Silver Screen Romance

by Altonya Washington

Estelle set the tray on a glossy, black-oak coffee table. The group sat in the four darkly cushioned square chairs surrounding it.

  “There’s lots of land in the area and that means lots of folks ready to build on it.” Estelle passed Davia a mug of the fragrant Earl Grey.

  “In the hope that there’s a lot of money to be made,” Barry added. “At any given time, contractors and their crews are in and around the area for some project or another. Given the amount of land and opportunity, that trend is set to continue for quite some time.”

  “With that kind of incentive, you’d think construction crews would be working ’round the clock,” Kale mused after enjoying a slow sip of the brandy.

  “Oh, they’re here in major numbers, believe me!” Barry raised his snifter in a mock toast. “I work for a company that specializes in securing housing for contracting crews. About eight years ago the company decided to acquire its own property in the hope of cutting out the middle man—the hotel chains—and keep that cash in house.”

  “Just outside town, heading east, Barry’s company has a larger hotel,” Estelle said to Davia before taking a sip from the teacup.

  “The inn is kept for the company heads who might see fit to visit the sites they’re developing. My company’s foray into housing was my idea and it proved to be a lucrative one.” Barry gave a self-satisfied grin. “When I asked to oversee business in this region, they didn’t argue.”

  Kale released a whistle into the big room. “That’s some perk. Keeping a full-time job in Seattle and never leaving your hometown? Nice.”

  Barry sent his wife a meaningful look then. “We’re hoping it could be nicer.”

  Estelle nodded and then turned to shift her gaze between the guests. “Barry has a spot on the town council. So far, they’ve been very successful in bringing many new businesses to the area, and that’s sparked tremendous growth. Our proximity to a major metropolitan area makes us a desirable locale for people wanting the perks of suburban living without losing their connection to city life.”

  Barry’s sigh amplified over the popping wood in the hearth. “There’s another thing we’d like to bring into town. We’d hoped to save it for last, but there’s been a lot of...discussion about it as of late and we don’t think we can avoid moving it up on the agenda any longer.”

  “And this ‘other thing’ would be located on the property we’ve inherited?” Kale posed his question to Estelle. “Is that why you called us? Because there’s been some resistance to whatever business you want to put there?”

  Barrett sent his wife a baffled look. “Este?”

  Estelle Waverly’s dark, lovely face showed signs of strain and she set her teacup on the table. “I had a hunch that Kale and Davia might be a little...wary about making a trip out here. I remember all too well how I felt when you talked to me about coming here, and I didn’t want them talking to anyone else and being put off about coming.”

  Barry reached out to squeeze Estelle’s hand, the look on his face softening with understanding.

  Estelle looked at Kale and then Davia. “I’m sorry, you two, about all the secrecy. Your being here is definitely important. You’ll bring greater significance to what we’re proposing.”

  “Which is?” Davia asked.

  “What your aunt, Kale’s uncle and Barry’s uncle were trying to bring to this town.”

  “Something as American as apple pie,” Barry chimed in. “A movie theater.”

  A few seconds ticked by as Kale and Davia stared at the couple, expecting them to say something more. Eventually, amused expressions crept onto their faces.

  The Waverlys smiled, apparently not at all surprised by their guests’ reactions.

  Kale shifted in his chair, stroking his index finger along his brow as he moved. “No offence, guys, but giving a town a movie theater is not a bad thing. It can’t be so bad that you need us to help sell the idea.”

  “It’s not the idea itself, but what it signifies that, uh, poses the issue we’re dealing with,” Barry noted.

  “Babe?” Estelle paused en route to picking up her cup. “Is it accurate to say we actually have an issue to deal with yet?”

  Barry shrugged. “Well, I suppose we don’t have one yet, but no one knows Kale and Davia are here or what their aunt and uncle may’ve told them about what went on here.”

  Davia moved forward in her chair. “What’s my aunt and Kale’s uncle got to do with all this?”

  “The property you guys inherited—my uncle Chase Waverly was the original owner. I’m pretty certain that neither your aunt, nor your uncle, Kale, even knew they owned it. After my uncle died, my dad was privy to information about his business matters and he spoke of the less-than-diligent manner it seems his representatives used in trying to track down all the beneficiaries in his will. My dad was one, which is how I’ve come by the information I’m sharing with you now.”

  “Sounds like your uncle had some poor representatives,” Kale said.

  “You’d be correct.” Barry’s nod sent a shock of reddish blond hair sliding onto his brow. “But when one weighs in the fact that all this happened in the forties and that the beneficiaries in question were black, odds are high that he wouldn’t have been represented much differently anywhere else.”

  Realization doused whatever humor shone on Kale and Davia’s faces.

  “This isn’t about an inheritance, is it?” Davia asked.

  Estelle finally retrieved her teacup from the table. “It’s about a lot more than that,” she said.

  Kale shook his empty snifter in the air. “Think I’m gonna need another one of these, Barry.”

  Grinning, Barry clapped Kale’s shoulder and left to see to the order.

  “Estelle? What’d you mean when you said we’d bring greater ‘significance’ earlier?” Davia asked.

  “Well, we understand that Bryant Leak and Gloria Sands had a love for theaters. One they passed on to their niece and nephew.”

  Davia shared a soft smile with Kale and then leaned over to squeeze his hand. She’d noticed his reaction to hearing his uncle’s name.

  “Those two had already gotten notice in their own local papers for being the first blacks to work for their town theaters,” Estelle continued. “They gained some notoriety when their ideas for providing the moviegoer with a more...hospitable experience were taken seriously by their bosses.”

  “‘A movie theater should feel less like a classroom and more like a living room,’” Barry said as he returned with fresh brandy for him and Kale.

  “If that’s a quote, it’s a nice one,” Kale remarked.

  “I thought so. Your uncle said it.” Barry grinned at Kale’s stunned look.

  “He said that and more. So did your aunt, Davia.” Estelle curled up in her chair, tucking her legs beneath her. “We’ve got pretty much all the news clippings chronicling their accomplishments.”

  “Oh, I’d love to see those.” Davia took the kettle from the low table and topped off her tea.

  “We’ll have them waiting for you guys tomorrow.”

  “You’ll also get to see the property tomorrow,” Barry added.

  Estelle laughed. “If the rest of your shoes are like those boots, Davia, we’ll have to make a stop by my boutique first.”

  “This is the last you’ll see of them,” Davia promised, “but I’d still love a trip to that boutique.” She lifted her cup to toast the idea and then her smile lost some of its illumination. “Guys, I believe I can speak for Kale when I say we’d definitely support a theater being put on the property.”

  “Davia’s right. We’ll make it a place our uncles and Davia’s aunt would be proud of,” Kale said.

  The Waverlys looked at one another. When Estelle gave a nod, Barry set aside his snifter. The weighted look had returned to his pale gaze.


  “I suppose this is where we get to our...issue. You see, a theater is the last kind of establishment half the council, which represents half the town, wants here.”

  “Why?” Kale asked. “What could anybody have against the town having its own movie theater?”

  “It’s what the theater reminds them of,” Estelle clarified, her bobbed hair swinging into her face when she shook her head.

  “Which is?” Davia leaned in to the conversation.

  Barry dragged a hand through his bright hair. “The theater is a reminder of how this town watched one of its own waste away from poverty and neglect because it was trying to prove a point.”

  “Wait a minute. All this because your uncle didn’t mind letting two black kids give him tips on how to improve his business?” Davia sounded incredulous.

  Barry shook his head. “No, Davia, all this because my uncle testified against the man who conspired to have those kids killed.”

  Chapter 6

  “The evidence proved it all, but it was the press the trial got that saw Shepard Barns convicted of arson and attempted murder. ’Course he didn’t get half as much time as he should have, but that’s another story.” Barry’s expression was bland as he recounted the tale. “I don’t suppose I need to go into details as to the motive?” he queried.

  Kale grimaced. “We get the gist of it.”

  “My uncle Chase didn’t even try to rebuild his house afterward. He put every bit of his energy into the theater, which Shepard half burned to the ground in addition to the house. The man was outraged by the idea of one, let alone two, black people trying to ‘lay siege to Mullins,’ was how he put it for the papers.” Barry chuckled, but the gesture held no humor.

  “I’ve got pictures of my dad before all this happened. Uncle Chase was his big brother. My dad said he used to go over almost every day after school to help work on the theater.” Barry snorted a softer, equally humorless laugh then. “He said Uncle Chase actually thought he’d done something heroic by destroying that racist. Expected the theater to be visited by folks far and wide if he ever got it built. Aside from the kids, nobody came to help. Your aunt and uncle left shortly after the verdict came down. My uncle insisted. The local construction teams didn’t even want to come back on the job even though it was the work they initially put into the place that Barns burned down. My dad said even his friends stopped coming by with their parents...”

  Barry squeezed his eyes shut, smiling gratefully when Estelle moved close to clutch his hand.

  “My dad said his folks even shunned my uncle and he wasn’t far behind. Can you believe that? He was my dad’s big brother and he did the right thing and they shunned him for it.”

  “Your uncle was treated like an outcast by an entire town because he testified against a murderer?” Davia noted as if disbelieving.

  “The story’s not so far-fetched,” Kale said. “We’re talking about the forties, after all. Such things are still happening today.”

  Davia knew it was true, though the reality was still difficult to hear. As if to ward off some inner chill, she clamped her hands around her warm teacup. “What you said about poverty and neglect, Barry...that was your uncle?”

  Barry nodded. “By the end he was living out of one room if you could call it that. My dad, being as young as he was, eventually changed his way of thinking. Said he loved his brother too much to see him that way. He did what he could to help, but it was hard seeing his brother like that. Plus, he was always getting in trouble with my grandparents and the rest of the family over turning their backs on their own kin. The summer my dad graduated high school, my grandparents pulled up stakes and hit the road. I think my dad was glad to leave. My uncle didn’t want to come out of his hole. Still trying to make a point after all that time.”

  “It’s a wonder nobody called the folks in the white coats,” Kale dryly noted.

  “No need,” Barry retorted. “My dad said the man was saner than any of ’em. Didn’t mind tellin’ anyone who’d listen why he’d done it. Said he was holdin’ on to the theater for the kids he was leaving it to. Maybe one day the world would be a place where creativity could thrive no matter where it originates.”

  Kale and Davia sat like stone fixtures in the chairs they’d occupied so casually moments earlier. They’d lost their taste for the beverages in hand, their minds racing with knowledge of events that had occurred before they were even born.

  “I apologize for layin’ all this on you both your first night in town,” Barry said once he and Estelle had exchanged concerned looks.

  “So no one ever had the chance to patronize your uncle’s theater?” Davia asked.

  “He died before he could finish it. Not that it would’ve mattered.” A strange light appeared in Barry’s pale eyes. “I doubt he even cared by then, if what my dad said is correct. My uncle was proud to be the theater’s one, true patron. He loved it so much, he probably would’ve died there had the newly elected sheriff that year not sent his deputies out to drag him in out of the cold.

  “The sheriff and my uncle went to school together and he was one of the few who didn’t shun my uncle like the rest of the town. Uncle Chase had been living out there with no heat or running water... I suspect several in town didn’t subscribe to the madness of the masses. No way could he have survived for as long as he did without somebody looking out for him. He held on to that property through it all, though. When the time came to settle the estate, my family didn’t want to hear a word about the theater. My grandfather was in charge so my dad’s hands were tied. Later... I think he just wanted to forget.”

  Silence settled thick and resolved but for the constant snap and crack of the logs amid the blaze that still thrived. Soon, Estelle was extending out from her curled position to stand and give a long stretch.

  “My guess is we’ve all had enough for one night,” she said.

  “Este’s right. Follow me. I’ll show you to your rooms,” Barry urged.

  “You guys just yell if you need anything.” Estelle began clearing away items from the low coffee table. “You’re the only guests for a while, so you’ll get the deluxe treatment.”

  “Thanks, Estelle,” Kale said while following Barry to the stairway.

  “We’ll play breakfast by ear tomorrow. I’ll have it all set out, so just help yourselves once you’re up.”

  “Thanks, Estelle. Good night.” Davia sent the woman a wave and then followed the men upstairs.

  * * *

  Kale let out a low whistle when Barry ushered them onto the inn’s third floor. The trip up had taken a bit longer than customary with the new guests raving over the dazzling artwork and seating arrangements that hugged the walls and lined the corridors. Their arrival on the third floor simply brought forth more raving.

  “Each floor has a guest lounge that offers a media nook, open bar and hot beverage caddy,” Barry explained. “There’re even gas fireplaces that can be operated by the guests themselves, but you’ll find units in your rooms, too, if you prefer them to the central heating system.”

  Kale and Davia strolled the spacious lounge furnished with suede merlot sofas set atop thick, midnight-blue carpeting that ran the length of the rooms and corridors. Lending to the soothing allure of the plum-painted room was the glossy brick fireplace that Barry had spoken of. Its mantel was accented with framed pictures of the town of Mullins in days past.

  “There’s even a roof terrace if you feel brave enough to face our frigid temps and take a lofty view of your surroundings.” Barry waved toward the ceiling where recessed lighting bathed the hallway in muted gold.

  “On a night like this you could probably see the town lights from here,” Barry explained. “It’s nothing like what you’re used to, but there’s definitely a charm to it.”

  “I can believe that.” Davia was already engaged
by the fresh snow drifting past the windows where the drapes were drawn back.

  “I should show you guys to your rooms before Este yells at me,” Barry said, grinning.

  Kale and Davia followed their host down the long corridor that was finished in the same rich plum color as the decadent lounge.

  “The second floor has three guest rooms plus the lounge. This floor has two suites on either end of the corridor.”

  “Good to know.” Kale was grinning more broadly. “Now I won’t have to worry about Davia hearing me snore through the walls.”

  “That depends on how loud you snore,” Davia teased back.

  “Well, you won’t be interrupted, so sleep and snore to your heart’s content,” Barry urged as they closed the distance to a looming door at the end of the hall. “The freight elevator I used to send up your bags earlier should have deposited them in your respective rooms.”

  “That’s some trick,” Davia marveled.

  Barry shrugged. “Each room is equipped with one. It’ll be shut down once you’re inside your room—just a safety precaution.”

  “Got a high-tech place here, Barry.”

  “Glad you’re pleased.” Barry cast a grin across his shoulder to Kale. “We even serve breakfast by dumbwaiter, so just call down in the morning to request it if you’d rather eat up here.”

  They reached a tall, gleaming Blackwood door at one end of the hall.

  “This is you, Davia.” Barry unlocked the door.

  “I hate to overuse the word wow, but wow,” Davia sighed upon stepping inside the suite.

  “No need to be jealous, Kale. Your spot is an exact replica,” Barry said.

  The walls, done in a rich almond tone matched another expanse of deep carpeting. A king-size bed was covered by a cashmere comforter of the same midnight blue as the carpeting. Crisp white linen peeked over the top, also casing the pillows and skirting beneath the comforter.

  “Between the bed and the view, I may never leave this room.” Davia had walked over to glance out of the window. “You can’t always count on a spectacular view from the front and back no matter how pricey the place is.”