Straight on Toward Paradise

by Kristin Wallace

  “I don’t know why I didn’t look here first,” Mary said in exasperation. “Hurry. Paige is up in ten minutes.”

  Emma dropped her wooden spoon, sending chocolate batter every which way. Reece swept the spoon off the floor and threw it toward the sink. No one waited to see if his shot made it. Emma hurried after her mother, willing the roiling bees in her gut to take a hike.

  Beth McCarthy was stationed in front of the double doors leading to the dining room. She smiled at Mary. “Found them in the kitchen?”

  Emma’s mother rolled her eyes.

  Beth glanced at Emma and then beyond to Reece and Imogene. “A little anxious?” she asked on a husky laugh.

  Emma glared at her.

  Beth’s amusement softened. “It means you care, Emma. That’s a good thing.”

  Emma sighed. “Can we just go in?”

  “There’s someone auditioning now. You guys will have to wait.”

  Layla walked up at that moment. “That’s right. Anyone who tries to sneak in will face the wrath of Penelope Danvers, and you don’t want to make that woman angry. A few people tried to slip in unnoticed while I was off searching for the next victim, so Beth had to start manning the door.”

  “Is Paige up next?”

  “Yes, I’m about to go get her,” Layla said.

  When the door opened, Emma tried to slip through, but the Stage Manager sidestepped, blocking her path. “You’ll have to wait your turn, Ms…” She arched a brow in question and glanced down at a clipboard.

  “Emma Bertram. I’m the chef here, and my sister is about to audition.”

  “Uh huh,” she said, as if Emma’s job didn’t matter one bit. “No one is allowed in during auditions. Especially family members.”

  Emma looked over the tiny woman’s head. Grayson was seated at a table in the center of the dining room, with Brent Atwood and Annaliese Matheson.

  “But they’re allowed in?” Emma asked, pointing toward the two actors.

  “Mr. Kendall’s orders.”

  “I’m sure he won’t mind if our Head Chef and her family go in,” Layla said from behind them.

  Penelope Danvers delivered a terrific glare. “Mr. Kendall said—”

  “I’ll go in there and ask Grayson myself if I have to,” Layla said, without so much as flinching. Layla’s expression left no doubt what the outcome would be, and Emma suddenly knew what it would be like to face her friend in a boardroom.

  The intrepid Stage Manager sighed. “Fine. Go ahead, but hurry, and be quiet.”

  As soon as she stepped into the dining room, Emma realized the “no guests” policy had already been broken. Noah Johnson and old man Chester were near the bar, while Layla’s grandmother and great-aunt hovered in the doorway to the lobby.

  Emma and her party made their way out to a booth at the edge of the dining room. Grayson and Annaliese Matheson didn’t acknowledge their presence, but Brent Atwood did. He waved, but his focus was on someone behind her. Emma looked over her shoulder and caught her mother…good grief…was she blushing?

  What in the world?

  Emma didn’t have time to wonder because the doors opened again, and Paige walked out. Emma quickly slid into the booth, followed by her mother and Imogene. However, Reece walked around to the other side. His pointed stare dared her to make a fuss as he sat down. Emma steeled herself as Reece shifted closer so that the entire length of his thigh pressed against hers.

  Trapped. Between a hard place and a hard man.

  “You’re going to have to deal with me sooner or later,” he said under his breath. “Deal with us.”

  “I choose later,” she said. “And there is no us.”

  Paige walked up the stairs to the stage, and Emma tensed, her anxiety returning with a vengeance.

  Please let this go well. Oh please, Lord, let this go well.

  Reece reached for her hand, and Emma squeezed back, forgetting for the moment that she’d made a vow to never touch him again.

  At the center table, Grayson spoke. “Hi, Paige. You okay?”

  Her head bobbed up and down. “Yeah,” she said, her voice emerging at a near whisper.

  Uh oh. Not good.

  Grayson must have sensed the razor thin control Paige had on her nerves because he doubled his ‘nothing bad happening here’ smile. “Try to relax, and you’ll do fine.”

  Brent Atwood leaned forward. “That’s right. Just ignore us and sing like you did in the music room the other day.”

  Paige nodded again, but the tension in her face didn’t lessen. “Okay.”

  “Start when you’re ready,” Grayson said.

  Paige glanced at the pianist who was seated stage left. Emma knew her sister was singing a number from The Secret Garden, but she didn’t know the show so the song choice meant nothing to her. The opening chords began.

  Paige began, her voice thin and wavering. “I heard someone crying—”

  The words trailed off, and her eyes went wide, like a spooked horse.

  The pianist started again from the beginning. This time, nothing emerged from Paige’s mouth.

  Emma had experienced a mind freeze during a final exam in culinary school. She’d barely managed to pull herself together enough to pass the course. She recognized the same signs in her sister.

  “Shoot,” Emma muttered.

  “I told you,” Imogene whispered, in a disgusted tone.

  Reece threw a warning glance the teenager’s way. “I’ll go get her,” he said, already moving to slide out of the booth.

  “Stay where you are,” Emma’s mother said, with such authority that no one dared to question her. “I heard someone crying…” she sang out in the silent theatre.

  Emma’s mouth dropped open. “Mom, what are you doing?”

  “Helping her.” She stood up and made her way to the stage, singing the whole time. The occupants of the center table watched her go, making no move to stop her. She reached Paige and took the girl’s hand. After a moment Paige took a deep breath and smiled.

  Emma stared transfixed as her mother and sister launched into a full-on duet. Paige slowly gained confidence, and once they hit the chorus it was as if she shifted into another gear. Emma almost forgot to breathe. Paige was good. No, more than good. She was amazing.

  As for her mother…Emma was more than stunned. Of course she’d heard her mother sing before, but that had mostly been in church or around the house. She’d never heard anything to match what was coming out of her mother’s mouth today. It was as if a stranger had entered Mary Bertram’s body, transforming her into someone who could have commanded a Broadway stage with ease.

  Paige and her mother reached the climax of the song and finished with a dramatic flourish.

  Grayson Kendall and his friends stood once again to applaud, this time joined by Reece and Imogene. Emma could only sit in stunned silence. Why hadn’t she known her mother could do that? And why hadn’t she done more with such a talent?

  As soon as the dynamic duo left the stage, Imogene scrambled out from the table and raced over.

  “I’m sorry,” Reece said, watching as Imogene wrapped her arms around Paige.

  Still in a haze of confusion over what she’d just witnessed, Emma glanced over at him. “What?”

  “For doubting you and your mother. I had no idea Paige could sing like that. And your mother…they’re both incredible.”

  “I didn’t know either,” she said, still shaken by revelations about her mother. “Excuse me.”

  Emma joined the party next to the stage. Paige darted around the knot of people, and Emma absorbed the impact of her sister’s slight body as the girl wrapped her arms around her waist.

  “Emma, I did it!”

  Emma cupped her sister’s cheeks. “Yes, you did. You were—”

  “Magnificent,” Reece said as he walked up.

  Paige giggled at him. “You liked it?”

  “You blew me away.”

  Emma looked at her mother. Her cheeks were ros
y, and her eyes sparkled in a way Emma hadn’t seen in years. “Mom, I can’t believe it,” she said as she hugged her mother. “I had no idea you could sing like that.”

  “It’s been so long since… I wasn’t sure I still could.”

  “You definitely can,” Grayson confirmed, as he walked over. Brent Atwood and Annaliese Matheson were right behind him, both nodding in affirmation.

  “Truly amazing, Ms. Bertram,” Annaliese said. “I was so impressed.”

  “I noticed you’re not on the audition list,” Grayson said.

  “Oh, I wasn’t trying out,” Mary said, with a shake of her head. “I was only helping Paige.”

  “If you step on that stage, I consider it an audition,” Grayson said, with a dry chuckle. “In your case, I insist that it was. I’m not about to let you get away after that performance.”

  Her eyes went wide. “But it’s been years since I’ve done a real show. I don’t think I can anymore.”

  “You can’t say no, Mary,” Brent said as he took a step closer now, his brown eyes intense. “You told me you’d lost your voice, and I think it’s time you found it again.”

  To Emma’s amazement, under the younger man’s gaze, her mother seemed to unfurl like a flower rising after a long winter.

  She also saw fear and doubt mixed with a glimmer of hope. Her mother was supremely talented, but for some reason it had been ignored for decades. Emma tried to imagine giving up her passion and couldn’t. But her mother had, and most likely because of Thomas Bertram and Emma herself.

  How did a person cut off a part of herself for so long and survive with her soul intact? For the first time, Emma looked past the mother who’d kissed skinned knees and baked cookies, and caught a glimpse of the woman who’d given up something rare and precious for someone who’d probably never fully appreciated the sacrifice. In a way, Mary Bertram was still sacrificing her life for Thomas Bertram.

  “I think Brent is right, Mom,” Emma said, struggling to form the words around the lump that had lodged in her throat. “You need this. When was the last time you did something for yourself? Not something you’re supposed to do, but something that made you truly happy?”

  “I’m not sure I remember anymore.”

  The soft words stabbed at Emma’s heart, and she took her mom’s hands. “That’s all the more reason for you to do it. I can guess why you gave up performing, and it devastates me. You have to be in this show, because what I saw up there was pure joy. You goaded me into taking this job, and now I’m pushing you. I won’t let you say no.”

  “You won’t let me?” Her mother gave a short laugh. “You’re giving the orders now?”

  “Yes. I’m not letting you get out of this.” Emma held her hands out to encompass The Paradise. “Maybe this old dinner theatre is supposed to heal all of us. Maybe this is where we can all find a fresh start.”

  Warmth rose in Mary’s eyes as she hugged Emma. “Maybe it is, baby. Maybe it is.” Then she turned to Grayson Kendall. “Put me on your audition list, and if there’s a place for me, I’ll take it.”

  Chapter 16

  Mary Bertram stared in the mirror, wondering exactly when a frumpy, middle-aged woman had taken over her face and body. The last time she’d looked at her reflection, the image had shown a young woman with flawless skin and a gently curved figure. Young Mary had turned heads. Present day Mary might as well have been invisible.

  Crow’s feet had somehow crept into the corner of her hazel eyes, and her figure would never see single digit sizes again, though she held fast at a ten, due to the exercise regimen she’d followed even here in Shellwater Key. Especially here in Shellwater Key, where so many people still remembered her as a young mother and then a jilted wife.

  Now she was boring. Boring…and beige.

  Beige slacks, beige or white blouses, beige shoes. Even her formerly honey-blond hair had turned beige. Everything about her screamed “blah”.

  Mary was supposed to go to the first rehearsal tonight, and she’d never felt less attractive or less deserving of attention. She placed her palms flat against the side of her face and pulled back, wondering if it wasn’t time to consider…

  “What are you doing?”

  Startled, Mary let out a soft gasp. Her gaze lifted in the mirror, and she saw Imogene leaning against the doorframe, her expression curious, yet still detached. Detached was the teenager’s modus operandi most days. Nothing seemed to break the girl out of her self-imposed shell for more than a few minutes.

  Mary sometimes had a hard time looking at Imogene. She reminded Mary so much of Emma at that age, even if they didn’t look alike. Imogene was all gangly limbs and bruised dark eyes. Emma had worn a similar haunted look from the time she was fifteen. She’d gone from a happy child to a mistrusting young adult in the span of a few months. She’d never really grown out of that phase, either. Emma still kept a part of herself separate, not allowing anyone in for fear of getting hurt. It broke Mary’s heart to know her daughter might never find true happiness again, but she didn't know how to fix all the broken pieces.

  Imogene arched a brow in a gesture so like Thomas, that Mary caught her breath. The child might be adopted, but she still had a lot of the same mannerisms as her parents. Both of the girls did. Sometimes, just looking at them hurt like a knife plunging into her heart. They were evidence of Thomas’ happy life…and the life he’d abandoned.

  Mary shook her head to clear the destructive thoughts. They would lead to nowhere but misery. She really needed to get her own apartment. Continuing to live in Thomas and Mona’s house would eventually cause her to lose her mind. She’d rather have her one-woman pity parties in private, too.

  “I’m just feeling sorry for myself,” Mary said, fighting a blush at being caught contemplating a face-lift in front of the living embodiment of Thomas’ second life.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m old and a size ten and beige.”

  A tiny smile appeared. “You’re not that old.”

  “Thank you,” she said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “That makes me feel so much better.”

  Imogene straightened, apparently forgetting she was supposed to be mad at the world for a moment. “You should try bright colors. Jewel tones, you know? They’d look great with your skin tone. As for your hair; I bet you’d look hot with blonde highlights. I’d try a shorter bob, too, right about chin-length.”

  “Really?” Mary turned back to the mirror, trying to picture herself in royal blue and with highlights. “You think I can be saved?”

  “Definitely.”

  Mary’s eyes met Imogene’s in the reflection. “What are you doing after school today?”

  When Mary pulled into the parking lot of The Paradise eleven hours later she felt like she’d survived one of those ambush makeover shows. She flicked a glance in the rear view mirror, still taken aback by the stranger staring back at her. Her newly shorn, blonde-highlighted hair, had been shaped and sleeked and tousled. The style emphasized her high cheekbones and square chin. She’d had her makeup done at the salon, too, so her hazel eyes looked huge and more green than brown.

  To go with her new face and hair, she’d chosen – or rather Imogene had chosen – a peacock-blue silk blouse and cream-colored, linen slacks.

  Mary hardly recognized herself.

  Now, if only her outer self would translate to some inner confidence. She shifted her gaze to the front door of The Paradise. If she didn’t get out of this car and go inside right now, she’d be late. Mary had spent too many years reprimanding tardy students to break that rule now. Unfortunately, a makeover couldn’t shake the notion someone was going to realize what a mistake they’d made in casting her in the show.

  What could Grayson Kendall have been thinking? What had she been thinking to accept? She had no business trying to be an actor and singer anymore. She hadn’t been near a stage unless it was a school auditorium in…well…more years than she liked to count.

  Someone
rapped on the window, and Mary let out a startled cry.

  Brent Atwood stood on the other side of the window, his face curious and maybe a little worried. Swallowing a groan of embarrassment, Mary pressed the button to roll the window down.

  “Evening, Ms. Bertram,” he said, leaning down to rest his forearms on the doorframe.

  “Hello.”

  “I hope you’re not going to change your mind and leave.”

  A lifetime of sitting in a church pew and drilling the lesson of honesty into her students made lying impossible, so she said nothing.

  “Just start by opening your door and getting out,” he said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

  “I’m not sure I can,” Mary said in a rush, knowing she sounded silly and foolish, but unable to help stop the rush of unease. She hadn’t been this nervous since her first day of teaching. Since the day she’d held Emma for the first time, and realized she had no clue how to be a mother.

  “Listen, I’ve known Grayson for half my life now,” Brent said, leaning even closer. “He’s a perfectionist, and he knows his stuff. If he thinks you have talent, then you have talent. I heard you the other day so I know you have talent, too.”

  “But I haven’t done theatre in—”

  “Doesn’t matter how long you’ve been away from the stage,” he said. “You never truly forget.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’m a bit rusty and uncertain, too.”

  “Rusty?” Her eyes widened in amazement. “You’re kidding me, right? Remember, I’ve heard you, too.”

  “Until I arrived in Shellwater Key I hadn’t set foot on a stage in almost two years.”

  Something about the matter-of-fact confession made her pause. Made her think he wasn’t just trying to make her feel better. “Why?”

  A dark shadow passed in front of his eyes, but he suppressed it in an instant. “That’s a long story, and we don’t have time to get into it right now. Although, yours intrigues me.”