Flowers on Main

by Sherryl Woods

  In fact, her kisses were greedy, her hands so clever that in a rare moment of rational thought, he had to pin them together. “Enough, you wicked woman. There are other people around, you know.”

  “There wouldn’t be if we went to your place.”

  He studied her speculatively. “Are you serious?” he asked, unable to keep a hopeful note out of his voice.

  “I said it, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but in recent memory you also stated very clearly that this wasn’t a date and that we weren’t going to get back together until I’d done a whole bunch of stuff I can’t seem to remember with you trying to take a bite out of my neck like that.”

  She laughed. “Am I getting you all hot and bothered, Jake?”

  “You know you are. And we both know that our issues never had a thing to do with being attracted to each other.”

  Her expression sobered at last, but she didn’t scramble out of his lap as he’d half expected her to. “I wish this weren’t so complicated,” she said wistfully.

  “Me, too. But let’s face it, Bree, we both have reason to be skittish here. I’d like nothing more than to take you back to my place and keep you there, in my bed, for a solid week.”

  “Only a week?”

  It was his turn to chuckle. “Don’t overrate my stamina,” he said. “The point is, if we get together again, it has to be right for both of us. We have to be clear on what we each want and willing to make the sacrifices it might take to be together.”

  She frowned at that. “You sound as if we should be able to predict the future.”

  “No, of course not. No one can do that. But you know what I want. I’ve always been clear about that. I want you. I want us to have a family. I can see the two of us side by side on our front porch when we’re eighty, still madly in love.”

  “I can see that, too,” she insisted, proving his earlier point that they had been on the same page, at least for a brief moment.

  “But the rest? How do you see your career fitting into that picture? We didn’t deal with that last time and look what happened.”

  “I have the shop now,” she said. “That’s my career.”

  “If I thought that would keep you fulfilled, I’d propose right this second,” he said, looking into her eyes. There were shadows in there that told him she was deluding herself. “You miss writing.”

  “But I am writing,” she said. “There’s the book.”

  “Which you don’t even want to submit. A writer needs to be read,” he declared, then added pointedly, “Or to see her works performed onstage. It’s not enough just to put them down on paper. Isn’t that what you used to tell me? It was the big argument for going to Chicago, not just to learn from someone with Marty’s credentials, but the chance to see your plays produced.”

  “And I’ve done that now.”

  “Three plays and you’re done for life? You’re not like Jess. You stick with things.” He gave her a chiding look. “I certainly never took you for someone who could be scared off by a couple of bad reviews.”

  She did pull away then and settled next to him on the glider, putting as much distance between them as possible on something only the width of a love seat.

  “You saw those?” she asked dully.

  He nodded. “And you know my reaction?”

  “What?”

  “I said, so what? The next one will be better, because Bree learns from her mistakes better than anyone I know. If there are problems, she’ll fix them.”

  “But that play was the best I’d ever written,” she protested. “I really believed that, at least until I read those reviews from critics who’ve judged better playwrights than me. And if it wasn’t good enough, why keep trying?”

  He stared at her in disbelief. “Why keep trying? Because you’re a playwright! That’s what you do. And if you really believe that the play that got panned was good, then something else must have gone wrong.”

  Her expression turned thoughtful. “My mother blamed it on the director.”

  “Marty, I suppose.”

  She nodded.

  “Is it possible she’s right?”

  “At the time I would never have said so, but now that I have some distance and can look back on it objectively, maybe. He was drafted into directing at the last minute. He’d directed before, but not any of my plays. There was a difference in the way he handled the cast and the script.”

  “Explain,” Jake said.

  Bree hesitated. “The other directors weren’t as heavy-handed, I guess you’d say. He made changes to the script that weren’t necessary, made it more obvious and less subtle. He did the same thing to the actors, making the performance almost melodramatic, rather than relying on the words to tell the story. Those were exactly the things the critics pointed out. They had no way of knowing I hadn’t written it that way.”

  “Do you think Marty did it deliberately?” Jake asked. “Maybe he was jealous of the success your plays had been having, the attention you’d received.”

  “No way. He wouldn’t do something like that,” she argued. “He might be a lot of things, but he wasn’t mean-spirited, not that way.”

  “Are you so sure?” Jake pressed. “Men can have pretty fragile egos, and everything I’ve ever read about artistic types suggests that their egos are unpredictable.”

  Bree shook her head. “I really don’t buy that. If anything, I’d have to say he was out of his element. He just isn’t as good at directing as he is as a playwright. That’s where his real talent is.”

  “Okay then, if you can see that the fault most likely wasn’t yours, whatever Marty’s intentions or capabilities, why not get busy on your next play?” Jake asked, knowing that he was risking everything by forcing the issue.

  She regarded him with confusion, perhaps even some dismay. “So, what are you suggesting I do. Do you want me to go back to Chicago?”

  “For my sake, absolutely not,” he said at once. “For yours, maybe you have to. Or if not Chicago, there are other successful regional theaters.” A sudden thought popped into his head. “Or you could open one right here in Chesapeake Shores. Your dad could build it for you. He’d love that.”

  The more he talked about it, the more convinced he was this could work for her, for both of them.

  “Just think about it, Bree. I’m sure there’s a huge talent pool between Washington and Baltimore. Look at all the films and TV shows that shoot in the area. Bring in guest directors or hire one to run the place. Whatever it takes. This isn’t my thing, but you know how to do it.”

  She was staring at him as if he’d just suggested she tackle a campaign for the presidency. “I couldn’t do something like that,” she objected.

  “Why not?”

  “You can’t be serious. Because I don’t know how to start and manage a theater. I don’t have that kind of experience.”

  “Really? You didn’t learn one single thing working in Chicago? You’ve gained no business experience running your shop?”

  “It’s not the same.”

  He shrugged. “You could be right,” he conceded, then added, “But so could I, and I say you’ve got what it takes to do anything you set your mind to.”

  Her gaze turned dreamy. “My own regional theater? How amazing would that be?”

  “Pretty amazing, I’d say. Come on, Bree. Come up with a long-term vision. Start small, if that makes you more comfortable. Use the school auditorium if you don’t want to build a theater right away. Do a couple of things each summer when the town’s packed and you’d have a ready-made audience craving a bit of culture. See how it goes. You’d need help at the shop, more help than Jenny can give you, or if the theater becomes successful, sell the shop and concentrate on that. Do whatever you want to do.”

  “I could hire someone to run the shop, I suppose. I’m not ready to give it up entirely. I actually enjoy it.”

  “Then do whatever it takes to balance the two things,” he said.

  There was no mis
taking the excitement in her eyes when she met his gaze. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Having faith in me.”

  “Always,” he said without hesitation. “Keep in mind, though, that this suggestion was not totally unselfish. Despite how I’ve behaved from time to time, I like having you back here. If you’re going to stay, you need to be happy, and, much as I hate to say it, I don’t think flowers are going to do it, not for the long haul. Remember, I’ve been around when you’ve been caught up in writing. I’ve seen you so lost in your work that you don’t even notice if anyone else is around. And I’ve heard the excitement in your voice when you talk about whatever you’re working on.”

  Apparently his words struck a chord, because instead of responding, she jumped up. “I wonder if Dad’s still up.”

  “At three in the morning?” Jake said dryly.

  “Oh my gosh, it’s that late? We’re both going to be walking zombies in the morning.”

  “I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he said, walking with her back to the front door. He bent down and stole one last kiss. “Sleep well.”

  She grinned at him. “I doubt I’ll sleep a wink.”

  “Then maybe I should pick you up and drop you at work in the morning. You probably shouldn’t be behind the wheel of a car.”

  “I’ll walk,” she said.

  “Then I’ll stop by before you open, with coffee and croissants. We can discuss this some more.”

  “That would be good,” she murmured distractedly, already closing the door.

  Jake stood staring after her, wondering if he’d just given her the reason she needed to stay in Chesapeake Shores or the excuse she’d need to fill up every corner of her life with work, leaving no room at all for him.

  21

  F or the first time in weeks, Bree awoke feeling like her old self, the woman who’d had a dream and gone after it with everything she had. She was energized, excited and confident, all emotions that had been sadly lacking since she’d come home in what she’d felt was bitter defeat. Now that she’d received so much encouragement from her family, she’d been able to take a more objective look at what had really happened in Chicago.

  “You’re looking awfully upbeat this morning,” Gram said as Bree poured herself a cup of coffee. “Not bad for a woman who didn’t get home until the middle of the night. Does the credit for that go to Jake?”

  Mick walked into the kitchen just in time to overhear Gram’s remark. “Credit for what?”

  “Gram’s just wondering if Jake’s responsible for my good mood,” she said, enjoying the dull flush that put in her father’s cheeks. He’d always avoided most conversations about her personal life, as if he’d feared he might learn something he didn’t want to know. He’d left the lectures and relationship advice to Gram.

  “That’s not information I need to have, young lady,” he said, proving her point and then stealing her cup of coffee right out from under her nose. He settled at the table and took a long, slow drink.

  “Well, you’ll be happy to know it’s not what either of you are thinking, though Jake does deserve the credit,” she told them, pouring herself another cup of coffee and joining them at the table. She filled them in on Jake’s idea about opening her own regional theater, then sat back expectantly. “Well, what do you think? Is this totally insane or is it doable?”

  Gram’s eyes immediately brightened with excitement. “A theater is just what this town needs. We’re definitely lacking in culture here. As hard as the teachers try, the high-school productions certainly don’t qualify. And I imagine the weekenders and tourists would love having something more to do than going to our festivals or eating out and shopping.”

  Mick didn’t hesitate, either. “I know the perfect spot for it on Shore Road,” he said, his expression thoughtful.

  “Where?” Bree asked eagerly.

  “There’s a small, underutilized little park there. We could still keep the playground equipment across from the beach and build a community theater at the back of the lot. There’s plenty of room for parking back there, too.”

  “But, Dad, that’s town property. No one’s going to be in favor of giving up park space, least of all me.”

  “Like I said, it’s underutilized because the beach is right across the road. One of these days some idiot on council will take note of that and propose selling the whole thing for more condos.”

  “Surely no one would approve of that,” Bree said, shocked by the idea.

  “Waterfront’s prime real estate,” Mick reminded her. “And even though the town’s master plan would prohibit such a thing, that can be changed if it suits enough shortsighted people.” He shook his head. “This proposal takes that option right out of the picture.”

  “Do you really think the town would go along with it?” Bree asked.

  “In case you’ve forgotten, your old man has some pull left around here,” Mick declared. “Besides, like I said, if we make the building a community theater that anyone can use, not just your theater company, I think people will be excited about it.”

  He pulled a pad of paper from his pocket and began making notes. “How big would this theater of yours need to be?”

  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.”