by Vickie Fee
“What year are we in here?”
“It’s 1878. I’m laying out clues based on a real-life mystery of stolen jewels. Trudy made the necklace,” she said as we walked over to take a closer look. “It’s just paste, of course, but the faux ruby and rhinestones look the part of the priceless, stolen artifact in our story. And it’s a treasure to me because it was made by a friend.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“I’m still planting clues and setting up puzzles. Teams working this room will have an hour to find the clues and solve the mystery. When they do, the room door will unlock.”
“Kind of like walking through a mystery novel. That sounds like a lot of fun,” I said.
“Once I get this room finished, hopefully in a few days, you can come over and play one of the rooms. We have two others set up already. Are you ready to eat?”
“I’m starved”
We went upstairs and Kendra held the door open as I walked into the apartment.
“Beer or wine, pepperoni or cheese pizza, or some of both?” she asked as soon as I’d stepped inside.
“I’ll take a beer and start with cheese pizza.”
“By the way, I’m so sorry about your uncle. Leon was a sweet man. He helped my brother and me with painting and such when we were getting the escape rooms ready to open. We’d be glad to return the favor by helping you out.”
“Thank you. That’s very generous.”
She motioned for me to have a seat on the striped blue sofa. The side chairs were upholstered in denim and there were cheerful pops of red and orange in the throw pillows. I was a bit jealous of how cute and tidy Kendra’s apartment was, but consoled myself that it was actually smaller than Uncle Leon’s place.
“Your apartment looks great. Mine is currently decorated in dingy, old guy clutter.”
“Don’t worry, it’s amazing what a little paint can do. It’ll be great once you add your own touches.”
“And get rid of the antlered deer head staring down at the recliner,” I said.
“Yeah, I can see how that could be a little creepy.”
Kendra handed me a beer and a big slice of pizza on a paper plate before picking up her own plate and beverage and plopping down at the other end of the sofa.
“Who else have you met here in town besides George and Trudy—and me?”
“That’s it. Well, I briefly met Nick, who owns the outfitters store.”
“Neanderthal Nick? He’s okay if you go for that type. Do you?”
“It’s been so long since I had a date, I don’t know what my type is. Trudy mentioned you have a brother.”
“Yeah, Bart works at a bank in Fayetteville and helps me here a lot on weekends. He’s really just working to get me established in a business of my own. I was a history major, with no inclination to teach. After grad school, I worked at two different museums, but got laid off from both because of budget cuts. And he’s given up on me finding a man.”
“What about Bart? Is he single?”
“No, he has a man. A keeper. But Simon travels a lot for his work, so Bart is available to help me out.”
“Why do you say he’s given up on you finding a man? You’re pretty and nice.”
“And boring. Honestly, my idea of a good time is staying home and reading or watching The History Channel. But there’s still hope for you,” she said, looking me over as if weighing my potential. “I need to introduce you to Joe Chang. He’s great. And other than Nick, he’s the only single male business owner in town under forty. His family owns the Jade Garden Chinese Restaurant. His older sister manages the Fayetteville location and he manages the one here in Utopia Springs, and their kid sister is in pharmacy school.”
“If he’s all that wonderful, why do you want to fix him up with me? Why not keep him for yourself?”
“He is great, but if Joe were interested in me, he would have made a move by now. We’ve developed more of a brother-sister connection. And I’m good with that. All I ask is once the two of you fall madly in love, you let me hang out with you now and then.”
“Can I at least ask what Joe looks like?”
He’s got this amazing head of jet black hair, so thick it looks like a comb could get stuck in it—although it’s always neat. He has a cute boyish face, but with these soulful brown eyes,” Kendra said with a faraway look.
“Let me get this straight. Joe has amazing hair and soulful eyes, but you two are just friends, right?” I asked, doubtfully.
“Yep. You two would make a cute couple. So now that I’ve worked out your love life, let me pry into your business affairs. Are you planning to keep the theater or sell? I have no filter, just tell me to butt out if I’m being nosey.”
“Well, you are a little nosey for someone I just met. But I’d really like to talk it over with somebody.
“Shoot.”
“I’d like to settle here and make a go of it with the theater. I’ve made a mess of it with pretty much everything else I’ve done. I’m twenty-eight, and I’m a broke, unemployed barista who’s never really had a stable relationship. I interned with a coffee company in Peru for two semesters in college. I also fell in love with a plantation owner’s son. That didn’t go so well.
“Anyway, as much as I’d like to stay, after going through the records last night, it looked like I’d have to give up on the idea because I don’t have any money to invest in fixing up the theater. But when I called the estate lawyer this morning, he told me there’s a small trust fund that should be just enough to keep hope alive. Mr. Hamish, the lawyer, is coming through Utopia Springs on Friday and wants me to show him a proposal.”
“Ooh, I’ve always fantasized about having a trust fund,” Kendra said, dangling a half-eaten slice of pizza over her plate.
“It’s not the kind of trust fund that finances the lifestyle of the rich and idle. In fact, the figure he gave me sounds more like a Christmas club fund than a trust fund. Not that I’m complaining.”
It was obvious Kendra and I had moved beyond small talk, so I pulled the notes out of my pocket and laid them on my lap.
“There are lots of details, which can be tweaked and changed. But, big picture, I’d like to pretty up the interior a bit and re-open the movie palace as a theater showing classic films with a coffee and wine bar in the lobby instead of a popcorn stand.”
“I think that’s brilliant,” Kendra said, a 100-watt smile lighting up her face.
“What’s wrong,” she asked with a worried look.
I’ve never had much of a poker face.
“I’ve got all these notes and ideas, but I don’t know if Mr. Hamish will be impressed. I have no idea how to put together a business proposal. What if, you know, he’s expecting to see actual numbers? Can you help me make this look good, at least on paper?”
“Hey, I’m the twice-fired history major, remember? I could e-mail it to my brother, the banker, if you’d like.”
“I hate to ask him a favor before we’ve even met.”
“You wouldn’t be asking; I would. And trust me, you two are going to be fast friends—just like us.”
“To new friends,” I said, chinking my beer bottle against hers.
As I walked home I fell in step with a small group of tourists. I’m sure my buoyant steps and carefree smile would have led passersby to assume I was on vacation, as well. After coming in through the back door, I flipped on a couple of lights as I walked through to the lobby.
I stared dreamy-eyed at the drab walls and floors, envisioning exactly how I wanted everything to look once the renovations were complete. My mind’s eye could see carpets and paint and fixtures and furniture. My reveries ended abruptly. I was startled when I turned and saw a man standing, staring blankly through the glass door, sinister shadows falling behind him. When our eyes met, he remained motionless, expressionless. The weight of his
dead stare made me feel uneasy, even though I knew he couldn’t gain entry through the chained door. I turned away. When I looked back, he was gone.
CHAPTER 4
Wednesday morning, Kendra texted to let me know Bart was working up a business proposal for me to present to the attorney. She added that I shouldn’t worry because her brother was “brilliant.”
Anyone who can prepare a business proposal was brilliant in my book, and I figured whatever he did would be better than anything I could come up with. Still, I couldn’t help but worry just a little.
To keep my mind off my worries, I set out exploring what I hoped would be my new hometown, with its quirky mix of funky little shops and galleries, historic stone buildings, and brightly painted Victorian houses.
My wallet could only afford window shopping, although I did spring for a couple of cat toys for Eartha. She was unimpressed.
Thursday morning I woke up with a stiff neck, I presumed from the way I’d slept in the recliner. I stretched and shuffled into the kitchen. I had scrubbed out Uncle Leon’s coffee maker and tried making coffee in it once before tossing it in the trash.
Uncle Leon’s free-spirited cat suddenly materialized. She walked past me and went straight to her bowl, which fortunately I had remembered to fill.
After her breakfast she walked over and brushed against my leg.
“So, Eartha, tell me, how do you think things will go with the lawyer tomorrow? Will I get to stay here? You might not miss me if I had to leave, but I’d miss you. Would you even consider moving elsewhere with me?”
She put her tail in the air and walked away.
“Guess not.”
I showered and dressed and stepped outside just after eight, almost running into Kendra, who looked like she was dying to tell me something.
“I’ve been dying to call you. I got notes back from Bart on your business proposal, but didn’t know how early it was safe to call you.”
“When you’re doing me a favor you can call as early as you like. I can’t thank you—and Bart—enough for helping me out here. I was just heading to The Muffin Man. Want to join me?”
“Sure. We don’t open until ten. Hi, Zeke,” she said as we entered the shop.
“Hi, Kendra,” replied the smiling guy behind the counter whose name apparently was Zeke.
We got in line. I decided to try the shop’s namesake muffins, since I’d had the cinnamon roll on my previous visit.
When we made it to the counter, Kendra said, “Have you met Halley yet?”
“Not formally. I saw you in here before with Trudy,” he said looking to me.
“Halley is Leon Baxter’s great-niece and the new owner of the Star Movie Palace,” Kendra said.
“Wow, great to meet you, Halley. Glad we’re going to be neighbors. I’m Zeke, a.k.a The Muffin Man.”
“Nice to meet you, Zeke.”
We paid for and collected our orders and sat down at the same table I’d shared with Trudy.
“I may technically be the owner of the theater, but we probably shouldn’t introduce me that way until everything is settled with the attorney.”
“No worries. I looked over Bart’s proposal notes and it’s going to knock the socks off Mr. Haywood.”
“Hamish.”
“Whatever. Here,” she said, handing me her phone. “Type in your e-mail address so I can forward Bart’s e-mail to you.”
I complied.
“We can look over Bart’s e-mail after you’ve had some coffee. Tell me what you’ve been up to since last I saw you.”
I would’ve felt foolish telling her that I’d been spooked by a random tourist looking through the window and had a conversation with an indifferent cat, so I said, “Nothing much.”
“Does Bart look like you?” I asked as I savored my cherry-almond muffin.
“Yeah, I guess so. Blond hair, blue eyes, big teeth. But I like to think I’m prettier.”
After I’d finished my breakfast, I pulled up Bart’s e-mail on my phone.
He zeroed in on the fact that, since movie theaters make their money from concessions, not ticket sales, having a coffee/wine bar instead of a typical concession stand would allow me to charge more—and therefore make more money. Bart even included estimates, which showed he had put some real effort and research into a proposal for someone he’d never met.
“Kendra, this is awesome. Bart is awesome. I’ll never be able to thank you two enough. Now I’ll be able to talk intelligently to Mr. Hamish and, fingers crossed, by tomorrow afternoon you can feel free to introduce me as the theater’s new owner.”
Kendra pounded her palms on the table excitedly before breaking into some kind of happy dance move from the waist up, jerking her shoulders and punching her fists in an almost rhythmic fashion.
I couldn’t help laughing, and my new friend, who obviously doesn’t take herself too seriously, laughed, too.
We walked out of the shop together laughing before I burst into tears.
“Hey, girl. Are those tears of joy?”
I nodded. “Mostly.”
She put her hand on my shoulder.
“I’m okay, really,” I said, tears streaming down my face.
“Let’s go inside,” she said as we reached the front of the theater.
I unlocked the door and we walked into the lobby.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything’s wonderful. It’s just, thinking about Bart and how great he is to put together this proposal for me, even though he’s never met me just…just made me think of my own brother, Josh. I miss him a lot.” I slid down the wall until my fanny landed on the floor.
“Aw, sweetie, I’m sorry. Where is he?”
“He passed away two years ago from cancer.”
“I’m so sorry, Halley. Cancer sucks,” she said, taking a seat on the floor beside me.
“By the time they diagnosed it, he only had a few months. He was three years younger than me and had just graduated from college with his whole life ahead of him. He was my best friend in the whole world and suddenly he was gone.”
“I can’t imagine how it would feel to lose Bart. He’s older than me, eight years, and had always acted like a mother hen. Then after our parents died in a plane crash my freshman year in college, he smothered me with parental love and interference. And I don’t know how I would’ve made it without him.”
“I’m sorry about your folks, Kendra.”
“Thanks. I was kind of messed up for a year or so, trying to wrap my head around being an orphan.”
“Yeah, I took it hard, losing Josh. My parents were too lost in their own grief to help with mine, which is understandable. I spent last summer in Arizona with my grandmother, trying to pull myself together. You’d love her, she’s a hoot. Lately, things hadn’t been going so well for me. I’d lost my job, so inheriting the theater and moving here—this is just what I needed right now. It’s great, but it’s also kind of sad not being able to share it with Josh, you know?”
“Yeah, sweetie, I think I get it.”
Mr. Hamish arrived promptly at ten Friday morning. I wowed him with my proposal, which was really Bart’s proposal. In any case he was impressed—which meant I could gain access to the trust fund. He explained one important condition: expenditures over a certain amount had to be signed off on by both George and Trudy. He left a stack of papers with me about some estate stuff and continued on his way to his conference.
Tomorrow I’d need to talk to George and Trudy, but today there was a phone call I’d been needing to make.
“Hi, Grammy, you get my e-mail about moving to Arkansas?”
“I did. But I don’t understand why you moved all the way out there to sleep in the balcony of a movie theater. You know you always have a place to stay with me here in Sun City, cupcake.”
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br /> “I’m not sleeping in a balcony. There’s an apartment above the theater. I have a place to live, and as soon as I get things in order, I’ll have my very own business.”
“Doing what?”
“Showing movies,” I said, wondering if I needed to talk to Grammy’s doctor about adjusting her meds.
“The theater will show classic films. Movies you’d enjoy. You’ll have to come visit once I get settled. And instead of a typical popcorn and candy stand, I’ll have a coffee and wine bar in the lobby.”
“Are you sure you’re ready to own a business, cupcake? What do you know about running a movie theater?”
“What I don’t know I can learn. I love old movies. And I do know something about running a coffee bar. Wish me luck.”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll pray a rosary for you every night. Is there a Catholic church in that little town?”
“Yes. St. Cecilia’s.” I knew this because I’d driven past it on my way into town. The crucifix out front was a dead giveaway.
“St. Cecilia is the patron saint of musicians,” she said. “Maybe the first movie you show should be a musical.”
“Okay, I’ll give it some thought. Love you, Grammy. Talk to you soon.”
Actually a musical wasn’t a bad idea.
CHAPTER 5
Saturday, I had two items on my agenda: make an appointment with Mr. Carvello of Carvello’s Winery to discuss selling his wine in the theater and broach the subject of the trust fund with George and Trudy. Trudy didn’t worry me so much, but I was a little worried how George’s eyebrows were going to react to my proposal.
After doing a bit of online research I discovered that, while there were three wineries in the area, Carvello’s was the only one that made wines entirely with its own grapes. The other two vineyards had young vines and still bought most of their grapes from elsewhere. I e-mailed Rafe Carvello briefly telling him my plans for the theater, asking if we could talk about working together. Within thirty minutes, he had responded, inviting me to the winery on Sunday for a chat and a wine tasting. So far, so good.