The Last Chance Matinee

by Mariah Stewart

  She thought for a moment longer.

  Just last week, the Realtor had found a renter for her pretty house, so at least for now, Allie wouldn’t have to sell it. That was good, too. Once the estate was settled, she could put it on the market, if she decided that was what she really wanted to do.

  Oh, and just a little while ago, the cop hadn’t given her a ticket for going through the stop sign, so that counted as a plus as well. Of course, she was aware that was most likely due to the fact that apparently his grandmother and Barney were friends, but the reason didn’t matter. Allie had thought of three good things to balance out the nightmare she felt closing in on her. She toasted herself with a long swig from the bottle. Maybe tomorrow she’d see if she could dig up an ice bucket and a glass. Surely she’d find both among all the trappings in the pantry. Then again, she wasn’t sure she wanted to advertise the fact that she was engaging in her own nightly happy hour. Des would have something to say about that, and she wasn’t sure she was up to dealing with her sister’s self-righteous disapproval. The last time she’d had more than three drinks in Des’s presence, she’d been treated to a fifteen-minute lecture about how she was going to turn into their mother if she didn’t watch it.

  Allie heard footsteps in the hall, and reached over to turn out the light on the table next to her chair, hoping whoever it was would think she was asleep and wouldn’t bother her. As the voices drew nearer, she identified both Des and Cara, though she couldn’t understand what was being said. Shifting in the chair, Allie held her breath until she heard the doors to their respective rooms closing. Once all was quiet again, she took one last drink before recapping the bottle. She wrapped it back in the brown paper bag, noting that it was now only two-thirds full. She hadn’t realized she’d had that much to drink. She’d only intended a nightcap, a little something to help her through the uncertainty of the situation. Her heart hurt so much at being so far away from Nikki, especially since she had no idea when she would see her daughter again.

  Allie stood and stumbled on her way to the bed to replace the bag in her suitcase. Clumsy fingers stashed the bag under a sweater. She moved things around until she found a nightshirt, then slowly and deliberately walked to the bathroom. Ten minutes later she crawled into bed, her head swimming.

  As she began to lose herself to sleep, Barney’s words came faintly back: Allie, you’ve been here before.

  Something, not quite déjà vu, swept through her and pricked at the corners of her mind, but before she could examine it more closely, sleep took her under, and that tiny wisp of remembrance was lost.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “So that’s the Sugarhouse.” Cara rolled down her driver’s-side window to get a better look.

  “That’s this grand theater we’re supposed to be restoring to its former glory, or else?” Allie scoffed. “Seriously? It’s just a bunch of wood nailed together. And by the way, whoever did it did a crappy job.”

  “That’s plywood, and I’m sure that whoever had it boarded up was trying to preserve the building.” Cara studied the façade, which was, as Allie pointed out, totally covered with plywood nailed haphazardly across the front and the marquee. “And we can be thankful someone took the time to cover everything. Otherwise, we could be facing a mess from weather damage, vandalism. . . .”

  “Must be the neighborhood,” Allie muttered.

  Cara shot her a dirty look but continued. “There’s any number of things that could happen to a building left unprotected for many years.”

  “I’m sure it’s a lot nicer inside.” It was obvious Des was trying to sound optimistic. From the outside, the Sugarhouse possessed little charm.

  “Why are we sitting here? Let’s take a look.” Cara hopped out, excited and eager to get to work, her bag heavy with tools she’d borrowed from Barney.

  The three stood in front of the building, looking up at the marquee, and for one long moment, they were mesmerized.

  “I have goose bumps,” Des declared. “Anyone else?”

  “Definitely.” Cara held up her arms.

  “Maybe a few,” Allie admitted.

  “Can’t you just imagine people arriving, all dressed up and excited to see the movie or the play or the concert?” Des turned to Allie. “This is where it all started for Mom, Al. Can’t you feel how thrilled she must have been the first time she saw her name up there on the marquee?”

  Allie nodded but didn’t comment, though Cara could’ve sworn the corners of Allie’s eyes were wet.

  “I didn’t even notice this place last night when I stopped for gas across the street.” Cara glanced at the gas station, wondering if the guy who’d set her straight about pumping gas was there again today, if he was still chuckling at her expense.

  “And look, right next door to the gas station is a little bar.” Des pointed out the sign with the giant green frog sitting on a lily pad. “The Bullfrog Inn. Cute name. I wonder if it’s a nice place. Maybe we could all go one night.”

  “Sure.” Cara nodded.

  “What time is Barney’s friend supposed to be here?” Allie walked to the corner of the building as if she hadn’t heard, then walked back again, because there was nothing to see on the side of the theater except more boards covering who knew what.

  Cara glanced at her watch. “Now, actually.” From her bag she took a screwdriver and hammer and went directly to the board that covered what she suspected was the main door. “Let’s see if I can get this off.”

  “Don’t you think you should wait?” Des appeared nervous. “What if someone drives by and thinks we’re breaking into the place? Or calls the police?”

  “The cops won’t have too far to go, since the police station is right across the street,” Allie said.

  “Well, that’s certainly convenient. I’ll bet that cuts down on the drunk driving around here.” Cara eyed the board. It had been screwed into place. She put the hammer on the ground and went to work with the screwdriver on one of the corners. “I don’t want to wait for the contractor. I want to see what’s inside.”

  “You know how to use that thing?” Allie asked.

  “It’s a screwdriver, Allie, it has no working parts. I didn’t have a lot of money to have my yoga studio renovated, so whatever I could do, I did. What I didn’t know how to do, I learned. I wouldn’t call myself an expert, but I can do simple things.”

  “If we had another screwdriver, you could teach me,” Des told her.

  “If I had another screwdriver, I’d be happy to do that.” Cara smiled. She was really starting to like Des. She still hadn’t come around to Allie, but then again, Allie hadn’t come around to her, either.

  Des walked to the curb and glanced up and down the street. “There’s a library on the other side of the parking lot.”

  “Maybe we could go there to wait for this guy.” Allie sounded hopeful. “It’s cold out here.”

  “It’s just a little windy, that’s all,” Des told her. “Didn’t you bring any warm clothes with you?”

  “It’s March, Des,” Allie snapped. “It was eighty-five degrees when I left California. How was I supposed to know it was still winter here?”

  Des held up her phone. “Easy enough to check the weather anywhere.”

  Blocking out their bickering, Cara turned one of the screws that held the right side of the board in place. After a brief struggle, she worked the screw free. Pleased with herself, she slipped it into her pocket and went on to the next. She’d managed to remove six more screws before she became aware of the voices behind her.

  Des and Allie had argued from the sidewalk to the door, but once they reached Cara, they both fell silent.

  “Wow, you’ve gotten almost all the screws out,” Allie said.

  “In another second or two, we’ll be able to see what’s underneath all this plywood.” Cara removed the remaining screws, lifted the board, and placed it off to one side. “I was expecting something like solid wood for the main door, but not this.”

  The
wide, thick wooden door was painted aqua, the top half stained glass, depicting the drama and comedy masks.

  “Beautiful. Tragedy and comedy.” Des leaned over Cara’s shoulder. “Mom had those little tattoos on her ankle, remember, Al?”

  “That is so cool.” Allie hung over Des. “I remember those.”

  Des ran a hand over the glass. “Nice. Not a chip, not a scratch. We should thank whoever boarded up this place for doing right by the old girl. The glass looks as perfect as it probably did on the day it was installed, and the paint hasn’t even faded.”

  She pushed at the door, but it held firm.

  “Oh. Barney gave me a key she thought might work.” Cara dug in her pocket, then held up the key. “Allie, you’re the oldest. Want to do the honors?”

  “No thanks.”

  “I’d love to do it.” Des took the key. “Geez, Allie. Our parents met here. They fell in love here. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  “Right now the only thing that means anything to me is getting out of this wind,” Allie replied.

  Des rolled her eyes, slipped the key into the lock, and pushed. The door swung open onto a dark space.

  “Oh my God, it’s black as midnight in there.” Allie stepped back from the door.

  “I keep a flashlight in my car for emergencies,” Cara told them. “It has a really bright beam. I’ll be right back.”

  Moments later, Cara returned with the flashlight. “Ready to go in?” she asked.

  “Don’t you think we should wait for . . . whoever it is we’re waiting for?” Allie frowned.

  “We don’t have to wait for anyone,” Cara said. “We own this place. We’re finally going to see what Dad left us.”

  “Agreed. Let’s go.” Des followed Cara inside, but Allie remained in the doorway.

  A few seconds later, Cara heard Allie groan, “Oh, what the hell. Wait for me.”

  Cara shined the light on the floor. A rug with gold swirls on a dark background—blue? Burgundy? Brown?—lay under their feet.

  “I wonder if the carpet is still any good,” Des mused. “It’d sure save us a ton of money. I can’t imagine what it would cost to replicate this design.”

  The flashlight flickered across the rest of the lobby. A series of three high and wide arches framed the left side. A large double door stood in the center of the wall on the right. Cara’s light followed the lines of the arches and revealed a painted design around each.

  “Wow,” Des exclaimed. “Look at that.”

  “Gorgeous,” Cara whispered. “This place is just . . .” She sought words.

  “You nailed it,” Allie said. “It’s gorgeous.”

  Des sighed heavily. “How could we ever restore such a place, find someone who could match the paint and—”

  “Maybe we won’t have to.” Allie sounded surprisingly optimistic. “Maybe it doesn’t need to be restored. Like you said, it’s been boarded up for a long time, so it hasn’t been exposed to sunlight that would damage it.” She added hopefully, “Maybe.”

  “I guess we’ll know better when we can really see it. Maybe an electrician should be number one on our list,” Cara said.

  Des pulled a pen and a small notebook from her bag. “I’m taking notes. I don’t trust us to remember everything.” She wrote down “carpet,” “decorative painting,” and “electrician” in the notebook.

  “I think we all concur the lobby’s a wow.” Cara turned her beam of light to the double doors. “I’m guessing the audience seats are through there.”

  “One way to find out.” Allie followed the light to the doors and opened the one on the left.

  Cara swept the wide beam of her heavy-duty flashlight across the room and noted, “Looks like the seats are still here. That should save us some money.”

  “If they’re usable.” Allie studied one of the seats. “They look kind of old.” She ran a hand over it, releasing a cloud of dust, and coughed. “Dusty, too.”

  “You’d be dusty, too, if you sat in here for what, eighty or ninety years?” Des reminded her.

  “Maybe they could be cleaned.” Cara’s flashlight moved toward the orchestra area. She stopped at the end of the aisle and turned the light upward to the ceiling.

  “Seat cleaner,” Des wrote on her pad.

  “Hey, check this out,” Cara called to them.

  Allie and Des looked up to the area Cara had illuminated. Dazzling colors appeared overhead—red, gold, blue, green—in indistinguishable patterns. The ceiling itself was peacock blue, and a huge crystal chandelier hung from a center medallion.

  “Oh my God, the chandelier.” Allie gasped. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Spectacular. And the ceiling’s painted with the same design as the lobby,” Des pointed out.

  “It’s beautiful.” Cara’s flashlight swept the ceiling from side to side and back again. “It’s domed and painted. Breathtaking. Pray it’s stable and that the roof never leaked.”

  “Praying,” Des said. She elbowed Allie in the ribs until her sister said, “Okay. Me too.”

  Cara’s light danced across the entire ceiling and down one wall.

  “Well, she’s a true Art Deco lady.” Allie marveled. “I don’t know what shape the walls and ceiling are in, but she sure looks good from here. I guess the real test will be when the lights are all on. We’re probably going to need a scaffold to inspect the ceiling closer, but from here, guys, I have to admit, I’m almost speechless.”

  “I’m excited.” Her eyes shining, Cara turned to Des and Allie. “This is going to be an adventure. When it’s finished, it’s going to be fabulous. I can’t wait.”

  “How long do you suppose all this is going to take?” Allie ignored Cara’s enthusiasm.

  “I guess we’ll have to see what the contractor has to say when he gets here,” Cara said.

  “He’s late.” Allie pulled out her phone and checked the time.

  “So what? It’s given us time to scope all this out on our own,” Des said. “I’m glad he’s late.”

  Cara started carefully down the aisle, the light shining ahead of her.

  “There’s the stage.” She paused to run the light from side to side, top to bottom. “No curtains, but maybe they’re somewhere else.”

  Des and Allie followed.

  “Dad and Mom both acted on that stage.” Des shook her head. “I still can’t believe we’re actually standing here, in the place where they met.”

  “I have to admit, I never saw any of this coming,” Allie said.

  The beam from Cara’s light settled on an area straight ahead. “There’s an orchestra pit. How cool is that?”

  “Shine the light up and back the way we came in,” Des suggested.

  Cara did, and Des exclaimed, “There! I knew there’d be a balcony!”

  “We should find the steps and go up,” Cara said. “Let’s go back to the lobby and see if we can find them.”

  The three women headed back toward the front of the building.

  “Maybe through the arches?” Des pointed off to one side.

  “That’s as good a place as any to begin,” Cara agreed.

  Following the light, they poked through the middle arch and stepped into a long, dark hallway. Cara flashed the light up and down.

  “Maybe this way,” she said. “There’s something down here.”

  “Those steps go down.” Allie pointed to the disappearing steps.

  “Let’s see where they go.” Cara took the lead once again and they descended into the basement.

  “Another hallway.” Des sighed.

  “And doors off on each side. I want to see what all is down here.” Cara pushed open the first door to reveal a small room dominated by a large desk. Shelves lined the walls on two sides and there was a tall cabinet off to the side of the desk.

  She stepped behind the desk and opened the top drawer. “Whoever used this room collected pens.” She scooped up a handful and held them up.

  Allie ca
me closer. “Pens they lifted from other places—mostly local businesses, it seems.” She read from the sides of several. “ ‘First Bank of Hidden Falls.’ ‘Ford’s Auto Service.’ ‘Flowers Bakery.’ ‘Crash Barton—Auto Insurance.’ Are they kidding with these names?” She looked up at her sisters. “Would you buy car insurance from someone named Crash?”

  “That has to be a joke,” Des said.

  “Please.” Allie rolled her eyes. “This is the boonies. Anything goes. I wouldn’t be surprised to find their dentist is Dr. Payne and their one and only doctor is named Blood.”

  “Why would you say that?” Des frowned.

  “Flowers Bakery. Get it? Flours?” Allie stared at her sister. “Ford’s auto? Everything about this entire town seems out of whack to me.”

  “I don’t know,” Des said. “I’m finding it more and more charming. Those names are, well, kinda cute, in a hokey sort of way.”

  Allie rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, guys! You have to see this!” Cara stood in front of the open cabinet holding something in both hands. “Look at these old movie posters! I bet these were in glass display cases in front of the theater.”

  “I didn’t see any glass cases,” Allie said.

  “I’m sure they’re behind some of those boards,” Cara told her.

  Des and Allie came around the desk to take a closer look.

  “Al, it’s the poster for one of Mom’s movies.” Des laid it flat on the desk. “Look how young she looks here.”

  “ ‘Honora Hudson in Walk of Fear,’ ” Allie read aloud. “I remember when she did that film. We went with her that time, remember? They’d built the set outside of L.A. in the hills.”

  “I remember.”

  “I thought your mother’s name was Nora,” Cara said.

  “She thought Honora Hudson sounded more like a star and would look better on the marquee, so she changed it, but everyone who knew her called her Nora.” Des paused. “Actually, her given name was Eleanora, but she thought that sounded too old-fashioned.”

  “I wonder if there are more,” Allie said.