Hidden Falls (7 page)

“He’s all yours,” Miles said. “I’ll go check in one last time with the caterers. How much time do you need?”

“Ten minutes. Give me the sign when everything is set out there.”

Miles retreated back to the main room. Sylvia took Quinn by the elbow.

“This part is very easy,” she said. “Everyone else has rehearsed. I just need to make sure you know how it will work.”

Quinn glanced around the backstage clutter. “I thought you said I was to speak after dinner.”

“You are. This is just an introduction.”

“Everybody out there knows me,” Quinn pointed out, “or they wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“Will you stop analyzing everything and just work with us, please?” Sylvia turned Quinn’s shoulders thirty degrees to the left and pointed eight feet in front of them. “Do you see that mark? The silver X?”

“Yes.”

“That’s where you stand. I’m going to go out and welcome everyone on behalf of the organizing committee. It won’t be a long speech. You should be able to hear everything from back here.”

“You haven’t gotten to the part about why I’m back here in the first place.”

Sylvia sighed. “You stand on the mark. I ask everyone to welcome you. The curtain will open and the spotlight will shift to you. I expect there will be some applause.”

He frowned.

“I know,” Sylvia said. “Not your favorite. All you have to do is make a gentleman’s bow and walk toward me. We’ll go down the stairs together and sit at the head table with Miles and some of the town council members.”

Quinn was scowling.

“What’s wrong?” Sylvia asked.

“It’s overdramatized, don’t you think?”

“Quinn, a committee planned this event. They had a lot of discussion about the tone they wanted to set. They want to honor you in a memorable way for everything you do for the people of Hidden Falls. This is not a down-home picnic.”

He looked her in the eye. “I understand what it is, Sylvia.” He paced across the stage and pulled back the center curtain about an inch.

Sylvia stood behind him. “Look how many people wanted to be here.”

Members of the town council served as unofficial ushers, helping people find seats. Sylvia was glad to see few openings. For the most part, people who said they were coming actually came. The wait staff, in starched black and white, lined up along one wall with wrists crossed behind their backs.

“Some of those kids getting ready to serve are my students,” Quinn said. “I’ve never seen them look so put together.”

Sylvia gasped. “Is that Dani Roose?”

“Where?”

“Over on the left, toward the back, just coming in.”

Quinn’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “I saw her only a couple of hours ago, headed to the lake. And look, she came. I’m quite persuasive, you know.”

“I do know. I see Nicole and Ethan both made it.”

“It would warm my heart if they sat together, but that’s probably asking too much.”

“Ethan looks like he’s on the phone.” Sylvia watched Ethan walking toward an exit with his phone pushed against his ear.

“I hope it’s not a medical emergency,” Quinn said. “He needs to stay in town for a bit.”

“I’m sure he’ll come right back in.” Sylvia saw Nicole take a seat next to her niece. “Nicole looks stunning.”

“She told me a fascinating story of her work. In fact, I—” He broke off the thought.

Sylvia stepped to one side so she could see Quinn’s face. “In fact, you what?”

He shook it off. “Nothing.”

She did not believe him. “Quinn, what is it?”

“This is not the time. Just … something I need to do.”

Sylvia considered his face. He was avoiding her eyes, but she saw an expression that drifted across his features only a few times a year now. When they were younger, she saw it more often.

“Lauren was a nervous wreck this afternoon,” she said. “All aflutter about the health fair next week.”

“I saw her after my haircut. She has nothing to worry about.”

“Lauren was in my shop just before I closed.” Sylvia scrunched up her face. “Do you mean you were still in town at that point in the day?”

He shrugged. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Sylvia adjusted her view through the crack in the curtain. “Jack Parker is here.”

“I have his older daughter in one of my classes.”

“I don’t like his attitude. A superiority complex is unbecoming in a community like Hidden Falls.”

“Something makes him behave that way,” Quinn said. “Everyone has a story. We just don’t know what his is yet. When we do, we’ll understand him better.”

Sylvia softened. Quinn was right.

Through the curtain, she saw Liam put his arm around Jessica’s shoulders and lean in to listen to her.

“I’ve known Liam Elliott all his life,” Sylvia said. “His story just seems to get more complicated.”

“That reminds me,” Quinn said. “I’m supposed to set up another meeting with Liam.”

“He has aspirations for managing some town funds, too,” Sylvia said. “I’m not so sure.”

“He deserves a hearing, but I may have to delay awhile longer.”

“Having doubts?”

“No. I have a possible schedule conflict.”

Miles stuck his head in and waved a hand.

Quinn blew out his breath. “I guess we should get this show on the road.”

Sylvia pointed to the silver mark. “Stand right there and don’t move.”

Quinn clicked his heels together and stood up straight.

“Just don’t move,” she repeated.

Sylvia stepped through the curtain and crossed to the left of the stage. A copy of her remarks awaited her on a small podium that had been freshly stained for the occasion. She held her pose while the houselights dimmed and a soft white spotlight encircled her. Gradually conversations hushed and heads turned toward the mayor.

“Good evening,” Sylvia said. “Thank you for coming out to spend your Saturday evening as we together honor Ted Quinn, a person who has touched countless lives since he arrived in Hidden Falls more than thirty years ago.”

Applause swelled, and Sylvia waited for it to subside.

“Our friend Quinn is a dedicated teacher. Some of you who studied with him in the early years have the joy of seeing your children in his classroom now. He has led one town improvement effort after another through the decades, in his desire to make Hidden Falls a place that feels like home to all who live here and all who visit. As a member of Our Savior Community Church and a deeply caring human being, he looks for every opportunity to speak into suffering with tenderness. His wit and humor keep us all on our toes.”

Applause rose again.

“We will hear from Quinn a little later, after we have enjoyed the meal that awaits us. When you picked up—”

A boom thundered behind Sylvia, startled the breath out of her, and launched a surge of adrenaline. She spun toward the scuffling footsteps behind the curtain, but Miles was already out of his seat and taking the side stairs in three long steps before disappearing through the stage door, so she held her position. A nervous mutter rippled across the room. The wait staff along the wall lost their formation. Five hundred faces looked in a dozen different directions.

Sylvia gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile to the eyes fixed on her. “I’m sure Mr. Devon will have things in hand momentarily.”

Miles emerged from the stage door and paced across the stage. Sylvia put a hand over the microphone as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“Some idiot set the trigger on the theater’s air cannon stored back there,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was Zeke Plainfield, but he’s been out here the whole time. Anyway, there’s no telling what the cycle time was set for.”

Sylvia eased her breath out through upturned lips. “So everything is all right back there?”

“Perfectly fine.”

“And Quinn?”

“It wasn’t anywhere near him. The cannon was at the back of the stage in a pile of props.”

“Good.”

“Let’s not reward this with attention. Just continue your remarks.” Miles casually returned to his seat.

“We’ve had a mishap,” Sylvia said into the microphone, “but nothing to interrupt our celebration. When you picked up your name tags, you also found a card indicating the entrée you selected with your reservation. Please lay this above your place setting, and servers will be sure you receive the meal you ordered. But before we begin the meal, let’s welcome our guest of honor.”

Sylvia swept one hand in a wide gesture toward the center of the stage. She fell into darkness as the spotlight shifted and the curtains began to draw open. Applause swelled again and the crowd rose to their feet.

The curtains left a wide gap now, and light flooded the stage.

The mark was empty.

Sylvia smiled for the sake of anyone who might be watching her face and walked across the stage to glance around the area out of view from the audience. It would be just like Quinn to get involved in the backstage commotion.

“Quinn,” she whispered sharply. “Get out here.”

Silence. Not even the shuffle of a step.

Sylvia signaled to a stagehand to turn on the lights behind the curtain. Her eyes swept the area.

Quinn was gone.

Saturday
7:52 p.m.

A
pplause thundered. Lauren made sure her clapping was among the most enthusiastic, and her glee for Quinn blotted out the discomfort of her heels when she stood up. Her aunt Sylvia disappeared behind the side curtain to a steady roll of applause. A few seconds later, though, the spotlight dimmed. In response, the ovation tapered off. The standing crowd looked at each other, expressions both expectant and bewildered. Gradually people began to sit down.

“Hey, Lauren, what’s going on?”

The pressure on the back of her shoulders could only mean Zeke, an eleventh-grader from church who liked to sneak up on her. Lauren ducked out of his grasp and twisted to see his face. Zeke wore black pants, a white shirt, and a black bow tie.

“I see you’re serving dinner tonight.” Lauren tweaked his tie.

“That was the plan, but this wasn’t in the rehearsal.”

“Rehearsal?”

“Yeah. As soon as the mayor walks Mr. Quinn down off the stage, we’re supposed to start serving the Caesar salads.”

Lauren glanced around the table. Brian and Rachel Gardner looked at her with anticipation. She had been in school with a couple of their kids. An older couple she didn’t recognize also seemed to think she would have an explanation.

“You know how it is,” Lauren said casually. “You can’t predict everything at a rehearsal.”

“Mr. Quinn wasn’t at the rehearsal.” Zeke tapped one foot and jiggled his knee. “Seems like they should’ve had the star of the show there.”

Brian Gardner buzzed his lips. “At least this time I’m not worried that one of my kids was the one not paying attention.”

Nervous laughter circled the table.

“All he had to do was stand on an X,” Zeke said. “They made it pretty big. I saw it myself.”

“One little glitch is not going to ruin the evening.” Lauren watched the stage. The curtains were closing.

“It’s probably a trick,” Zeke said.

Brian Gardner nodded agreement. “Quinn will have the last laugh.”

Rachel said, “It’s his night. He should enjoy it however he likes.”

While Quinn didn’t like being singled out for credit—he believed nothing happened due to the efforts of just one person—his creative humor was legendary. He was the teacher students could count on to ham it up at the faculty talent show or in the skits during pep rallies.

Lauren chuckled. “One time he came out dressed as one of the Trapp Family children in play clothes made out of curtains. I was laughing so hard I nearly fell off the top of the cheerleader pyramid.”

Zeke grinned. “Last week he got in one of those human bowling ball cages and let them roll him across the gym.”

“Zeke Plainfield, get back in line.”

The razor in the caterer’s tone made everyone at the table jump. Zeke lurched toward the wall where most of the waitstaff still stood, though they had relaxed their posture considerably.

The curtains took a final tug and sealed the gap between them, plunging the activity behind into mystery. Buzzing murmurs around the banquet room notched up.

“Zeke is probably right,” Lauren said. “Quinn has something up his sleeve.”

“I don’t know,” Nicole said, shaking her head. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“I’m sure it will be dignified.” Whatever humor Quinn was going to bring to the evening, he would be in his tux. At most, three minutes had passed since the spotlight showed an empty stage. Considering everything scheduled for the evening, a three-minute delay didn’t concern Lauren. A little laughter would relax everyone, and people across the generations would chatter with one another like old friends. It was some sort of an icebreaker, Lauren decided.

“Something’s wrong.” Nicole spoke softly into the space between her and Lauren. “I don’t like the way this smells.”

“What do you mean, how it smells?” Lauren said. “It’s nothing.” They would be laughing about it in another minute.

“Did you see the mayor’s face?” Nicole said. “She was not expecting this.”

“Of course not,” Lauren said. “Quinn never tells anybody when he’s going to pull something.”

“Why did they turn off the spotlight?”

Lauren shifted in her chair. “Maybe the lights guy is in on it.”

“You just said Quinn doesn’t tell anybody.”

“I didn’t mean that
literally.
Obviously sometimes he needs a conspirator.”

With her lips pressed together, Nicole shook her head with less hesitancy. “Not tonight. He wouldn’t spoil an occasion like this.”

“He’s not spoiling anything,” Lauren said. “He’s just being Quinn.”

“Quinn will play along with a lot of crazy ideas,” Nicole said, “but he’s not the class clown. He never let anyone get away with that in class. He doesn’t disturb other people’s plans.”

Lauren had no response. What Nicole said was true.

Nicole nodded toward the stage. “Look at the clues. Your aunt didn’t come back out. The light went off. The curtain closed. Now the principal just went up the side steps to the stage and behind the curtain. This is not adding up.”