Sophie yanked the door to the inner theater open and stomped inside. All the lights were blazing and she looked around quickly. Where was he?
Then she heard the sounds of someone rifling through papers. He was in the sound booth, going through the file cabinet where Finn had found her the night of the fire. Sophie’s heart pounded, remembering how Finn had come after her and how he hadn’t let anything deter him from keeping her safe. Well, she was going to keep him and his family safe. She’d made an important decision on her drive between the pub—the center of the Kelly family—and the theater—the center of hers.
“Frank!” she shouted before the memories and emotions could distract her.
He came to the door to the booth. “You’re hiding money from me?”
She glared at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean there’s no way that you’ve only brought in the money that was in the safe. Where’s the rest?”
She crossed her arms. “In the bank.”
“Bullshit. I already cleaned that out. I know that you hide some of the profits, Sophia.”
“How do you know that?” Her pulse was racing so fast she was sure he’d soon see her hyperventilating.
“Because that’s what I would do. I would take money out of the proceeds and stash it so that I had enough to keep things operating before I paid out my partner.”
“So you’re assuming that because you would do that, then I automatically would?”
Frank rolled his eyes. “Where is it?”
“If I went to all of that trouble hiding it, why would I tell you now just because you asked?”
Frank propped his shoulder against the door. “Because it’s the easiest way to get rid of me.”
“Where are you going?”
“I bought the RV. Like the one I had with your mom. I’m going to travel the country like she and I planned to do.”
For just a moment, Sophie’s anger wavered, and she blew out a breath. “So no more poor, unsuspecting women?” she asked.
“I told you, I’m too old for that. I did all of that when I had a little kid to take care of.”
Sophie bristled. “So you blame me for not being able to travel all over?”
“I could hardly raise you in an RV, could I?”
“Did you ever care about any of them?” She didn’t know why she’d asked that, but suddenly she really did want to know.
Something flickered in his eyes, and he straightened. “Hell no. I was avoiding that at all costs.”
She felt the familiar anger tighten her chest. “But you made them think…”
“I might have led them to believe some things that weren’t true, but I never promised any of them forever, Sophia.”
She frowned. “You married them.”
“Yep, at the justice of the peace. And never did I say ‘love, honor, and cherish.’” He tucked a hand into his front pocket. “I said that to your mother. I wasn’t going to say it to anyone else.”
And again Sophie felt the wall around her heart cracking slightly. Damn him. “I thought we were going to be with Maggie forever,” she said. “I know I was young, but I really thought you—”
“I left as soon as I felt myself falling for her,” Frank interrupted.
Sophie frowned at him. “That’s why we left? Because you were falling in love with her?”
Frank frowned at her. “Knock it off. None of this matters. I want to know where the rest of the money is.”
And so much for the brief moment of nice emotions. Sophie shook her head as she remembered what she was doing here in the first place. “You stole money from Joe. You ‘borrowed’ money from Angie,” she said, making air quotes with her fingers. “Isn’t that enough?”
“You’re not denying that there’s more money.”
“Frank,” Sophie said firmly, “I’m not going to give you any more money.”
He stared at her, and Sophie was afraid that she had the location of the hidden money tattooed on her forehead. She’d had to be sure that she could keep the show running no matter what Frank did with their joint account. So yes, she’d embezzled money from her company. Maybe. She wasn’t absolutely sure that it was technically embezzlement. She’d looked it up online a couple of times. But since she wasn’t pocketing the money for her personal use and since she was a partner in the company and wasn’t taking the money from an employer, it seemed a gray area.
Or maybe she was just borrowing from the Frank Birch book of excuses.
“Fine. I guess I’ll wait until the show finishes. I expect the box office to double by the time word gets out after the first show.”
She’d actually expected the same thing. She knew once opening night was over, there would be an influx. Facebook and Twitter, PTA meetings, coffee dates, and workplaces would be buzzing with good reviews. She just knew it. The guys were doing a great job, but even more, they were sexy and charming and funny. The audiences were going to be predominantly female…and they were going to go crazy. The guys had put in a lot of hard work—on the theater itself and on the show. They were being brave getting up onstage for the first time. And they were having fun. They’d discovered new talents, they’d learned to work together as a new kind of team, and a few of them had even discovered a true interest in theater.
And Frank was going to expect half the proceeds. He didn’t care that the money was intended for the rest of the repairs to the theater. He’d think he was entitled to half.
Hell no.
She took a deep breath. “You know what, Frank? I think that it’s time for us to dissolve our partnership.”
He gave a short laugh. “Yeah, that’s not really how that works.”
“Right. I mean, one of us would have to sell out to the other.”
“And you can’t afford me.”
She nodded. “Or I could sell to you.”
He laughed harder. “Yeah, like I want this place. And what would you do? This theater is everything to you.”
It had been. But now she knew that she had something more. She had Finn. She had a family. She had a home.
The only reason the theater mattered to Frank was that it kept her here, essentially working for him. He didn’t care that she had a deep emotional attachment to the place or that the theater felt like the only family legacy she had. “Or we could sell the whole thing to someone else and split the profits,” she said.
“I much prefer a steady cash flow.”
Sophie felt tears of frustration welling up. She’d thought she could make the theater into a place that mattered to Frank. At least a little. And she realized that she’d actually been pulling a Finn. She’d been trying to fix Frank, to fix things between them, to make something more meaningful out of what wisp of a relationship they had.
And some things just couldn’t be fixed.
This was Frank’s choice. He was, figuratively and literally, leaving again. As he had with Maggie. When feelings started to get involved, he bolted. So he’d started to develop some feelings for the Kellys.
Well, she couldn’t really blame him.
She stubbornly refused to acknowledge the tiny voice that said it might be too late with Finn. She’d told him she didn’t want to see him anymore. Well, she had to deal with Frank first. And hell, Finn might be on his way over here anyway. They could always talk after she did…whatever she was going to do with Frank.
“It would be really too bad if this place stopped making a profit,” she said, proud of how steady her voice sounded despite the emotions pounding her from within.
Frank’s eyes narrowed. They’d had this conversation just the other day, and it had been in the back of her mind ever since.
“There’s no way you’re not going to make a profit on this show,” Frank said, almost as if he was warning her.
“I could stop charging for tickets,” she said.
“The people who have already paid will be pissed.”
“I could refund everyone.” Of course, Frank had clea
ned out what she had in the safe.
“Yeah, you go ahead and do that.” Frank stepped down from the sound booth. “Guess you’re going to have to dig into your stash either way.”
Sophie watched him start for the door. He was going to leave. He was going to take the money, and he was going to hang out in Boston until after the show and take that money too. And he didn’t give a crap about her or about any of the work the theater needed or the amazing things that happened here. He didn’t care about the guys and girls who had stepped up and gone out of their comfort zone to help the theater recover. And he didn’t care about the magic that happened here. The fact that this was the only place where she felt she belonged. Until the Kellys.
She looked to the wall the guys had finished repairing, then the stage and the set that the cast had helped her build and paint and decorate. The huge old couch they’d hauled out of the basement, the curtains Finn’s aunts had made, the props that they’d all be using in four nights. Opening night.
She looked back at her father. He’d never lifted a finger, nailed a nail, swiped a brush for this place. And yet, because of this theater, she’d met Angie, and because of Angie she’d met Finn, and because of Finn, Frank had been able to steal two thousand dollars from Finn’s family.
She could pay Joe back and forget the whole thing. That wasn’t the point. The point was that Frank would be tied to her as long as they owned the theater together, and as long as they were tied together, there was the risk of Frank further hurting the Kellys.
And she wasn’t going to let that happen.
“Or the show could get canceled,” she said. Then she marched down the middle aisle. She climbed up the three steps to the stage and walked to the middle of the set. They’d built three walls of Tony and Angel’s apartment. But the walls were simple plywood.
Sophie lifted her leg and kicked out hard. A perfect front kick. That knocked a huge hole in the “living room” wall.
“Sophia!” Frank bellowed.
She landed another kick, this one through one of the fake windows. And damn, that felt good. But she was going to be sore, and ruining the set was going to take too long this way.
She headed backstage. When she came back around the corner, Frank was standing in front of the stage.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
“I’m vandalizing the set.” Although she thought that might be another gray area. She owned everything she was ruining.
“You think this will stop the show?”
She lifted the sledgehammer the guys had stored backstage and then swung it at the door in the middle of the set, producing a very satisfying crack as the wood split. She turned to Frank. “Yes. I do think this will stop the show. No show, no money. No money, no Frank.”
“You’re…crazy,” he finally told her.
No. She was feisty. She swung again, cracking the wood on the third wall as well as shattering the framed photograph hanging there and sending the clock on the next wall crashing to the floor.
She kept going, driven by all the anger and frustration that had built up, the need to show Frank that she wasn’t fucking around with empty threats, and the fear that she might have pushed Finn away for good.
Finally, her arms and back screaming from the effort, she dropped the sledgehammer and wiped her hair back away from her face. She couldn’t swing the heavy tool anymore. But she wasn’t fully satisfied. She marched backstage and grabbed a can of red spray paint. She proceeded to spray paint huge squiggly lines and X’s over the set and even over the recliner and the area rug before the paint ran out and she let the can drop to the floor and roll to the edge of the stage.
Breathing hard and feeling some of the tension seeping out of her body, Sophie turned and looked around with a grin.
That slowly died. What had she done?
The set lay in ruins around her. Her shoulders hurt, her clothes were covered in tiny splinters of wood, and the red paint on her hands made it look as if she’d brutally murdered someone.
Or murdered something. Like one of the most fun shows the theater had ever put on. Like the show that was incredibly important to Angie. Like the project that had made her fall in love with Finn and everyone in his life. Like the thing that she’d just stolen away from all of those people.
“Jesus, Sophie.”
She spun toward Frank. God, he always made her crazy. Why did she keep letting him do that to her?
He’s your dad. He loved your mom. He took care of you the best he knew how.
She shook her head quickly, quieting all of those words that had kept her hoping all this time. She’d thought she was a cynic. She’d thought she was feisty and tough. But the truth was, she was soft and sweet. She did hope. She did want more from her father. She did keep thinking that maybe he’d change.
“I don’t think we’re going to be able to open on Thursday,” she said through the tightness in her throat.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I don’t want to support you anymore. Not with this theater and certainly not with the wonderful people that I meet and get close to.”
“It’s your turn.”
“No, Frank! It’s not. Because you are the dad. Taking care of me and supporting me was your job, your responsibility. You weren’t doing me a favor. We weren’t partners in crime. I’m your daughter. I’m supposed to depend on you.” She took a deep breath and then went on, unable to hold back the words. “I hurt Angie. I said terrible things to her, I got involved with Finn even though Angie didn’t want me to, and we had a big fight. And yet, when I needed her, she was there. She took care of me. She loved me. Not expecting anything in return.” She shook her head. “You’ve never done that. My father has only ever used me for his own gain. So…I want you to leave. I’ll put the money into your account and there’s no need for you to be here.”
Frank looked around the set. “I get that you’re trying to make a point. But—”
The anger and hurt boiled up almost before she could blink. He thought she was just trying to make a point? She’d just ruined the show for Finn and all of his family and friends and Frank thought it was just a tantrum?
Well, if she was going to throw a fit, she was going to throw a huge fit.
She stomped backstage and grabbed the box of matches from the prop table. She stalked to the couch, lit a match, and dropped it onto the center cushion.
“Sophie! Holy shit!” Frank exclaimed as the flame caught.
Sophie pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed 911.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“There’s a fire at the Birch Community Playhouse,” Sophie reported calmly. She wanted to burn the couch, not the entire theater. She gave the address and then pocketed her phone as she watched the fire jump to the next cushion. She looked over at her father. “By the way, that’s where I stashed the extra money.”
In plain sight, yet someplace no one would ever look.
Frank swore and started up the center aisle. Presumably to grab the extinguisher. Sophie descended the steps and took a seat front row, center. She crossed her legs, and as she watched the set—and a little over five thousand dollars—burn, she found that she was simply wishing for some marshmallows to roast.
* * *
“Hey,” Finn answered when he saw Colin’s number pop up on his phone. He’d just finished his shift and was still at his desk.
“So, um, I’m at the theater.”
“Okay.” Finn frowned. “What’s going on?” He could distinctly hear sirens in the background.
“There’s a fire.”
Finn swore and shoved his chair back as he stood swiftly. “Who’s there? What’s going on?”
“Sophie is here. And her dad. The fire is out. It was just the couch on the set.”
Finn was already jerking his keys from his pocket and was halfway to the door. “The couch?”
“Yeah.”
“H
ow did only the couch catch on fire?”
“Well, I’m going to let Sophie explain that one to you. Along with how the set got trashed.”
The set had been trashed too? Finn jogged down the steps. He could tell from Colin’s tone that everyone and everything was fine. But Frank hadn’t shown up to work last night and had taken off from Joe’s with a bunch of money. And then Frank and Sophie were at the theater together. And something had been set on fire.
Finn was pretty sure he knew exactly what had happened. “Who reported to the scene?” he asked.
“Dwyer and Konn,” Colin said, naming two other police officers.
“Okay, I’ll meet them all downtown.” Finn slid behind the wheel of his truck and threw it into drive.
“You want them to take her downtown?” Colin asked. “Won’t that piss her off?”
Finn sighed. “Maybe. But everyone is probably safer this way.” Sophie would have trashed the set and lit the fire even knowing that she’d have consequences to face. Frank must have pushed her to that point. “I don’t want her to be alone. Call Mom.”
“Where are you gonna be?”
“I need to have a talk with her father,” Finn said grimly.
“He headed out before we got here.”
“I know where he is.”
“Can’t wait to hear this story,” Colin said.
“Yeah.” Finn headed for the theater, pressing the speed limit. He didn’t breathe out until he pulled up behind Frank. He’d been right. Frank was still there, parked up the street, watching. Not because he cared if the theater burned down, but because he’d want to make sure Sophie was okay. Frank Birch was not a good guy or a great dad, and Finn knew that it would be years—maybe the rest of his life—before he didn’t have the urge to punch Frank in the face, but he knew that Frank did care about Sophie. He just really sucked at showing it.
Finn took a photo of Frank’s license plate with his phone and then shut the truck off and got out. They were far enough away from the theater and the street was busy enough that no one would notice them. Unless of course they started a brawl, which wasn’t completely out of the question.
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