by Vicki Essex
“Tell me something,” Maya said as she pushed the plate with the croissant toward her. “If your grandfather were still alive, what would he have done with 2.5 million dollars?”
Mira’s more cynical side had wondered at first if the shop owner had only invited her to stay with her to get access to her money, but the check from the city wouldn’t be ready for a week or two. And judging by Maya’s decorating tastes, she was doing better than all right with her shop.
Mira thought about it. “Buy back the farm, maybe. He loved growing things.” She thought about the rooftop garden and how she’d demolished it in her fury. She’d regretted it the next day, but the violent act of ripping it all out—it’d been cathartic in a weird, messed-up way. All that careful weeding and planting and work—and she’d trashed it all.
What was wrong with her?
“What else?”
Mira blew out a breath. “I dunno...he always said he wanted to take me to see the world. Travel to all the places great movies are set. London, Rome, Paris...”
We’ll always have Paris...
She banished the image of Shane’s glittering eyes from her mind with a frown.
“Maybe you should do that now. I know the Crown meant a lot to you, but it wasn’t the building, right? It was all about your grandfather’s memory.”
“The Crown was his legacy,” Mira parroted, and Maya gave a sad chuckle.
“You were his legacy. He may have loved films and going to the theater, but he would never have taken you in if he thought the Crown was more important.”
“That’s just it. I’m the reason he closed the Crown.” She slumped forward, the truth corkscrewing through her. “He mortgaged the theater to send me to college. I came back after less than a year and the theater was barely earning enough to stay open. He needed to keep that money to repay the bank, but instead he shut down operations and put the money into a trust fund for me. I told him I wasn’t going back to school. I wanted to stay with him. He was the only person who’d ever cared about me...” Tears pooled in her eyes as the floodgates of her pain burst. She hid her face in her hands.
“Oh, Mira...hon.” Maya sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her, squeezing. “You know that’s not true.”
“I have to get out of this town.” She wiped her eyes hastily. She hated crying in front of people. She’d done plenty of it as a child, back in school when it was so easy to tip her over the edge. It was a game to the other kids, to see what it would take to make the weird girl cry. And people were still playing that game, only now it was all about seeing what she could endure, see what it would take to drive her out of town for good.
Well, they’d won.
“Okay.” Maya stood. “If you’re going...then I’m coming, too.”
Mira stared up at her blankly. “What?”
“I’ll come with you. To Toronto, Montreal, Vancouver, LA...wherever you wanna go. Hell, if you want to hit London, Rome and Paris on the way, I’ll come with. I haven’t been out there in years.”
Mira squinted at her. “What’re you talking about?”
“You can’t be alone right now. You’re making hasty decisions about your future. But,” she added with a smile, “you’re also doing it with a nice little nest egg to back it up, meaning you can afford to take a few chances, make a few mistakes. Still, I’d like to be there to make sure you don’t make too big a mistake.”
“I don’t think I’ll be a very good traveling companion.”
“I think you’ll make a great traveling companion. I can show you all the best places to eat and stay. And you don’t need to worry. I can pay my own way.” She took Mira’s laptop and went to a discount travel website. “What do you think? One month? Two? Personally, I can spend a whole year in Paris and never get bored, but I think we should do a whirlwind tour now, and then go back to your favorite places another year.”
Mira gave a low chuckle, but Maya’s expression didn’t change. “Wait...you’re serious?”
“Of course I am. You have a fortune to spend and you’re looking for a fresh start, and I’ve had the itch to travel for a while. Feels like I haven’t been on vacation for years.” She tapped away on the keyboard. “Oh, the Ritz Paris has a great deal.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” Maya grinned.
Mira stared. “How can you afford it?”
Maya cleared her throat. “My grandmother, the one who gave me those dresses... Well, she left me pretty much everything when she died. And she was kinda loaded.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s not really a thing I talk about.”
“But...you run a consignment shop.” As if that somehow made her wealth impossible. Why was she even in Everville?
“I like old stuff. I like to catalog what’s past, understand why people give up the things they do.” Compassion shone in her eyes. “The thing I’ve discovered is that people don’t just unload things they don’t need, they give up things they cherish and believe have value in exchange for something they want more.”
A slow, hot burn grew in Mira’s gut. “Are you telling me you could’ve saved the Crown single-handedly?”
“Is that what you would’ve wanted?”
She opened her mouth to say yes, to shout it to the rooftops. But her voice snagged. It was a lie. Maya had helped her reopen—she’d made her grandfather’s dream come true, even if it was only for a day. And Mira had found it was not at all what she’d wanted. Even if she’d been given all the money in the world to fix up the theater, she wouldn’t have enjoyed running it full-time the way Grandpa had. She loved the movies, yes, and there was a certain satisfaction to be had in sharing that experience and enjoyment with others. But the day-to-day of business would’ve slowly killed her.
“I think,” Maya began lightly, “that we should look into a backpacking trip. So much more fun to stay in hostels and meet the people there than it is to stay in stuffy hotels. Although that can be fun, too.” She turned the laptop around. “How about we start in Paris?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“A EUROPEAN TOUR?”
Janice nodded eagerly. Arty had been surprised by her visit to the grocery store after the way they’d parted three days ago. “She’s taking a mental break.”
“Having one, you mean. Why on earth would she leave town? Everything she knows is here.” Arty wrung his hands. “The girl’s barely been out of the state, much less the country. Where would she go? And why?”
“She won’t be alone. Maya Hanes is going with her. Those two are thick as thieves these days.”
Yeah, he knew that. Mira had rejected his offer for a place to stay. He’d never felt so stung in his life. Janice watched him pace his tiny office. “I thought you’d be happy. This is what we both wanted for her, isn’t it?”
“What we wanted?” He shook his head, running both hands over the thin pate of gray hair. “I don’t think what we wanted ever played into anything that girl did. She’s too much like Jack that way. If she leaves...” He trailed off.
If Mira left, Jack left with her. He didn’t want to admit it, but his memories of his friend lived in the man’s granddaughter. Arty was so used to thinking of his life in Jack’s shadow, then as Mira’s caretaker, he wasn’t sure what he’d do with himself without their presence.
And wasn’t that the crux of it? He’d been struggling since his breakup with Janice, asking himself why he continued to deny himself happiness and the pleasure of Jan’s attentions. Maybe it was just easier being miserable and alone.
Wait. Hadn’t he lectured Mira about this exact thing? Miring herself in misery because she was too afraid to explore, take risks and find joy? Was he such an old curmudgeon that he didn’t know how to be happy?
Your problem is that you’re willing to wait and wait for things to ha
ppen, Jack’s voice floated to him from a distant memory. Carpe diem, Arty!
He never had been one to seize the day. He’d been afraid of rejection, of getting hurt. And he couldn’t blame Jack for that. His friend hadn’t told Janice about Arty’s feelings because it wasn’t his place. Arty had to do it himself. For years, he’d made excuses by telling himself that handsome Jack Bateman had a far better chance. He’d let his friend flirt and woo while he’d stayed on the sidelines, convinced Jan wouldn’t want him.
Now he was rejecting her for those same reasons, making excuses when he should’ve been seizing the day.
Janice glanced down as if checking the time. “Well... I thought I’d let you know, in any case. She can go anytime, soon as she cashes that check. You might want to bury the hatchet with her.” She got up to leave.
“Jan, wait.” He rounded the desk. Every nerve in his body strained toward her. “Things ended badly between us the other night... I’m sorry about that.”
She let out a breath. “But you’re not willing to give us another try?”
He kept his lips firmly shut for fear he’d burst out saying what he really wanted to say—that he would do anything for them to be together. But he didn’t want to sound like a romantic idiot.
Janice laughed bitterly. “I suppose I shouldn’t have expected more.” And when he didn’t do anything because he was still a coward, she sighed. “Goodbye, Arty.”
The light in his life drained out of him as he watched her go. She made him feel something other than tired and old. She made him feel as though life had more meaning than just the day’s take and getting groceries delivered to his customers on time.
Dammit, what the hell was wrong with him?
His feet carried him forward. Suddenly, he was running out of his office and down the dairy aisle. He nearly crashed into Mrs. Abbot, who gave him a dirty look as he hurried out. One of the stock boys called his name.
“Not now.” He’d always made everything else a priority—his business, the town, Mira. It was time he stopped denying himself. Mira no longer needed him. Jack had never needed him to be loyal to his memory. And Arty didn’t need to keep being a martyr.
The only thing he did need was Janice.
“Jan!” Her step faltered as she glanced over her shoulder. He caught up to her, out of breath, his heart hammering. “Janice. You’re right. I’m being ridiculous.”
She challenged him with a look. “About what?”
“About everything. I’m letting Jack get between us as much now as he did back then, but that’s on me. I’ve been using his memory as an excuse because... I’ve always been intimidated by you. You’re beautiful and smart and funny. I never thought of myself as worthy. I’ve loved you since you were a girl in Mary Janes and a ponytail.”
The doubt in her eyes made his heart strain. “Really?”
“What’ll it take to prove it?”
When she didn’t respond, he hastened over to a bench and stepped up onto it. “Listen up, everyone!” He shouted. There weren’t many people on the street, but those who were coming out of the grocery store, lingering in the parking lot or sitting in the shade turned to stare. “My name is Arty Bolton and I’m in love with Janice Heinlein!”
“Arty, get down! You’re going to hurt yourself,” Jan whispered harshly.
But courage and maybe a little insanity had taken hold, inflating his chest and suffusing his limbs with vital heat. He’d always been afraid of looking like a fool for love—it was time to face that fear. He raised his voice further. “Under the witness of God and everyone who can hear me, I love Janice Heinlein and I’ll do anything to make her believe it!”
Someone across the street whistled and whooped. He heard a child start to cry. A few people turned and walked away quickly. And then, Arty heard the blare of a siren.
A county sheriff’s car pulled to a stop right in front of the bench. Ralph McKinnon slowly got out, hitching both thumbs in his belt loops, grimacing. “Arty,” he greeted casually, then nodded to Janice. “Everything all right here?”
Janice waved her hand hastily. “He’s fine, Ralph. Arty, get down from there.”
“Only if you tell me you’ll believe me,” he said, desperate to make her understand. To make her believe. In that insane moment, as all his pent-up feelings coalesced, he realized he didn’t want to be without her for another minute. He would go to jail if that was what it took to convince her. “Tell me you know I love you. If you don’t love me back—”
“Oh, will you shut up. Of course I love you.”
He nearly toppled over with relief. He climbed off the bench stiffly as Janice wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him.
Ralph coughed discreetly. “I’ll be on my way then,” he said. “Unless you need a ride home? Or possibly to the loony bin?”
“We can walk from here,” Arty insisted, gathering Janice closer. Their audience laughed and hooted their approval. He found he didn’t care.
“Crazy kids.” Ralph shook his head as he got back in his patrol car.
Arty was grinning so hard tears squeezed from his eyes. Janice held him, head pressed against his chest. “You didn’t need to do that. All I wanted to hear was that you cared enough to try.”
“Life’s too short to just try. I’m going to do my damnedest to show you how much I love you. I can’t spend what time I have left moping and stalling.”
She smiled and kissed him once more on the lips. “Then there’s no point wasting time.” She opened his palm and placed a key there. “Move in with me, Arty.”
“I’ll do you one better.” He got down on one knee. “Let’s get married.”
Janice grinned in delight and sealed their agreement with a kiss.
* * *
“ARE YOU WATCHING that movie again?” Priti plopped onto the couch next to Shane and snagged the bowl of popcorn next to him.
“Casablanca’s a classic.” He kept his eyes focused on Rick, brooding as Sam played “As Time Goes By.” He’d felt a weird kinship with the gin joint owner since leaving Mira behind in Everville. Though he supposed in that analogy, he was more like Ilsa in Paris. Or something. He didn’t care. He just wanted to watch the movie over and over, and remind himself that at the end, Rick did the right thing in making Ilsa leave Casablanca with Victor Laszlo.
If that condo doesn’t get built, you’ll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life. He laughed at himself bitterly. Priti peered at him curiously.
“Did I miss something funny?”
“No. Is dinner ready?”
“Not quite. Amma sent me in here because she was afraid you were still moping over your breakup.”
Shane groaned. “Is that what she thinks happened?”
“I dunno, you tell me. Amma told me all about this girlfriend of yours. She’s the theater owner, right? The one you were trying to bully into selling?”
“She wasn’t my girlfriend.” Not really. Not in the way he’d wanted. There’d been too much deception, too many underlying motivations to make it a real relationship. “And I didn’t bully her. It was complicated.”
“They really liked her. Wish I got to meet her, too.”
He lifted a shoulder nonchalantly. He probably shouldn’t have introduced Mira to his parents, given them hope for their bachelor son’s happiness. And he had been happy, despite everything. It all felt so faraway now, like a dream that had ended with a rude awakening.
We’ll always have Paris.
Priti studied him. “So what happened between you two?”
“Nothing. I did my job like I was supposed to. It was what was best for her. For everyone.” His sister’s silence made him itch and he felt the need to explain himself further. “The theater would’ve been condemned eventually anyhow. The p
lace was falling apart and she was living there illegally. She’s lucky she didn’t get in any serious accidents. Did I tell you how I found her dangling from a stage wire once? She could’ve been hurt or killed and no one would’ve known.” He clenched his fists just thinking about it.
Priti tilted her chin. “So you did her a favor?”
He ignored her patronizing tone. “It made no sense for her to hold on to that property. It was costing her thousands a year in taxes, and she wasn’t getting anything out of it. Now she’s a multimillionaire. She’s way better off.”
“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself of that.”
He glared at his sister. She smirked and shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth. “Can’t admit that maybe winning isn’t everything, huh?”
“What’re you talking about?”
She gave a put-upon sigh. “C’mon. You were never good at compromise. You went full Shekhar on her and drove her into the ground in the name of winning. You had to be right. You thought everything would work out for you once you got her property, that she’d thank you. But she didn’t.”
“I had her best interests at heart,” he argued.
“Right. Because that’s what every woman wants to hear from a man—that he thinks he knows what’s best for her.” She rolled her eyes. Shane froze, realizing his sister had him pegged. “Just admit that what you did was wrong. You’ve never accepted failure as an option. You would’ve arm wrestled her for that property if that’s what it took. Whether or not you meant to, you led her on. You should have stepped away the moment you realized you had feelings for her, but you didn’t. You had your eye on the prize. You thought you could have it all. But you can’t. And now you’re moping about it instead of actually feeling bad about what you did to her.”
It galled him to admit she was right, except for that last part. He did feel bad. He felt guilty, not self-righteous.
His cell phone rang. He answered. “Hello?”