by Regina Hart
“I won’t.” Vaughn’s reply was soft. She felt him stand.
“I’m sorry.” Benita threw her notes and other belongings into her tote. “I don’t know what made me say that.”
“It’s all right.”
Of course it was all right—for him. He was the one dating again. No one had asked her out. And she didn’t want anyone else to ask her out.
Benita jerked her purse and tote bag onto her shoulder and rushed toward the door. “See you Wednesday.”
“Benita.”
She didn’t stop. Her plan of seduction hadn’t worked as well as she’d envisioned. Next time, she couldn’t allow past memories to make her fall apart. Her goal was too important. I want Vaughn back.
CHAPTER 11
“I’ve heard you’re producing a musical.” Nessa lowered herself onto one of the two guest chairs in Vaughn’s faculty office Thursday.
Vaughn watched the Trinity Falls Town Council president as she glanced around his office. Her expression was disapproving. Why? There was nothing wrong with his cozy home-away-from-home. His space was clean and well organized. Four oak bookcases were packed with textbooks and nonfiction literature. Two black metal file cabinets balanced a coffeepot, filters, and grounds. A black minifridge was tucked into a corner. But based on the look on Nessa’s face, one would think he’d strewn his underwear all over the room.
Why is Nessa here and why do I feel as though I’m under attack?
“Somehow I don’t think you’re here to congratulate me.” The best defense was a strong offense. He’d learned that lesson playing youth football.
“I’m afraid not.” Nessa’s smile turned cold as she held his gaze. “I took an early lunch to meet with you because this matter is too important to wait.”
“And too important for a phone call?”
“Yes.” Nessa crossed her right leg over her left, adjusting the crease in her dull brown slacks. Her cream blouse was buttoned to her neck. She’d tucked a small strand of fake pearls under her collar. “I’ve heard you plan to perform the play at the community center.”
“That’s right.” Vaughn sat back on his chair, balancing his right ankle on his left knee. “I spoke with Ron yesterday. He’s going to let us use the activity room June thirteenth.”
Ronald Kendall had been the Guiding Light Community Center’s director since Vaughn and his brothers had been in elementary school almost thirty years ago. He must be in his early seventies by now.
“Ron Kendall does not have the authority to permit your use of the center.” Nessa’s officious tone made Vaughn want to ask her to leave.
“If the center’s director doesn’t have that authority, who does?”
Nessa’s smile broadened. “The Trinity Falls Town Council, of course.”
Vaughn’s sense of foreboding heightened. “How do I petition the council for approval?”
“I can save you the trouble.” Nessa folded her hands on her thigh. “The council cannot sanction the use of the town’s community center for your musical.”
“Why not?” What was Nessa’s game?
“I’ve heard your performance includes paranormal elements.”
“That’s right.” Vaughn kept his expression blank, but his unease grew.
Who were Nessa’s sources? He’d only discussed his work with a handful of people, and very briefly. Whoever had given Nessa her intel had armed her with more details than he remembered sharing.
“As a public facility that provides services to the community at large, the center cannot be seen to condone such hedonistic messages. It would offend Christians.”
“Seriously?” He sounded like his students. But he couldn’t help it. Nessa had caught him completely off guard.
“Oh, I’m very serious.”
“Nessa, I’m a Christian and I’m not offended.”
“Then I would remind you of the scriptures. Galatians specifically references witchcraft.”
Nessa probably had never read any of J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter books. A pity.
“Very good.” Vaughn inclined his head. “I always go back to Matthew and the caution against judging others.”
Nessa flushed a bright red under Vaughn’s direct gaze. “Even the title of your play, Mystic Park, evokes images of evil.”
Vaughn stared at the council president. She must be joking. “The play isn’t evil. It’s a romance.”
“Isn’t it based on Caribbean culture?”
“Caribbean lore and folktales.”
Nessa frowned. “There are a lot of strange religions in that culture.”
“You shouldn’t automatically fear what you don’t understand.” Vaughn forced himself not to be offended on his family’s behalf. But it was a struggle. “Does Ron know you’ve decided the center can’t host the play?”
“There’s no need for me to consult with Ron on my decision.”
“What about professional courtesy?”
Nessa practically vibrated with displeasure. “The fact of the matter is that the center is supported largely by tax money from the town, making it a public concern.”
How would Benita handle this? He glanced at his phone. If only he could call her to ask.
“Shouldn’t the entire council decide whether my musical offends the public sentiment?” Vaughn was coming to the end of his patience.
“That’s not necessary.” Nessa gathered her purse as though signaling the meeting was coming to an end. “The council cannot give even a hint of supporting alternative religions.”
“You’re making this change the week before the audition. It’s scheduled to be held next Wednesday at the community center. I’ve already bought the ads.” Vaughn tried to reason with her one last time.
Nessa stood. “I can’t imagine that good people would want to be involved in your production.”
“A couple of council members are on the schedule.” Vaughn rose from his seat. Manners had been too firmly instilled in the Brooks household to allow his grievance with Nessa to get in the way.
Surprise flashed across Nessa’s thin features. “Then I would advise you to get in touch with these people and tell them the audition has been moved.”
“To where? And what about the walk-ins?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Nessa shrugged. “Thanks for your time, Vaughn. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
The edge of satisfaction in Nessa’s tone and her expression should have sent Vaughn over the edge. Instead he shook his head with a smile, then sank back onto his black padded executive chair. He’d known producing his musical wouldn’t be easy: the costs, the myriad tasks involved outside of the production, the personalities. But he had one positive—Benita’s involvement. She’d help him keep his head on straight so he could deal with obstacles like the one Nessa had just planted in his path.
Vaughn’s hand hovered over his telephone receiver. And what would he do when he couldn’t lean on her any longer? He shrugged off the muscle-numbing dread and dialed Benita’s cell phone number. She answered on the second ring.
Vaughn chose to forego the traditional greeting. “We’ve suffered our first setback with Mystic Park.”
“What is it?” Her no-nonsense reply eased Vaughn’s tension.
“Nessa said we can’t perform in the community center.” Vaughn summarized his meeting with the town council president.
“Nessa has gone off her rails.” Benita’s tone was incredulous. “This isn’t a decision she can make by herself.”
“Should we talk to the other council members?” Vaughn imagined Benita in Ms. Helen’s home. Which room was she in? Was she sitting or standing? What was she wearing?
“There’s no time.” Her sigh stretched down the phone line. “We need to go to Plan B.”
Vaughn drew a blank. “I don’t have a Plan B.”
“I do. Find out if we can have the musical in TFU’s auditorium.”
Vaughn swallowed his disappointment. “I wanted to perform the play
in the community center.”
“So did I.” Benita’s understanding went a long way toward helping Vaughn get over his disappointment. “But if you’re serious about getting the musical on stage in eight weeks, we don’t have time to fight Nessa and persuade the council members.”
“You’re right.”
“I know.” There was a smile in her voice. “Look on the bright side. The auditorium holds more people.”
“I think the university president will agree to having the performance here. It’ll be good exposure for us in the community.” Vaughn checked his Timex. First, he needed to speak with Foster. There was a hierarchy and a process to be followed. “Foster says the president wants to strengthen TFU’s ties with the town, especially with the university’s sesquicentennial coming up.”
“Will you be able to ask the president today?” Benita seemed anxious. So was Vaughn.
“I’ll try.”
“I’ll be waiting for your call.”
Vaughn recradled his telephone receiver. It was a relief not to have to deal with production issues on his own. Those six words—“I’ll be waiting for your call”—made his impossible seem possible.
He and Benita had always worked together well. He had the creative vision and she could make things happen. Now if only he could find a creative way to make her love him enough to stay in Trinity Falls.
Benita disconnected Vaughn’s call on her cellular phone. A glance at the display screen told her it was about twenty minutes until noon. She strolled into the kitchen and found Ms. Helen with her head in the refrigerator.
“Do you want to join me at Books and Bakery?” Benita crossed her arms and rested her hip against the counter.
Her great-aunt let the refrigerator door shut. She gave Benita a critical once-over. “What’s got your hair on fire?”
Benita had thought she’d masked her temper. But her great-aunt always had been able to read her like a book. “I need to let Doreen know that Nessa’s circumventing her authority as mayor, as well as the rest of the town council.”
Ms. Helen’s thin, still-dark eyebrows shot to her snow white hairline. “Again? That woman’s a piece of work.”
“Are you coming with me?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
Forty minutes later—after Ms. Helen had dressed to impress—Benita and her great-aunt settled onto bar stools at the café counter. Benita had overruled Ms. Helen’s protestations and treated her great-aunt to a healthy and filling lunch of chicken-and-wild-rice soup and a half chicken-and-provolone-on-wheat sandwich. Benita had ordered the same thing for herself. They were halfway through their meal before Doreen was able to get away from the cash register. Benita recounted for the town’s mayor the same report she’d given Ms. Helen on their drive to Books & Bakery.
“Nessa can’t make that unilateral decision.” Doreen’s voice was tight with irritation. Her brown eyes sparked with temper.
“No, she can’t.” Ms. Helen lowered her soup spoon. “Ask the other council members if Nessa discussed her plan with them before she spoke with Vaughn.”
“I will.” The mayor’s voice was clipped. “But regardless, Nessa still should have brought her concerns to my attention before acting. As mayor, I should be included in any discussions regarding the proper use of town resources.”
“So should the rest of the council.” Ms. Helen sipped her iced tea. “Nessa had no business acting alone.”
Doreen expelled a frustrated breath. She leaned heavily on the café counter. Benita had eased some of the load from Doreen’s shoulders by taking over her wedding plans. But it was obvious the mayor was still overworked and overtired.
Benita glanced past Doreen. The retired couple Megan had hired moved efficiently between the kitchen and the counter, taking new orders and serving hungry customers. But was their help enough? That was a discussion for another time.
She met Doreen’s concerned gaze. “I’m not asking that you or the council overturn Nessa’s decision. Vaughn and I are looking at another venue. But you need to know what Nessa did.”
“I’ll call her at home to discuss this tonight.” Doreen crossed to the beverage cart behind the café counter and brought back the pitcher of iced tea. She refilled Ms. Helen’s and Benita’s glasses. “I don’t know why she thought she could speak for the entire town government on her own and without consulting us.”
Ms. Helen finished her sandwich. “Do you think the attack was personal against you, or was she targeting your office?”
“I don’t know.” Doreen returned the pitcher to the beverage cart. “Nessa knows I’m concerned about the community center. I sent an e-mail to the council members. The center needs more financial support than our tax base can give it. The January fund-raiser helped a lot. But the center’s staff needs to do regular fund-raisers and community outreach.”
Ms. Helen snorted. “Good luck getting Ronald Kendall to work on a fund-raiser. That man should’ve retired ten years ago.”
“Darius told me June Cale’s looking for a new job.” Doreen glanced at Benita. “June is the mother of Darius’s half brother, Noah.”
Benita sipped her lemonade. “Aunt Helen told me about June and Noah.”
“June has fund-raising experience.” Doreen greeted a group of guests who returned their trays before leaving. “I’m hoping I can convince her to relocate from Sequoia to work for our community center.”
Benita finished her sandwich. “I doubt she’d be able to find a better job offer in Sequoia.”
“The trick will be to convince Ron to take on the added responsibility of fund-raising.” Doreen cleared Benita’s and Ms. Helen’s dishes, adding them to a hard plastic tub behind the counter.
Ms. Helen sat back on her bar stool. “The bigger trick will be getting the residents of Trinity Falls to accept June Cale into our community. There are some people who wouldn’t want her here.”
Benita thought of Darius’s parents, Ethel and Simon Knight, whose marriage had finally ended when Ethel realized June Cale had given Simon a son eighteen years ago that he’d never told his wife about.
Benita’s eyes widened. “That could be awkward.”
CHAPTER 12
Vaughn counted nearly thirty people assembled in the Trinity Falls University auditorium Wednesday night. He recognized many of his neighbors and students, and of course the university’s faculty and staff. They were all waiting to audition for his musical.
His pulse pounded with a sense of accomplishment. Seated beside him, Benita glowed as she looked at the patiently waiting crowd.
“What are you thinking?” He kept his voice low.
She turned her brilliant smile on him. He blinked at its power. “You did this.”
He so badly wanted to kiss her. But he couldn’t do that here, in front of all of these people. And he couldn’t kiss her now, not while they were supposed to be breaking up. Could I?
“Let’s get started.” Vaughn stood and raised his voice. “Thanks, everyone, for coming. I wasn’t expecting such a strong turnout. Most of you know me. I’m Vaughn Brooks. I teach music here at TFU.”
“Doctor Vaughn Brooks,” Benita interrupted, speaking above him. “He’s the university’s music professor, concert band director, and writer/composer of the musical, Mystic Park.”
“Are you going to do a lot of that?” Vaughn lowered his voice. He didn’t want to draw attention to their disagreement.
“I’m just clarifying a few things.” Benita waved a dismissive hand. “You’re too modest.”
Vaughn turned back to their audience scattered across the large auditorium. During the day, the sun shone through the stained glass windows carved just beneath the ceiling, making the images sparkle like jewels. But tonight, the darkness looked like velvet behind paintings. In the front of the auditorium, Vaughn and Benita stood in a concert pit that stretched between the rows of chairs and the mahogany stage.
“Let me tell you a little about the musical.” Vaughn paused to c
ollect his thoughts. “It’s a romance based on the Caribbean folklore of water nymphs and water fairies. The hero is a farmer. The heroine is a water fairy. The villain is the water spirit, Mama D’Leau. She’s part woman, part serpent. The five other characters are the farmer’s friend, three other water fairies, and Mama D’Leau’s accomplice.”
“So you’re looking for eight people all together?” Simon Knight called from a seat near the middle of the center section. Simon was the father of Vaughn’s childhood friend Darius Knight.
“Eight main characters and a few additional people for the chorus and crowd scenes.” Vaughn spotted Simon’s estranged wife, Ethel Knight, a few rows behind Simon.
Oh, boy. What bad fortune has brought these two people together for my audition? He still had bad reactions to the memory of their frequent bickering during last year’s fund-raising committee meetings.
“Do all the characters have to be able to sing?” Novella Dishy, a stylist with Skin Deep Beauty Salon, sat in the back of the auditorium with other salon stylists.
“Only the eight main characters,” Vaughn responded. “The additional actors don’t have songs.”
“Do they have lines?” Novella sounded suspicious.
“No, they don’t.” Vaughn shook his head.
“Well, then, I’m done.” Novella stood. The older woman squeezed past Belinda Curby, the salon’s owner, and Glenn Narcus, another stylist, then left the auditorium without a backward glance.
“What was she thinking?” Simon’s bark of laughter broke the awkward silence. “Of course everyone would have to be able to sing. It’s a musical.”
It wasn’t a good idea to agree with Simon out loud. Instead Vaughn changed the subject. “Are there other questions?”
Glenn raised his hand. “When are the performances?” “We’re doing one performance on June thirteenth,” Vaughn answered.
“June thirteenth?” Belinda’s voice squeaked with surprise. “Are you crazy?”
“That’s only seven weeks away.” Ethel added her voice to the chorus of surprise circling the room.
