Left Turn at Paradise

by Kristin Wallace

  “And did you call our old friend Brent to come here and audition as well?” Annaliese asked, her voice softer, but somehow more accusing.

  Grayson shifted. “I did, actually. He can’t make it yet, though. Maybe in a few weeks. You both could benefit from working here.”

  There were some very strange undercurrents swimming around, Layla thought. A lot of history that she didn’t understand. And she didn’t like being left out.

  “So are you satisfied now, that Grayson hasn’t gone crazy?” Layla asked.

  Annaliese turned and focused all her attention on Layla. “You’re the one I talked to on the phone.”

  Layla smiled. “That’s right. Are you really going to audition for our little show? Grayson told me you’ve been on Broadway. I can’t imagine you’d find much of a challenge here.”

  Annaliese tilted her head, as if examining something very curious. “I haven’t decided yet. As I said on the phone, I only came out of concern for my friend.” She looked at Grayson. “You know I haven’t been on stage for years, and you also know why.”

  He regarded her with a tenderness that made Layla’s chest tighten.

  “Maybe it’s time,” he said. “You can start small.”

  Small? Layla held on to her temper. Who was he to describe The Paradise as small? “That’s too bad, but you know, maybe Annaliese wouldn’t be right for our show anyway.”

  Grayson’s brow went up to his hairline. “I can assure you, you won’t find better talent.”

  Annaliese suddenly laughed. A full-throated, fingers-tickling-piano-keys laugh. “I do believe I’ve been challenged,” she said, without any visible trace of annoyance. “Layla is right actually. I should have to prove myself, especially to the owners. Besides, I said some pretty rude things about her hometown, and yet she still guided me out of the path of marauding alligators. The least I can do is prove that she did the right thing in saving my life.”

  “Alligators?” Grayson echoed, in bemusement.

  Annaliese smoothed a hand across his chest, and Layla resisted the urge to chop it off with the nearest sharp weapon. The woman should fear her far more than a ferocious reptile.

  “I’ll tell you everything later.” Annaliese winked at Grayson. Then she favored Layla with a camera-worthy smile. “But first, I have to prove myself to your… boss.” The last was said with a knowing smile.

  Annaliese turned and walked up on stage. Then, without missing a beat, she began to sing. Layla’s mouth nearly dropped open at the first note. She’d never heard anything so amazing in her life. It didn’t seem possible that such a powerful voice could emanate from a reed-like body. The hairs stood up on the back of Layla’s neck.

  She glanced at Grayson. He was leaning against one of the tables, arms crossed against his chest. His head was tilted to the side, and a slight smile tilted the corners of his mouth. He seemed entranced. Layla couldn’t help but remember that he’d met his ex-wife when she’d starred in one of his shows. Her insides twisted at the thought.

  “Wow,” Aunt Grace whispered in Layla’s ear. “I think she’ll do. If she’s this good now, imagine how fantastic she was in her prime. Not that she’s out of her prime. She’s glorious.”

  “Yeah… glorious.”

  “Grayson seems to think so.”

  Layla turned her head, and pointed at her watch. “Go quilt something.”

  Aunt Grace chuckled softly.

  The last note faded away, and the small audience erupted in applause. Even Layla was forced to join in. Annaliese took a bow and left the stage.

  “That was wonderful,” Aunt Grace said.

  Annaliese accepted the praise with every appearance of humbleness. She came to a stop in front of Layla. “That work for you?”

  “How could it not?” Layla said through gritted teeth. “You’re amazing, but you must know that.”

  Annaliese smiled. “That’s the trouble with actors. We never do know. Most of us still remember being outcasts in school. We’re never certain of our talent, and need constant reassurance.”

  Layla really wished she could hate this woman.

  Aunt Grace hugged Annaliese. “You are wonderful, dear. I do hope you’ll decide to stay. Now, you must be famished from your trip. Come into the kitchen, and I’ll whip something up. All of you, let’s eat.”

  Grayson started to follow, but Annaliese paused, looking at Layla. “I’ll be right along. I just need a moment with Layla so I can apologize again. I was unforgivably rude on the phone.”

  Grayson eyed the two women with misgivings, but Aunt Grace took him by the elbow and dragged him off. “They’ll be fine,” she said, with a reassuring pat on the arm.

  Once the room had gone quiet, Annaliese turned to Layla. “I truly am sorry about what I said on the phone. I grew up in a small town myself, and I wouldn’t stand for anyone badmouthing it. I hope you’ll accept my apology?”

  How could Layla refuse? “Of course.”

  Annaliese’s head tilted, making her hair slide over her shoulder like a wall of red silk. “I have to know, how did you talk Grayson into directing your show?”

  “I asked him.”

  “Just like that?”

  Layla shrugged.

  Annaliese looked Layla up and down, and let out a low, breathy chuckle. “Yes, I imagine that’s all it did take. Men.” She smiled and rolled her eyes. “I hope you know what you have in him.”

  “Of course I do.”

  She studied Layla’s face. “You have no clue who he is, do you? How lucky you are to have him?”

  “I know some. He told me about The Royale. How hard he struggled.”

  Annaliese nodded. “Oh, we had struggles, but once things took off, they exploded. Has he told you about the successes? Did you know he’s written six plays, and all of them have been on Broadway or Off-Broadway? One earned a Tony Award. He started his own theatre in Chicago and about half of those productions ended up in New York, too. Once he married Skye Malone, the whole world suddenly knew who he was, and not just the theatre set. You never knew who would be in the audience watching one of his shows. Producers, film directors, actors. Landing a role in one of Grayson Kendall’s shows is enormous for an actor’s career.”

  Layla fought to keep the shock from showing on her face. A theatre director from Chicago was how Aunt Grace had described him, and Grayson certainly hadn’t mentioned those credentials. “Low Budget Productions” indeed. He was practically a legend. She never would have had the courage to approach him if she’d known. She was lucky he hadn’t laughed in her face.

  So, why had he agreed?

  “I thought Grayson had gone around the bend when he told me what he was doing, but after meeting you, I’m starting to think he’s exactly where he needs to be,” Annaliese said.

  Layla jerked to attention. “I don’t… I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Annaliese shook her head and an indulgent smile came across her face. “I think you do. For what it’s worth, he looks happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.”

  Annaliese sent Layla another enigmatic grin and then sauntered toward the kitchen.

  What had just happened?

  Chapter Eight

  Lightning didn’t strike Layla down the moment she stepped inside the church doors. No one pointed or covered the kids’ eyes. In fact, most of the congregation welcomed her back with open arms and pleased smiles – not quite the reaction Layla had expected when she’d finally agreed to attend church with her grandmother.

  Her own reaction surprised her as well. She hadn’t anticipated feeling so at home. She’d been avoiding anything spiritual in her life for so long; she’d anticipated feeling anxious or uncomfortable. Walking down the aisle and taking a seat next to her grandmother – in the same pew where Gran had been sitting all her life – seemed a lot like a homecoming. Like sinking down into a warm, scented bath after a bad day. Even the scents – the furniture polish used to make the backs of the wooden pews gleam, the soft fragran
ce of the flowers on the altar table, the mingling aromas of ladies’ perfumes – transported her back to her childhood in an instant.

  The service began and Layla fell into the familiar routine with ease. Very little had changed about the service: hymns, readings, prayers, and then a sermon. The person delivering the sermon was different, though. Very different. Layla recalled Gran and Aunt Grace mentioning that a new minister had taken over for the retired Reverend Worthy. They hadn’t mentioned that the new guy was both young and handsome. Layla couldn’t recall ever seeing a minister who looked like Reverend Caleb Montgomery. Maybe in the movies, but certainly not in real life.

  After the benediction, everyone began filing back up the aisle. The progress was slow, as everyone seemed to want to stop and chat. Aunt Grace let out a sound of distress and Layla turned back in concern.

  “Aunt Grace, are you all right?”

  She pasted on a bright smile. “I just realized I forgot to put the dough out to rise this morning, so we won’t have rolls for supper. You know how I love rolls.”

  “We can stop and buy some,” Layla said.

  “No!”

  Layla arched a brow at the abrupt tone. “It was just a suggestion.”

  Another carefree smile. “Sorry. We just need to get home. I left a roast in the crock-pot and I don’t want it to overcook. We can make do without bread.” She turned to Gran. “Barbara, are you ready? We need to be getting home.”

  Gran held up a finger. “In a minute. I need to talk to Evelyn about the maternity center benefit.”

  Aunt Grace seemed like she wanted to protest, but instead clamped her lips shut. “Of course.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure your pot roast will be fine,” Layla said as her grandmother walked away.

  “I should stay with her,” Aunt Grace said. “We’ll be here all day otherwise.”

  Layla watched Aunt Grace flit away and wondered if the pot roast was her only concern. She’d been acting strangely all morning.

  While she waited for her relatives, Layla entertained herself by studying the framed photographs depicting the church’s history from its beginnings in the early 1920’s to the present day. She’d never seen them before so they’d obviously been hung recently. The next to the last picture stopped Layla in her tracks, as it showed the church with part of the sanctuary destroyed by a fire.

  She’d almost forgotten about the fire. It had happened a couple weeks before Christmas, but she hadn’t come home because of an important business meeting the day after. Layla was startled to see the damage that had been done, but as she glanced around now, she couldn’t see any sign that there had ever been a fire.

  “We’ve only recently gotten back in to the sanctuary,” a feminine voice said by her shoulder.

  Layla turned to see Janie Worthy, one of the daughters of Pastor Worthy. Janie was several years older and had been a frequent babysitter.

  “Hi!” Layla said, hugging the other woman in delight. “It’s so good to see you.”

  “You, too.” Janie stepped back and gave Layla a once over. “Still gorgeous, I see.”

  “Forget me. You’re the one who’s gorgeous,” Layla said, noticing a new sparkle in Janie’s eyes.

  “Well, that may be because of this,” Janie said, holding up her left hand to show off a small, but beautiful diamond ring.

  Layla gasped. “You got married?”

  “I’m Janie Montgomery now.”

  Layla’s eyes widened. “As in the new Reverend Montgomery? When did that happen?”

  “Quite suddenly.” She glanced at the picture of the burned out building. “When the fire happened, I was devastated, but sometimes amazing things happen after the flames die down.” She looked back at Layla. “I hope you’ll remember that now that you’re finding your feet again.”

  “I’m not so sure anymore,” Layla said, her heart clenching.

  “I am, and I promise, things will get better.” She smiled. “Sorry to run, but I need to find Caleb so we can get to lunch on time.”

  Layla watched as the other woman drifted away toward her new husband. Then she turned, ready to bolt out of the sanctuary, and managed to bump into someone else. “Excuse me.”

  “Sorry,” a man said at the same time.

  Layla spun around. The man was probably mid-fifties and had light brown hair peppered with white at the temples. The caramel-colored eyes – the same eyes her friend Emma Bertram had inherited – were unmistakable.

  “Mr. Bertram,” Layla said.

  “Layla!” He swept her into a hug. “It’s good to see you. I’d heard you were in town.”

  Over his shoulder, Layla saw a pretty blonde woman approaching, and trailing behind her were two girls. The older girl looked to be about fourteen, with dark hair and eyes. The other girl was a couple years younger and couldn’t have looked more different, with a fay-like quality that matched her blonde hair and blue eyes.

  Mr. Bertram pulled the blonde woman forward. “Layla, you remember my wife, Mona?”

  Layla shook the woman’s hand. “Yes, of course.”

  “And our daughters, Imogene and Paige,” he said, putting a hand first on the older and then the younger girl.

  “How is that possible?” Layla wondered aloud. “I thought they were both still barely walking.”

  Thomas chuckled. “Tell me about it. So, are you visiting from Miami?”

  “No, I’m home for a while,” Layla said, offering no details. “Gran and Aunt Grace bought The Paradise Dinner Theatre, and I’m helping to renovate it. We’re hoping to start having productions soon.”

  “The Paradise?” he asked in surprise. “It must be in pretty bad shape. Nothing’s been done with it in years.”

  “Oh, I know.”

  He grinned. “Well, good luck to you. I’ll have to tell Emma the next time we talk. She’d get a kick out of it.”

  “How is Emma?”

  His smile dimmed. “She’s fine. Always busy.”

  So things were still strained between Emma and her father. Not surprising. He’d left Emma’s mother for Mona. Torn his first family apart and moved on to start a new one. Layla understood Emma’s anguish, but at least she still had a father who cared. Who loved her no matter what she did. The same couldn’t be said for Layla’s mother, and as for fathers, Layla didn’t even know his name.

  “Well, I’m sure we’ll see more of you now that you’re back,” Thomas said, directing his daughters toward the doors.

  “Yes,” Mona said. “You and your family should come for dinner some time.”

  “Or maybe go out for dinner,” Thomas suggested as gently as possible.

  Mona giggled, her lively face shining with affection. “Perhaps he’s right. Emma is the chef. I’m hopeless in the kitchen, and the rest of them just try to survive.”

  “We’ll do that,” Layla promised.

  The Bertrams left, and once again Layla turned to leave. Once again, a familiar face stopped her. Only this one was far less friendly. She groaned inwardly.

  Tammy-Lynn Peterson nee Jennings. It would be going too far to say she and Layla were mortal enemies, but not by much. Layla didn’t know how they’d ended up being rivals in the first place. Perhaps it hadn’t helped that Layla’s grandmother was a famous surgeon while Tammy-Lynn’s maternal grandfather – also a surgeon – had always been overshadowed. Layla had also edged Tammy-Lynn out in every academic competition. And though it wasn’t Layla’s fault, Tammy-Lynn, with her silken fall of brown hair and violet eyes, had always been regarded as the second prettiest girl at Shellwater Key High.

  Whether Layla had welcomed the competition or not, Tammy-Lynn had been more than ready to engage in battle, be it over a grade, an award… or a boy. Mostly over boys. Although, Layla had never wanted anything to do with the boy Tammy-Lynn had eventually caught.

  Tammy-Lynn had gone on to marry into one of Shellwater Key’s richest families, but even that accomplishment had not been enough to cool the rivalry between them.<
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  Now, Tammy-Lynn strolled over. Layla considered making a break for it, but she held her ground. First, because she would not run scared, and second, she hoped that after all these years, they could have a civilized conversation like normal grown-ups.

  Judging by Tammy-Lynn’s narrow-eyed gaze that possibility seemed faint. Very faint.

  “Hello Layla,” Tammy-Lynn said, leaning closer to brush an air kiss in the vicinity of Layla’s cheek.

  Layla pasted on a smile. “Hi, Tammy-Lynn.”

  “I heard you were back.”

  Layla shrugged. “It’s a small town. Everyone knows by now.”

  “I was so sorry to hear about the misfortune with your business in Miami,” Tammy-Lynn said, apparently deciding to jump right into the fray.

  “I’m sorry?” Layla said, determined not to give anything away.

  “Perhaps you’re aware that my father is the Mayor?”

  Of course he was. Tammy-Lynn’s forebears on her paternal side had been de facto dictators of Shellwater Key for generations. Their political connections were legendary, and they almost always ran unopposed. No surprise that her father would take up the mantle. “Should I offer my congratulations?”

  “Having grown up with a keen understanding of my civic duty, I always ensure I know what’s going on not just in our hometown, but in our state. I also work at the local newspaper so I make it a point to read other newspapers. All the other newspapers, including The Miami Herald.”

  Layla stifled a curse.

  “Any luck finding your business partner and her boyfriend?” Tammy-Lynn asked, her smile bordering on gleeful.

  Layla had a sudden, overwhelming need for a punching bag. “No.”

  “Such a scandal. I don’t know how you coped,” Tammy-Lynn said, clucking her tongue in false sympathy. “You really should be careful who you associate with. I’ve always taken great care to surround myself with… worthy people.”

  As smashing Tammy-Lynn’s face would mean too much blood – and getting thrown out of church on her first day back – Layla started looking for an escape. Then the crowd parted, revealing her new carpenter, Noah Johnson.