Saving Grace (Madison Falls)

by Lesley Ann McDaniel

  Ruby looked uncertain and jumped in a beat ahead of Myra, who made no effort to catch up. Grace sat forward, leaning on the seat in front of her. This girl was actually pretty good. She did her best to stay on pitch, and was mostly successful, no thanks to poor Myra, whose playing only fell further from the mark as the piece progressed. The dear woman didn’t seem to realize it, judging from the smile which was a constant companion to her sour notes.

  Ruby reached the end of the song, albeit a half step shy of Mr. Sullivan’s intended destination. Sophia emitted an audible jeer and Ruby’s pleased expression melted like wax. Grace wanted to hiss. The little diva.

  With a jolt, Grace glanced at her watch. Casting one last look at the back of Devon’s handsome head, she stood and eased out of the theatre.

  Anxious to return to her bland white sanctuary before dark, she stepped out into the early evening, taking a careful look up and down the street.

  She’d seen enough to gauge the artistic level in this town, but all wasn’t lost. At least it was a job. A job where she could hopefully blend in and avoid being asked any personal questions.

  Chapter 9

  Grace took a peek out the kitchen window at the vibrant blue backdrop. No wonder they called this place ‘Big Sky Country.’ She lifted her mug of Nescafé, breathing in the promise of a new day as she enjoyed her morning swig of instant caffeinated bliss.

  This had been her first morning since coming here that she hadn’t been roused by a nightmare. Instead, she’d awoken with a pleasing sense of purpose, and a Gilbert and Sullivan tune in her head.

  Now, leaning on the counter, she peered through the pane. She hadn’t even bothered to look at her backyard until now. Talk about never stopping to smell the roses. Speaking of which, was that a rosebush by the fence? It was beautiful. Too bad she knew less about gardening than she did about cooking.

  She caught herself in a sigh as she looked past her back fence and the neighbor’s yard beyond. The mountains here were nothing short of majestic. The web site had mentioned a view, but that had been of no consequence to her at the time. Now she drank it in.

  Her spirits lifted at the thought of going to work later that evening. It was just a silly little community theatre play, but Nancy was counting on her to do her part to make it run smoothly. That felt good.

  Sipping her coffee, she walked from the kitchen to the sun porch. She stopped. Why hadn’t she realized that this was an actual room? She had assumed it was just a back porch and was delighted to see an area almost the size of her bedroom. Windows comprised the upper half of three of its walls, and it even had a skylight, obviously a recent update. She went back into the kitchen, grabbed the camp chair she’d picked up the day before at the surplus store, and set it next to the glass.

  As she lifted her mug to her lips, a knock at the front door shattered her serenity. She froze, listening in vain for Lucy’s ‘yoo hoo.’ Suddenly her translucent surroundings magnified her vulnerability. If someone rounded the corner from the side of the house, they would see her, and—

  A second knock came, even louder than the first. Shaking, she looked down at her watch. Nine a.m. Early, but not by small town standards. Who could it be?

  She crept back into the kitchen, setting her mug on the counter. Treading softly through the dining room, she lamented her door’s lack of a peephole. Didn’t people in this town believe in monitoring their visitors?

  She tiptoed into the living room and snuck a quick peak from between the front blinds. She balked. What was he doing here?

  Her pulse commenced running a marathon. He was no doubt harmless, but she didn’t want to encourage him. Sort of like that stray dog.

  “Who is it?” She tried not to sound too welcoming.

  “It’s Sam, from the hardware store.”

  She could either play twenty questions or just open the door, so she chose the less time consuming.

  Even as the door inched open, she spoke. “Yes?”

  He wore a half-smile and the same Levis as the two days previous. Today’s work-shirt was green, so that, at least, had changed. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I wanted to get to you before your problem got any worse.”

  Her throat tightened. What did he know about her problem? “I…I don’t…”

  Slowly, he pulled a crowbar from behind his back and raised it to shoulder level.

  Fear seized her. Her gut told her to slam the door but her arms felt paralyzed.

  A grin tugged at his lips. “I could pull up those tiles for you, if you’d like.”

  She let out a long breath and put her hand to the hollow of her throat. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll just get my wallet. How much?” She stepped inside, trying to tame her quaking limbs as she reached for her purse.

  “The bar’s ten.” He paused. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

  She turned to see him looking around her unadorned abode with a slight smirk on his undeniably handsome face. “Uh…thanks.”

  “That adds a nice touch.” He nodded toward the water globe still doing its solo show on the mantel.

  “Yes well, I’m a minimalist.” She flicked a ten toward him.

  He took it, handing her the crowbar. “Apparently.”

  Flushed with an awkward irritation, she dug through the change in her wallet. “And the tax?”

  “No sales tax.” His face lifted in a disarming grin. “You’re in Montana, ma’am.”

  She grimaced, returning her attention to her purse. “Plus the six for the globe.”

  “Consider that a housewarming gift. Doesn’t look like you’ve gotten too many.”

  Jerk. “I don’t exactly have a lot of friends in the area.”

  “Too bad. That’ll change.” His mouth curved up slightly as he slipped the ten into his shirt pocket.

  She frowned. Why would he assume she’d want to get to know anybody around here? Even the highly cultured, educated people who populated her world failed to capture her extended interest. What made him think that this town could produce anyone worthy of the effort?

  Angling a glimpse over her shoulder, he raised a brow. “Sure you don’t want me to have a look?”

  She reeled in her focus. “A look?”

  He lifted a hand in the direction of the kitchen. “At your floor. You know, since I’m here.”

  She shook her head quickly. “No. It doesn’t really matter. I won’t be staying that long anyway.”

  He slanted her an inquisitive look.

  Why had she said that? His presence on her porch was off-putting, and she felt a sudden need for him to leave.

  Tipping his head back, he made a smacking noise with his lower lip and upper teeth. “Not too taken with our little town, huh?” His eyes lowered onto her face. They seemed an even darker grade of chocolate than the other day. “Maybe that’ll change too.”

  He turned, leaving her to stare at his departing back. She leaned against the doorjamb as he got into a dinged-up dirty blue pickup truck that sat in front of her house.

  She bristled. Maybe that’ll change. What was that supposed to mean?

  Chapter 10

  “Don’t you have any Fig Newtons?”

  The determined expression on the ruddy face of the man in front of her made Grace highly value the counter space between them.

  “No, I—”

  “What about ice?”

  Flustered, Grace shook her head. Why were people shouting at her like she was deaf? A sea of bobbing heads and fists waving cash crashed against her little window. How could this miniature theatre hold so many people, and why were they all so ravenous?

  “I’m sorry, I’m out of ones.” Grace pushed a stray hair from her eyes and plopped a fistful of quarters into an outstretched hand. She silently thanked whoever had voted down a state sales tax. If she had to make change for fifty people in fifteen minutes, at least it was with round numbers.

  “I wanted chocolate cream, not chocolate chip.”

  A dour woman slid t
he offending cookie back toward Grace, who suppressed a shriek of frustration.

  “I’m sorry ma’am, I—”

  The end-of-intermission chime felt like a life preserver. The disgruntled cookie woman turned away with a sneer and the flow of patrons at last ebbed. Grace leaned her elbows on the counter, covering her face with her hands. She’d survived, but she couldn’t possibly subject herself to this again.

  “How did it go?”

  Grace jumped at the sound of Nancy’s pert voice. The woman had appeared at the concession window like a bird flitting to a tree branch.

  “How do people do this?” Grace took a step back, looking around at the carnage she’d created in her quest to locate the last diet soda.

  “You’ll get used to it. It’s a mad house at intermission and then you stock up for tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow.” Agitation flooded Grace’s throat. “I really don’t think I—”

  Nancy put up her index finger and touched the other hand to her headset. She pressed the button that was clipped to her belt and spoke to whoever was on the other end.

  Grace let out a slow, even breath. Why had she taken this job? She was accustomed to being the one served. How could she accept such a severe demotion?

  Gathering her thoughts, she scanned the room. Her eye landed on the painting between the windows. It had calmed her that first day. Maybe it would help now. She focused on it with a meditative breath.

  Desperation rose in her chest and she took it as a sign. She was meant to be the one viewed from a distance through an opera glass, not the girl in the lobby counting out change. She had to tell Nancy this job was not for her.

  Nancy flipped the voice tube of her headset to her forehead, shifting her attention back to Grace.

  Grace reined in her courage. “Nancy, I really can’t—”

  “I can’t thank you enough for being such a life saver. Everybody would have been so disappointed if we hadn’t been able to open the stand.”

  “Oh. Well, I—”

  “We can’t afford to disappoint a single audience member. Especially not now.”

  Grace corked her intended resignation with a strained smile. Nancy grinned, then charged off to her next important duty.

  A lump the size of her fist sat in Grace’s throat as she scanned the crumb-and-coin strewn counter. This was terrible.

  Grabbing a damp bar towel, she recounted the events of the past fifteen minutes. It had been chaos. Surely there was someone in this town who could do a better job than she had. It was only fair that she free it up for them.

  A few minutes later, Grace had the stand shipshape. With renewed determination, she strode resolutely toward Nancy’s office.

  “Nancy, I…” She stopped in the doorway of the surprisingly tiny space.

  Nancy stood behind a desk so large it appeared that the room must have been built around it. Her face was as white as the paper she clutched in both hands.

  “I’m sorry.” Grace reversed her forward momentum, alarmed by the woman’s stricken look. “I can come back.”

  “It’s unbelievable. That’s what it is,” Nancy snapped, waving the sheet of paper like she was swatting at an insect.

  Grace hesitated. Nancy clearly expected her to provide a sounding board. “Is something wrong?”

  Nancy’s cheeks turned fiery as she flicked the paper with her fingers. “I thought this was a joke, but now this guy has his lawyer in on it.”

  Grace took a slight step backward, not wanting to get involved. She had enough problems of her own.

  Nancy thrust the paper in Grace’s direction, apparently assuming she’d be anxious to read it for herself. Grace held a beat before giving in to common courtesy and stepping fully into the room to take the offending letter. She scanned it as Nancy continued.

  “This guy Langley thinks he’s going to buy this building and the one next door, and our parking lot. He’s just about got the owner talked into it. I can’t believe it. What is Mr. R. thinking?”

  Grace examined the legalese. “So he wants to sell. Is that really so bad?”

  Nancy’s face grew fierce. “It’s bad if he sells to Langley. That creep wants to tear down the theatre so he can build a big ugly casino. Can you believe it? He says he wants to turn Madison Falls into the Las Vegas of the North.”

  “Oh.” This was terrible. If Madison Falls became a trendy tourist destination, it wouldn’t be much of a hiding place. “You mean the theatre might not be here much longer?”

  Nancy’s eyes welled and her voice caught as she spoke. “I know it doesn’t bring in the crowds like it used to, but it’s such a part of this town. How could anyone tear it down?”

  Grace wanted to ask if they’d considered doing better shows. She chose her words carefully. “So, if Pirates is profitable, Mr. R. might reconsider?”

  Nancy rolled her eyes in an arch as if considering the notion. “That would be a start, I guess. He knows no one would want that casino. Besides, it’s got to make him sad to think about losing this building. It’s been in his family for generations.”

  Grace weighed her words. “You could resuscitate the place, but it needs a facelift. It’s pretty old—”

  “Built in 1882. Same year the railroad came through.” Nancy’s face fell in defeat. “We can’t afford to do anything to it. We’re running with no profit margin as it is.”

  Grace’s mind started to click. “Well, maybe he could find another buyer. Someone who wants to keep it going as a theatre.”

  Nancy shook her head. “That’s no good. He’s already had other offers. Trouble is, the highest was only two hundred thousand.”

  Grace cringed. That was low. About the cost of a storage unit back home. “And Langley?”

  “He offered a million, give or take.”

  “A million?”

  “Yeah. Give or take.”

  “Wow,” Grace said. “That’s quite a difference.”

  “I’ll say. Nobody else is going to offer that much for these poor old buildings. I mean, look around. Nothing’s up to code. The plumbing, the wiring. We’re just lucky we haven’t had a fire in all these years. Mr. R. can’t afford to fix it.” Nancy folded into her chair, burying her face in both hands.

  Grace’s heart fluttered in sympathetic vibration to Nancy’s grief. “Isn’t there some sort of historical designation—”

  “We’ve tried that route.” Nancy straightened, her arms flourishing in front of her like a novice maestro. “Apparently Montana has an overabundance of history. If the price is right, people will sell their souls.”

  A tremor shot across Grace’s back. It was true. She’d learned that from Kirk.

  Nancy covered her face again and Grace tried to think of something she could say to offer hope. “I’m…um…sure it will work out for the best.”

  Nancy looked up, her eyes rimmed with red, and her face drawn with pain. She held a beat before speaking, her voice now barely above a whisper. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  Grace’s chest tightened at the realization that this building meant more to Nancy than just a job.

  Aggrieved silence hung in the air between them. Poor Nancy. Grace knew how it felt to have the one thing that meant the most to you ripped from your grasp. If only she could fix this for her. Take away that awful ache that had been her own constant companion for too long. Her eyes pooled with despair. She wanted to help, but the best she could do was to hold off on giving Nancy another dose of bad news. The resignation could wait.

  “Look, I’m sure this will work itself out.” Grace took a step back, her familiar anguish threatening to take center stage. She needed to get away before Nancy questioned it.

  Nancy smiled sadly. “Thanks again for saving the day.”

  Offering a feeble smile, Grace turned to go.

  “Oh, and Grace?”

  She turned again.

  Nancy looked drained. “Nobody really knows about this yet. I’d appreciate it if you kept it under your
hat.”

  Choking back her looming emotional detonation, Grace nodded agreement.

  She took the few steps down the hallway to where it opened to the lobby. The muffled bellowing of the performance in the next room assured her of momentary privacy. Pausing to collect her emotions before continuing on outside, she lowered her face into her hands.

  “Don’t tell me they’ve reduced you to tears on your first night.”

  Grace snapped to attention at the velvety smooth male voice. The blood drained from her face as she looked into the silver-blue eyes of Devon Sinclair.

  He stood just a few feet from her, leaning back slightly and peering around the corner by the box office. A genial smile spread over his face. “I didn’t mean to alarm you.” He took a step toward her, hand outstretched. “I’m Devon.”

  “Grace.” She accepted his firm grasp, embarrassed that her emotions were so transparent. “I was just….” It was my first night manning the concession stand, and—”

  He raised his palm. “I completely understand. I once did a stint at Streebecks Coffee.”

  She spurted out a laugh, her despair instantly defused. “You get it then.” Suddenly in no hurry to leave, she folded her hands behind her. “So, how’s the casting coming along?”

  “Actually,” he took a step back and pointed around the corner. “I just dropped in to post this.”

  She moved beside him and looked at the bulletin board next to the box office window. “Ah, the cast list.”

  His face shone with the satisfaction that comes with the completion of an important task. “Yes, thank goodness. This one was a challenge.”

  “Uh huh.” She studied the page. “I can see why.”

  “You should be flattered to be the first to see it.” His tone was teasing.

  She harrumphed. “You’re casting Sophia as Mabel? Why?” She hadn’t intended to sound so harsh, but if they wanted a successful show, it had to start with a capable cast.

  His voice flickered confusion. “Why not?”

  She lifted a shoulder as her mouth formed her well-considered argument. “It’s just that…”