Matinees with Miriam

by Vicki Essex

  “And doing me was just a bonus?”

  His eyes flashed with pain. “That’s not fair to either of us.”

  She hugged herself, shaking as her skin alternated between hot and cold. “So what’s supposed to happen now? You going to go to the next council meeting to make some kind of case against the Crown?”

  “If I don’t do it, Sagmar will send someone who will. And I’ll lose my job.”

  “So that’s it. All this...fixing the roof, the projector...your parents!” She glared. “Were they in on this?”

  “Of course not. Look, I know you’re upset—”

  “Upset doesn’t begin to cover it. You lied to me, manipulated me. You made me believe you cared.”

  Shane clenched his fists. “I do care. Everyone in this town cares, but you’re too stubborn to see that. You think everyone’s out to hurt you when all they’re trying to do is help you. This building—this place is just a pile of bricks with a leaky roof over top. You’re sleeping on a lumpy futon and taking showers in a janitor’s closet, for God’s sake. The place is falling down all around you, and costing more in taxes than rent would.”

  “My grandfather—”

  “Your grandfather wouldn’t have wanted this for you, and you know it. You’re unhappy here but you won’t admit it because you don’t know how to be happy anywhere else. You’re afraid of the world. You’re afraid everyone’s going to let you down and take advantage the way your parents did. You don’t have any self-esteem because if you did, you would’ve realized you’re better than this place. I’m sorry your grandfather died, but things change. You can’t bury yourself in his so-called legacy just so you can be with him!”

  His chest rose and fell rapidly. Mira stared at him, the fury she’d felt moments ago limp and ragged as a weathered flag after a storm. She’d been cut to ribbons by his razor-sharp remarks.

  His image fractured as tears dropped from her eyes.

  “Get out.” She uttered it on a hot exhale past the lump in her throat. When he didn’t move, she clenched her teeth. “I said go. Get out of my sight.”

  “Mira—”

  “Just go!” She flung open the door and pulled it shut tight behind her, locking it before Shane could get to it. With the boards gone, though, she could see his anguish plain through the glass. He took two steps back, and for a frightening moment, she thought he might kick the glass in.

  He didn’t. She stood in the theater’s vestibule between the sets of glass doors, like a fish in an aquarium, and watched as his expression settled into a cool mask. He backed away, turned on his heel and headed for his car.

  Only after he was out of sight did she make her way deeper into the Crown. Into safety. Into her sanctuary. She thought about going to the roof to water her tomatoes, but she suddenly didn’t have the energy to climb the ladder, much less stay on her feet. She sat in front of her laptop and stared blankly.

  “Grandpa...” The theater remained silent. He wasn’t here. He hadn’t been here in over four years.

  She was alone.

  She curled into her chair, put her hands over her face and wept.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “MR. PATEL. PLEASE, sit down.” Cheyenne Welks looked up from a thick file on her desk as he walked into her office at city hall. It’d been three days since his blow-up with Mira, and he’d finally convinced himself that approaching town council about claiming eminent domain on the Crown was the best course of action for everyone.

  Apparently, the mayor was not impressed by this move. Her weighted gaze rested somewhere between indifference and contempt. The chair across from her was piled with folders, leaving him only a narrow ledge to perch on. He moved the folders onto the floor, but the tower toppled, creating an avalanche of paper. Cheyenne waved him off as he tried to gather the files together, just barely suppressing a sigh.

  “A representative from Sagmar called me yesterday—a woman named Laura Kessler,” she said. A knot of frustration tightened in his chest as his suspicions were confirmed. Laura had sent him a terse email this morning saying things were being “handled.” Apparently, she didn’t trust him to deal with the situation in Everville anymore. Cheyenne went on. “She told me there was a high-speed rail project in the works for Upstate New York, and that the nearest proposed stop was so close to Everville, it would, and I quote, ‘Jack real estate prices sky-high.’”

  Her next words were crisper than fallen leaves in November. “You never mentioned this in your presentations, Mr. Patel.”

  He silently cursed Laura—she was clearly too eager to get the Crown property squared away, probably so she could get a nice fat Christmas bonus, regardless of the cost of divulging that secret. Giving away highly sensitive information like that was a bad business practice all around. Then again, he’d seen Laura talk her way out of bigger trouble, especially if it meant the bottom line remained intact. She wouldn’t be above blaming Shane for the leak, either. After all, he had an established relationship with the townsfolk, and an inappropriate relationship with the Crown’s owner. She could rightfully say his judgment had been affected.

  He rubbed his temples. Laura may have screwed him, but this was his mess. “It was in everyone’s best interests that we keep those details under wraps. Sagmar has always—”

  The mayor snapped a hand up as if she were swatting a fly, silencing him. Her features pulled tight as she pushed out of her chair and paced the cramped office space.

  “I campaigned very hard against Fordingham and his cronies,” she said. “My platform was based on transparency and fighting corruption at the municipal level. Those men made hundreds of thousands of dollars in back room deals because of investment tips like this. Do you have any idea what kind of position you and your company have put me in?”

  Shane pressed his palms together. He had no excuses. He’d wanted to help Everville and see it thrive, but he’d known from the beginning that withholding this vital piece of information would change everything. “Please understand, I couldn’t disclose this information. My intention was never to hurt anyone,” he said.

  “The rumor mill suggests you’re too late for that.” She glared down her nose at him with the scorn of a displeased mother-in-law. He squirmed.

  She turned to look out the window, arms crossed over her chest. “As mayor, I have a decision to make. I could deny the rezoning of the block, save the Crown and watch the town stagnate. I could go against my ethics, not tell Miriam Bateman about the high-speed rail line and convince her to take your money and run, though I doubt that would work. Or—” she turned to face him, her red hair lit from behind like a ring of fire “—I could expropriate the theater, spend a boatload of cash the city doesn’t appear to have and make myself even more unpopular with Riley Lee Jackson fans and Fordingham supporters, losing me the next election and undoing all the good I’ve striven to accomplish.”

  He hated his part in the trouble he’d caused her, but said nothing. He’d done enough damage as it was.

  “Tell me something honestly.” Cheyenne gripped the back of her chair and bent toward him. “Do you love her?”

  “Love who?” He said it almost automatically. Again, that flickering look of contempt and utter disappointment. He’d let Cheyenne down. Let everyone down. But he had to do his job and he had to win. It didn’t matter if no one else realized he was trying to help. They would understand later.

  She turned her back to him, picking up a file and speaking without looking at him. “Town council will have a special meeting next Thursday to decide this matter, Mr. Patel. I expect to see you there and not beforehand.”

  Shane couldn’t let the meeting end like this. He had come here to finalize things, and he couldn’t have the sale of the Crown further delayed. He’d already screwed everything else up—it was time to win back his reputation as a closer.


  He’d come to Everville to help the town. To get the Crown. To win.

  He cleared his throat and sat forward. “Before you make your decision, there’s something else you need to know about the Crown...and about Miriam Bateman.”

  * * *

  THE GYMNASIUM AT B. H. Everett was only half-full, though that shouldn’t have surprised Mira. The notice of the special town council meeting had only gone out last week, and it was the first week of a sweltering August. Many townsfolk were on vacation and not particularly interested in spending an afternoon in the high school’s stuffy gym. Not even Bob Fordingham was present, despite his proclaimed interest in the matter.

  Her stomach churned as she took a seat. She didn’t want anyone talking to her right now—she was far too nervous. She doubted she’d be given the opportunity to make one last plea for the Crown, but even if she had that chance, she wasn’t sure she could get up there and beg town council to reconsider.

  She kept her eyes glued to the front, refusing to look around for Shane. The tables for the council members were arranged around the lectern, which looked for all the world like a guillotine platform.

  “Mira.” Janice slid into the seat directly behind her and squeezed her shoulder. “Honey, are you doing all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She wished she had something to fidget with. She might start tearing strips of skin off her arm otherwise.

  “Arty’ll be here any minute. He had to finish up some things at the store.”

  She nodded absently. Janice’s presence wasn’t irritating, exactly, but she wasn’t in the mood to talk or be comforted. She just wanted this meeting to start.

  It did, five agonizing minutes later. The town council members walked in together, looking slightly flustered and perhaps a little irritated to have their summer holidays interrupted. They weren’t even meeting at their usual space, the Everville Tavern, so they couldn’t get drinks or snacks. From what Mira knew, council had always been fairly relaxed about proceedings, which made this gathering all the more nerve-racking.

  Cheyenne took the lectern, presiding over the meeting. She ran through the usual reading of minutes. The crowd grew bored very quickly, fanning themselves with greater fervor as the heat in the gym slowly suffocated them.

  “I want to thank everyone for coming today. This special meeting has been called for the purposes of determining whether the Crown Theater on Main Street should be expropriated by the town for the purposes of redevelopment and rejuvenation.” She didn’t look up from her notes. “While the decision to rezone is a separate issue from today’s venture, I was forced to call this meeting due to some new information that was passed to me regarding the future of Everville. As mayor, I had a decision to make, and in the interests of full disclosure and transparency, I decided it was my duty to share this information as soon as possible.”

  It took nearly ten minutes for Mayor Welks to explain the high-speed rail project that’d been proposed for the area. A station had been proposed near Welksville, making it and Everville perfect sites for commuter towns. It meant that people who couldn’t afford to live in Manhattan could buy a home out here and travel to work in under two hours via an express train.

  It meant Everville would be changing. It meant there’d be more people moving in. It meant there’d be new construction and more jobs. It meant the land the Crown sat on was worth more than the building itself or the memories it housed.

  A buzz filled Mira’s ears. It wasn’t in her head, though—people were excited, nervous, apprehensive. A few were angry. The voices rose and rose, and it took the mayor an extended banging of the gavel to get everyone to settle down.

  “None of these plans have been finalized,” Cheyenne clarified. “But I have it on good authority that the proposal is in its final stages, and that we should be hearing about it within the next month or two. Ground won’t be broken for another year or so, and the project itself may not be completed for another three to five years, if not longer. If the high-speed rail project does happen, our town is going to get a huge boost. Getting started on new housing will ensure we’re capturing the first wave of new residents. And the Sagmar condo project is the perfect place to start.”

  “We can’t allow this to happen!” Mira recognized Mrs. Abbot’s shrill protest immediately. “We don’t need all those people here! No one wants things to change.”

  “Change happens, whether we want it or not,” Cheyenne snapped, and the crowd went still. “As mayor, it’s my job to make sure we can roll with the changes and make the most of what comes our way. If you don’t cozy to that, Kelly, then you can speak with your ballot at the next election.”

  At some point during the talk, Arty had come in and sat next to Janice. Mira felt his strong hand give her shoulder a little shake. “You need to speak up now if you’re going to save the Crown,” he said quietly.

  But she didn’t. Even when the floor was opened to questions, she didn’t say anything. Even when Cheyenne looked her way expectantly, she said nothing. Her tongue had crawled down her throat and her whole body was shrinking into itself.

  “Madame Mayor.” Mira glanced up to see Maya standing amidst the audience. “Perhaps this is the least of your concerns, but what about the Save the Crown campaign? There’s been significant national interest paid to the theater since the open house. Surely we’d be better off keeping the theater open for these supposed new residents to patronize? It would be a tourist attraction.”

  “I’m aware of the campaign and the celebrity endorsement, Ms. Hanes. Unfortunately, it has come to my attention that in order for the Crown to be brought up to code, the entirety of the electrical and plumbing systems would have to be restored. As it was, it was against regulations to have the open house and we cannot, in good conscience, allow for another event there until such upgrades are made. I’ve also been informed that there have been...residents living illegally within the building.”

  Mira felt the stares on the back of her head, and her body burned beneath the scrutiny. The mayor went on, her tone devoid of emotion. “Regardless of its historic or nostalgic value, a theater house cannot be used as a place of residency for the health and safety of the inhabitants and their neighbors. According to the bylaws, the Crown must be condemned.”

  Gasps and whispers echoed through the gym. It wasn’t a secret that the reclusive Miriam Bateman, Jack’s granddaughter, the weird girl with the dead and jailed drug addict parents, lived in the Crown. That it was being used against her now could only mean one thing—Shane had brought an official complaint to council.

  Yes, it was illegal. Yes, it was unconventional and, in some people’s eyes, dangerous. But it’d been her property, her choice. She’d been happy there. And she’d invited Shane, a man she had no reason to trust, into her inner sanctum.

  And he’d betrayed her.

  She worked on autopilot for the rest of the meeting. She barely heard Cheyenne as she read the list of building code violations the Crown had infringed upon. Then she said something about the fines being waived in favor of expropriating the Crown. Mira’s vision blurred as the votes were counted. The motion passed, and she went numb. One by one, her senses shut down; her emotions drained out of her. She could no longer comprehend the world around her. She had no home. The one place she’d always felt safe was being taken from her. The one place where she could cling to her grandfather’s memory was being condemned, knocked down and sold to the man who’d betrayed her.

  It was a long time before she realized her hands were bleeding. Her nails had torn bloody crescents into her palms. Janice was exclaiming something as she pushed tissues into her hands. Arty was rubbing her back and cooing some words of sympathy.

  The banging of the gavel brought her back sharply.

  “I’ll have order.” Cheyenne’s voice sounded rusty, but was no less forceful. The audience quieted down. “The motion
has carried. Miriam Bateman, the current owner of the Crown Theater, will be allotted the market rate for her property. Ms. Bateman—” finally, Cheyenne looked her way “—I do personally regret that it has come to this. I understand how important it was for you to keep this part of Everville’s history alive, but for the town to endure, we must adapt.” She pushed her glasses up her nose and referred to her notes. “After numerous consultations, the council committee agreed on the price, and so it is with a heavy heart that we will be awarding you the sum of $2.5 million for your property.”

  The gasp that resounded through the gym sucked all the air from Mira’s lungs. She hadn’t heard that correctly, had she?

  Arty’s hand nearly crushed hers. “Oh, my God.”

  “Mira...” Janice’s hand touched her shoulder.

  But Mira couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t do anything.

  This wasn’t winning the lottery. It was losing everything.

  * * *

  SHANE PACED THE empty school hallway, his cell phone pressed against his ear. When Laura finally picked up, he nearly shouted, “I hope you’re happy with your Christmas bonus, because it might be the last either of us get.”

  “You got it?” The smile in her voice made him want to punch a wall.

  “Town council expropriated the Crown,” he said through clenched teeth. “For two and a half million dollars.”

  Laura was quiet a moment. “Oh.”

  “‘Oh’? That’s all you have to say? This was what we were trying to avoid! Why did you tell the mayor about the rail project?”

  “Because I had to play hardball. This is the big leagues, Shane. If I hadn’t—”

  “You jeopardized the whole project with your selfishness. When the investors find out what it cost to get the property—”

  “Will you relax? The unit prices will all be padded accordingly. No one’s going to lose money and we nipped that silly Save the Crown campaign before it reached its goal. That high-speed rail project is as good as gold.” But she sounded a little less sure of herself now. Shane made a fist and banged it against a locker.