by Thea Dawson
“I brought a second one, in case it gets cold,” he said as Joy settled herself on the blanket.
“Well, now I’m hoping it will get cold.” The light was getting dim, but he could just make out a mischievous glint in her eyes.
He sat down next to her and put his arm around her. She snuggled closer to him and he kissed her on the temple.
“You smell nice,” he said. It wasn’t a graceful compliment, but it was true.
She gave a low laugh. “You smell pretty good yourself.”
The first firework shot into the sky with a shrill whine and blossomed into a shower of gold and blue.
“The only thing that could make this better,” Chris whispered to her, “is a pillow. But I only brought one, so you’ll have to share.”
He pulled the pillow out of the bag and let Joy lie down on it, her face illuminated by a second explosion of green and violet. He shook out the second blanket and lay down next to her.
She turned and looked at him expectantly.
“What?” he asked.
“I was kind of hoping that now that we’re here and all, you’d kiss me.”
Making out with Joy under the stars by the light of fireworks, their kisses punctuated with the distant sound of explosions and the oohs and ahhs of the audience was one of the shortest hours that Chris could ever remember spending. By this time, he’d explored every inch of her, had seen her face at every conceivable stage of ecstasy, but there was a new kind of intimacy now in each kiss, each one bringing them to a new level, a new promise.
Eventually, the grand finale came in the form of a five-minute long explosion of color and lights, then the last sparks trailed out of sight and all around them, people began packing up their blankets and chairs. Joy snuggled in closer for one last squeeze then reluctantly stood up and started to pack away their things.
“Thank you,” she said. “This was one of the nicest dates I’ve ever been on.”
The simple words made him indescribably happy. He picked up the bag and took her hand in his, and they strolled back to the car where Simon had pushed Victor’s wheelchair.
“Thank you, my friends.” Victor’s voice was so low that Chris had to strain his ears to hear him. “This ... is my favorite holiday ... you know ...” His breathing was labored and his eyes seemed to have sunk further back into his skull.
Simon leaned down and looked at Victor tenderly. “Did we wear you out, darling? We’ll get you home soon.”
“Stop fussing, Simon,” said Victor, sounding for a moment like his old self. “I’ve been looking forward ... to this ... for weeks.” He took a deep breath as if trying to pull energy from a very deep well and managed a small smile as he met Chris’s eyes. “Now ... I have the play to look forward to.”
Chris drove Joy home from Victor’s house and walked her to the door.
“Charlotte’s not home yet,” she whispered as they stood together on the steps. “You want to come in for a bit?”
It was still only a little past ten, and he knew that a long night of unfulfilled longing awaited him at home, but he also knew that he didn’t want to subject himself to further temptation—and if he went in, he’d definitely be tempted. But Charlotte would be coming home soon, which would be awkward, and he wanted to preserve the delicate romance of the evening a little longer. There would be time for crazy, athletic sex later.
“Yeah, I’d like to, but I think I’d better not.” In her eyes, he saw some surprise, a little disappointment, but also some respect. “But maybe tomorrow I could take you out to dinner? In public?”
She laughed, that sexy, low laugh that turned him on so much. “I would love to go out to dinner with you, Chris McPherson.”
He leaned in for another tempting, distracting kiss that lasted much longer than he’d intended. He forced himself away from her reluctantly.
“All right,” he sighed. “I need to get out of here before I change my mind. But in the words of the Terminator,” he dropped into his best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice, “‘I’ll be back.’“
She laughed again, and he watched her walk into the house with a smile on her face. He turned back to his car with the same expression on his.
22
Within a week she no longer gave much thought to being seen with him in public, except perhaps to note with a little satisfaction the looks of envy that she occasionally got from other women. Being with him felt so natural, so easy, that it seemed silly that she had been so concerned about what people thought.
Now they were at the farmer’s market. Chris carried her reusable shopping bag, which was filled with organic produce, displaying no self-consciousness about the fact that it was covered in a pattern of bright pink flowers.
“You sure that’s not too heavy?” she asked. “I have another bag, we could split it up.”
“You’re impugning my manhood, woman,” he growled at her. “I pay a top Hollywood fitness trainer good money so I can carry your vegetables for you.”
“Well, as long as you’ve got your priorities straight,” she said agreeably. “Want to go get some coffee at Riverfront?”
“I want to get some of that amazing ice-cream they sell.”
Joy glanced at her watch. “It’s barely 10 am! How can you want dessert at this hour?”
He looked at her as if she were crazy. “How can you not?”
“What would your snazzy fitness trainer say?” she teased him.
He looked thoughtful. “He’d say ... nothing, ’cos he’s not here. C’mon.” He began to pull her toward Riverfront.
She laughed and let him pull her along, steering her carefully through the crowds.
“You know, I should just move here,” he said suddenly.
“What, away from LA? What about your work?”
He shrugged. “I could commute. It’s practically what I’m doing now. Besides, isn’t that what movie stars are supposed to do, have houses all over the world?”
She looked at him skeptically. “Don’t movie stars usually have houses in places like Paris or Aspen? I mean, Silverweed’s nice, but it’s not all that interesting.”
“But that’s what I like about it,” he replied, dodging a woman with a double stroller. “It’s low-key, relaxed. I don’t have a trainer looking over my shoulder all the time. The air’s cleaner, the scenery is nicer.” He looked her up and down. “Of course, the scenery is always good where you are.”
“You charmer.” She squeezed his hand and let him open the door for her as they stepped across the threshold of the café.
“You want to grab a seat while I get us some ice-cream?” he asked.
“You can get yourself ice-cream, I’ll have my usual. Here, let me take the bag.”
Despite his protest, she pulled it off his arm and went to find a seat while he stood in line. To her delight, the table toward the back by the window where they’d sat the day he’d first come back to town was free, and she slipped into it, tucking the vegetables under it by her feet. The outdoor patio was open, but the little table suddenly felt nostalgic.
She took the opportunity to observe Chris as he stood in line, viewing him at a three-quarter angle. She felt like a school-girl with a crush, noting his broad shoulders, and long, muscular legs exposed by the khaki shorts he wore.
“Hey, it’s Chris McPherson!” said a voice.
Two boys about twelve years old walked up to him and said something, their faces shining with excitement. Chris smiled and answered back, shaking the kids’ hands and chatting with them for a moment. The boys walked away with enormous grins on their faces.
Joy knew she was smiling like an idiot, but she couldn’t help it. Chris was gorgeous, he was genuine and kind, and he was crazy about her. For the first time since she could remember, she felt worthy of her name. She no longer felt as if life were passing her by, but as if it were expanding, taking her in new, unexpected and exciting directions. Sure, it was too soon to tell what would happen with Chris, but for now it was enough
that things were happening. He’d given her a glimpse into the way things could be, and life would never be the same.
He came back a few minutes later, iced espresso in one hand, an ice-cream cone in the other. He was like a kid himself in some ways.
“I’ve got it!” he said. “I’ll move up here and buy a vineyard. Go into the wine making business, like Francis Ford Copolla did. Maybe I could get Luke to go in on it with me.”
She gave him a look of frank skepticism.
“Somehow, I don’t think you’re taking me seriously,” he said, taking a lick of his ice-cream.
“It’s hard to take you seriously when you have ice-cream on your chin,” she said. He hastily grabbed a napkin and dabbed at his face. “You know how to make a small fortune in the wine business?” she asked.
“How?”
“Start with a large fortune.”
“Very funny.” He smirked. “I get your point, but you know what I’m talking about, don’t you? I mean, I want to keep acting, but I’ve got an opportunity to do more now. Expand my horizons ... be more than just a pretty face.”
“You are more than a pretty face. I keep telling you that. You’re a talented actor.” She took a sip of her coffee. “But if you truly want to be more, what about starting a foundation or something? You know, give back. Make a difference.”
He leaned back in his chair and nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve thought about doing something like that. What kind of cause do you think I should support?”
“Think about what’s important to you. What’s made a difference to you? What would you be proud to do for other people?”
He licked his ice cream and stared thoughtfully out the window at the river. “It really ought to be Riverback Café, shouldn’t it? Seeing as how the river is at the back.”
She rolled her eyes.
“All right, all right,” he said. “You know, what made a difference to me was having a mentor, at least for the year and a half that I studied with Victor. Someone who believed in me, didn’t give me any bullshit, gave me solid advice.” He was silent for a moment while Joy waited. “And you know, someone like that could have made a difference for my dad,” he said, his expression growing distant. “He spent a lot of time just trying to figure things out on his own, making mistakes. And he was trying to work full time to support a kid on top of trying to build a career in music.” He met her eyes. “I’d like to help people like that, people with talent and the ambition, but maybe not the knowledge or the resources that they need to go the distance.”
Joy was silent for a moment. “I love that,” she finally said, softly. “That’s a beautiful vision.”
He looked a little embarrassed. “Well, something like that. I wouldn’t even—” he broke off and looked at her. “But you would.”
“Would what?”
“You’d know where to start. I mean, you’re all about fundraising and dealing with foundations and stuff.”
“I’m actually on the other side. I get money from foundations.”
He shrugged. “Well, okay. You still know more about this stuff than I do. We’ll start a foundation. You can be in charge.”
She laughed. “That would probably be a conflict of interest with my job.”
“Not if you quit like you keep saying you want to. I’m serious. Think about it. I want to do some good in the world, and I trust you.”
He was serious, she realized. “Chris, there are a lot of variables here. We haven’t even been involved very long—”
“I’m not suggesting this because you’re my—girlfriend.” It was the first time he’d called her that. He hastened to cover up his moment of awkwardness by pretending it wasn’t awkward at all. “I think you’d do a good job. Look, we’ll wait until the play’s over before getting too much into it, but think it about, okay? I know it’s just an idea right now and it needs a lot of refining, but it’s something I want to make happen.”
She felt a glow of pleasure, but whether it was the idea of the foundation or the fact that he’d called her his girlfriend—or both—that made her happy, she couldn’t have said for sure.
23
Chris spend the following Thursday in Portland. Joy and Charlotte were off shopping for college-related things, so after he’d finished his interview with a local TV station in the morning, he spent the day in city, visiting Powell’s, the famous bookstore, and doing a little shopping of his own.
He was on his way back to Silverweed and had just gotten off the exit and begun driving through the countryside when Sherri called him.
“Hey, Sherri.”
Sherri didn’t waste time with hellos. “I need to talk to you about who you’re bringing with you to the premier,” she said as soon as he picked up. “It’s coming up quickly. Vanessa will be going with her fiancé, of course, so you can’t go with her.”
Chris could tell Sherri was peeved. “You’re not seriously angry at Vanessa for getting engaged?” he said. “I’ve met her fiancé, he’s a good guy.”
“That’s not the point. Rumors about the two of you—that was the right sort of PR. She could have waited until after the movie was released to get engaged.”
“True love, go figure.”
Sherri missed the irony in his voice. “Anyway, I’m thinking Sienna Duke, who’s getting divorced, or Marlena Morrison. She’s got this on-again, off-again thing going with Lawrence Bigsby, and right now they’re off. She’s always good for some buzz.”
Sometimes, he thought, it would be so satisfying to just throw the phone out the window. “Sienna Duke is a moron,” he replied instead. “She’s got about three IQ points, and they rattle around in that empty head of hers so loudly you can hear them. I don’t know Marlena, but I do know Larry Bigsby, and he’s a nice guy. I’m not going to try to steal his girlfriend.”
“You don’t need to have a relationship with either of them.” Sherri was using her patient voice, the one she employed when he objected to the artificial realities she tried to create for him. “You don’t even need to talk to them, really. It’s just for show.” She sighed. “But you have a point about Marlena. I don’t think we want you to be seen as her boy on the side. We need someone more wholesome.”
Something clicked in his head. “Yeah, well, don’t sweat it. I’ve already got a date anyway.”
Ominous silence. Then: “Really?” Sherri’s voice was chilly.
He gulped. When Sherri’s voice got cold and quiet like this, it was never a good sign. “Yeah. I ... I’m bringing Joy Albright, my co-producer of the Shakespeare play.”
Another silence. “And besides ‘co-producing’ Shakespeare in the vineyards, what does this Joy Albright do?” Sherri’s tone was now overly sweet, another very bad sign.
“Uh ... she works for the University. In the administration or something. She’s not a professor.”
Sherri sighed. “‘Administration or something’ isn’t a job category I can work with.”
He searched his memory. Damnit, he remembered what kind of coffee she liked, he knew how to drive her crazy by kissing that spot behind her knee, but he couldn’t remember what her job title was or what her department was called. “Something in fundraising. Development office, maybe?”
“Oh.” To his surprise, Sherri sounded somewhat mollified. “Well, that’s not all bad. Are you serious about her?” she asked suspiciously. “Engaged or anything?”
Or anything. He was not ready to put his fledgling relationship with Joy under Sherri’s microscope. “We’re ... friends,” he said, a little reluctantly. “But she’s the one I want.” He could sense Sherri’s hesitation. “She’s very good looking,” he offered, wondering how Joy would react to the news that she was coming to the premier.
“Well, I’m going to send you a list of other women to think about, just in case this Joy changes her mind about coming,” Sherri said smoothly. “If she doesn’t, I want her resume, measurements, and a recent headshot no later than Saturday.”
“Her resume
? Sherri, what the—”
“Darla will email you. Don’t worry about a thing.”
The line abruptly went dead.
Joy was at rehearsal early that evening to unlock the theater. Actors began trooping in, then finally Chris appeared, and her heart fluttered. She smiled at him a little shyly.
To her consternation and delight, he walked over to her and gave her a light kiss on the mouth. Despite the melty feeling it gave her, her first instinct was to pull away, aware that cast members were watching. She fought the urge, standing her ground and smiling at him, and was rewarded by the look of happiness on Chris’s face.
“We’ve got a lot to do tonight, but I need to talk to you after,” he said quietly. “I have a big favor to ask.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain after rehearsal.”
“That’s a long time to leave me curious,” she complained.
“I’ll satisfy your curiosity soon. And if you’re good, I’ll satisfy other things,” he whispered playfully.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tracie smiling at them with cheerful interest. She took a step back and tried to regain some semblance of professionalism. “All right then, let’s get started. I need to make a few quick announcements, then they’re all yours.”
Joy gave the assembled cast members a quick update on the auction and ticket sales. They’d had more contributions for auction items, including some bigger-ticket items such as a time-share and case of high-end wine. They’d sold 35 tickets, which covered the costs of the reception with a little to spare; another 65 tickets plus the auction items, and they could easily clear $20,000, which would set them up nicely for next year.
“We can have up to a hundred people at the reception, so keep selling those tickets, please! We could still use more big-ticket items for the auction and some smaller items for the raffles, so if you can donate or ask your place of work to donate, that would be great. It’s all tax deductible. Let me know if you have people I should approach myself, I’m happy to do that. Rob could use some more help with the set—please see him if you have any kind of carpentry skills or even if you just have a strong back. We’ll be doing a full dress rehearsal at Perry Park the Wednesday before the first performance, so put it on your calendars. It’s mandatory. And ... that’s all I’ve got. Over to Chris.”
