by Bree Verity
But sure enough, the handkerchief was not there. Which was very strange, because Penny knew she had set it on the props table - not only did she tick off a list each time she set them, Penny loved the fine wisp of spidery crochet and delicate embroidery that made up the handkerchief. She always imagined it had been worked by some long-forgotten relative of one of the theater members - a grandmother or great-grandmother. It was lovely, delicate and exquisite.
And lost.
Penny raised her voice to be heard over the conversation. “Did someone pick up the lace hanky by mistake?” A pause in the conversation and a blank stare from everyone was her reply.
She added a note of impatience to her tone. “Come on people. Check your pockets, check the dressing rooms. It has to be somewhere.” A short flurry of activity failed to bring the handkerchief to light.
Marc came back, carrying Penny’s tea in a beat up ceramic mug.
“Marc, did you see the hanky?”
He looked to the props table, then looked puzzled as he carefully passed the hot drink to her. “Yeah, it was here where I checked the props for Act Two, only a few minutes ago.” He looked around. “How did it get over there?” He plucked the handkerchief from a bookshelf that stood alongside the props table. “You must have picked it up then put it down again,” he said to Cerise, who stood up tall, indignation written on her porcelain features.
“I did no such thing. You must have put it there by mistake.” She snatched the handkerchief out of Marc’s slack grasp and turned on her heel to flounce away.
Marc quirked an eyebrow at Penny, who shook her head with a smile and rolled her eyes.
He nodded his agreement with her silent appraisal of the situation, then his expression turned to one of concern. “Are you alright now? You should drink that tea before the curtain needs to go up again.”
Penny took a sip of the hot beverage, throwing a grateful look in Marc’s direction. “This is exactly what I needed. What would I do without you?” She was rewarded with a cocky half smile and a raised eyebrow, and Marc opened his mouth to say something.
“Five minutes,” they both heard through their headsets, which drowned out whatever it was Marc said. Penny relayed the message to the rest of the cast and crew before taking herself and her cuppa to the stage manager’s desk to start the second act.
Chapter Four
“What a mess,” Penny groaned as she pulled up a seat at the bar between Marc and the leading man, Chris. She took a long pull on her cider before continuing her complaint. “How on earth are we going to pull that all together before opening night?”
Marc gave her a wry smile. As did Chris.
When Chris smiled, the sun shone brighter, and flowers opened, and rainbows and unicorns appeared and “Good Day Sunshine” played from some unknown source. Penny was always dazzled by it. Until she met him, Penny had never understood how you could be bedazzled by a smile.
“Well, at least we’re getting the lines right,” he replied. “Most of them anyway.” He grimaced and turned back to his beer, ducking his head. Even pulling faces, Chris looked like a blond, Greek god.
It was a crying shame for the entire world female population that Chris was openly and solidly gay.
Penny laughed. It was the first time she had laughed all day, and it felt good. “Well, there’s that, I suppose. But what with disappearing hankies and Becca’s phone somehow ending up on the props table, and those slow changes…”
“How did Becca’s phone end up in the props?” asked Marc, his brow furrowed. “She swears she didn’t take it out of her bag.”
“No idea,” replied Penny.
“Maybe, it was the theater ghost,” Chris said in a sepulchral tone. Penny and Marc rolled their eyes at him.
“Ghost?”
Penny’s shoulders slumped. Cerise’s sharp ears had picked up on their conversation and now she and her minions were crowding around Chris. And while it had provided Penny and Marc many hours of amusement to watch Chris trying to make a clueless Cerise understand that he wasn’t into women, tonight Penny just didn’t want to listen to the girl’s irritating Disney princess voice.
“Bullshit.” Marc’s confident tones rang out over them. “There’s no ghost.”
“Are you sure of that?” Chris said. “I’ve heard stories of paintings jumping off walls…”
Marc snorted. “It just wasn’t hung properly.”
“…of eerie footsteps…”
“It’s an old building. It creaks.”
“… of whistling heard when no one else is there…”
“The wind.”
“…and then tonight. Things disappearing and reappearing in other places…”
Marc nearly spat out his beer. “Seriously? You’re going to turn that into a ghost story?”
“Sounds spooky,” Cerise said with a shiver, putting a hand on Chris’ arm. “Have you seen the ghost, Chris?”
“Me? No,” he muttered, pulling his arm out from under Cerise’s to grab his drink. Penny and Marc exchanged an amused glance, before being surprised by another voice.
“I have.” They were joined by Jane, who had walked up behind Marc, a glass of Semillon sauvignon blanc in her manicured hand.
“Yeah?” It was Marc who replied, disbelief coloring his tone.
“Yep,” Jane replied. “I was at the theater painting a set. It was getting a bit late and only the stage lights were on. I saw a figure in the shadows, clear as a bell. Scared the living daylights out of me.” She chuckled at the remembrance.
Despite herself, Penny shivered. Jane was practical, not really prone to flights of fancy. “What did you do?”
“I turned every single light on in the entire place.”
She laughed, then crooked a finger and leaned in, and everyone else leaned in too, as if Jane was about to tell them a secret. “They say it’s the ghost of Edwin Turner, who owned the house that the theater was built around. He hung himself after being accused of theft.” Jane sat back, a satisfied glint in her eye. Penny recalled fondly that Jane had always been able to work an audience.
This time, Cerise shivered. “The old parts of the theater are spooky. I hope I never run into the ghost. I’d scream the place down.”
“I bet you would,” muttered Chris. Cerise smiled at him fondly. He turned away from her and rolled his eyes. Penny had to quickly turn a gurgle of laughter into a cough.
“Well, if he is going to hang around, I hope he keeps his hands to himself,” said Marc. “We don’t need more things going walkabout backstage.”
Cerise gasped. “You mean you think that’s what happened to the handkerchief?”
“No, I do not. I think you picked it up and then put it back down and forgot you’d done it.” Penny grinned when she saw Cerise give Marc a filthy look, which he met with a sweet smile. He drank down the last of his pint and said, “I don’t know about you guys, but I have to work tomorrow, so I think I’ll call it a night.”
Penny glanced at her drink and was surprised to find she had emptied it. “I’ll go with you, if you don’t mind.”
“Why would I mind?”
Penny ducked her head and saw the ghost of a smile cross Jane’s face. When she couldn’t decipher it, she gave Jane a puzzled glance. But Jane’s expression had returned to normal.
Saying their goodbyes, Penny and Marc picked up their bags and headed for the door.
It was cool and quiet outside. The only sounds were the dim buzzing of the carpark lights, and the crunch of their shoes against the asphalt as they walked. Approaching Penny’s car, she and Marc didn’t talk. Penny wondered what Marc was thinking about. She didn’t need to wonder for long.
“That chest pain you had?”
She heard the hesitation in his voice, saw the way he thrust his hands into his jeans pockets and hunched his shoulders. He seemed unsure if he should talk about it. Penny preferred that he didn’t, but since he had started the conversation, she should let him have his say.
“Yeah?”
“I’m worried about you.”
Despite his words, Penny had to smile. “Aw. Thanks.” She nudged him gently with her elbow and in the yellowed light of the carpark she was pleased to see a slight smile cross his face as well. But he continued with his serious words.
“No, I mean it. You should see a doctor to make sure it’s not your heart or something.”
She sniffed. “I don’t have time to go to the doctors. Besides, it was nothing. Just… I don’t know, a blip.”
They reached Penny’s car and Marc turned to face her. “Seriously, Pen, that kind of stuff - chest pains and sweats and things - that screams heart attack to me.”
“But I’m fine now.” With a smile, she put a hand up to cradle Marc’s cheek, and forced him to look into her eyes. She was conscious of the tenderness of the gesture, but she needed to reassure him she was okay, that he didn’t need to worry. “If it was a heart attack, I’d still be on the floor in the wings.”
“Pen.” Marc’s voice was a harsh whisper, and he turned his head, his lips resting in her palm. His eyes closed, and his brows drew together. She saw his chest rise and fall quickly. Penny realised with rising alarm that her gesture had affected him more than she expected it to.
But his velvet lips and the scrape of a day’s beard growth against her palm kept her from saying anything, his uneven breath warming her fingers before dissolving in the night air too intoxicating to ask him to stop. Penny tumbled from one thought to another - should she tell him to stop? It felt so good letting him continue, letting his lips and his breath electrify every nerve ending in her body. There had always been a current between them - Penny could admit to that. But they had never acted on it. Perhaps they should have. But Marc was a player. Everyone knew that. And Pen wasn’t interested in a player.
Marc must have felt her shiver through her fingers, or perhaps he heard the shuddering breath she released. He grasped her hand, taking it away from his face and holding it loosely between them. His eyes burned into Penny’s—in the half-light, they looked almost black, glinting with blue fire from within. Spellbound in his gaze, Penny was acutely aware of his lips descending toward hers and she tilted her head to receive the kiss.
“Pen, I…”
A burst of conversation and laughter followed a group of tipsy people out of the door of the tavern, breaking the spell. Penny dropped Marc’s hand and took a step away. Both were breathing shallowly, and Penny knew Marc’s hungry gaze was matched in her own expression.
But even as her heart told her to go for it, her brain told her it wasn’t a good idea. Not only because of his philandering ways.
Penny just didn’t do well with guys. Not since… well, not ever, really. She didn’t seem to be able to take that step, the one that cemented the relationship for the long term. And she didn’t want to start something with Marc that might end shortly and badly. Their friendship meant too much, and Penny loved working backstage with Marc - and that would be uncomfortable and awkward as hell if they broke up.
Her thoughts whirling, she gave Marc a tentative smile, hoping that the pleading expression in her eyes was enough to make him drop the subject. “Goodnight Marc,” she said softly, knowing that she should say more, but not knowing how to articulate her thoughts.
As she turned to her car, Marc said, “Pen, wait,” stepping in and closing the car door even as she opened it. His arm stretched out beside her, lightly resting on the car, his bicep brushing against her arm, his warmth against her back.
“Don’t,” was all she needed to whisper, even though she longed to say more, wished she had the guts to say, “Kiss me,” or “Let’s make out in the backseat.” He let his arm drop away from the door, and Penny opened it, climbing quickly into the driver’s seat. She started the engine and drove away, not looking at Marc for fear that she might see something in his face to make her change her mind.
He didn’t deserve someone like her.
Marc watched the taillights of her car disappear down the dark street, his thoughts in turmoil.
Penny was an enigma to Marc. On one hand, she was friendly and sunny, but there were times when she thought nobody was looking where she would drop her agreeable and sociable face and at those times, Marc had seen something more in her - something maybe sad or tragic. It was always gone an instant after he saw it, but it intrigued him.
Penny was the only girl he had seriously wanted to get to know since… well, for ages.
To begin with, Marc had thought it would be easy. He’d just turn on the charm, and she would cave. That had always worked for him in the past. Then again, those other girls were just in it for the short term. Which had suited him just fine at the time.
But Pen was different. Oh, he could tell that she liked him, and that she enjoyed spending time with him. But she wasn’t going to jump into bed with him. And she wasn’t going to let her secrets out to just anybody.
Marc thought it must be the potential that kept his interest. Not that he was a rabid stalker or anything. He saw Pen at the theater, and afterward if they all went for a drink at the pub. Sometimes he met up with her when their friend groups crossed paths on the weekends.
He was afraid for her, when she had her attack that evening, and had almost called an ambulance even when she told him not to. People died of heart attacks all the time - young, healthy people could just drop dead in an instant. He thought she was crazy not to get it checked into right away.
And her reaction just now when he had shown her his feelings for her, his fear for her - that was something else. She felt it. He was sure she did. The electricity or the chemistry or whatever it was. That was something that needed more exploration. A slight smile crossed Marc’s face. It was something to be explored, and Marc, for his part, looked forward to exploring it. He whistled as he made his way to his own car.
Chapter Five
Penny had not regained her calm by the time she went to work the following day. Disappointment that she had to let Marc down despite the obvious attraction between them and worry over her two weird chest pains yesterday kept her permanently wired, and exhausted by her own feelings, all at the same time.
“Penny, can I talk to you for a minute?”
Jim, Penny’s boss, was one of her favorite people. Sixty-years-old last year, he was still energetic and youthful, with a body that would put most thirty-year-olds to shame. Jim still sported a six-pack of abs and muscular arms due to a strict exercise program. Luckily for Jim, he enjoyed exercising. Being the owner of a sports store, he often said, it would look bad if he was flabby and slow.
Penny followed Jim into his office, battling a rising sense of excitement. Jim had been planning to retire for years, and now that he was sixty, he had put his plans into action. The only thing he hadn’t done was choose a replacement store manager. Penny was certain she would get the promotion. After all, she’d worked there for fifteen years, knew everything there was to know about the store and its people and the stock, and she’d managed the place for Jim many times over the years when he was on holidays or away at conferences.
Sitting down across the desk from him, Penny leaned forward, her hands clasped in her lap. Jim smiled at her eagerness.
“You probably know why I’ve dragged you in here, right?”
“You’ve actually taken the plunge and bought that boat, right?” Penny replied with a smile.
Jim’s retirement plan was to take his wife, buy a boat, and just go sailing for a while. Penny thought it was the most peaceful-sounding thing in the world. Relaxing on a hammock, your boat slightly rocking in the swell, beer in one hand, book in another.
Jim didn’t seem to be able to keep the grin off his face. “Yep. All forty-five feet of her. She’s a beauty, too. You’ll have to come for a sail sometime.” Penny nodded but waited for him to continue.
“Okay, so I’m finally going to do it. I’m retiring. So, of course, I’m going to need a store manager.”
Penny leaned
even further forward in anticipation.
“Any suggestions?”
She sat back, puzzled. What was this? Why was Jim asking her for suggestions?
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, can you suggest anyone I should put on as store manager?”
Perturbed, Penny frowned. What kind of a question was that? Wasn’t the job hers?
Perhaps it wasn’t as sure a thing as she thought. She felt a quick flush cross her features.
“Uh, well, I suppose Gavin, or Rachel, maybe? But Gav would be better.”
Jim nodded, his eyes hawk-like on her face. “Anyone else?”
Penny’s brain screamed at her to say “Me! Pick me!” But she was worried now, that Jim would just laugh at her. Why would he ask? He knew Penny wanted the manager job. Not that she’d ever particularly come out and said so - she would never do something like that. But she’d kept her head down, and she worked hard, and Jim had to know.
Seething at Jim for his obtuseness but keeping her face pleasant, she shook her head. “Nope. No one else would have the experience.”
Jim was quiet. He was watching her closely. Penny fidgeted in her chair. A long silent moment passed before Jim nodded slowly and said, “Alright. Thanks for that Pen.”
Leaving his office, she found herself shaking with suppressed anger. How could he! To get her in there and then let her down so completely. It wasn’t fair. Everything, and she meant everything, about her life sucked so bad right now.
She stewed over the situation for hours, outwardly the cheerful and pleasant sales assistant, but in her belly, she was a mass of snakes all writhing and slithering over each other, and in her brain she yelled over and over again - at Jim, at her family, at Marc, at her friends, at anyone who had ever caused her the slightest discomfort.
She should probably have expected the early afternoon attack.
It happened again without warning. Her chest felt as if it was collapsing in on itself and her lungs wouldn’t fill properly. She couldn’t breathe, the pain in her chest was intense. Her entire body prickled with perspiration and all she could hear in her head was the thumping of her own heart.
