She blinked in confusion. “My what?”
Brent’s eyes turned serious as he gazed down at her. “The story of how you wound up caring for your ex-husband’s daughters. I’m very interested in learning how that happened.”
She inhaled sharply. “You know about that?”
“It’s a small town.”
“My ex-husband and his wife died in a car accident. My daughter Emma was given custody of her two half-sisters—”
“The singing angel and the pissed off teenager,” he filled in.
A reluctant chuckle erupted. “Yes, Paige and Imogene. I couldn’t very well leave Emma alone with them.”
“Last time I looked, Emma was an adult.”
“You don’t understand. She doesn’t know the first thing about being a mother. Especially not when it comes to two grieving girls.”
It was his turn to look amazed. “So, you sacrificed your life to help your daughter?”
Brent’s tone made her cheeks grow even hotter. He made it sound like she was some kind of saint. “Don’t make me out to be so noble.”
“Why not? It must be killing you to live with those girls, looking at them every day and know they—”
“I know what they represent,” she said, more sharply than she’d intended. “But they aren’t to blame for what happened with my marriage. They’re the innocents in all this, and so is Emma, in a way.”
“It’s easy to say that, but much harder to make yourself believe it.” Brent shook his head. “I’m trying to say that I admire you, Mary. I don’t know many people who could do what you have.”
“I told you, I’m not a saint. It’s called being a mother.”
He let out a bitter laugh. “Really? I should introduce you to mine some time. You’d be surprised how often those maternal instincts fail to develop. Then maybe you’d realize how special you are.”
Mary gazed at him sharply and saw again that brief glimpse of sadness.
He straightened up before she could try and look any deeper. “The other thing I know about Grayson is that he will not put up with us arriving late to rehearsal. So, why don’t you come in now? We’re only doing a read through tonight. Maybe once you get through that, you’ll realize you can do this. I know you can. Any woman who has the strength to help raise her ex-husband’s daughters is capable of anything. But then, I’m not the one you need to convince.”
“Why do you care if I go in or not?” she asked, wondering why this handsome, successful, younger man would care what happened to a frumpy, middle-aged, out-of-work divorcée?
“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure yet,” he said, on a low, almost surprised laugh. “I’m not used to caring what anyone does or thinks. But when I look at you, I just…” he trailed off, staring at her through the open window.
The unspoken words winged across the space, settling in a place Mary could have sworn had stopped working properly years ago. “You’re right. We don’t want to be late,” she said, nearly jumping out of the car.
Mary took a few steps before she realized he hadn’t moved. When she turned around, she realized he was still standing by the car, and his jaw had gone slack. His eyes traveled from the top of her head to the tip of strappy, high-wedge shoes. She felt the impression of his gaze over every inch his eyes traveled.
He let out a long whistle. “Wow…”
Her mouth went dry, and she ran a hand down her side, smoothing a wrinkle in the cotton pants. “I’m trying a new look.”
His mouth tipped up. “And it’s working.”
“I got tired of frumpy and beige.”
“You weren’t frumpy before, but I applaud the results. You look like a queen. All regal and poised.” He finally moved away from the car and toward her. “I like this color on you, too. Goes with the new sparkle in your eyes.”
“Sparkle? Seriously?” She rolled the orbs in question, grateful the sensory spell he’d started to weave disappeared. “You need to try those lines on someone a little younger and a little more inclined to believe them.”
She turned and headed to the theatre again.
He caught up with her in two steps. “I’m freaked out by the attraction, too, you know. My last relationship was a Category 5 disaster.”
“I am not freaked out, and we don’t have a relationship,” Mary said, fighting back panic at his words, even as she became more intrigued about what had happened in his last relationship.
“You wound me,” Brent said, putting a hand to his heart. “I thought we had something special going here.”
Mary’s lips twitched, but she fought the impulse to smile. He didn’t need to know she found him charming. Brent probably flirted with any woman in a skirt. “I just don’t want to draw the director’s wrath on the first day.”
He chuckled again. “All right.”
They reached the entrance, and he grabbed the handle, pulling the heavy door open. He didn’t say another word. Just sketched a little bow and swept one arm across his body, inviting her to go in first.
She hadn’t taken more than two steps inside before Paige barreled into the lobby, heading straight for them. “Miss Mary, I’ve been waiting and waiting. Emma said you went shopping with Genie and—” She stopped, and her blue eyes widened. “Oh. You look so pretty!”
Words of praise had never been so sweetly or so sincerely given. “You think so?”
Paige nodded. “I like your hair, and your top.”
“Not middle-aged or beige?” Mary asked, more pleased than she could have imagined.
The girl giggled and shook her head and then looked past Mary to Brent. “Mr. Grayson was looking for you.”
“Then I must obey the summons.” He paused briefly by her shoulder. “Break a leg, Mary.” Then he was gone. Walking away without a backward glance.
Paige took Mary’s hand, pulling her toward the dining room. It looked like she was one of the last to arrive. The cast was situated in several small groups. Grayson, Brent, Annaliese, Penelope, and another unknown woman were in one corner going over some notes. A knot of students from several of the nearby colleges had congregated in another, and then Shellwater Key locals milled around, as if uncertain what to do with themselves.
Mary took a step, but then hesitated, unsure which group she even belonged in. She’d been away from Shellwater Key for so long and wasn’t sure she fit in with the locals anymore. The college crowd was out, too. Nothing like being in the presence of nubile young girls to make a woman feel old, no matter what kind of total makeover she’d undergone.
Paige didn’t hesitate to head for the local group, however, so Mary was forced in that direction. Before they reached the crowd, a woman broke free and met them half way.
“Mary! It’s so good to see you!”
She blinked and then smiled as the woman’s face merged with one she remembered from her past. Her old choir mate, Josie Parker. They’d both sung soprano and had sat together in the back row for more than sixteen years. Josie had twins – a son and daughter – who were a couple years older than Emma.
“Josie,” Mary said, as her old friend threw her arms around her neck.
“When I saw your name on the cast list, I almost couldn’t believe it,” Josie said, her dark eyes shining. “I’d heard you were back, but I haven’t…well…” she broke off, her cheeks coloring.
Mary took pity on her. “I understand. It’s very strange. No one quite knows what to do with me now.”
Josie laughed. “Trust you to try and put me at ease when I’ve been a terrible friend.” She sobered, sadness and pity entering her eyes. “Cal and I were celebrating our thirty-fifth anniversary in Italy when we heard the news about Thomas and Mona. We weren’t able to make it back in time for the funeral.”
“Thirty-five years,” Mary said, in wonder. “Congratulations.”
Josie’s expression turned a bit dreamy, and suddenly the years, and the wrinkles, disappeared, and she looked like a teenager caught up in her first love. “It amazes
even me. I’m a grandmother five times over, if you can believe it. Barry is an accountant in Atlanta, and he has two little girls, and Aubrey is a pediatrician. She’s carried on the family tradition of twins, two boys in her case, as well as a new baby girl. They’re just over in Tampa, which we love.”
“That’s really wonderful,” Mary said.
Truly, she was happy for her friend, but that didn’t stop the little pang of anguish squeezing her lonely heart. She’d had so many reminders of her past life with Thomas in the last few weeks that she should have gotten used to them by now.
Josie must have seen or guessed something because her expression fell. She reached for Mary’s hand. “Oh, hon, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
Mary forced a carefree smile. “No, no it’s all right. It’s good to hear you’re doing so well.”
Josie’s expression remained sympathetic. “There hasn’t been anyone since Thomas?”
Mary shook her head. “Nothing beyond a couple dates here and there.”
“You weren’t the only one to get divorced, you know,” Josie said, lowering her voice in case anyone overheard. “You remember Ingrid and Richard Johns from the choir.”
“Yes, of course.”
“They separated last year. Ingrid up and decided she was done after twenty-five years. The kids were all out of the house, and she didn’t want to be a wife anymore. She’s teaching art at a college near Savannah. Lucille and Nick Brody split, too, though those two had been fighting like cats and dogs for years, so it wasn’t much of a surprise.”
“I don’t know if I should be happy or depressed,” Mary said.
Josie’s laugh held a tinge of sadness. “It’s hard to celebrate something like that.” Her expression cleared as her gaze turned speculative. “Oh, but what about Richard Johns? He still looks quite dashing. I could set you up?”
“Oh, Josie, no.” Mary waved her hands in the air. “Please, I can’t even think about dating right now. Don’t mind me if I get maudlin. Being back in Shellwater Key has stirred up a lot of old memories, you know?”
“I’m sure, not to mention you’re helping Emma with Thomas’ other daughters.” Josie’s eyes lit with interest and sympathy. “Frankly, I don’t know how you do it. You’re a better woman than I am.”
“Neither do I sometimes,” Mary confessed before she could stop herself. “Maybe if I wasn’t living with them, it would be easier. It might also force Emma to deal with the girls.”
Josie grinned. “Oh, now that I can help you with. Did I mention that I’m a real estate agent now? I got my license once the twins reached high school and I realized I was a few years away from needing a whole new life. I’d be happy to help you find something.”
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be here,” Mary said.
“Maybe a short-term rental then, just until you decide?”
Mary found herself nodding. “Yes, that might work.”
“Then we’ll meet for lunch this week and discuss what you want.”
I want to not feel so old and alone…and beige.
“Ladies and gentleman,” Grayson Kendall called out. “It’s time to get started.”
Everyone went silent, awaiting the director’s first instructions. Mary noticed Layla had arrived with her grandmother and Aunt Grace at some point. Noah Johnson was there with that cantankerous old man, Chester. Emma stood with her new pastry chef, Mrs. Pringle. Emma looked over and gave Mary an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
Mary couldn’t help the bubble of happiness that rose inside her. If nothing else, this time in Shellwater Key had changed her relationship with Emma for the better. They didn’t seem so much mother-and-daughter now, but equals. Friends. No, comrades in arms. They were both mothers now, though Emma had come to her role in a way no one would have chosen.
Mary turned her attention back to the director. Grayson’s gaze moved over the cast, and then he grinned, letting out a low chuckle. “First off, I want all of you to take a long, deep breath.”
A wave of muffled laughter moved through the theatre, and with it the tension seemed to dissipate.
Grayson continued. “We are all about to embark on an exciting journey. This is going to be a challenge, but I promise, it will also be the most fun you’ve had in your life. There is no feeling in the world like bringing a show to life, building it from the ground up and watching it transform into something magical.”
The murmurs went to a warm hum.
“I’m honored and humbled that Grace-Ann Carter and Dr. Barbara McCarthy – not to mention her granddaughter – have entrusted me with helping to bring The Paradise back to its former glory. I’m equally honored that I’ll be making the journey with all of you.”
The cast burst into applause, a few even adding whistles.
“He’s quite mesmerizing, isn’t he?” Josie said, nodding her head toward Grayson.
Mary smiled. “Yes, quite.”
“If I was a few years younger and wasn’t madly in love with my Cal—” Josie trailed off, wagging her eyebrows suggestively.
Mary burst into laughter, drawing the eyes of those around them. From across the room, Brent Atwood looked at her. More than thirty feet separated them, but she felt the connection like he was standing an inch away.
If I was a few years younger and a lot less wary of trusting my heart…
No, she couldn’t even begin to think nonsense like that.
Grayson made one more introduction. He indicated the older woman by his side. She was tiny and had a strong, wiry body that looked like it belonged on a twenty-five year-old instead of someone who was near sixty, if not older. “This is Petra Olgavich. At one time she was my choreographer in Chicago, but she abandoned me for the warmer climate of Florida about ten years ago. I was lucky enough to find her again, teaching dance at the University of South Florida. She’s going to be choreographing our show.”
The cast applauded again, and Petra bowed her head, looking as regal as a Russian czarina.
Grayson then gestured to the three long folding tables that were arranged on the stage in a U shape. “I’d like all of you to take a seat up here. I trust you’ve read through the script already.”
Everyone nodded and chattered.
“Good, then we’ll get started with our first read through.”
Josie grabbed Mary’s arm. “Isn’t this exciting?”
A long-dead, but very familiar buzz started low in Mary’s gut. She stared at the stage, empty now, except for the tables. But she didn’t see emptiness. No, in her mind she pictured a set, costumes, lights, music, and voices raised in song. Laughter. Applause.
The buzz grew, rising in her chest until it filled her entire being. She knew this feeling. Recognized it, just as she’d recognized Josie’s face earlier. And suddenly, Mary knew she could do this show. That she wanted to do it, and maybe in the process banish the beige, middle-aged woman on the inside.
She turned to Josie. “Yes, it is wonderful.”
Chapter 17
Emma hung up and tossed her cell on the table for what felt like the hundredth time.
“No answer.” She paced the kitchen, making a path from the back door to the refrigerator. “I thought living in the age of cell phones meant you could always reach someone.”
“Except teenagers out past their curfew,” her mother said from the table.
Emma spun around. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
Mary Bertram paused, a teacup balanced against her lips. Her expression went blank. Too suspiciously blank. “Absolutely not. I never want to see you suffer.”
Emma sighed and dropped into a chair across the table. “I don’t blame you for wanting a little revenge. Heaven knows I could probably give Imogene lessons in snot-nosed behavior, but I never ran off without telling you where I was going.”
“That’s because you only went one place,” Mary said, taking a sip of tea. “That restaurant.”
“At least you didn’t have to worry about me when I was th
ere.”
“Not worry?” she asked, eyes wide in amazement. “My vulnerable, sixteen-year-old daughter was spending every night in a professional kitchen hearing who knows what kind of talk. You were surrounded by men who swore and drank, and half of them probably liked the fact that you were sixteen and vulnerable. Not to mention you were still reeling from the divorce and were so ripe for being seduced into something that might make you forget how miserable you were for a few minutes.”
Emma shivered at the frightening picture her mother had created. She’d never considered that her behavior might have been risky. “Put like that, I can’t believe you ever let me do it,” she said, reaching for her mother’s hand.
Mary squeezed back. “I’m not sure either, except that when your father found out he about had a heart attack. Called me up, demanding I take control and get you out of there.”
“What did you do?”
“I told him to go screw himself,” she said, putting the cup back in the saucer with a precise little click.
“Mom!” Emma cried, shocked to even hear that word come out of her mother’s mouth. “Did you really?”
“I think what I actually said was worse,” her mother said, with a rueful chuckle. “I was furious with him. The only reason you were hanging out there was because you were…” She pressed her lips together and sighed. “We were both hurting and looking for a place to lick our wounds. I escaped to Naples, and you found a restaurant kitchen. In the end, I was just happy you’d found something that made you smile again. Besides, Luigi’s was a little family-owned place. Sal and Maria looked after you like you were their own daughter, something your father didn’t seem too interested in being anymore.”
Emma choked on a startled breath. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
Mary shrugged. “I let out a lot of pent up anger with that phone call, I think. He never brought it up again, though.”
“If it makes you feel better, Sal and Maria did look after me,” Emma said. “They were probably stricter than you or dad would have been. Maria said I’d be gone that night if I even flirted with one of the guys, and Sal threatened to cut off something unmentionable with a meat cleaver if any of the staff so much as looked at me. He even made them watch their language when I was around. I still heard stuff, but not the worst.”
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