Silver Screen Romance

by Altonya Washington

  Barry nodded, his own expression a grim one. “Chase couldn’t risk that, so he asked them to let him take the reins on that part of the business. Without that loan, my uncle may’ve been sleeping on the street.”

  The comment earned Barrett Waverly a couple of curious stares from his guests.

  “This is where Chase Waverly lived out his days after the trial,” Estelle explained. “He funded the first part of the construction from his own pockets. The banks were interested in the project until after the trial. Then they wouldn’t loan him a dime. He lost the house in the fire Shephard Barns started, used the insurance money to put as much into finishing the theater as he could.”

  Kale and Davia looked back at the unfinished construction with new interest.

  “This is a disgrace,” Davia said.

  Barry nodded. “That’s true in all kinds of ways, going all the way back to my dad and his friends helping out around here. The day they put the chairs in the upper level, my uncle had a family day for the kids to come and pick their favorite seat. After the trial, folks wouldn’t even let their kids ride their bikes down this way.”

  “Those kids are grown now, grandparents probably,” Davia snorted. “They should be ashamed of keeping this going.”

  “Sins of the father,” Estelle sighed.

  Davia rolled her eyes. “More like stupidity of the father.”

  “Why didn’t the bank ever foreclose?” Kale asked. “The theater never opened, they never made their money back.”

  “That was the sheriff’s doing. Sheriff Jesse Fitzman to the rescue,” Barry said as he waved a hand in the frigid air. “His brother was bank president at the time. After all Uncle Chase had been through, the sheriff talked his brother out of taking everything from him. The Fitzmans had money to burn even then. The amount my uncle borrowed wasn’t much even in those days.

  “Before the theater, he’d owned the town pharmacy. He’d mortgaged it for the theater, so that went to the bank and they say Sheriff Fitzman paid the difference out of his own pocket.”

  “Well, the sheriff sounds like a good friend to have,” Kale said. Then he turned serious. “Barry, you know we’re within our rights to build whatever we want on that property. So what exactly is the plan here? Aside from the necessary building permits and such, none of us have to be concerned with pleading to these people’s sense of decency or lack thereof.”

  Barry reached for his wife and pulled her close. “This isn’t about the property, Kale. It’s about getting folks to come together and support the place, its...potential. In doing so they would acknowledge the wrong that was done and maybe the town can get on with the healing it’s done without for way too long.” On that note, the Waverlys strolled off arm in arm.

  Kale bent to pick up a handful of snow as Davia scanned the property, silently envisioning its potential.

  “You think a movie theater can cure racism?” Kale asked.

  Davia smirked, looking away from the horizon. “They’ve tried everything else. Why not this?”

  Kale watched the snow cascade from his palm. “Is this what you want, Uncle Bry?” he wondered aloud.

  Davia leaned down to squeeze his shoulder and he caught her hand in his free one.

  “I don’t know if this is the best thing or the craziest thing I’ve ever done, Davia, but I want in.”

  Again, Davia turned her hazel eyes toward the property. Then she gave Kale’s shoulder another squeeze. “So do I. So do I.”

  Chapter 8

  The town of Mullins unarguably epitomized the phrase “small town quaint.” During a January winter, that phrase adopted a more defined meaning. The day was an overcast one with the threat of another snow-filled event looming over the town.

  Barely into the third week of January and Christmas lights still held their place of annual importance with the wreaths adorned in their dominant spots. Multicolored lights hugged the lampposts that lined the streets and doors of the local shops.

  It was like a painting, Davia thought as she took in the view from the backseat of the SUV Barrett Waverly drove down Main Street. Davia could easily imagine Norman Rockwell coming there to be inspired for one of his well-known portraits depicting the wholesome lifestyle. Mullins was the kind of place folks most often referred to when they wanted to relay the beauty of small town living.

  They’d headed for town following a return trip to the inn where they’d changed clothes after the visit to the property site. They’d left in plenty of time to guarantee an early arrival for the meeting and to grab their seats before the other attendees arrived.

  Barrett Waverly had gone to take his place behind the long, cherry-wood console reserved for the council members. Estelle had gone to speak with the receptionist they’d seen on the way in.

  Town hall, the venue for the meeting, held the same all-American charm as the rest of the town. Davia looked away from Barry preparing his notes, to Kale, who stood making a call on the other side of the room. From time to time, he looked at his phone as though he were scanning a document before he started to speak again.

  For just a few moments Davia squeezed her eyes shut. Once more, she processed all that had occurred during the last few days. There was no hope of ranking it all in order of greatest to least importance. Everything had come together like some perfect patchwork quilt. Every piece was a vibrant and necessary part.

  The inheritance and the story behind it, Kale’s revelation about Martella and now... Davia looked at Kale again. His behavior at the land site had intrigued her. Though her perceptions of him were already shifting, it wasn’t until she watched him there at the site that she’d really captured the truest glimpse of who he was at the core.

  This was about more than the promise of financial gain for him. She could see that. Not that there was ever any real promise for that—not the sort that he was used to his project generating. Even so, she knew a movie theater in a small Iowa town wasn’t exactly his usual type of endeavor.

  Watching him out there, sinking his finely gloved hands into the snow as he remembered his uncle...it was more captivating for her than any of the considerable charm he unconsciously or consciously oozed.

  Then there was the kiss—kisses—they’d shared. But right now was definitely not the time to dwell on them.

  Kale was finishing up his call and returning to claim his spot next to Davia when Estelle arrived along with a pretty, auburn-haired woman and a man who was almost as tall as Kale.

  “Kale Asante, Davia Sands, I’d like you to meet Mitchell Barns and Cindy Fitzman, two members of the town council.” Estelle made the introduction.

  “It’s Mitch to my friends and associates,” the well-dressed blond man said following handshakes. “I visited that swanky theater you did in Des Moines, Kale. Quite a project.”

  Good naturedly, Kale dipped his head and smiled. “I hope you enjoyed it.”

  Mitch Barns, grandson of the infamous Shepard Barns, threw back his head and let out a hearty bellow. “Oh, yeah, me and the wife had a fine time for sure!”

  “Looks like we’ve got the right people on hand if we want to bring the movies to Mullins,” Cindy Fitzman said. She was a small woman with a perfectly round face framed by a wealth of auburn ringlets.

  “We’ve heard a lot about your grandfather, Ms. Fitzman,” Davia said. “He sounded like he was quite a man.”

  “That’s right!” Mitch chimed in before Cindy Fitzman could respond to the compliment. “Sheriff Fitz was a hero to so many people around here.”

  “But a real pain in the ass to your family and their friends, right, Mitch?”

  The practiced ease fueling Mitchell Barns’s grin waned a tad and he turned to Barrett, who had spoken from his place behind the seating console. “We all want what’s best for the town, Barry, you know that.”

 
“But best for who in town—in your opinion?” Barry tossed back.

  “Oh, look,” Cindy interrupted before Mitchell could rebut their colleague’s challenge. “There’s Fred and Moira Wiley. Estelle, we should introduce them to Kale and Davia.”

  With that, the budding, tense conversation was effectively silenced.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later all parties were in place and the meeting was being called to order. The hall was packed. Word had spread quickly of Kale and Davia’s presence and several more interested residents were on hand.

  “Is it just me or did the place not resemble a ghost town outside?” Davia leaned over to ask Kale while the meeting was being called to order.

  “You’re right. Where did all these people come from?” He gave her a sideways look. “Chances are they’ll want us to say something. You up for that?”

  “Are you asking me to do it?” Davia whispered.

  Kale gave a little shrug. “I don’t have a problem with you speaking for me,” he whispered back.

  “That’s sweet of you, but I don’t know how much patience or tact I’d have for addressing the likes of Mitch Barns and his circle.” She acquiesced with a lopsided smile. “Although we do want them to spend time in our establishment.”

  Kale grinned. “Guess that means I’m nominated.”

  “You’re such a gentleman.”

  Kale caught the inside joke. “I already told you I’m not. I’ve damn well shown you, too. Now hush up. Sounds like we’re getting started.”

  Davia stifled her reaction and rebuttal to Kale’s words and focused on the situation at hand. Mitchell Barns had the floor and had already made use of it.

  “...And judging from my brief conversation earlier with our polite and accommodating new visitors, our distinguished Councilman Waverly has already wooed them over to his side!”

  Conversation among the council as well as the audience grew in volume and intensity.

  “It’s all true, folks!” Mitch Barns continued to state his case over the mixture of raised voices. “Councilman Waverly already has Mr. Asante and Ms. Sands tucked away all nice and cozy at his inn!”

  The room’s volume rose to an almost deafening pitch then.

  “Order! Order!”

  The sound of a gavel banging its plate pierced the melee and Estelle looked over to give Kale and Davia a concerned look.

  “I was afraid of this,” Estelle said.

  “Order!” Council chair Lucille Clancy had scooted to the edge of her seat while pounding the wide cherry-wood gavel. She settled back a bit once order had resumed.

  “I’m sure we all appreciate the situation at hand,” the chairwoman began. “I’d like to thank everyone here today for their patience. It’s understandable that many of us are passionate about this issue, but I’m sure we can all agree that now is not the time for accusations.” The stately gray-haired woman cleared her throat and presented a refreshing smile to the crowd.

  “Perhaps it’d be a nice change of pace to hear from our guests, Kale Asante and Davia Sands, the owners of the property the town is eager to see transformed.” The chairwoman raised her hand in a beckoning manner. “Mr. Asante, Ms. Sands? Could we impose upon you for a few words?”

  Kale sent Davia a sly, knowing look and then stood with seamless ease while buttoning the salt-and-pepper jacket of the tailored three-piece adorning his enviable physique.

  “Thank you, Madam Chair—Lucille.” Kale graced the woman with a killer smile when remembering to address her by first name as she’d insisted when Estelle Waverly had made the introductions.

  Davia noticed the woman’s bashful smile and knew that Kale’s charm had just scored him several points. Briefly, she bowed her head to hide her smile.

  “I’d like to thank the town for such a warm welcome today,” Kale began. “Many of you stopped by to introduce yourselves and shake hands. Neither myself nor Ms. Sands—” he turned to look down at Davia “—have knowledge of all that your town has endured in the shadow of what happened so many years ago. We can only focus on what inheriting this property means for us. We were each very close to the people who left us the property they inherited from Barrett Waverly’s uncle Chase and we want to honor their original plans for it. Our intention is to finish the theater.”

  Kale made a point of consistently shifting his stance so that the sound of his voice was equally spread across the expanse of the crowd. “It was important to them. My uncle and Davia’s aunt made theaters important to us, as well. Such projects are ones we’ve based our careers on. That’s really our stake in this—not to change perceptions of past events or even your way of life other than to add the convenience of your very own hometown venue to enjoy one of the most fulfilling and easiest means of escape I’ve ever known.”

  Kale paused when the crowd murmured at his insight. “Ms. Sands and I fell in love with your town at first sight and we’d love to be part of its continued flourishing.” He gave an intentional pause then. “With that,” he continued, “it’d be wise for you to think of others who might feel the same. New residents from the construction teams already here to the ones who’ll possibly be arriving as my and Ms. Sands’s hoped-for project gets under way.

  “These people will have families. Some will be looking for a place to settle. What do you want them to see, to feel, when they get here?” He looked at Lucille Clancy again. “Madam Chair, thanks for letting me have the floor.” Kale looked at the audience next. “Thank you all, as well. Now, if you guys will excuse us, we want to enjoy more of your town.” He sent a single nod to Davia who stood and offered a polite smile to the crowd. Taking Kale’s hand, she let him lead her from the silent room.

  * * *

  “I’m gonna guess you got an A on persuasion in speech class.”

  Kale pretended to ponder Davia’s statement as they walked. “Hmm...it was often a challenge getting to that class, but I was able to...persuade my professor.”

  The couple shared a laugh while strolling arm in arm along the quiet street. Despite the high attendance at the council meeting, there were still signs of life inside the shops along Main Street. Through frost-crusted windows, Kale and Davia could see people going about their business, smiling and chatting despite the drama stewing inside their town.

  “You think they care?” Davia asked, peering inside a barbershop window they passed.

  “Probably aren’t even aware of this little crisis,” Kale said, looking inside the shop window, as well. “Especially the transplants. New residents often have no connection or interest in the town’s history or its past trouble.”

  While Davia considered that, Kale moved close to brush his fingers along her hairline.

  “Snow seems to love you,” he said when she blinked in surprise at his unexpected touch.

  It was then that Davia noticed the heavy gray clouds were delivering on their promise of snow. She sighed. “I know this stuff can be a headache for those who have to live in it, but for someone who rarely sees it, it’s like a dream—a good one.”

  Kale wasn’t fixed on the snow. His gaze was focused solely on Davia. Her mention of a dream did stick with him and he was in total agreement that it—she—was a good one.

  A quick, tapping sound filtered through the snowflakes. Kale pulled his eyes away from Davia to the man behind the window they stood in front of.

  Kale gave Davia a nudge and she, too, turned to acknowledge the smiling man who then moved from the window to open one of the tall redwood doors of the establishment.

  “Afternoon, folks,” the man greeted. “You two gonna catch your deaths standin’ still out there like that. You guys need some help?”

  “We were at the town meeting,” Kale said as he hiked a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the hall. “Thought we’d get some fresh air,” he
finished.

  The man’s smile became a grin. “That doesn’t surprise me. Most of our newcomers get sick of those meetings after a few visits. Not sure how lucky we are that there’s still enough natives to fill all the council seats.”

  The man gave a sudden shake of his head as though realizing he’d gone off on a tangent. “Least you can do is come in and warm up.”

  Kale and Davia accepted the offer with eager nods. They stepped past the glossy wood doors into a warm sports bar and were instantly glad that they had. The scent of spices and apples awakened their nostrils as soothing warmth melted the chill that had taken hold of their skin.

  The man stood closest to Davia’s height. He had a broad build and smiling green eyes that seemed to twinkle as he spoke.

  “I’m Rich Ayers. I run this place with my brother Troy. You probably met him during the meeting,” he said. “He’s one of the council members. Reluctantly.”

  Kale’s gaze narrowed. “Why reluctantly?”

  Rich’s grin renewed itself. “All due respect, sir, but you saw what a circus that was. Would you want to be part of it?”

  “I see your point.” Faint laughter accompanied Kale’s words.

  “We may not have a choice but to attend more than our fair share,” Davia was saying. “Especially if we decided to build here.”

  Rich Ayers tugged a hand through the tousle of brownish-blond strands covering his head. “You two the ones who inherited Mr. Waverly’s land?”

  “That’s right. Mr. Waverly left the property to my aunt and Kale’s uncle.” Davia introduced them and gave a brief rundown of their plans and how the idea had gone over with certain members of the town council. “Not sure Mr. Barns is up for it,” she tacked on.

  Rich chuckled while leading them into the quiet establishment. It was cozy, despite its sports bar allure. There were peaceful nooks for eating and cushiony soft areas for enjoying preferred spirits.

  The quiet drone of the TV tuned to a twenty-four-hour sports channel mingled with the easy stream of a country-and-western melody. The music wafted through the speakers posted high in the building’s rafters.