Straight on Toward Paradise

by Kristin Wallace

  “Brent,” he added, with a little bow. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  Finally? It seemed Brent Atwood of the silky voice had been lurking in the hallways for some time. Why hadn’t they met before?

  “How do you know Grayson Kendall?” Emma asked.

  “We’ve worked together for years,” he said. “Grayson gave me my start at his theatre in Chicago.”

  “I believe Mr. Kendall has been trying to convince Brent to star in the first show along with Annaliese,” Emma’s mother said.

  “Well, The Paradise would be lucky to have you,” Emma said in all sincerity. “You’re amazing.”

  Brent lowered his head in appreciation. “Thank you. I still haven’t decided if I’ll do it. It’s been a long time since I was on stage.” He turned and gestured toward Paige. “Now, this young lady certainly has something to offer.”

  Paige skipped toward him, her face alight with pleasure. “Mr. Atwood says I have the voice of an angel.”

  “Really?” Emma looked down at her in surprise. “How would he know?”

  “Miss Mary and I have been practicing for the auditions, and Mr. Atwood—”

  Emma waved a hand in the air. “Whoa, whoa…what auditions?”

  Paige froze and bit her lip. “Oops.”

  “What’s going on?” Emma asked, looking at her mother.

  She put her hands on the little girl’s shoulders. “Paige came to me and asked if I would help her practice for the upcoming auditions. She wants to be in the show.”

  Emma knew her sister was in the chorus at school, but hadn’t realized Paige was serious about singing. “I didn’t know you liked all this theatre stuff that much.”

  Her mother laughed. “Emma, have you failed to notice how much time Paige spends here? I think she’d live backstage if you’d let her.”

  Of course she’d noticed her sister liked to come to the theatre, but organizing the prop room was a long way from getting up on stage in front of people. Still, Emma squirmed at the notion that her mother knew more about her sister than she did.

  Paige jerked her head up and down. “I love The Paradise, and I really want to be in the musical.” She clasped her fists in front of her heart. “Please, can I try out?”

  Emma darted another look at her mother. “What about school, and the hours? Don’t rehearsals run pretty late?”

  “I’m sure Mr. Kendall will schedule scenes with the children early so they can leave,” Mary said. “There are strict rules about how long they can work in any case. Paige can bring her homework here after school and do it in your office in the kitchen.”

  Emma still hesitated. “What if you don’t…how will you feel if…”

  The unspoken question dangled. What would Paige do if she didn’t get a part? How would that affect her fragile state of mind right now?

  Paige understood. “I’d be sad, but I’d be okay. Nothing can be as bad as Mommy and Daddy…” Her voice broke and she swallowed. “I really want to try.”

  “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you have to worry about Paige being disappointed,” Brent said.

  She swung toward him in again. “Really? You think she’s good?”

  He chucked Paige under the chin and winked. “A true talent.”

  Her mother nodded in agreement. “I’ve been very impressed, too.”

  Emma didn’t think they were being nice. As far as she knew, no one on either side of Paige’s family had ever been known for singing. Thomas Bertram had been tone deaf, and Mona hadn’t been much better. Perhaps talent simply appeared at the right time.

  And perhaps being in the show would be the very thing Paige needed. The principal and school counselor had both suggested she needed something positive to concentrate on.

  Emma slung her arm around Paige’s shoulders. “You’ve been holding out on me. Have I been living under the same roof as a prodigy?”

  Paige giggled and hugged Emma back. As far as she could remember, it was the first time either of her sisters had embraced her. Surprised, it took Emma a moment to react. Then she tightened her arms, knowing a threshold had been crossed. A knot grew in her throat, and hot tears stung her eyes. She tugged gently on one of her sister’s braids.

  “Does this mean I can do it?” Paige asked, easing back to look Emma in the eye.

  Emma tugged the braid again. “If you promise to get your homework done.”

  Paige’s head bobbed up and down so fast Emma feared it might fall off. “I will.”

  “If your grades start to slip, you’re out. Understand?” she said, trying to sound stern and adult-like.

  She looked up and caught a flicker of a smile on her mother’s lips. “What?”

  “You sounded so motherly just now.” Mary Bertram grinned.

  Paige giggled. “Yeah, you kind of did.”

  Had she? Lord, Emma prayed that was so. She began to hope The Paradise might be the vehicle that brought her family together.

  People often talked about butterflies in the stomach. Emma’s stomach had developed a pack of Africanized bees. Cursing, she wiped a hand across her sweaty brow. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t been this nervous on her first day in the kitchen of Marcel Andeau, a Master Chef who made that British guy who shouted at everyone on his show look like a sweet, little old lady.

  Around her, people of all shapes, sizes, and ages were roaming the backstage areas of The Paradise. They walked up and down the hallways, hovered in the green room, and checked their makeup in the dressing room. More people were pacing outside and muttering to themselves like those sad folks she often saw wandering the streets, having emphatic discussions with invisible friends.

  The dress code was widely divergent, too. Some were in suits or what Emma guessed passed for office casual. Others had gone all out, sporting Seersucker suits or long prairie dresses. A few women even sported bustles and bonnets, with frilly parasols that threatened to take out the eyes of the unsuspecting. Adding to the mass chaos was the echo of dozens of voices performing scales and emitting odd, alien-like shrieks. Paige insisted these were perfectly normal sounds to make when one was warming up before going on stage, but Emma had her doubts.

  She also had her doubts about making it through the next few hours without losing her breakfast. Emma pressed a hand to her roiling middle and looked around for the nearest trash can, just in case.

  All this angst, and Emma wasn’t even the one auditioning.

  “Paige, are you sure about this?” she asked.

  Since she’d asked the same question roughly a hundred times since they’d arrived, Paige didn’t even bother answering.

  Emma looked around the crowded hall again. “Where did all these people come from, anyway?”

  “From all over Florida.”

  Emma started as an arm draped around her shoulders. She turned to find Layla standing there, a satisfied smile on her face.

  “Isn’t this fantastic?” Layla asked, her green eyes shining with pleasure. “What a turnout. I put notices everywhere I could think of. On every bulletin board in town, every paper in three counties, on the college campuses, as well as on our social media pages.”

  “We have social media pages?”

  Layla sent Emma an exasperated look. “If you ever left the kitchen, you’d know that.” She looked around at the gathering flock of hopeful River City residents. “I pulled out all the stops, but I still wasn’t sure about the response we’d get.”

  “I’m sure Grayson Kendall’s name helped, not to mention Annaliese and Brent.”

  “Yes, they are a good draw as well.” She rolled her eyes and sighed. “I’ll have to admit that Grayson was right about that when this is all over.”

  “Right about what?”

  “It was his idea to bring in a couple of professionals to draw in a higher caliber of talent,” Layla said. “I wanted to limit the cast to amateurs only, but he convinced me, and now I’ll probably never hear the end of it.”

  “Oh, I’m su
re you’ll find a way to even the scales,” Emma said, with a laugh. “You can always tell him your social media campaign worked like a charm.”

  A mischievous smile bloomed on Layla’s face. “I might at that. Well, I have to run. I’m helping Grayson’s dragon lady organize the auditions.”

  “Who?”

  “Penelope Danvers, another one of Grayson’s imports. She’s the Stage Manager from his theatre in Chicago.”

  Something in Layla’s tense expression made Emma smile. “She runs a tight ship?”

  Layla rolled her eyes. “If they put her in the State Department she’d probably solve the Middle East crisis and world hunger in about five minutes. Noah is directing cars in the parking lot, Gran and Aunt Grace are helping at the registration table, and my mom and I have been put in charge of ferrying all these people back and forth to the stage.” She sent an encouraging smile in Paige’s direction. “Good luck, sweetie.”

  “Don’t ever say good luck to an actor.”

  All three turned as Emma’s mother approached. She glanced at Paige and winked. “It’s bad luck,” Mary said.

  Layla’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Saying good luck is bad luck?”

  “It is in the theatre,” Emma’s mother said. “Here we say break a leg instead.”

  “Who came up with that?” Emma asked.

  Her mother shrugged. “I’m not sure anyone knows. Theatre people are superstitious. Just like every production of Macbeth is supposedly cursed.”

  “Why Macbeth?” Layla asked.

  “Double, double, toil and trouble,” Emma murmured. “Witches and magic.”

  Layla shook her head in bemusement. “Okay.” She kissed the top of Paige’s head. “Break a leg, kiddo. I know you’ll do great.”

  Layla drifted off down the hall, leaving Emma with her mother and Paige.

  Paige clutched Mary’s hand. “Can you come with me? I need to take my registration form to Miss Beth and the Stage Manager.”

  Emma blinked. “I thought I was going with you?”

  Paige looked at the floor, and rolled her foot in a clear sign of unease.

  “What?” Emma asked. “Are you having second thoughts about trying out? Because you don’t have to—“

  “I don’t…” She shifted again. “You’re…” She glanced at Mary as if looking for escape.

  Mary chuckled, her eyes shining with mirth. “I think Paige is trying to say that you’re making her nervous.”

  “I am?”

  Paige nodded, even as she dipped her head, to avoid full eye contact.

  “So what am I supposed to do?” Emma asked.

  “What all parents do,” her mother said. “Wait outside.”

  Paige nodded again, more enthusiastically this time. “And you can help me warm up,” she said to Emma’s mother.

  “Of course I will.”

  Paige smiled, and then her gaze shifted past Emma’s shoulder. “Genie! Uncle Reece!”

  Emma’s stomach – and other vital body parts – tensed in a disconcerting mixture of dread and anticipation. She hadn’t seen Reece since the “incident” in the kitchen. In fact, she’d been avoiding him. She’d even taken to such chicken-hearted behavior as hiding out in her bedroom yesterday when he’d stopped by the house. Now, her mind began an instant battle of fight or flight. Part of her demanded she stay and fight to maintain her equilibrium, pretend the kiss had been nothing. The other part of her wanted to duck into the nearest closet till he was gone.

  Paige darted around Emma, taking the choice out of her hands. With no option for escape, she turned to face the man who’d set her whole world spinning.

  Paige ran into Reece’s arms. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “Imogene told me you were auditioning today,” he said, sweeping her close.

  Paige scowled at her older sister. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

  Imogene returned scowl for scowl. “I thought he should know. Don’t you want him to be here?”

  “I wanted it to be a surprise,” Paige repeated.

  Reece looked past the two younger girls toward Emma. He arched a brow. “Hi stranger.”

  Okay, so he knew she’d been avoiding him. A brainless idiot could have figured out that clue, but he should at least pretend he didn’t know.

  Emma stared right back. “Hi.”

  “You’ve been busy.”

  “That’s right.”

  Emma became aware they had an audience of three. Paige looked confused, Imogene suspicious, and Mary speculative.

  Reece must have realized too, because he jerked his head. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Can’t it wait? Paige has her audition and—”

  Her mother wrapped an arm around Paige’s shoulders. “You two go talk. I’ll take care of our little star and find you later.”

  She whisked Paige away before Emma could protest. Her mother had developed a bad habit of leaving her alone with Reece.

  She’d have to address that, but first she needed to face him. She could handle Reece, as long as she didn’t think about his lips or…

  Stop it, Emma!

  “So, what do you want?” she asked.

  He stepped closer, and Emma’s heart kicked up. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for Paige to audition for a play right now.”

  His statement erased any fleeting images of steamy kisses. Emma looked over to see that Imogene had drawn closer. She’d adopted her glare of death stare again, which set off an alarm bell.

  “You didn’t tell Reece so he could be here to support Paige, did you?” Emma guessed.

  Imogene crossed her arms. “He needed to know what you’re up to.”

  “Up to?” Emma echoed in bemusement. “What does that mean?”

  Reece held a hand to stave off a coming storm. “We’re not accusing you of anything.”

  “Then you weren’t listening to her,” Emma said, jerking a thumb in her sister’s direction. “Genie, did you tell him so he could come here and stop Paige from auditioning?”

  Reece tried to arbitrate again. “Look, Imogene and I have some concerns about—”

  “She shouldn’t be doing this,” Imogene burst out, dropping the defiant pose. For once, the teenager didn’t look furious or annoyed. She seemed frightened.

  That simple fact allowed Emma to hold on to her temper. “Why not?”

  Reece put a hand on Imogene’s shoulder. “Why don’t you wait over there, honey? I’ll handle this.”

  She whirled on him. “But she’s my sister! I have to protect her.”

  For the first time, Emma felt a connection…a kinship…to her prickly teenaged sister. “Paige is my sister, too, you know.”

  “Then you shouldn’t let her go out there.” Anxiety etched Imogene’s features, and her hands clenched. “What if they don’t pick her?”

  “Haven’t you ever heard her sing?” Emma asked.

  “Have you?” Reece shot back.

  She firmed her lips. “No, but my mother and Grayson’s friend both assured me that Paige is really good. I don’t think they would sugarcoat it for my sake or for Paige’s sake, either.”

  “I don’t know anything about Grayson’s friend…”

  “He’s been on Broadway,” Emma said. “I heard him sing, and he’s amazing.”

  “Fine, but as for your mother.” Reece swiped a hand across his mouth. “I don’t mean any disrespect to her, but she’s—”

  “My father’s first wife, I know,” Emma bit out, outrage filling her at the implied suggestion. “That doesn’t mean she would set up his child to be humiliated. She loves Paige, in case you haven’t noticed. My mother may be the only one who truly understands her.”

  A flush stained his cheeks, and his dark eyes flashed in annoyance. “I wasn’t suggesting that she’s out to hurt Paige. I was going to say that she’s not a professional singer.”

  “No, but she’s sung all her life, and she’s a music teacher. She knows talent when she hears it. So d
oes Brent Atwood.”

  “Paige has done a couple solos in the kid’s choir at church,” Imogene said. “She’s never done anything this big.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  “And when she doesn’t get a part?” Imogene said, her lip curling. “What will you say then, big sister?”

  “I think we need to have faith in Paige,” Emma said, encompassing both doubting Thomases. “Look, she loves the theatre. How many ten-year-old girls do you know who love musicals the way she does? Maybe this is what she’s meant to do. Maybe…” she fought back the lump in her throat, even as long-buried remnants of her faith fought to the surface. “Maybe Paige was blessed with something extraordinary because God knew she’d need it.”

  Imogene’s eyes filled. “She loved singing with Daddy.”

  “Then he’ll be here with her today, I’m sure.” Emma touched Imogene’s shoulder. “The school principal and the counselor both spoke to me at Parent-Teacher Night. They’re worried that Paige is still so withdrawn and sad—”

  “Why didn’t you say anything to me about this?” Reece asked, indignant fury in his tone.

  “Because she’s my sister, and I’m the one who was chosen to care for her,” Emma returned, hating that she was immediately put on the defensive. “I’m handling it, and I think being in the show could be the best thing for Paige right now. It’ll give her something to focus on other than her grief.”

  Imogene twisted her hands together. “But what if she doesn’t—”

  “Then we’ll be here for her.” She included Reece in her sweeping gaze. “All of us.”

  Reece stared at her for a beat. “Fine.”

  Imogene just nodded.

  “I need to bake something,” Emma announced, unable to contemplate standing around and doing nothing until Paige’s audition. “Who wants to join me?”

  “Something chocolate?” Reece suggested.

  “Cake,” Imogene added, a rare smile chasing across her lips. “With layers and lots of icing.”

  “Now there’s a smart girl,” Emma said. “Come on.”

  Emma never would have imagined that being in the same room with Imogene and Reece would be fun, but somehow the shared worry over Paige formed a bond that superseded past hurts. A salve over old wounds. Emma became lost in cooking. So much in fact that she started when her mother burst into the kitchen.