Saving Grace (Madison Falls) (7 page)

“Oh. Well, I—”

“We can’t afford to disappoint a single audience member. Especially not now.”

Grace corked her intended resignation with a strained smile. Nancy grinned, then charged off to her next important duty.

A lump the size of her fist sat in Grace’s throat as she scanned the crumb-and-coin strewn counter. This was terrible.

Grabbing a damp bar towel, she recounted the events of the past fifteen minutes. It had been chaos. Surely there was someone in this town who could do a better job than she had. It was only fair that she free it up for them.

A few minutes later, Grace had the stand shipshape. With renewed determination, she strode resolutely toward Nancy’s office.

“Nancy, I…” She stopped in the doorway of the surprisingly tiny space.

Nancy stood behind a desk so large it appeared that the room must have been built around it. Her face was as white as the paper she clutched in both hands.

“I’m sorry.” Grace reversed her forward momentum, alarmed by the woman’s stricken look. “I can come back.”

“It’s unbelievable. That’s what it is,” Nancy snapped, waving the sheet of paper like she was swatting at an insect.

Grace hesitated. Nancy clearly expected her to provide a sounding board. “Is something wrong?”

Nancy’s cheeks turned fiery as she flicked the paper with her fingers. “I thought this was a joke, but now this guy has his lawyer in on it.”

Grace took a slight step backward, not wanting to get involved. She had enough problems of her own.

Nancy thrust the paper in Grace’s direction, apparently assuming she’d be anxious to read it for herself. Grace held a beat before giving in to common courtesy and stepping fully into the room to take the offending letter. She scanned it as Nancy continued.

“This guy Langley thinks he’s going to buy this building and the one next door,
and
our parking lot. He’s just about got the owner talked into it. I can’t believe it. What is Mr. R. thinking?”

Grace examined the legalese. “So he wants to sell. Is that really so bad?”

Nancy’s face grew fierce. “It’s bad if he sells to Langley. That creep wants to tear down the theatre so he can build a big ugly casino. Can you believe it? He says he wants to turn Madison Falls into the Las Vegas of the North.”

“Oh.” This
was
terrible. If Madison Falls became a trendy tourist destination, it wouldn’t be much of a hiding place. “You mean the theatre might not be here much longer?”

Nancy’s eyes welled and her voice caught as she spoke. “I know it doesn’t bring in the crowds like it used to, but it’s such a part of this town. How could anyone tear it down?”

Grace wanted to ask if they’d considered doing better shows. She chose her words carefully. “So, if
Pirates
is profitable, Mr. R. might reconsider?”

Nancy rolled her eyes in an arch as if considering the notion. “That would be a start, I guess. He knows no one would want that casino. Besides, it’s got to make him sad to think about losing this building. It’s been in his family for generations.”

Grace weighed her words. “You could resuscitate the place, but it needs a facelift. It’s pretty old—”

“Built in 1882. Same year the railroad came through.” Nancy’s face fell in defeat. “We can’t afford to do anything to it. We’re running with no profit margin as it is.”

Grace’s mind started to click. “Well, maybe he could find another buyer. Someone who wants to keep it going as a theatre.”

Nancy shook her head. “That’s no good. He’s already had other offers. Trouble is, the highest was only two hundred thousand.”

Grace cringed. That
was
low. About the cost of a storage unit back home. “And Langley?”

“He offered a
million
, give or take.”

“A million?”

“Yeah. Give or take.”

“Wow,” Grace said. “That’s quite a difference.”

“I’ll say. Nobody else is going to offer that much for these poor old buildings. I mean, look around. Nothing’s up to code. The plumbing, the wiring. We’re just lucky we haven’t had a fire in all these years. Mr. R. can’t afford to fix it.” Nancy folded into her chair, burying her face in both hands.

Grace’s heart fluttered in sympathetic vibration to Nancy’s grief. “Isn’t there some sort of historical designation—”

“We’ve tried that route.” Nancy straightened, her arms flourishing in front of her like a novice maestro. “Apparently Montana has an overabundance of history. If the price is right, people will sell their souls.”

A tremor shot across Grace’s back. It was true. She’d learned that from Kirk.

Nancy covered her face again and Grace tried to think of something she could say to offer hope. “I’m…um…sure it will work out for the best.”

Nancy looked up, her eyes rimmed with red, and her face drawn with pain. She held a beat before speaking, her voice now barely above a whisper. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Grace’s chest tightened at the realization that this building meant more to Nancy than just a job.

Aggrieved silence hung in the air between them.
Poor Nancy
. Grace knew how it felt to have the one thing that meant the most to you ripped from your grasp. If only she could fix this for her. Take away that awful ache that had been her own constant companion for too long. Her eyes pooled with despair. She wanted to help, but the best she could do was to hold off on giving Nancy another dose of bad news. The resignation could wait.

“Look, I’m sure this will work itself out.” Grace took a step back, her familiar anguish threatening to take center stage. She needed to get away before Nancy questioned it.

Nancy smiled sadly. “Thanks again for saving the day.”

Offering a feeble smile, Grace turned to go.

“Oh, and Grace?”

She turned again.

Nancy looked drained. “Nobody really knows about this yet. I’d appreciate it if you kept it under your hat.”

Choking back her looming emotional detonation, Grace nodded agreement.

She took the few steps down the hallway to where it opened to the lobby. The muffled bellowing of the performance in the next room assured her of momentary privacy. Pausing to collect her emotions before continuing on outside, she lowered her face into her hands.

“Don’t tell me they’ve reduced you to tears on your first night.”

Grace snapped to attention at the velvety smooth male voice. The blood drained from her face as she looked into the silver-blue eyes of Devon Sinclair.

He stood just a few feet from her, leaning back slightly and peering around the corner by the box office. A genial smile spread over his face. “I didn’t mean to alarm you.” He took a step toward her, hand outstretched. “I’m Devon.”

“Grace.” She accepted his firm grasp, embarrassed that her emotions were so transparent. “I was just….” It was my first night manning the concession stand, and—”

He raised his palm. “I completely understand. I once did a stint at Streebecks Coffee.”

She spurted out a laugh, her despair instantly defused. “You get it then.” Suddenly in no hurry to leave, she folded her hands behind her. “So, how’s the casting coming along?”

“Actually,” he took a step back and pointed around the corner. “I just dropped in to post this.”

She moved beside him and looked at the bulletin board next to the box office window. “Ah, the cast list.”

His face shone with the satisfaction that comes with the completion of an important task. “Yes, thank goodness. This one was a challenge.”

“Uh huh.” She studied the page. “I can see why.”

“You should be flattered to be the first to see it.” His tone was teasing.

She harrumphed. “You’re casting Sophia as Mabel? Why?” She hadn’t intended to sound so harsh, but if they wanted a successful show, it had to start with a capable cast.

His voice flickered confusion. “Why not?”

She lifted a shoulder as her mouth formed her well-considered argument. “It’s just that…”

He folded his arms good-humoredly. “Go on. Who would
you
cast as Mabel?”

She hesitated.

He leaned in. “Come on Grace. You can be honest with me.”

She breathed out in surrender. “Okay. Ruby has a lot of talent. It’s raw, but with a little work and a good corset, I think she could carry the show.”

Devon raised his brow, clearly considering her words. “To be honest, I hadn’t even thought of her. I think I was guilty of a little pre-casting, truth be told.”

She made a sarcastic show of raising her eyebrows as she turned her head away.

He chuckled as if to let her know her gesture hadn’t gone unnoticed. “I’m not exactly sure why, but I have a feeling you know what you’re talking about.” He popped the pushpin that held the paper out of the board. “I think I’ll take a little more time with this.”

“You won’t be sorry.” She smiled, then jolted, suddenly remembering her Cinderella-like need to get home before dark. She started for the door. “I’d better get going.”

Falling into step with her, he carefully slid the cast list into his black leather briefcase.

“If it’s any consolation,” he pushed the front door open and stood to one side while she walked through. “The last concession girl cried on her first night too.”

“Terrific.” Suddenly self-conscious of her small-town-casual attire, she balled up her hands in the pockets of her new ‘I Love Montana’ sweat jacket. Anxious, she looked out at the sky that was already a dark blue on the horizon.

“Seriously,” Devon said, “it’s a great little town. The people here are very friendly once they’ve been fed.”

She sniggered softly, then recalled her curiosity about him. As they glided down the steps, she pondered the perfect probe. “So you live here then?”

“Only temporarily. I’m staying with a friend.”

Her head bobbed like a metronome. Somehow, he didn’t seem like the staying-with-a-friend type.

“Actually,” he continued. “I’m pretty anxious to head back home…when the time is right.”

Grace nodded again.
You and me both.

Devon held a hand out toward the Lexus, which gleamed even in this pale light. “I’d be no gentleman if I didn’t offer you a lift.”

Her stomach flipped. As tempting as it was to slip into that buttery-soft passenger seat, she couldn’t possibly let down her guard. It wouldn’t be prudent to get into a car alone with a stranger, however trustworthy he might seem. Best to play it safe. “No thanks. I don’t have far to go.”

He nodded in concurrence as he clicked the remote on his key ring. The Lexus flashed its headlights and bleeped a greeting. He opened the door and tossed his briefcase in.

She paused, reluctant to walk away from the sweet life on wheels. “Oh, by the way,” she said. “How did it work out for you at Streebecks?”

Leaning on the top of the door, he smiled. “I always find a means,” his eyes locked onto hers, “of making things go my way.”

Glinting her a wink, he slipped into the car, shut the door, and revved the engine to life.

Chapter 11

Renewed from what had felt like a taste of home, Grace started slowly up the sidewalk, measuring her thoughts. She considered the old brick building as she passed, and what a handsome piece of old architecture it was. 1882, wasn’t that what Nancy had said?

She pulled her hand from her pocket and let it glide across the rough brick as she walked. It felt dusty and rugged, like the face of a cowboy after a day on the range.

Looking back, she tried to picture the neon flash of a casino replacing the hammered copper electric lanterns that flanked the front porch. What history had it witnessed, this building? It would be sad to see it go.

Such a shame that this Mr. R, whoever he was, didn’t seem to care what a loss it would be to the town. She looked ahead, noticing how the old fashioned streetlamps created soft titian pools of light that spilled from the sidewalk into the street. Not that it really mattered to her, but a casino would change everything. It would ruin whatever it was that made this place special.

Special
. The thought surprised her. She’d only been here for three days, and hadn’t put much thought into the aesthetics of the place. She’d traveled to major cities all over the world. Why would Madison Falls strike her as particularly extraordinary?

Must be just a side effect of her emotional state. She shoved her hand back into her pocket, pressing against the knot that had formed in her stomach. This Mr. R. was no doubt one of those hardnosed businessmen who cared more about his own assets than he did about people. She’d witnessed more than enough of that in her career.

Swallowing hard, she tried to quash the fire in her throat. She’d seen Kirk use his money—old family money that he hadn’t even earned himself—to get whatever he wanted. That was how he felt accepted,
loved
even. By how much money he could get people to take. Of course, it came at a terrible price for the recipients. They became his puppets—eternally obligated to do whatever he wanted.

As she stepped across Mountainview Avenue, Grace wondered for the thousandth time if her life would be more bearable if she’d just taken Kirk’s money and gifts. At least then she wouldn’t be paying the price for what he saw as a rejection of him. That was a choice for which she had nearly paid with her life.

A movement on the other side of the street jarred her from her deep contemplation. A woman had dashed out onto the sidewalk, her fists balled up in front of her. Grace slowed to a near stop as a man followed.

The pair was silhouetted by a neon ‘Coors’ sign that blinked in rhythm with the twangy country music which spilled out into the otherwise tranquil evening. Grace hadn’t even noticed that there was a bar two doors down from the hardware store, but then that wasn’t the kind of thing that normally drew her eye. She was more the cocktail lounge type.

Shouting incoherently, the man grabbed the woman’s arm and whirled her around to face him. Grace froze. The tone of his voice conveyed out-of-control anger. She strained to hear, not knowing if she should help the woman or flee for her own safety.

The man released the woman’s arms, thrashing his own about in obvious rage. She tried to get away but he grabbed her again, this time shaking her until she started sobbing. He lowered his tone, pulling her into a hug.