Matinees with Miriam

by Vicki Essex

  “Mira.” He tossed the apple at her. She barely caught it. “How are you this beautiful morning?”

  “Not as good as you, apparently.” She couldn’t help laughing. She’d never seen Arty so happy. Lines radiated from his mouth as if smiling had cracked the plaster cast of his frowning visage and wreathed him in newfound joy. “I saw you with Janice at the theater yesterday.”

  “Casablanca was always one of our favorites,” he said, grinning. “How did things go last night? Heard there was some excitement with that pirate from that movie in town.”

  She related everything that’d happened, and gave him a rundown of the receipts. He took it in thoughtfully, reverting to business mode as he set the apples aside. “This internet crowdfunding thing...you think this Riley Jackson fella can drum up the kinds of funds you’d need to get the theater fixed up?”

  Mira bit her lip. She pulled out her phone and checked the crowdfunding website. In the time it’d taken her to go from Maya’s to Arty’s, the campaign had made another five thousand dollars. Her insides flashed hot then cold. “It could...” she said a touch reluctantly. “Though I haven’t figured out how much it would cost to fix everything.”

  “No?” Arty tilted his head. “Funny. I thought maybe you had those numbers tucked away in your head, if not on paper.”

  “I’ve had to fix a lot of stuff and get quotes for jobs, and things just keep breaking down. But I’ve no idea what the total cost would be.” The electrical alone would be tens of thousands, not to mention restoring the facade and the interior.

  “Maybe the question you should be asking yourself is what the long-term use for the place would be. Then you could restore it with that in mind. I hear some folks wouldn’t mind turning it back into a stage theater.”

  If that happened, there’d be people at the Crown all the time, rehearsing, building sets, wrecking the place... The thought made her cringe. What was wrong with her? Was she so introverted, so insular, so antisocial that the idea of her building being used for its intended purpose actually made her sick?

  She thought about her actual goal. She’d always told herself she would reopen for Grandpa’s sake, but what did that mean? Did it mean restoring the Crown to its former glory? Did it mean upgrading everything so it could compete with the theater in Welksville?

  Truthfully, she’d always thought of it as an unattainable goal, a “One day, someday, I’ll do this” type of promise, like writing the great American novel. Now she was starting to realize that was her excuse for not doing anything significant—why she tended to play on the fly wire rig, set up elaborate traps for trespassers and work in the garden instead of getting any real repairs done.

  But that would change now, wouldn’t it? If the crowdfunding campaign succeeded, she could get everything fixed. She could keep that promise to Grandpa.

  Dread carved a tiny bowl in her gut and it slowly filled.

  Arty watched her carefully. “You don’t seem too happy about this.”

  She forced her lips to curl upward. “Everything’s happened so fast is all.”

  “Change does feel that way.” He patted her shoulder. “I know your grandpa Jack would be proud, no matter what you decided to do.”

  “Yeah...” Her thoughts took a U-turn toward Shane and what would happen if the Save the Crown campaign actually reached its goal. He wouldn’t be happy—he might even lose his job.

  But that wasn’t her problem, was it? They might have had sex, but that didn’t make him her boyfriend or anything.

  He was temporary. He’d eventually leave Everville, and if he did visit again—well, Mira wouldn’t mind seeing him. It was a pretty neat arrangement.

  Unless he didn’t forgive her and never came back. She swallowed thickly. The thought of losing Shane didn’t appeal to her at all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “YOU NEED TO move on this.”

  “Laura—”

  “You’re running out of time,” Shane’s manager said. “Why the hell didn’t you mention freaking Riley Lee Jackson would be spearheading this campaign to save that shoddy old building?”

  “I didn’t know,” he said. “I only found out the night of the open house.”

  “Well, that campaign has taken off. A million-dollar goal and they’re more than halfway there barely twelve hours in. Do you have any idea how this will affect investors?”

  Shane winced. No one wanted to back an unpopular project or take on a world-famous A-list actor. Most of Riley Lee Jackson’s fans didn’t know or care that the Crown was just an ugly, abandoned building, but they’d back him because of who he was, for a chance to be a part of something he cared about. And slowly, they’d take on his cause, too. People already hated condos; the last thing Shane and Sagmar needed was a reputation for being the company who made the handsome and dashing Riley Lee Jackson lose a fight. Investors would drop their support like a red-hot cinder if people started associating the Sagmar brand with evil corporate greed, even if that wasn’t what they stood for.

  “You have to talk to the mayor again, see what she and the others on the board are thinking. All the money in the world won’t help Ms. Bateman if the rezoning goes through.”

  “Mayor Welks has been pretty adamant that we not be seen talking with each other,” Shane said. And he knew now that Cheyenne was right. This was a close-knit community, and any canoodling with interested parties could be misinterpreted.

  He wondered how many people had noticed him and Mira canoodling and whether that gossip would get back to Laura.

  “Well, figure something else out to convince them to rezone. Have you learned anything else about Ms. Bateman?”

  He’d learned a lot. She preferred old classic movies over summer blockbusters. She was a hard-core film critic, a bona fide expert. She liked gardening and swinging from dangerous stage riggings. She knew her own mind and didn’t like the public eye on her. She was quiet and thoughtful, which some mistook for unfriendly and closed off—she simply preferred her own company and that of a select and honored few.

  And she tasted like popcorn butter and maraschino cherries. And her skin felt like warm water over white velvet. And when she gasped in pleasure, it made every muscle in his body tighten.

  “She’s a woman of her own convictions,” he replied casually.

  “I mean do you have something we can use against her.” Laura huffed in exasperation. “I’m disappointed, Shane. You were always a closer. Considering the personal investment you’ve made in this project, I’m surprised you haven’t worked harder to seal the deal.”

  He ground his jaw, rubbing the knot forming at the base of his skull. “This is a much more delicate situation than I anticipated. The community has banded together to help Mira—Ms. Bateman out.”

  “The community doesn’t always know what’s best,” Laura said plainly. “C’mon, this isn’t your first rodeo. Everyone bitches about condos lowering property values, but that’s never been the case. When that high-speed rail deal is announced, people will be begging us to get shovels in the ground. You think a decrepit theater is going to stop change from happening? Even Riley Lee Jackson can’t stop this project. But you need to put your ass in gear and get the town council to do something.”

  “And what, exactly, do you propose?”

  “Eminent domain.”

  Shane flinched. Getting the Everville town council to seize Mira’s private property for the purposes of bettering the community was so against his values, and what the town stood for, it made him ill to think about it. “They wouldn’t go for that.”

  “They would if they knew about the high-speed rail project.”

  “We can’t divulge that information. Besides being highly questionable as a business ethics issue, these folks are already clinging to what they have. We start telling them about the train lin
es, they’ll circle the wagons around the whole damn town.”

  “I think you overestimate the community’s interest. Everywhere I’ve ever been, people learn to accept change, or at least resign themselves to it. Your email about the zoning meeting said it was mostly older folks who were there to hear themselves talk.”

  He grimaced. He had said that. He hadn’t been impressed by anyone’s deputation, except maybe Mira’s, and he got the sense that the zoning board had their minds made up. The delay had been Cheyenne’s way to give the theater the goodbye it deserved—that’d been his reading of the situation, anyhow. “That doesn’t mean they won’t fight.”

  “They can fight all they want, but Cheyenne Welks is smart. If Everville really is ‘the town that endures’—” she quoted the town’s motto “—then she knows that the condo project must go ahead. And the town will accept it once the deal is done.”

  “You don’t think the mayor will change her mind if the project becomes unpopular? It could lose her the next election.”

  “I think people have short memories. I think humans are only ever looking for the next shiny new thing. I think old folks eventually die and the newer generation values nostalgia without wanting to bear the burden of reality.” The most cynical side of Laura was always difficult to listen to, but it was what had earned her a management position. “Eminent domain, Shane. We do it now while the price of the Crown property is low.”

  Shane drummed his fingers against his thigh. He knew she was right. If the price for the Crown shot up to its estimated projected value, the cost of the condo would skyrocket and he’d never be able to afford that unit he wanted more than ever. His time in Everville and his parents’ visit had solidified that deepest wish. They looked so relaxed and happy here. He couldn’t deny them a place in town upon retirement.

  But getting town council to declare eminent domain would force Mira out of her home. She’d be well compensated, but where would it leave the two of them? He’d worked so hard to gain her trust, to open her up to him emotionally.

  “I’m not sure I’m comfortable using that tactic,” he said honestly.

  “Well, if you’re not, we can send someone else to do the job. You can enjoy the rest of your vacation and then...we’ll see where things go from there.”

  Her crisp tone made her words an unmistakable threat, and one Shane did not appreciate. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “Are you sure? Because if I recall, you were the one who said Everville deserved this kind of investment. We could’ve moved the project to Welksville, but you insisted, and the senior partners listened.”

  Shane rubbed the back of his neck. When he’d first joined Sagmar, he’d talked over her to keep the project in the small town despite her objections. She was still sore about it, and he didn’t really blame her—she was his manager, and he’d undermined her. She went on, “If the welfare of the town means anything to you, you know what the right thing to do is.”

  Yeah, he knew. A dark cloud hung over him as he considered his options.

  * * *

  SHANE WAS QUIET. Pensive. Mira supposed she understood—she was still feeling a little stunned and shy about the night they’d spent together, but she was happy in his company, too. Content in a way she’d never experienced.

  Well, not entirely content. She allowed herself a private smile as a thrill pulsed through her. She’d changed the sheets on her futon and cleaned her room in case they came back to the theater for dessert, as she would suggest. She’d even found her one cute matching set of lingerie to wear tonight. Just thinking about it made her squirm, though simply holding Shane’s hand had an effect on her lady bits, too. At a different point in her life, she would have been disgusted by how pathetically needy and starved for sex she was, but it didn’t matter just then—she felt as though she could fly.

  “Where are we going for dinner?” she asked a touch nervously.

  “Actually, after our first date, I thought it’d be nice if it was just you and me and a picnic basket down by Silver Lake.”

  She blinked, feeling warm and fuzzy inside. “You packed a picnic?”

  “To be fair, Arty did. He seemed to know what you’d like. All your favorites are in there, apparently. I haven’t sneaked a peek, so it’ll be interesting to see what you like.”

  “I’m not that hard to please.”

  He raised an eyebrow, and she sighed. “Okay, so I gave you a hard time with all those platters and chocolates and things. Not without good reason.”

  He lapsed into silence once more as they drove past the beach by the lake. Families and groups of teens lingered by the water, playing in the cool surf and enjoying the sun and sweet summer breeze.

  Mira grew tense at the sight of the crowds, but Shane kept driving. “Don’t worry, we’re not stopping there. I bumped into Chris Jamieson at the grocery, and he told me about a secret little place by the lake that would be much more private.”

  The way he said it sent shivers down her spine. They parked, and instead of taking the trail that would lead them to the edge of the beach, they went down a barely there path through the trees. Mira wasn’t much of an outdoorsperson, and the hike seemed to take forever. Ten minutes later, though, as the view opened into a sheltered cove, she realized it was totally worth it. No one was around. The place was pristine. Shane laid a blanket beneath a big willow tree and set the basket down.

  “I feel like I’m about to open Pandora’s box,” he said as he eyed the basket. “What if you like pineapples on your pizza?”

  Mira made a face. “Pineapple? Gross.”

  Shane laughed. “Whew. Okay, at least we made it past that deal breaker.”

  He took out containers of ready-made items from the grocery’s take-out counter, and Mira grinned. Arty really did know all her favorites, but of course, he’d been delivering them to her for years. Bean salads, chicken and pasta, breads and dips and her favorite herbed cheese spread. She couldn’t afford them regularly, but when she could, Arty always treated her to an extra helping.

  “Cheetos?” He pulled out the big bag of bright orange cheese snacks.

  “Only on my birthday,” she clarified. “But you’ve seen my fridge. Frankly, I can’t be bothered to cook most days.”

  “I guess you don’t have the facilities to make anything elaborate, either.”

  “No,” she laughingly agreed. “Grandpa taught me to cook a few things, though. And I actually made myself a lot of food when I was still living with my parents. Following instructions on mac and cheese boxes was crucial to survival.”

  When Shane next spoke, there was a catch in his voice. “What’d your grandfather cook?”

  “A lot of pasta. Spaghetti, mostly, but now and again he’d make lasagna. Arty and Janice would come over sometimes, too, and we’d do a potluck. I’d make grilled cheese sandwiches and they’d bring fancier stuff.” She blinked, thinking back on those memories. “Weird. I haven’t thought about that in a long time.”

  “You and your grandfather didn’t both live in the theater, did you?”

  “Oh, no, though you wouldn’t know it considering how much time we spent at the Crown. Grandpa had a place, but after he died...” She cleared her throat. “I had to make a choice. There were bills to pay. But I couldn’t sell the theater.”

  “So...that’s why you live there?”

  She wasn’t sure about the hesitancy in his voice. “You know why I live there.”

  His smile was tentative. “I thought maybe you had an apartment in town and chose to sleep over.”

  She wasn’t sure why he was asking these questions...or maybe she did. “How are your parents?”

  “Good. They’ll probably be out for dinner, though. I thought they’d need me to play host, but they’re really at home in Everville. Mom can find her way around any kitchen, and Dad is
so focused on fishing he won’t care what he eats as long as he catches a few fish.” He regarded her. “You should meet them. My mother worked in film production in India. I bet she could tell you all kinds of stories about Bollywood.”

  She paused. “That’d actually be nice.”

  “Really?” He blinked. “I thought you’d flat out say no.”

  She understood his reaction—she wasn’t exactly a social butterfly. “India has a rich and thriving movie industry. I’d love to talk to your mom. Maybe she’d be willing to do an interview for one of the online publications I write for.”

  “I’ll ask. We can have lunch together tomorrow and you can meet them.”

  Already they’d planned a third date. And she was meeting his parents. Though she didn’t feel too uncomfortable about it, it struck her as perhaps a little too intimate. “I don’t want to impose.” She pursed her lips. Shane had said his parents were only there for the weekend. It wasn’t as if they’d want to spend time with some stranger who was making their son’s job harder.

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I thought for a second it was a bad idea. Mom loves talking about the old days. She’d love you.”

  But do you love me? She’d had no designs on Shane, no thoughts toward anything more serious than a fling. But her heart clung to hope like a fist around a handful of sand.

  They ate quietly, enjoying the breeze that stirred the curtain of willow fronds around them. Shane checked his watch and said, “I actually thought we could go to the theater in Welksville. There’s an evening show of a movie I’ve wanted to see...”

  Mira wanted to say no. She liked spending time with Shane alone, out of the public eye. Besides, she’d never been to the theater in Welksville—going there would feel like she was betraying her grandfather.

  But she saw the hopeful look in Shane’s eyes and found herself saying, “Sounds great.”