Jackson remained riveted to that spot until Ellie’s scene closed, and then she exited, stage left. He whipped out the program he’d been furnished with earlier and searched its pages for her name. There were three Sammy Lanes who alternated nights, apparently, and they were all pictured in the program. But two of them were blond. This one—the dark-haired one—was unmistakable. Elise Heinrichs. He would have to meet her.
* * * * *
After the play, Ellie escaped the fate of most of the rest of the cast, which was to stand in a receiving line on the stage while members of the audience greeted them and asked them to autograph programs. She and Will had a brief moment together as they fled toward the conference center to prepare for the VIP reception. Stopping out of sight from the crowds, Will squeezed her hand.
“You were magnificent.”
His eyes seemed to say so much more, and for a moment Ellie thought he was going to kiss her.
“Thank you. I am glad you were pleased.”
“Pleased is not half of it. You gave the performance of a lifetime.”
“Really?” Ellie grinned shyly.
“Surely you know.”
“It was an amazing experience for me. I felt, I don’t know, anointed.” Her declaration was tentative. “Does that make sense?”
“I think it is perfectly accurate.”
She hugged him, holding him tight and leaning her head against his chest. “Thank you, Will. For everything.”
His breathing was heavy. She could feel his heart beating against her ear. “We better get up to the conference center, huh?”
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
When they got to the conference center, a building set off to itself, the caterers were set up with a lovely spread of finger foods. Long banquet-style tables draped in white organza were laden with shrimp cocktail, artisan cheeses with different breads and crackers, and an elaborate display of fruit that included pineapple, blueberries, grapes, oranges, cantaloupe, and kiwi. There was punch and a section for coffee, cleverly decorated with scattered beans, and a chocolate fondue fountain that boasted squares of angel food cake, marshmallows, pretzel rods, and strawberries.
Prominently positioned, which Ellie knew was because of Will, was a table covered in white and labeled HEINRICHS HAUS WINERY. Ellie went directly to it and pulled out the crate she had given him earlier. Feeling like she was now in character as Katherine, Ellie proceeded to set up a display with grapevines, wine and juice bottles, and decorative plastic grapes. She was just finishing the task when Beecher appeared with a box full of plastic wine glasses and napkins sporting the Heinrichs Haus logo. He set it down, then lifted Ellie off the ground in a hug.
“You were wunderbar!”
Ellie kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. And thank you so much for being here.”
They hugged again.
“Oh, Beecher. I’m so happy to see you!”
Will, who was assisting the caterer with a matter, walked over to join their brother-sister moment.
“This is Will Howard, Beecher.” Ellie reached out to touch Will’s arm. “And this is my brother, Beecher.”
The two men exchanged a hearty handshake.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Will told Beecher.
“And I, you. It’s good to meet you in person.” Beecher regarded Will with an expression of respect. “Let me congratulate you on a job well done tonight. I think the performance surpassed what anyone in the audience might have been expecting.”
“Thank you,” Will said. “I’m so glad you could be here.”
Just then Will’s boss appeared at the entry, seemingly the head of an entourage. He motioned to Will.
“I look forward to visiting with you later.” He clapped Beecher on the arm and smiled at Ellie as he walked away.
“Uh-huh.” Beecher winked at Ellie. Then under his breath he said, “I have a few hundred questions for you, Mr. Howard.”
She punched him softly in the ribs.
* * * * *
The reception was a bit of a whirlwind. It was bigger—in terms of attendance—than Ellie realized. Beyond The Shepherd of the Hills people, there was a host of Branson elite. As they came through the line for a sample of Heinrichs Haus wine or juice, she met Shoji Tabuchi, the famous Branson violinist, and his wife, Dorothy; the mayor of Branson and the director of the Branson Chamber of Commerce; the owners of Big Cedar Lodge; and several dignitaries from the College of the Ozarks. All of them complimented Ellie on her performance as Sammy Lane, except for the Tabuchis, who had performed in a show of their own at the same time as the play. The elaborately installed Shoji Tabuchi Theatre was right down the road. Ellie was able to tell them with complete honesty that theirs was her favorite show—besides The Shepherd of the Hills, of course—that she’d ever been to in Branson. It was only after the Tabuchis were well out of earshot that Beecher whispered, “Of course, the only other one you’ve seen, to my knowledge, is the one with the fake Michael Jackson.”
“That one is actually quite good,” Ellie whispered back. “And I’ll have you know that I have also been to the Dixie Stampede.”
Their surreptitious exchange was interrupted by the arrival at their table of a thirtysomething man in a gray suit and glasses. His green shirt provided a stylish splash of color and was complemented with a narrow, patterned navy-blue tie. His hair was short but slightly longer on top and gelled back with sideburns. He looked like he might have posed just the moment before for a Banana Republic ad in The New Yorker magazine.
“Hello,” Ellie offered, “would you like to try our red or white wine? Or perhaps some juice?”
The man smiled and held out his hand. “Ellie Heinrichs?”
“That’s me,” she said, taking it.
“Monumental performance tonight. Totally blew me away.”
Ellie retrieved her hand. “Thank you very much. How kind of you to say.”
“And you are?” The man turned to Beecher, who put out his hand.
“Beecher Heinrichs, her brother.”
They shook.
“I’m Jackson Jenkins. Nice to meet you both.”
They nodded.
“What brings you to Branson?” Beecher poured the man a glass of white wine and handed it to him. “This is both of our favorite, by the way, a grape called vidal.”
Jackson Jenkins took the glass Beecher offered him. “Thanks.” He sipped it. “That’s good stuff.” He took another sip. “I’m in Branson as an investor. Just came down to look at some property.”
“Where do you live?’ Ellie asked.
“New York City.”
“One of our best friends is in school there.” Beecher cleared his throat. “She’s in law school at NYU.”
“Oh, really. I went to NYU,” Jackson said. “Great school in a great town. I’m from there.”
“What do you think of Branson?” Ellie asked.
“Hmm. Well, it’s a friendly place. Beautiful country.” Jackson’s dark eyes flashed as he grinned. “I think it’s safe to say I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Beecher clearly got a kick out of that.
A line was forming behind Jackson, so he said, “I’d love to talk to you guys a little more and find out about your winery. Would that be okay?”
“Sure.” Beecher took the business card Jackson offered.
“Could you possibly give me a call over the weekend? I have a few appointments, but it’s pretty quiet till Monday. That’s a really busy day, and then I fly out Tuesday.”
“I’ll call you in the morning,” Beecher promised.
“Thanks. Good to meet you both.”
* * * * *
The following morning at the condo Ellie made breakfast for her family. It was her first time to see Opa, as he’d been in bed when she and Beecher returned from The Shepherd of the Hills. Katherine had waited up after the play, hugging Ellie and telling her how amazing she’d been as Sammy. “We would have come to the reception, but Opa was not feeling
well. I needed to get him home.”
As she set a small pitcher of cream on the table, Ellie didn’t want to think about why Opa looked so old and tired. It made no sense to her. Just that May at home he was robust and working in his garden. She’d had to work hard to keep up with him as they “waged war” upon the weeds. The Opa who sat at her table sipping coffee and picking at his peach-filled crepes was not the same man. He seemed a faded version of his former self.
“Opa, what’s wrong with you?”
Beecher and Katherine exchanged a look that implied they were not entirely thrilled with Ellie’s directness.
But Opa laughed. For a moment, the old light flickered in his eyes. “I don’t know, Sunshine. I imagine I’m just old.”
“Phooey.” Ellie sniffed. “That’s never kept you from eating fresh peach crepes before.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right about that, and I know they are delicious. But lately I seem to have no appetite.”
“Have you been to the doctor?”
“You sound like your mother.”
“Well?” Ellie persisted.
“No, I have not. You know I’m not very fond of doctors.”
“Well, we are fond of you. And if you’ve lost your appetite, something is wrong. We need to find out what it is so you can get better.”
Opa glanced at Katherine, and then back to Ellie, whose eyes were boring holes in his gaunt face. “I’ve held off your mother these last weeks, but now that you are joining her I suppose I should not argue.” He looked to Beecher for help. “Any words for the defense, Counselor?”
“I’ll take you myself on Monday.”
Opa chuckled and shook his head. “Those were not exactly the kind of words I had in mind.”
Chapter Twenty-six
After breakfast, Beecher called Jackson Jenkins just as he had promised. They made plans to meet for lunch at Mel’s Hard Luck Diner in The Grand Village, a quaint shopping center near the golf course condominium where Jackson was staying. Then Opa, Katherine, Beecher, and Ellie took a walk down Branson Landing.
It was a beautiful day. Sunshine poured out generously over Branson from a cloudless blue sky. The breeze floating upward from the adjacent lake was cedar-scented and cool. The trees lining the walk-way of the Landing were full of singing birds. Opa commented on how the red bricks under their feet reminded him of the cobblestone streets in places they’d visited together in Europe.
They window-shopped awhile, then people-watched as they stretched their legs. When Ellie took them to the tasting room, everyone was impressed with how she had arranged things, from the furniture to the lighting, signage, and other decor. Katherine was especially pleased with the fixtures she and Ellie had selected together. They drank Lemon Pellegrinos out of the cooler, Opa sitting and resting on the couch, and Beecher took inventory of the tasting room’s stock of wines and juice.
“You guys have done a great job setting this up,” he said.
Katherine pointed with her bottle. “It’s mostly Ellie.”
Beecher ribbed her. “Branson hasn’t turned out to be such a bad place after all, has it, little sister?”
Ellie shook her head. “Not near as bad as I thought.” A smile broke over her face as she thought of Will and everything they’d shared. Not bad at all.
* * * * *
Mel’s Hard Luck Diner was an all-American, retro-styled eating place famous for its hamburgers. It had a chrome sign with hot pink neon letters, a soda fountain, red booths, and a black-and-white checker-board tile floor. It also boasted of singing waiters dressed in 1950s attire. Jackson and Beecher agreed that the latter was a feature they wanted to steer clear of, if at all possible.
Over good-sized burgers and piles of french fries, Jackson quizzed Beecher over viticulture and enology, finding him profoundly knowledgeable. He asked Beecher questions about Heinrichs Haus and what operations they had in New York, if any. Beecher expressed that while they were fairly well-known in the South, they didn’t do a lot of business on the East Coast or up north, something he’d like to see change. They talked about possible collaboration. Jackson had holdings in the hospitality industry in New York as well as retail business. They both agreed to consider how they could work together to get Heinrichs Haus wines and juices into these venues.
“I like your wine,” Jackson said. “And I like you—and your sister.”
“Thank you.” Beecher smiled. “We’re kind of a package deal.”
“She was astonishing in her role last night. I have to admit I was not expecting much. I never should have underestimated the local talent.”
“Well, she is my sister, so it’s hard to be objective, but I’ve always thought she had a gift for drama.”
Jackson laughed. “Has she ever thought about trying to be bigger—I mean, going outside of Branson?”
It was Beecher’s turn to laugh at the guy’s naïveté. “Um, yeah. It’s not exactly her dream to stay in Missouri.”
“I didn’t mean that insultingly. It’s beautiful here. For some people, well, it’s what they want. Like that Will Howard. He walked away from Hollywood to come here.”
“I know. Crazy, right?”
“Different strokes for different folks.” Jackson pushed back his empty plate.
“I don’t think Ellie is like him. Her dream is to be on Broadway. She just hasn’t gotten her chance yet.” Beecher took a sip of his chocolate milk shake. “It’s a long shot, you know. She has an agent, but so far nothing has happened.”
Jackson’s face brightened. “Beecher, I’ve got a friend in the business on Broadway. Let me make some calls—we’ll see. Maybe he could get her an audition.” He folded his napkin and set it on the table. “I’m not exactly an expert, but I do have taste. And I’ve not seen anybody as good as she was last night in a long time.”
“That would be great.”
“Don’t tell her anything, in case it doesn’t work out. But I’ll make those calls and get back with you about it, okay?”
“Okay.” Beecher shook his hand. “It’s been very nice meeting with you.”
“You too. I hope this is the beginning of a long, good relationship.”
* * * * *
When Beecher returned to Ellie’s condo, Opa was napping on the red couch. Dot was curled up beside him. They were both snoring. Dot’s ears shot up, however, and she opened her eyes when Beecher’s footfall made a board creak in the floor. Headed for a magazine on the table, he reached down to pet her. She growled. Beecher drew his hand back as if out of a fire.
“I think I’ll just go back outside for a while.” He tiptoed back down the stairs, put his shoes back on, and headed for the main thoroughfare of Branson Landing. He suspected he might be able to find his mother and sister in the vicinity of the J.Jill store, or possibly Coldwater Creek.
“Beech!”
“Over here!”
They were sitting under the awning of the Cold Slab Creamery. Katherine, chic as ever in her black sheath dress and Jackie Onassis sunglasses, waved to him to join them. Ellie was in a rattan-colored V-neck sweater and ivory Capri pants, with a wide-brimmed straw hat.
“You ladies are quite the picture of elegance.” He kissed them both on their cheeks as he sat down.
“Want some ice cream?” Katherine offered.
“No thanks, I just had the all-American artery clogger—hamburger, french fries, and chocolate milk shake for dessert. I’m stuffed.”
“Isn’t that place good?” Ellie swallowed a spoonful of strawberries and cream. “I love it there.”
“It is. It was fun.”
“How did the meeting go?” Katherine set down what remained of her dulce de leche, and Beecher took it up.
“Really good. I think Mr. Jenkins is pretty taken with our products—and possibly with you, Ellie.”
Ellie stopped in the middle of a bite. “Wha—?”
“He went on and on about your performance as Sammy. He was very impressed.”
“Tha
t’s nice.”
“Anyway, we’ll see what comes of it all. I’m supposed to be checking on some things for him, crunching some numbers. He’s got ties that might help us expand our business on the East Coast.”
“That would be great.” Katherine took out a compact and powdered her nose, then reapplied some Bordeaux-colored lipstick.
“Yeah, and he mentioned something that might be interesting—I mean, as a side job, if I move back to the States.”
“What’s that?” Ellie asked.
“Viticulture consulting. Apparently there’s a niche market for some of that. Even in New York.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“Just don’t give away any of our trade secrets.” Katherine smiled and patted him on the arm.
Beecher eyed the large bags that surrounded their table. “Were you guys done shopping?”
Ellie grinned at him. “We’ve only just begun.”
Beecher carried their shopping bags back to Ellie’s condo alone. This time, instead of going anywhere near Dot, the snoring bulldog, he set the bags down in the kitchen and slid into Ellie’s desk seat, opening her computer. Typing in his password, he deleted five or six junk e-mails before opening the one he was looking for.
Dear Bumble Beech,
I am excited about your visit. It will be good to have a little piece of home come to me, even if it is flying onward to Munich.
What do you want to do while you are here? It’s nice that you have seen all of the touristy sights already, so we don’t have to worry about them (unless you want to go back, of course). I’ve been thinking of all of the places I would like to share with you—there’s a little park near my apartment where I love to sit and read, and a bakery where I get these little pastries I think you would like. Then of course there’s my favorite bookstore, and coffee shop, and a theater that shows independent films. And I’ll have to take you to the Southern-fried restaurant. It’s such an anomaly here that it is simply a must.
Love Finds You in Branson, Missouri Page 18
