Flowers on Main (37 page)

She wasn’t surprised that her father had gotten right down to the practical issues. “Maybe three hundred seats at the most. Definitely smaller than the theater in Chicago. Something cozy. If it succeeds, we’ll just have longer runs for the productions.”

“And it’s okay with you if the community uses it when you’re not?”

“Absolutely. We certainly couldn’t put a production together for every week of the year. Maybe not even every month. The stage should be used. It would be good, though, if we could have a couple of permanent offices there, maybe even a small rehearsal room.”

Mick regarded her over the rims of his reading glasses. “You serious about this? I’m not going down to town hall for something you’ll change your mind about tomorrow.”

She nodded slowly. “I think I am. I at least want to explore the possibilities.” She gave him a stern look. “Which means you probably shouldn’t start digging to put in the foundation just yet, okay? We all need to study this, the town included. People need to have their say about that land. Maybe I’m the only one who’d love to have a community theater in Chesapeake Shores.”

“Agreed,” Mick said. “Let’s explore the possibilities, figure out a construction budget. You investigate the costs for everything else—a manager, a resident director, whatever. Then we’ll talk again.” His gaze narrowed. “I’ll see if I can get the town to pony up some of the construction funding, in addition to donating the land. You have any of your trust-fund money left to invest in this?”

“Some, not a lot,” she admitted. “But the flower shop’s already operating in the black, so I’ll be able to borrow against that, I think.”

Gram gave her a long look. “You know the first thing I want to see on that new stage?”

“What?”

“The play that sent you flying back home.”

Bree hesitated. “I don’t know, Gram. We should probably start with a sure thing.”

“No, you should start the way you intend to go on, by offering new plays by talented new writers.”

“Only this time get a director who knows what the hell he’s doing,” Mick added.

Bree stared at him, surprised by such a vehement comment coming from her father. He hadn’t even gotten to Chicago for that production. “You’ve been talking to Mom about this, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have,” Mick replied. “We talk about all of you kids. Night before last, we talked about Kevin going back to Iraq and Georgia planning to do another tour there. As for you, we’ve been worried sick you were going to let that man in Chicago keep you from doing what you were meant to do. And if Jake Collins was the one who made you see how wrong that was, then I owe him.”

Bree nodded solemnly. “I think I do, too.”

“You’re late,” Jake grumbled, climbing out of his truck and following Bree inside her shop.

“Big news at the O’Brien house this morning,” she told him with a grin. “It seems I’m going to start a theater company.”

Jake stopped in his tracks, stunned by the news that his middle-of-the-night idea had taken hold, even more stunned by the realization that this could be the answer to his prayers, something that would keep Bree right here. “Seriously? You’re sure about this?”

“I’m beginning to think so. I’m scared out of my wits, but Gram thought it was a brilliant idea, and Dad’s already making sketches and cost projections and plotting a strategy to get a big plot of land from the town. He says he owes you, by the way.”

“For what?”

“Giving me back my faith in myself and pointing me in the right direction.”

“I did all that? I must be good,” he said, laughing. “Who knew I could be so helpful and intuitive?”

Bree glanced toward the bag. “Is there coffee in there?”

He nodded. “Croissants, too. Chocolate today.”

“Ooh, how decadent! Hand ’em over.”

Jake passed her the bag, then took the cap off his own cup of coffee and took a long swallow. He needed all the caffeine he could get to stay alert this morning, not just for work, but to keep up with Bree. Changes in her life seemed to be moving at a breakneck pace.

“So, what happens next?” he asked her.

“I’m going to make a bunch of calls, try to figure out what start-up and operating costs would be. Dad’s going to talk to the mayor about some land on Shore Road and maybe even
being a partner in the construction. Then he’ll calculate construction costs. Hopefully once we’ve done all that, neither of us will go into cardiac arrest over the bottom line.”

“I’ve got a little money,” Jake offered. “I’d invest in a sure thing.”

“No,” she said so fast it felt like a blow.

“Why not? I want to.”

“I couldn’t put your money at risk. I’d feel awful if this failed and you lost it.”

“We’ll talk again when you have all your figures together,” he insisted stubbornly. “I want to be part of this, Bree. What matters to you matters to me. That’s the way it is with people who love each other.”

She stilled for an instant, apparently absorbing his words. Then she slowly nodded. “Okay, we’ll at least talk about it.”

“Do you have all the contacts you need to pull together this information?”

“I think so. I’ve met a few regional-theater directors from around the country. I’ll call them. And of course, there’s the manager in Chicago.”

His heart sank. “You’re going to call Marty?”

“No. He didn’t manage the theater. He was the director for a few productions and the resident playwright. I’ll talk to Rebecca. She ran the company.”

Jake tried not to overreact. “Don’t you think she’ll spill the beans to Marty?”

Bree shrugged. “What if she does? He’s out of my life, Jake. I’ve made that clear to him. I’m certainly not going to invite him to be a guest director here, and until we’re some huge success, he won’t even consider having one of his plays produced on our little backwater stage.”

Jake wasn’t convinced. For one thing, he knew how men’s
minds worked. For another, he couldn’t imagine any man getting over Bree without taking at least one stab at trying again.

“One call out there might convince him you’re opening the door again,” he warned.

“But I’m not calling
him,
” she said, obviously frustrated by his refusal to believe her.

“Won’t matter,” he said stubbornly. “I may not know him all that well, but I know men. He’s going to be on your doorstep if you make that call, even if it is to Rebecca.”

“Well, I think you’re wrong, but I’ll tell her specifically not to say anything.”

Jake knew he was probably overreacting, but he didn’t trust the man. Still, he knew it made sense for Bree to go to someone she probably knew as well as she knew Rebecca to get information. He held up his hands. “Okay, handle this your way.”

“I intend to.”

“Have I just destroyed all the goodwill I gained by coming up with this idea?”

She grinned at him. “Not all of it,” she said, kissing him.

“You taste like chocolate,” he murmured, sighing not just with satisfaction, but relief that the argument hadn’t gotten too far out of hand. “I’ll be thinking about that the rest of the day.”

“Me, too,” she said softly. “Now, go to work. You probably have a million things to do today. I know I do.”

Jake was reluctant to go. “Meet me for lunch,” he suggested.

“I can’t get away,” she said with obvious disappointment. “Besides, what about Will and Mack?”

“They’re not as pretty as you are, and they don’t kiss half as well.”

She gave him an odd look. “And you would know that how?”

“Gossip, of course,” he said with a laugh. “Nothing’s sacred in this town.” He still couldn’t bring himself to leave, not
without making some kind of plan to see her again. He had this feeling they were very close to getting everything back. “How about dinner, then? Something quick and easy at my place?”

Her eyes sparkled at that. “I can do that.”

“Is seven okay?”

“I’ll be there.”

“You know where I live now?”

“Of course I do. Connie told me. Jenny has pointed it out. I’m surprised someone didn’t leave directions on my doorstep.”

“I suppose they were leaving that to me,” he said.

“Not necessary,” she told him. “You know what I’m starting to think?”

“What?”

“That I was destined to find my way back to you.”

Jake stood rooted to the spot. He wanted to believe she was right, needed to believe it, because even the slimmest possibility that she was wrong scared him to death, especially now when they seemed to be so close to having it all.

Rebecca Moore had been with the Lake Shore Playhouse since its inception twenty years before. She and her husband had been among the five founders. She had dozens of helpful suggestions for Bree when they finally connected early that afternoon.

“I’ll fax over some budgets for the past couple of years, as soon as we get off the phone. They’re public information because of the city and state funding we get, so it’s not a problem for me to share them with you.”

“Thank you so much. You’ve been a huge help,” Bree told her. “I really appreciate it. I don’t know yet if anything will come of this, but I’m excited.”

“I thought you’d opened a flower shop. That’s what
Marty’s told everyone. He said you didn’t have what it took to deal with criticism.”

“As annoying as it is to hear he’d say something like that, he was probably right,” Bree admitted. “But no more. My skin’s thicker now, and I’ve gotten a lot of things in perspective.”

“Including the fact that Marty’s not the good guy you thought he was, I hope.”

Bree gave a rueful laugh. “Yeah, that, too. Don’t tell him about this call, okay? The last thing I need is for him to call me and start planting a million little seeds of doubt in my head.”

“He won’t hear a thing about it from me,” Rebecca assured her. “The only time we communicate is when we have to. I didn’t like the way he treated you. If he weren’t an asset around here most of the time, I would have pushed the other partners to send him packing.”

“I can’t believe I was so blind to it,” Bree told her.

“Hero worship,” Rebecca concluded. “Happens to the best of us at one time or another. Sooner or later, though, we discover those feet of clay. Whoops, I hear the Dark Force approaching, so I’d better cut this off. I’ll fax the material as soon as he’s gone.”

Bree chuckled at her nickname for Marty. She wondered if others had always called him that, just not around her. The Dark Force suited him. She could see that now that her blinders were off.

“Thanks again, Rebecca. Talk to you soon.”

When she’d hung up, she saw two customers in the shop. She’d been so caught up with the phone call and her plans, she hadn’t even seen them come in.

“May I help you?” she asked, addressing them both.

For the next couple of hours, as she took their orders and then put together arrangements for delivery, she waited for the fax
machine to start spewing out pages, but it remained stubbornly silent. It was nearly six when the line finally rang and the machine kicked on. On the cover sheet, Rebecca had scrawled:

Just a warning, but I think Marty overheard my end of the conversation and put the pieces together. I waited till now to fax this, because he’s been lurking around. Call my cell if you need anything more. Rebecca.

Bree shuddered at the warning. Hopefully, even if Marty did know that Rebecca had been speaking to her, it wouldn’t matter to him. Otherwise, if he called or turned up, it would prove that Jake had been right to worry. And, frankly, she didn’t need the likely aggravation that would result from either man.

Jake went from Bree’s shop to his first job. Either because he was exhausted or simply because the stars were aligned the wrong way, everything about it took longer than he’d anticipated. The home owner had changed her mind about the layout of the plants and shrubs. The ground was filled with rocks and stumps from old hedges. He spent most of the day just trying to get it in some kind of decent condition for planting. He’d have to come back tomorrow to finish the job, which would throw off his schedule for the rest of the week.

By the time he got to the nursery, he was filthy and in no mood for one of Connie’s cross-examinations. He didn’t have time for it, either, with Bree coming to his place in an hour expecting to find a meal on the table.

Despite the warning look he cast in his sister’s direction, she followed him into his office.

“Two, Jake? You got my daughter home on a school night at close to two o’clock in the morning.”

“We had this conversation before I even talked to Jenny about the concert,” he reminded her. “You knew it would be a late night.”

“Midnight is a late night during the week. I said I’d make an exception because she was going to be with her responsible uncle.”

“The concert didn’t let out until nearly eleven,” he said patiently. “It’s close to a two-hour drive home.”

“And yet you found the time to stop for breakfast,” she said. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking she and Dillon were hungry. I was also thinking they’re young enough to recover from one late night, especially since they were with two responsible adults.”

“Want to know how I spent my evening? I spent it on the phone with Dillon’s parents, who were freaking out because he wasn’t home yet.”

“I have no idea why. I had the same conversation with them before we left. They knew we were going to be late.”

“Again, there’s late and then there’s oh-my-God-my-kid’s-been-in-an-accident late.”

He realized at last that there were tears shimmering in her eyes. She’d really been scared. He braved her indignation to hug her. “I should have called you,” he said. “Why didn’t you try my cell phone?”

“I did, about a million times.”

He winced. “I turned it off before the concert. I must have forgotten to turn it back on. I’m so sorry.”

She punched him in the arm. “You should be. And you need to call Dillon’s parents and apologize. They’re threatening never to let him see Jenny again.”

Jake regarded her with a grin. “And that would be awful because…?”

“Because your niece would hate you. And because she’d be sneaking out to see him.”