest confidence. Linda told me the other day that she’s going to be taking early retirement. I’d love to see you step into her shoes as Director of Annual Giving.” Joy looked at him in surprise. “We’d have to run a search, of course, and you’d probably be up against some people with a lot more experience than you. I know you could do it ... but I want to know that you really want to do it.”
Joy nodded slowly. A year ago, the thought of stepping in Linda’s shoes would have thrilled her.
Now ...
But then, maybe this was what she needed: a new role and a new challenge.
Harv straightened up in his chair. “Let me show you something. Taylor put together a file on Chris McPherson. I guess she’s been working on it for a while. Look what she found online.” He opened the file.
Joy picked up the picture that lay on top. It was a grainy computer print out of a photograph that had appeared in the local paper thirteen years ago, but she recognized it immediately. She stared blankly at it.
“I gather you and Chris McPherson played the lead roles in a Shakespeare production together.”
She looked up at Harv, hoping her face wouldn’t betray her. “Oh, honestly, Harv, I’d completely forgotten about that. It was ages ago.”
He raised his eyebrow slightly. “Forgot that you’d spent an entire summer with Silverweed’s most famous son? Even when he came up in conversation this morning?”
She pressed her lips together, trying to think of a tactful response. “I’m in corporate and foundations, Harvey. I leave individual donations up to you and Linda. And now Taylor, I guess,” she added drily. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t think of him. But I doubt very much he’d remember me anyway. I’m sure someone else could do a better job approaching him.”
Harv tilted his head thoughtfully. “Possibly. Linda won’t be retiring for three more months. I’m here for the long haul. But if you were to step into Linda’s shoes, you’d be working closely with, if not Chris McPherson himself, them people a lot like him. I want to know that you’ve got the ...” he groped for the word, “energy for the job, and right now, you’ve got burn-out written all over you.”
“So you’re going to make me take a vacation this summer?”
“I’m not going to make you do anything. I’d just like you to seriously consider taking a break. A week, a month. Maybe long weekends every week. I don’t care. But I get the sense you’re running on fumes, and I want the old Joy back before I start trying to lobby for you to take Linda’s position. If vacation is what it takes, then take a vacation.”
She shuffled the papers in the file in order to avoid Harvey’s eyes, but the sight of Chris’s name over and over again only flustered her further. Finally she looked up.
“I’ll think about it.”
Harvey smiled and stood up. “I can’t ask for more than that.” He picked the file up and tucked it under his arm again. “I hope you and Charlotte find the perfect dress.”
She smiled at him as he left the office, then glanced back down at
her desk. Whether he’d done it accidentally or on purpose, she wasn’t sure, but Harv had left the photograph behind. She picked it up and studied it. There they all were, Simon and Victor, Jennifer, Brice, Luke and the others. Even Charlotte, the unofficial mascot, had made it into the photo, and was sitting perched on Chris’s lap.
Joy’s mind slipped back to that strange, magical summer thirteen years ago when she’d been given an eight-week reprieve from ordinary life and entered a world of dress-up, drama and the easy camaraderie of a play. She was still involved with the Players, mainly thanks to her friendship with Victor and Simon. She had done a lot of fundraising work for them, had even taken on a few smaller acting roles over the years, but it had never again been like it had been that summer ...
Now Victor was dying, the actors had scattered to the four winds, and it was unlikely that the Silver Scene Players would ever perform again.
She stared at the photo for another few seconds then shoved it under a pile of papers and went back to work on the email she was writing.
From somewhere in the depths of her desk drawer came a chime alerting her to a text. She huffed in frustration—she really needed to finish this email before she left—but she pulled out her phone anyway in case it was Charlotte and glanced at the text.
It was from Simon, of all people.
Any chance you could drop by the house Saturday morning around 10:30? Vic and I have a proposition for you.
3
Although he’d been braced for it, thanks to Simon, it had still taken all of Chris’s accumulated improvisational skills to hide his reaction to the sight of Victor. Once a robust and energetic man who’d regularly beat him at arm wrestling, Victor was now thin and bald, looking frail and tired in the rented hospital bed that had transformed the sunny living room into a hospice.
“Too much trouble to get it all the way upstairs, and this way I can still be underfoot and annoy Simon,” Victor explained with a smile. His voice no longer had the power that it had when he’d corralled a dozen amateur actors into performing Shakespeare, but Chris was relieved to see that his eyes still twinkled with humor.
Simon, perched on an ottoman by the coffee table, idly sketching out costume ideas, responded with a snort of agreement. His hairline had receded and his neatly trimmed goatee was silver now, but otherwise, he was almost completely unchanged. He was still short, still medium build, and his precise, somewhat fussy mannerisms were the same. He was dressed as nattily as ever; today he wore a green seersucker blazer, linen pants, and bright orange sneakers.
Chris smiled. He sat next to the bed on the couch, a cup of coffee on the side table next to him. He’d flown up to Portland the night before, driven down to Silverweed Falls, where he’d booked a room at the local Marriott, and had arrived on Simon and Victor’s doorstep at ten the next morning. Now, they were seated around the living room discussing the rebirth of the Silver Scene Players.
Chris had spent hours in that living room many times back when they were running lines for Much Ado. Now, if it hadn’t been for the hospital bed, he could almost have imagined himself back in time, talking over the details of the play with Simon and Victor once again.
“Originally, we were thinking of A Winter’s Tale. We thought we’d try to talk Joy Albright into playing Hermione—you remember Joy, don’t you?” Victor asked. “We even talked about her daughter playing Perdita, the daughter in the play, you know. Would have been perfect roles for both of them. But I think we’d be better off with something like Midsummer Night’s Dream. It’s better known, and it has a bigger cast. And if we’re going to pull this off, we need all the involvement we can get. A bigger cast means more friends and relatives showing up and supporting.” Victor looked at him keenly. “You’re really up for directing it?”
“Of course. Isn’t that what all Hollywood actors really want, a chance to direct?” Chris grinned, though in fact, the thought of directing Shakespeare made him nervous. “As long as you two are on hand to help me figure it all out, we’ll make it work.” The mention of Joy’s name had made him self-conscious and he put extra effort into sounding casual when he said, “Are a lot of the old crew still around?”
“A few you’d remember,” Simon chimed in. “And some relative newcomers you won’t. But let’s see ... Brice, Luke, Joy ...”
Chris cleared his throat. “How is Joy, anyway?”
“Oh, she’s all right,” said Simon. “She hasn’t been on the stage in a few years, but she helps out with the fundraising. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you. In fact, if you’re going to direct, you won’t be able to avoid her. You should try to talk her into trying out. It’d be great to see her on stage again” He turned to Victor. “Can’t you see her as Titania? Queenly but ... sensual.”
Victor nodded.
“Yeah, yeah, of course I will,” Chris mumbled. He wanted to ask so much more but wasn’t sure how. “And her kid, Charlotte? How’s she doing?”
“Graduating high school soon, if you can believe it.” Victor said with a fond smile. “We went to see her in her high school’s production of Hedda Gabler. She played Thea Elvsted. She was quite good.”
Coming from Vic, “quite good” was high praise.
“Think maybe she’ll try out?” Chris remembered a red-haired four-year-old with an outsized personality and a penchant for treats. He was curious what she’d be like now.
The doorbell rang.
“Oh, speak of the devil,” said Simon. “That’s probably her now.” He got up and made for the front door.
“Her?” Chris felt a dart of something between excitement and panic strike him in the chest. “Who? Joy?”
“Yes, yes,” Vic said. “We asked her to come along. We figured she could help convince you to do it if you said no, and if you said yes, she’ll be your Gal Friday. Either way, she’d be useful.” His voice dropped. “Did we mention she got divorced?”
“What?” Chris snapped his head to look at Vic, who winked, then snapped it back in time to see Simon walked into the living room followed closely by Joy, who carried a large bouquet of bright spring flowers.
She looked like she’d just come from working out. She was casually dressed in black yoga pants, light green sneakers, and a bright pink hoodie. Her straight dark hair was shorter than he remembered and was held back by a wide headband. She didn’t appear to be wearing much makeup.
Chris noted the way the yoga pants hugged her hips and the fitted hoodie showed off her trim waist. While she had always been attractive, he thought now that she had grown into her beauty. Despite the casual outfit, she had a sophistication that she hadn’t had thirteen years ago. She had the same face, the same expressive green eyes, the same sculpted cheekbones, the same full, lovely lips, but thirteen years ago, they’d all seemed a bit too big for her. Now she owned her beauty.
She looked queenly ... but sensual.
She was smiling at Simon and saying something as she walked in. Chris hastily stood up. As soon as her eyes turned to him, she froze.
“Look who’s back!” Simon cheerfully indicated Chris. “Your own Benedick, recently arrived from Hollywood to direct this year’s production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream!”
Joy stared at Chris.
Chris stared at Joy.
Finally he found his voice. Clearing his throat, he said, “How are you, Beatrice?” She blinked. “I mean Joy. Sorry.” He shook his head as heat started to creep up his neck. “Joy. You look great.”
The look of surprise on her face morphed into a wry smile. “I see you still need someone else to write your dialogue for you,” she said.
She was still beautiful, still clever, and she still wasn’t a pushover.
He grinned at her like an idiot.
“You’re looking good yourself,” she conceded.
And of that, there was no doubt.
He’d filled out in the thirteen years since she’d last seen him, going from an athletic but skinny college student to a man whose broad sho
ulders and muscular chest filled out his clothes impressively. He’d grown a beard, trimmed close to his face. She wasn’t sure about the beard—it covered the sexy cleft in his chin, but on the other hand it made him look more grown-up than she remembered, and his light-brown hair was neatly styled. He wore a linen blazer over a t-shirt and jeans; casual clothes, but they fit like they’d been tailored just for him.
Which they probably had, she reflected. He was a movie star now. No doubt nice clothes came with the territory.
He stepped closer to her for a hug just as she held out one hand and they managed an awkward half-embrace in which she patted his shoulder—firm, she noted—and he kissed her on the cheek. Beneath the scent of his expensive cologne there was another smell ... of nostalgia for that hot summer thirteen years ago.
Of him.
Slightly flustered, she turned to Simon.
“I brought these for Victor.” She handed Simon the bouquet.
“I’ll get a vase.” Simon smiled broadly and bustled off to the kitchen.
“You’re always so thoughtful, Joy,” said Victor. He looked pale and the lines on his face seemed deeper than they had when she’d seen him just a few days ago, but his smile was broad and there was a spark in his eyes that hadn’t been there in a while. “They’re beautiful.”
“I picked them up at the farmer’s market on my way. I hope they’ll last for a while.”
“Come sit down.” Victor indicted an armchair for Joy and waved Chris back into his seat on the couch. “Let me bring you up to date. Chris has very graciously agreed to direct this summer’s Shakespeare production. In addition to the expertise he’ll bring to the play, I think having a real live movie star on the production will be a draw, to say the least. Chris, Joy here has been the only reason we’ve stayed in business as long as we have. She’s been a tremendous help with publicity and fundraising, haven’t you, sweetheart?”