by Louise Lynn
Christopher snarled back. "You know that's not how I meant it. I meant to the production."
"Right. Because if I got the part of the Lady, I guess I'd be too essential to everything.” She didn’t even say Lady Macbeth, and Hazel guessed the weird superstition was a reason for it. They were worse than her mother.
"Sophia, you know I didn't have a choice in the matter. If I gave you the part of the Lady, we couldn't get Dominic to do this. And we've already drawn in twice as many people as the festival usually does. It's a boon to the festival and the town. If I had a choice, you’d been the lead instead of the understudy. You know that, right?"
The woman was silent for a moment, and Hazel glanced at Violet.
She raised her eyebrows.
Darcy stood close to her, obviously listening as well.
"He's lying," Darcy said. "He never would've given her the part of Lady Mac—I mean, the Lady, even if Dominic Dane wasn’t playing opposite. They hate each other too much.” Then, with one last glance at Violet, Darcy hunched his shoulders and slouched away.
Hazel thought it best to keep her mouth shut until she was away from the tent and the married couple who were quietly reconciling their small argument.
Hate was a pretty strong word, but they didn’t sound like they loved each other much either.
Violet perked once Darcy was gone. “If Dominic Dane wasn't missing, the first thing I would say was that you look amazing, Hazel. And I love that you're wearing my corset. But do you think we should tell my uncle?"
Hazel shook her head slowly. Mr. Allen was right. The sheriff wouldn’t be able to do anything if the man hadn’t been missing for twenty-four hours, and it didn't sound like that had been the case. "Not yet. But can you tell me anything about him? Have you met?"
Violet’s cheeks flushed, which was uncommon. She may have had the same coloring as her uncle, fair skin and hair so dark it was nearly black, but she didn't seem to blush as frequently as Hazel herself did. Lucky girl.
“I, uh, know a little about him. His first role was in a comedy, if you can believe it, called Henry’s Ladder and it only aired in the UK, and then he played Heathcliff in the movie version of Wuthering Heights, and it was so amazing you’d die if you watched it! He was nominated for an Oscar and lost to–"
After five minutes of every role Dominic Dane had ever played was recited to her, Hazel put up her hand. "I didn't need his entire biography, just if he's been in town for very long and where he might be. Where is he staying?”
Violet shrugged, and smoothed her hands over her flowery dress. It came to her knees, and she wore a pair of skull leggings underneath. Typical style for her—soft meets hard. "Right. Well, I wouldn't know because Uncle Colton hasn't let me do anything that wasn't essential to my job at the festival. Meaning, even when I got invited to the welcome cast party, I couldn’t go!” she said and crossed her arms.
Hazel sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. The crowd was already beginning to wander down the avenue toward the stage for As You Like It, which didn't give her much time to find Dominic. Not that he was in that production, but he should be at the final dress rehearsal that day. Especially since they were premiering Macbeth tonight.
It was the festival’s major production and would be done three times total. Tonight would be the first performance, set in the evening, which Hazel thought fitting for the mood that surrounded the play.
"I'm sure your uncle has his reasons." Hazel didn't mention that those reasons probably had to do with adults drinking and doing other inappropriate things he didn't want his fifteen-year-old niece to be around, and Hazel couldn't blame him in the least.
But she wondered if Violet's ire had less to do with her uncle’s rules and more to do with the fact that they lived in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. Violet had showed up in Cedar Valley about a month before, and Hazel could tell things were getting tense between them.
While the sheriff was looking for a home, he hadn't been lucky enough to find one yet. And the longer Violet stayed, the more fed up they became with each other.
Hopefully, there would be a solution to their dilemma soon. But for now, Hazel had more important things to worry about.
Violet pulled out her phone and did a quick Internet search. "Okay. I don't know where he's staying, but I remember Sophia said something about him renting one of the vacation homes. Probably on the lake, knowing him. And this says he likes bars." She held up her phone and showed Hazel some sort of tabloid article.
Not the most reliable source, but maybe that was the first place to start.
"Does Jay Turner have a booth here?" Hazel wondered aloud and glanced down the avenue.
"Yeah, but it's only open at night. And it's called Falstaff's Folly, which I don't think he made up on his own. I'm pretty sure Tyler helped."
Hazel snorted. She thought so too since Jay’s nephew was a lot wittier than his uncle.
Sure enough, as they hurried down the avenue of booths, she saw Falstaff's Folly. It hadn’t opened yet, but it had a large tent with tables inside like a makeshift beer garden. Jay probably did some pretty good business, like the rest of them, so she couldn't fault him for it. But with no one manning it, that meant she'd have to go back up to Lake Street and see if anyone was at his bar, the Taproom.
It wasn't until she neared the end of the avenue of booths that she spotted Sheriff Cross. The sheriff's official presence wasn't needed at the festival per se, but the deputies were wandering around just in case anything went wrong. It was probably a good idea considering what happened over the last three months in Cedar Valley.
But that didn’t mean Hazel was prepared for him to see her.
In fact, she almost forgot what she was wearing until she went to take a step. Her foot snagged in the petticoats, and nearly tripped her.
Violet was there to grab her arm. “Don’t fall down because of him,” the girl hissed and pointedly looked away from her uncle.
"Did you get a role in one of the plays and you’re just now telling me about it?" Sheriff Cross said and his eyes danced as he took in Hazel's outfit.
"No. This was Celia's bad idea mixed with your niece’s good intentions," she said and pointed at the corset.
Violet shrugged. "You didn’t have to wear it to the festival. I just thought every woman needed a corset.” She grinned, though it was aimed only at Hazel herself. Violet wouldn’t meet Sheriff Cross’s eyes, and Hazel didn't know why.
"Actually, I have to head up to the bar and talk to Jay, if he's around. Violet, can you handle the actor search without me?" Hazel asked and waggled her eyebrows. There. She didn’t say the words ‘missing’ or ‘Dominic Dane,’ so Mr. Allen couldn’t get mad at her.
Violet nodded. “Yeah, leave it to me," she said it stomped off without saying anything to her uncle.
Sheriff Cross rubbed his cheeks and watched his niece stalk away.
"Something the matter?" Hazel asked.
“Probably, but I don’t know what. I do like the outfit, by the way. It makes me feel underdressed," he said with a playful smile that bordered on a smirk.
Hazel gave him a clumsy curtsy. "Next time you can dress up,” she said and hurried towards the park’s entrance.
She didn’t like lying to Sheriff Cross, but if Mr. Allen didn’t want him to know about Dominic Dane’s disappearance yet, there wasn’t much she could do.
It took her an extra five minutes with all those skirts to finally make it up to Lake Street proper, and another five to reach the Taproom. That meant, if Jay wasn't there, she’d pretty much have to run back to get to the play on time.
Lovely.
Just what she wanted. Running in a corset and fifteen petticoats.
As she went to push open the door of the bar, she nearly ran smack into a man who stood at a good six feet two.
He blinked down at her, and a smirk a hundred times more irritating than Sheriff Cross's pulled at his lips. "What have we here? A damsel in distress?" he said, his posh En
glish accent thick with alcohol.
Well, she found Dominic Dane, but he wasn’t doing a very good job at first impressions.
Hazel glanced behind him and noticed Jay.
"I said we’re closed. Sorry, Hazel. He's leaving," Jay said and shook his head.
“Is it morning already? Oh. I think you came for me, haven't you?" Dominic Dane said and looked at Hazel again. “Macbeth, at your service. Are you one of my serving wenches?”
Hazel squinted. It was the same man on the flyers set up around the festival. Tall. Dark hair. Mediterranean complexion with a brooding, handsome face. Though, soaked in alcohol he wasn't quite as handsome. And that smirk did him no favors. It made Sheriff Cross look playful. However, the same couldn’t be said for Dominic Dane who only looked sleazy wearing it.
"Actually, I am. As unfortunate as it may be. You need to get to the dress rehearsal. And I have to get back to the festival.” Hazel turned to go.
Before she could take a step, a strong unwelcome hand wound around her corseted waist, followed by the reek of whiskey-soaked breath on her cheek. “Why’s such a lovely bird trying to fly off before we can get better acquainted?”
Hazel jabbed her elbow into Dominic Dane’s ribs right as Jay pulled the actor off. “Hey, Hazy is off-limits,” Jay growled. “Her boyfriend is the sheriff.”
“Boyfriend or not, I’m off-limits because it’s not okay to grab someone without their consent. Jerk,” she said and felt like kicking Dominic in the shins for further emphasis.
However, he was doubled over holding his ribs, so she’d probably done enough damage. “Why’d you come to get me then?” he said through his teeth. His posh accent sounded rougher now. Closer to Michael Caine than Colin Firth.
“The dress rehearsal. Mr. Allen sent me.”
Dominic Dane blinked. “Who?”
Hazel rolled her eyes. “The director of the plays. The man who hired you!”
“Oh. Him. He couldn’t direct his way out of a barn if the door was wide open. But, alas, I’ll head back to the festival. Might meet some other, more accommodating birds on the way.”
“Jay—”
“I’ll walk him. You get back to whatever you have to do,” Jay said and gave her a weary smile. His eyes pinched and he looked like he’d been up well past his bedtime, but Hazel was in too much of a hurry to do it on her own.
“Please keep an eye on him until you find Mr. Allen or his wife. I have a play to photograph,” she said and sprinted, as best as she could in the cumbersome costume, back to the festival.
Chapter 3
Hazel made it back ten minutes before the curtain raised on As You Like It, which gave her little time to set up her camera and tripod. She managed with Violet’s help, who looked as harassed as Hazel felt.
Once the play started, time flew. Hazel was on her feet for the entire performance, but it was entertaining enough not to be bothersome. Most of the actors were either local or from Reno, but they knew the material well and the audience laughed in all the right places—Hazel included.
By the time the final curtain fell, Hazel collapsed backstage as the audience petered out. She still had to photograph the actors individually, but she had a short break until then. She hung her feet off the backside of the stage and relaxed.
Thankfully, Sheriff Cross had been in the audience and came prepared. He walked up, his eyes sparkling under the midday sun, and held up a small basket.
"Did you confiscate that from someone?"
Sheriff Cross laughed. "No. Your sister and Raj prepared it. I wish I could take credit for the whole thing, but I'm not that creative."
"You know, putting food in a basket isn’t necessarily creative. I'm pretty sure people have been doing it for centuries,” she said as Sheriff Cross settled next to her.
"That's true, but—and don't take this the wrong way—I never really had time to do anything romantic in the past."
Hazel snuck a sideways glance at him, and her heart did that little fluttery thing that happened more often than not when they were together. In Colton Cross’s former life he had been a detective for the San Francisco PD, and for all intents and purposes, married to the job.
Hazel herself had been married to a man in L.A. before she divorced him and moved back to her hometown. However, that didn't mean her ex, Dylan, had been particularly romantic either. Maybe at first, when they were both young and inexperienced, but after they were married the romance faded quickly.
This, however, was different. Dylan never would've shown up at one of her shoots to bring her lunch, prompted by Esther or not.
"I'm not complaining either way. Because if Raj and Esther packed it, I know the food is good."
The sheriff shook his head. "I'm gonna cook for you someday, and you'll eat those words. And you’ll eat whatever I make. Promise."
Hazel raised her eyebrows. "That sounds like a threat."
He chuckled and divided up the food. “Not a bad threat though. One of us has to know how to cook.”
Hazel stuck out her tongue at him, even if he was right. There was no point in her learning to cook when Esther was better at it. She’d used that as an excuse her whole life, but it was more like, she preferred taking photos than slaving in the kitchen.
Hazel was right about the picnic lunch. It was a wonderful blend of Raj’s famous traditional Indian—including Hazel's favorites like tandoori chicken and matar paneer with several slices of thin buttery naan. For dessert, they had sweets from Esther. This time, she hadn't left them with the rejects but the actual fancy cupcakes.
"Your sister went all out. Are these silver sprinkles?" Sheriff Cross asked and held his up to the light. The sprinkles reflected it, sparkling back.
"Not real silver, but made to look like it. I think she got the idea from Pinterest."
And they tasted just as good as her normal cupcakes, which was the only thing that really mattered to Hazel.
Colton also pulled out a thermos of lemonade, the homemade kind that Esther’s bakery was famous for in the summer, and Hazel took a long gulp. The trick was Esther mixed it with sparkling water and kept it just tart enough to have a bite. It paired well with the rest of their meal.
“So, I hear the search for Dominic Dane went well."
Hazel nodded around a mouthful of cupcake. “I found him at Jay’s bar. Wait. How did you–"
His smile never faltered. "That Darcy Allen kid let it slip. He was looking in the backs of various booths and everyone got suspicious. Why didn't you guys report it?"
He didn't sound mad, but still, Hazel felt the guilt of keeping the secret from him turn in her chest. "I didn't want to keep it from anyone, but Mr. Allen was insistent. Sorry. It all worked out though. At least he was alive when we found him.”
She wished she hadn't said it after the words tumbled out.
Sheriff Cross’s expression sobered, and he nodded. "Yeah. It's always good to find them alive. More lemonade?"
She held up her plastic cup. "Please. After this I have to photograph the actors and then do the ones for Macbeth before their performance tonight. It’s going to be a long day, and I'm already dying in this outfit."
That smirk tugged at his lips. "Your dad said you were doing it to drum up business, but how do you drum up any business when you’re not even at your booth?"
Hazel shrugged. "Blame Celia. I know I do. And I'm definitely not wearing it the rest of the week."
“Well, if that's the case. I’d better take a picture now, huh? Maybe I should have Violet do it since I'm terrible at the photography thing."
"You are pretty bad. But, maybe if you use one of mine you'll get better. Remember what I told you? Wait for the green light to pop-up. That means it's in focus."
She draped her Nikon's camera strap around his neck. Then she backed up enough for him to get a full body shot.
The funny thing was, even though she was a professional photographer, Hazel didn't have many pictures of herself. She was a bit too old for selfie
s, for one thing, and the only person who really took photos of her anyway was her father. And Ruth when she was in a snap happy mode with her iPad.
Esther tried, but her eye for photography was as bad as Sheriff Cross’s own.
Hazel didn't even get a chance to check out his handiwork, because as soon as he snapped three photos, a harassed looking Christopher Allen walked up. “We’re on a tight schedule, Ms. Hart. You need to get all the actors done and then move on to Macbeth. Though I'm not sure if Dane’s going to be sober for the performance tonight," he said and gritted his teeth.
From the reek of the man’s breath that morning, Hazel wasn't sure herself.
She threw a glance to Sheriff Cross, who gave her a tight smile as he packed up their picnic lunch and handed back her camera. "I'll be around if you need me."
Hazel nodded, gave Colton a quick hug, and let her lips brush his smooth cheek gently. "Thank you."
He squeezed her hand, stepped away, and was gone.
It was only after he left that she realized she wanted to ask him about Violet.
Oh well.
She'd have time to do that later.
Now, she had to get back to work.
Chapter 4
"If someone doesn't get my headdress right now, I'm going to scream," Angela Dane cried. “And get that woman away from me. She’s the understudy. Not the star!”
Hazel stood in the corner of the lead actress’s dressing tent. She thought perhaps that getting ready for the performance of Macbeth would be easier than the rest of the day had been.
She was sorely mistaken.
Violet and the costume mistress, Farrah Todd, hurried around, bustling Angela's understudy, Sophia Allen, out of the tent so the esteemed Mrs. Dane could finish dressing on her own. They were the only two women in the play, save the weird sisters, and they were in their own tent.
Angela Dane was too important to share with the plebes. She hadn't said as much, but it was highly implied.
"And you had better not be snapping any pictures of me for the tabloids. I'm not perfectly made up yet," she said and sneered at Hazel.
