Vivien felt the air stirring more now. It was getting cooler, and she could sense the spirits gathering their strength…and she felt Liv, right next to her, telling her to climb.
She got to the top just as all hell broke loose.
If she’d thought the scene Friday when Jake was here was crazy, what happened now was unfathomable—but at least she’d been expecting it.
A loud roaring filled the air, making her wrap her arm around one of the bars of the landing so she could cover both ears with her hands and remain safe.
The roaring swelled, expanding and echoing like a furious freight train, and Vivien heard Melody scream from somewhere below. But she couldn’t look, for the shaking had begun, so wildly, so violently, that she was afraid the whole structure was going to collapse.
Lights flashed everywhere, blinking like strobes, blinding her as she clung for her life to the metal rods that held up the ladder and its landing.
The shaking continued, the roaring, the lights, the screaming…and the sudden, frigid wind that made her fingers want to peel away from the burning cold metal she was holding on to.
And then suddenly, everything collapsed. She felt the floor beneath her feet give away, and her ears were filled with screams as she fell.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Liv was there.
Vivien saw her sister—her face as she would be now, at thirty-one, and recognized her.
You’re safe, said Liv.
And then Vivien felt the ground beneath her.
Vivien opened her eyes. She had no idea how long she’d been lying there—in the middle of the stage.
Everything was silent.
Melody Carlson was in a broken heap on stage left at the base of the shattered ladder, the gun still gripped in her fingers.
Mr. Carlson must have stood—or been dragged—from where he’d been sitting, for he was no longer in his chair, or anywhere near it.
Then she saw him—looking no more substantial than a rag doll thrown to the ground, lying on stage right.
She doubted he could have climbed onto the stage, or that he would have done anything but try to run out of the place if he were able.
He looked as if he might have been tossed there.
Shuddering, fighting the urge to puke, Vivien dragged herself to her feet and stood on trembling knees. Good God.
“That was a little too close for comfort,” she shouted in a shaky voice to the place at large.
The scaffolding clattered above her, the stage lights flashed on, and then off. Everything quieted.
She guessed—she hoped—that was the pair of unhappy ghosts, turning out the lights and going to their rest at last.
Jake came as soon as he got her text, and unfortunately, he had no choice but to bring Pop with him. He didn’t want to take the time to argue about it, and his dad wasn’t about to stay home.
“Vivien,” Jake said as he pulled her into his arms. He was never going to let her go.
Helga and Joe Cap had arrived only moments before him, and so Vivien had to extract herself from his embrace to finish telling her story.
She seemed relatively calm, all things considered.
Jake was also relieved that neither Joe Cap nor Helga seemed the least bit shocked or disbelieving about the story—which, if Jake hadn’t been a witness to the ghostly tantrums, he would never have believed…even coming from Vivien.
“I’m certain you’ll find that the man standing in the Nutcracker cast photo without a costume is Mr. Carlson, and that one of the little girls who were extras was Melody,” Vivien said. “She must have come up to the theater with her mother, and was there when Mr. Carlson murdered his wife and her lover.”
“And one would assume, since she was friends with your realtor, that Melody somehow got a copy of the key so she could come in and set up all of her theatrical warnings,” Jake said.
“Exactly. She would have known about the sale probably from the beginning, and would have had plenty of time to plan.”
“All right, then. So, uh,” said Joe Cap, scratching his head and looking up into the rafters. “You said you were up there when all this happened?”
“Yes, when the ghosts started getting wild and violent, I was standing at the top of the ladder on the landing.”
Jake looked at the jumble of metal that had been the ladder and landing—which had been thirty feet above the ground—and felt his insides squeeze. “But how… You couldn’t have fallen…? Did you?”
“Well, her sister probably helped her down, now, didn’t she?” said Pop, pushing his way into the conversation.
Jake stared at him. “What are you saying?”
Vivien put her arm around his dad and hugged him close, whispering something in his ear. Then she looked up and said to Jake, “Liv—I think—caught me. She stopped me from falling and helped me land on the ground.”
“And you bitch about your sisters all the time, Elwood,” lectured Pop. “Maybe you better be nicer to them—just in case they go first.”
“Sure,” said Jake, still feeling pretty discombobulated. “I’ll…uh…keep that in mind.”
“By the way, there’s an Elantra in the parking lot. Presumably Melody’s,” said Helga.
Vivien and Jake were there for another three hours, giving statements and waiting for everything to be cleared away.
“The place is a crime scene,” Vivien said sadly. “There’s no way we’ll be able to open the show on time. But I suppose that’s not such a tragedy, because now I have to find a new Elaine Harper. I just got a message—Penny Stern broke her leg and won’t be available for three months. Talk about bad juju.”
Helga folded her arms over her middle and lifted her brow. “You know you can find someone very easily, Vivien. And what crime scene? I don’t see any crime scene. Two very unfortunate accidents happened—and everyone knew the catwalk was old and rickety. You tried to warn them, but they were determined to climb up there and look around. For old times’ sake.” She spread her hands and shrugged. “No crime scene here.”
Vivien smiled through a glint of tears. “That sounds about right. Thanks, Helga.”
“No reason to thank me. Joe Cap’s the one who did the assessment,” she said.
And with that last bit of worry cleared from her mind, Vivien smiled and looked around at her place. Her stage. Her theater.
Thanks, Liv.
The next morning, Vivien awoke to the smell of baking bread. She lolled and stretched, enjoying the big, rumpled bed, and smiled.
And he bakes, too.
And he loved her. Still.
Here’s to more better times.
That was going to be her mantra now—Cherry would be proud of her; she was always promoting meditation and mantras to help with her anxiety—and with that thought, Vivien swung out of bed and made good use of the steam shower.
When she came out to the kitchen, Jake was sitting at his laptop wearing a pair of dark-framed glasses that immediately made her lady parts sit up and take notice (as if they hadn’t already been working hard for the last two days anyway).
With his glasses on, Jake looked like an Italian Clark Kent—all studious and a little geeky with his hair combed back. He was wearing a button-down shirt…and boxers, she saw when she came around behind him.
She hid a chuckle when she realized he was on a videoconference call and had dressed for the part—at least, the top half of him. He gave her a brief smile then went back to his call. She poured herself a mug of coffee (noting that he didn’t use those environmentally-not-friendly pods; Cherry would be delighted for the second time this morning).
The fresh bread Vivien had smelled was sitting on a rack and made her mouth water, but she didn’t dare cut into it until she knew it was fair game. He might be taking it to Orbra’s.
She went out onto the patio with her coffee and sat down to look out over the lake. If she’d been up earlier, she might have seen the morning fog rolling off its gorgeous blues, but it was
after nine, and that had happened more than an hour ago.
After all, she’d had one hell of a weekend, nearly dying and all.
Still, she could see the seagulls darting above and a red hawk diving for a fish in the water. There was a freighter on the horizon—probably heading to Chicago or the Soo Locks at Sault Ste Marie; she’d watch for a minute to see which way it was going.
To her amazement, a bald eagle flew just a few yards in front of her—so close she could see its prey still wriggling, dangling from its talons.
It would be very easy to get used to this.
A gentle hand on her shoulder made her start, and she looked up and behind to see Jake, still in boxers and button-down shirt. And glasses. Yum.
“It makes me very happy to see you sitting here,” he said, and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “There’s fresh bread inside—I made a loaf with cinnamon and raisins this morning— Oof!”
She’d thrown herself into his arms, knocking his glasses askew. “I thought I smelled cinnamon. Oh, man, with butter…hot and fresh from the oven…Jake…I think I’m going to marry you!” she teased, then smacked a kiss on his cheek.
When she would have pulled away, she realized he had her by the arm. “I wish you would,” he said, shocking her to the core.
“Jake, really, I was just kidding,” she said, her stomach dumping to her toes.
“I’m not.” His eyes searched hers. “I told you…I’ve never stopped loving you, Vivien. There’s been no one else—not really, not long enough to matter—for ten years.
“I didn’t realize it until I found you again, but I’ve been waiting for you, waiting for you to come back. I was waiting for you to call me again, to use the number you never deleted from your phone.”
She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “Jake…”
He pulled her close, dropping a kiss on her forehead, then ducked to whisper in her ear. “I want you forever, Vivien…and I’ll even take Liv too, ghostly presence and all. As long as she doesn’t critique my technique.”
She looked up at him through damp eyes. “That’s a deal,” she managed, smiling through the sudden tears. “But you have to let me flirt with your pop whenever I want, all right?”
“I think I can handle that.”
He cuddled her close, and she closed her eyes, resting her head on his chest.
The song she couldn’t help but hum was “I Can Hear the Bells.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Six Weeks Later
Vivien looked out from the wings and clasped her hands together, fighting back the rush of happy tears.
We did it, Liv.
We actually did it.
The Olivia Dee Theater was packed on opening night—every brand-new seat filled with an expectant, clapping, cheering audience member—and Maxine and Juanita were taking their final bows.
They’d been adorable and brilliant, as Vivien had hoped and anticipated, and the audience—many of whom knew the old ladies personally—had eaten up their performances, enjoying their sometimes-improvised banter.
Sometimes a little too much improvisation, Vivien thought with a grin, but somehow the ladies knew when enough was enough…at least while onstage.
Roger Hatchard got wild applause and a lengthy run of hoots and cheers, and so did Michael Wold—but the audience saved the standing ovation for Maxine, Juanita, and Baxter, who’d been simply delightful as the discombobulated, earnest Mortimer Brewster.
She felt Jake as he came up behind her, rubbing his hands gently over her shoulders as she waited for her turn to come out from the wings.
“How are you feeling about Vivien Leigh Savage’s return to the stage?” he murmured near her ear.
“It was perfect. Absolutely perfect,” she replied, leaning back against him a little. She’d let Maxine and Juanita bask in their glory a few moments longer.
“Susie Wallaby was also perfect as Elaine Harper,” Jake said. “Good call on that.”
“She was better than I expected,” Vivien said. “And she sold a ton of tickets for this weekend and next weekend to her husband’s dentist friends and her sorority.”
“Everyone thought you’d step in to play Elaine Harper,” he said, nuzzling her a little, and sending delicious shivers down her spine.
“I know, but that would have been just a little too on the nose, you know? My cameo role was perfect—and the best way for me to get back onstage. I had no lines, no makeup, not much of a costume…”
He chuckled in her ear. “You were the best dead body in the window seat anyone’s ever seen.”
When Vivien stepped out onto the stage—wearing the same men’s clothing she’d worn for her “role,” but now with her hair down—she was greeted with thunderous applause and cheers that brought down the house. The rest of the cast moved upstage, leaving her alone at the edge of the stage as the cheering and clapping went on and on.
Her eyes stung and she blinked rapidly, glad she was too far away for anyone to see.
And then she felt Liv, coming to stand next to her. She reached for her twin’s hand and felt solidness as their fingers curled together—just for an instant—and then the sensation was gone.
They were onstage together again.
They were home.
A Note from the Author
I had a particularly fun time writing Sinister Stage because my husband, children, and I are a “theater family.” We’ve acted, sung, played music, and/or directed in and seen a number of musical theater productions over the years in school as well as community theater, and I met my husband, aka MusicMan, while doing Oliver! far too many years ago to count.
Although I did some theatrical shows in high school, my debut on the community theater stage (just after college) was as the dead body in Arsenic and Old Lace, and so it was fun to have Vivien make her return to the stage in a similar way. I probably have a picture of me dressed as the dead guy somewhere in my stuff—if I find it, I’ll send it out with my newsletter (are you a subscriber? You should be! Go here to subscribe: http://cgbks.com/news).
I also wanted to mention that I knew a family who lived in a house with an actual tree growing in the middle of it—just as described in Jake’s house. They recently sold the house, and I’m not gonna lie—I’m trying to figure out a way to meet the new neighbors so I can see if the tree is still there.
I also wanted to mention that I’m working on recording all of the Wicks Hollow books, making them available as audiobooks with me as the narrator. I’m not a professional actor (so don’t compare me to Jim Dale or Jayne Entwistle, who, by the way, does an amazing job narrating my Stoker and Holmes series), but I’m told the books are quite listenable. You can find me reading Sinister Summer (with more to come) anywhere audiobooks are available.
Finally, I want to thank my son and Erin Wolfe in particular for helping me with some of the musical theater references. It was nice to have two more heads thinking about other-than-the-obvious songs I could use. I’ve created a playlist with all of the songs mentioned in the book, and I’ll be making the list public on Spotify and Apple Music for anyone to listen to—in case you’re curious or want a backdrop while you’re reading. I’ll be posting the information about how to find the playlists on my website and social media accounts soon.
Thank you for reading the Wicks Hollow series. I have so much fun writing it, and I can’t tell you how happy I am that so many readers are enjoying my particular blend of ghosts, murder, and romance.
— Colleen Gleason
August 2020
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Also by Colleen Gleason
The Gardella Vampire Hunters
Victoria
The Rest Falls Away
Rises the Night
The Bleeding Dusk
&nb
sp; When Twilight Burns
As Shadows Fade
Macey/Max Denton
Roaring Midnight
Raging Dawn
Roaring Shadows
Raging Winter
Roaring Dawn
The Draculia Vampires
Dark Rogue: The Vampire Voss
Dark Saint: The Vampire Dimitri
Dark Vixen: The Vampire Narcise
Vampire at Sea: Tales from the Draculia Vampires
Wicks Hollow Series
Ghost Story Romance & Mystery
Sinister Summer
Sinister Secrets
Sinister Shadows
Sinister Sanctuary
Sinister Stage
Stoker & Holmes Books
(for ages 12-adult)
The Clockwork Scarab
The Spiritglass Charade
The Chess Queen Enigma
The Carnelian Crow
The Zeppelin Deception
The Castle Garden Series
Lavender Vows
A Whisper of Rosemary
Sanctuary of Roses
A Lily on the Heath
The Heroes of New Vegas
Beyond the Night
Embrace the Night
Abandon the Night
Night Beckons
Night Forbidden
Night Resurrected
Tempted by the Night (only available to newsletter subscribers; sign up here: http://cgbks.com/news)
The Lincoln’s White House Mystery Series
(writing as C. M. Gleason)
Murder in the Lincoln White House
Murder in the Oval Library
Murder at the Capitol
The Marina Alexander Adventure Novels
Sinister Stage: A Ghost Story Romance and Mystery (Wicks Hollow Book 5) Page 26