by Addison Cole
“Work? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Marilynn teased.
“Mom! Dad, take her away. Please.”
As Cade led Marilynn toward the barn, her mother said, “Please ask Roy and Ella if they’d like to come next Friday evening. We’re celebrating the completion of the porch, and Sable moving out.”
“I’m sure Sable will be happy to know you’re celebrating her leaving,” Grace teased.
Her mom spun around as if to say something, and Cade hauled her against him, silencing her with a kiss.
“I really like your parents,” Reed said as he gathered Grace in his arms.
“Yeah, they’re pretty cool, aren’t they?” She pushed her fingers into the waist of his jeans. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
“Me too,” she said in a voice as smooth and intoxicating as a shot of whiskey. She began walking backward toward the doors that led to her bedroom, tugging him with her by her grip on his jeans.
“Grace, what about your parents?”
“We figured out years ago that ‘trail ride’ was code for Mom and Dad needing make-out time.” She yanked open the door and pulled him into her bedroom. After closing and locking the porch door, she drew the curtains, and then she shut and locked the door to the hall. With a fierce, sexy look in her eyes, she worked his belt buckle and button free and said, “This is your lucky day,” as she unzipped his jeans. “I happen to be famished, but not for lunch.”
“My lucky day was the morning you walked out of this bedroom in those slinky little pajamas and back into my life.”
“We’ll see if you still feel that way in ten minutes.”
He held her close, speaking directly in her ear, and said, “Every day we’re together is luckier than the last.”
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Grace went to see Brindle at her drama club rehearsal. What was it about elementary schools that made her want to either stand up straight or run down the hallway? She’d never run down the hallway as a kid and couldn’t imagine why that even popped into her head as she made her way toward the all-purpose room. While half of her siblings’ rebellions were wild and crazy, short of lying about seeing Reed when she was in high school, Grace’s rebellious acts had been few and far between. She’d once faked being sick and had gone to the nurse’s office. They’d called her mother, who had come to pick her up early from school. On the way to the car, Grace broke down in tears and told her mother she wasn’t really sick. She’d then marched herself directly into the principal’s office, despite her mother trying to convince her that taking half a mental health day wasn’t such a bad idea. Grace had pleaded her guilt to the stunned principal and assigned herself detention. That was the first and last elementary school prank she’d ever pulled.
As she entered the all-purpose room, the children’s voices brought memories of her drama-club days. She’d sat in this same room beside Sophie, reading lines for plays and giggling with their friends. This was where her enjoyment of theater first began, fed by the support of teachers and classmates. She leaned against the wall, observing Brindle sitting in a circle with the children and what looked like a few high-school-aged helpers, as the kids recited their lines. She rarely got to see Brindle teach and took a moment to watch her. Brindle’s blond hair cascaded over the shoulders of her pretty sheer blouse, which she wore over a simple white camisole. Even sitting cross-legged in jeans and sandals, like the kids, Brindle looked elegant, professional, and nothing like the girl who just a few hours ago had been racing around their parents’ yard.
Brindle listened carefully, offering suggestions when the children missed a line and complimenting each one as they finished. It was interesting seeing her flirtatious, risk-loving sister acting so serious, interjecting information about what the kids can expect when they went onstage.
One of the children glanced at Grace. Brindle’s gaze followed, and a smile lifted her lips.
“Kids, this is my sister Grace. She’s going to help me make the play a little shorter,” Brindle said, and all the kids cheered.
“Thank you!” shouted a towheaded boy.
“Not too much shorter,” pleaded an adorable girl with braids.
“Nat, can you please take over?” Brindle asked one of the teenagers.
“Sure,” Nat said. She was a studious-looking brunette with dark-framed glasses and stick-straight posture, and she reminded Grace of herself at that age.
“Thanks for coming. Let’s sit down.” Brindle pointed to the bleachers, eyeing Grace with a curious expression. As they walked across the room, she said, “I guess Oak Falls really is good for the soul, like Mom says. You look amazing, like you’re…I don’t know. Refreshed? Happy?”
“That probably has more to do with Reed than Oak Falls,” Grace said as they sat down. “I helped him with the porch this morning.” She felt her cheeks burn with the memory of what else she’d helped him with.
Brindle gasped, her eyes filling with amusement. She leaned closer and whispered, “Grace! Did you have a nooner? At Mom and Dad’s?”
Grace laughed softly and admitted, “Mom and Dad went for a trail ride.” She’d never shared her sex life with Brindle and had no idea why she was now, except that she was so happy with Reed she wanted the world to know—about her happiness, not their intimacy. That had just slipped out.
Brindle let out a tempered squeal and hugged her. “I’m so proud of you!”
“Stop!” She pushed her sister away with a smile. “We’re not talking about this,” she said firmly.
“Well, you’re not, but oh my gosh, Gracie!”
“No, Brindle,” she said with a glare. “You are not speaking about it either. I don’t want to hear about this from Morgyn or Sable or anyone else.”
Brindle sighed. “Fine! You are no fun at all.” A smile lit up her eyes as she leaned closer and whispered, “But you totally are fun! This is so good! I’m happy you’re not an ice queen.”
“Ugh! Can we work please?”
Brindle’s expression softened. “I didn’t think you were an ice queen. That was Sable. I’m just glad you proved her wrong, because, you know. You’re always so proper around us, and I’d be sad if you missed out on taking advantage of our parents’ make-out session.”
A laugh slipped out before Grace could stop it. “Thank you. I think.”
Brindle gazed out at the kids with a look of admiration. “These kids are so smart, Gracie. They’ve got the whole play darn near perfectly memorized, and we’re still a few weeks out.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
“These are my third and fourth graders, but we have kids from first and second grade in the play, too. They’re rehearsing in one of the classrooms with two of the high school volunteers. The play’s an hour long, and it’s too much for them. They get restless, and I want this to be fun for all the kids. I think the only way to find a happy medium is to cut it back to thirty or, at the most, forty minutes. But I tried, and it’s like I’m married to every word of the story.”
She handed Grace the script, and Grace skimmed over it. “I’ve never heard of Beans, Buttons, and Bullies.”
“Nat wrote it. She’s in my English class at the high school, and she’s so creative. I remembered the story you wrote for the elementary schoolers when you were in high school. You said Ms. D really inspired you to take your creative writing seriously. I thought I’d borrow that tactic.” She did her signature Brindle-happy shrug, wrinkling her nose and smiling, and said, “I think it’s really working. She’s already writing another play. She wanted to take your class, but it interfered with our rehearsals.”
Grace was impressed and strangely touched by her sister’s interest in helping her students succeed. She had worried about Brindle going into teaching, as teaching was a challenge for anyone and Brindle had never been a particularly focused student. Even in college Brindle was a wild child, and Grace had told her there was no place for wild in a teacher’s professional life. Brindle had sworn that teaching was her
calling because she felt she could relate to kids of all ages—and she’d proven herself many times over. Her students loved her because she was down-to-earth, but she was also firm enough to demand respect. Grace was happy to see that attitude had carried over to the drama club.
“Maybe I can find a way to mentor Nat long-distance,” Grace offered. “In fact, I’d like that.”
“Really? She’d be thrilled. Thank you. I’ll introduce you after we’re done. Do you think you can rewrite the script?”
Grace watched Nat, who obviously patterned her behavior with the students after Brindle, as she was every bit as supportive toward them. “This is Nat’s script. I think you should discuss rewrites with her.”
“I did, but she said she didn’t know where to start.”
“Looks like the mentoring can start today. Can you spare her for an hour?”
“Absolutely! Let me go get her.” Brindle jumped to her feet and hugged Grace. “I can’t thank you enough. It’s so hard to find kids who look beyond partying, and Nat’s really excited about this project.”
Grace had to laugh. “Says the girl who never met a party she didn’t like.”
Brindle held her finger over her lips. “Shh. They don’t need to know that.”
“You do realize this town’s got ears in the ground, right?”
“Yes! But they know better than to comment on it, and I’ve gotten really good at being discreet with my personal life.”
Grace arched a brow.
“Okay, more discreet,” Brindle said softly. “Besides, there’s only been Trace on and off for a while now. But don’t tell him that. The man’s ego is bigger than his…” She glanced at her students and said, “Heart.”
As shocked as Grace was to learn Brindle had only been with Trace, she knew better than to hope her wild sister might tame her ways while she was in Paris for six weeks this summer.
Brindle put another teenager in charge of the class while she introduced Nat to Grace.
“I’m so excited to meet you,” Nat gushed. “I really wanted to take your class, but I also wanted to be here for the kids, and my mom said it was more important to see this play through than to work on another project.”
Nat spoke fast, fidgeting first with her glasses, then the hem of her shirt, then her glasses again. Grace found her nervousness endearing and her excitement inspiring.
“I know she’s right,” Nat said, “but I wish I could have done both.”
“I admire you sticking with the play. Your mom was definitely right about that. In the arts, seeing your dream become a reality is a tricky and exciting process. The more control you have, the better.”
As they made their way down the hall to the classroom Brindle suggested they use, Grace realized that achieving her dreams had also been tricky for other reasons. She’d lost a lot of the joys of life in the process. She wondered if there was a way to slow down, and if so, what ramifications it would have on her career.
If I don’t, what will it mean for me and Reed?
Why did it seem like everything good in life required a painful choice?
Chapter Fourteen
THE NEXT FEW days flew by in a blur of conference calls, teaching, and mentoring during the day and laughter and loving at night. Grace’s love for Reed blossomed into a love truer and deeper than anything she’d ever known. Friday afternoon as she taught the class at the bookstore, she couldn’t believe tonight marked the end of her first week at home. How had the time moved by so quickly? She and Reed had gone furniture shopping Wednesday evening, and once they’d gotten past needing to cuddle and kiss on every sofa—just to be sure they were comfortable—he’d bought a beautiful dark blue couch and love seat that had an antique feel, a glass coffee table with leather around the edges, and a plush throw rug. They’d also picked out a dining room set made from refurbished barn wood, which fit the relaxed yet elegant feel of the room perfectly. The furniture had been delivered last night, and it had completely transformed the already gorgeous house into a warm and inviting home. Grace couldn’t help feeling like they were building a home together, but she tried not to get drawn in by that aspect, because it was Reed’s home, and she had her own to return to in two weeks. But she enjoyed setting up his home with him. He had a keen, artistic eye.
She looked around the table at the other artistic individuals she was spending time with, huddled together discussing character arcs and plots. Wednesday’s class had been even more thrilling than the first. They had been hard at work creating an outline of the script they wanted to write.
“Okay, ladies,” Grace said. “Are we ready for our discussion?”
“Yes!” they said in unison.
“Wonderful. Who’s going to present the story?”
They exchanged looks among themselves, and Lauryn whispered something to Janie.
“Sure, I’m happy to,” Janie said. “Do the rest of you want me to start?”
They all agreed, and Janie said, “Our script is called I Ain’t No Cinderella. Our heroine is sharp, rebellious, and is not about to wait around for her prince.”
“And the prince is not tough enough for her, so she’s going to snub him and hit on a biker,” Nana interjected. “He’s a badboy.”
“Mm-hm,” Hellie agreed. “The prince is a sissy. Our girl needs a real man, and she’s not about to wait around for him to come to her.”
“That biker’s going to have his socks knocked off,” Janie said. “There’s a big community barn dance, kind of like the monthly jam sessions the Jerichos host.”
Phoenix narrowed her green eyes and said, “And the stepsisters are total witches, but Cinder, that’s our heroine’s name, is going to put them in their places right off the bat.”
“And the stepmother is kick-butt from page one. We all agreed that we hate that stereotype of the wicked stepmother,” Lauryn explained. “But it’s normal for sisters to annoy each other, regardless of if they’re step or bio.”
Grace’s pulse kicked up at such a unique idea. “The premise sounds fantastic, but it’s all going to be in the writing. There’s got to be more than just rebellion. What can you tell me about your character arcs?”
“Oh! I can tell you about Cinder!” Lauryn chimed in. “She’s been through the ringer. Her mother was a drug addict, father was pretty great, but he died right before the script starts. She was never a real daddy’s girl, but she always had him watching out for her.”
“He had her back,” Phoenix added.
“Yes,” Lauryn agreed. “But she’s never really let anyone take care of her. So she has a hard time letting her stepmom do it, and she fights her every step of the way.”
“And there’s a big blowout with the sisters, where they call her on not letting them be part of her life in any real way, and that’s why they’re so mean,” Janie explained. “That comes in Act II.”
“Those are great twists for not only Cinder, but the sisters, too.” Adrenaline coursed through Grace at the prospect of an angsty script. They discussed the other characters, setting, and structure. She wished Nat could be there. She’d love being part of this group, and the direction of their story, too. Grace had given her guidance about how to shorten the play, and she had been emailing revisions to Grace to review. It was coming together beautifully.
Amber peeked her head into the room and said, “Excuse me, Grace, but I’m closing up early and heading out to meet Aubrey Stewart. She’s got some great ideas for expanding the shop. Can you set the alarm when you’re done?”
Grace glanced at the clock and realized they’d run almost an hour over their designated class time. She was supposed to meet Reed at seven fifteen for dinner.
“Sure. Sorry we ran so late,” she said to Amber. “Give Aubrey a hug for me.”
Amber had gone to Boyer University just outside of New York City, and she’d connected with a group of girls who all shared a love of writing. They’d rented a house where they’d lived like a sorority and had started their own sisterh
ood called the Ladies Who Write. Aubrey and two other house sisters now owned a multimedia corporation, LWW Enterprises, with offices across the United States—and they had since purchased that sisterhood house to use for LWW retreats. Grace was glad to see Amber put as much effort into her friendships as she did her work. Heaven knows I don’t do that often enough.
“Stay as long as you’d like,” Amber said. “Aubrey’s just passing through, so it’ll be a quick hug.”
As she ducked out of the office, Grace began gathering her papers. “We should wrap up for the day, too. When you have your first few pages ready, we’ll begin critiquing the dialogue.”
“We’re already done writing Act I,” Janie said. “We’ve been getting together for a few hours each day, and these ladies are brilliant.”
“Oh, please!” Hellie said. “We’re all brilliant. Janie, it’s your expertise that finesses our ideas into magical moments.”
“Wait a sec. You’re done with Act I?” Grace asked.
“And halfway through Act II,” Janie explained.
“We’ve been working hard while you’ve been playing house with your hunka hunka burning love,” Nana said, and pushed a stack of papers across the table to Grace. “I have to get out of here before Poppi chows down on Ho Hos for supper. You know how much of a sugar fiend that man is.”
“I’d better go, too,” Janie said. “Boyd and I are going out.”
“I have a hot date with my flute.” Lauryn glanced at Phoenix and said, “I’ve finally convinced Phoenix to play her banjo at next Friday night’s jam session at the Jerichos.”
Phoenix rolled her eyes and pushed to her feet. Today she sported black-and-silver biker boots, black jeans, and an Aerosmith T-shirt. Her eyeliner was bright blue, and she had a pink feather hanging from a tiny braid on the right side of her head. “She wants me to show my inner hick. But I only agreed because she promised to play her flute.”
“Hey, girlie.” Nana pointed at Phoenix. “You watch your mouth. I’m proud of my inner hick, my outer hick, and everything in between.”