Love on the Sound

by Matthews, Jamie

  “Well? What do you think?”

  Ben paused, still caught up in his thoughts. “It was…amazing. So beautiful.” On impulse, he gave her a hug. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she smiled. “I really, really loved it.”

  She patted him on the arm. “Good. Then you’ll let me drive back, right?”

  He laughed. “You just like me for my car.”

  “Absolutely.”

  After dropping Nell off in town, Ben made his way back to On the Sound. In the driveway, he sat for a moment, just taking in the peaceful gardens, the grand house with the charming porch and windows shining in the sun. When his phone rang, he answered it absently.

  “It’s fucking fantastic.” Artie’s voice boomed in his ear. “Keep it up.”

  Ben struggled to switch gears. “You read it? Already?”

  “I was just going to skim the first page, got hooked,” Artie admitted. “Best stuff you’ve done in years, Ben.”

  “Wow.” Ben let out a sigh of relief, tension he hadn’t realized he was holding leaving his shoulders. “I’m really glad to hear it.”

  “Listen. Whatever you’re doing up there in the middle of fucking nowhere, just keep it up.” Artie’s voice softened. “Stop thinking so much about what comes next. Cut yourself a break. Just write. Live. Enjoy yourself.”

  The advice was so uncharacteristic that Ben actually pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it. “Thanks, Artie. Really.”

  “Don’t mention it. Now get back to work.”

  Artie hung up, and Ben leaped out of the car, energized. He would take Artie’s advice—he’d write and enjoy this place and this time. Tomorrow? It would be here soon enough.

  Chapter 20

  Amy shivered and ducked into the community center. November had turned frigid with a snap of Nature’s finger, and the rain lashed down in cold, hard needles. Once inside, she checked her watch—15 minutes to go before the Chamber of Commerce meeting started.

  “Hey there, stranger.”

  Amy turned back to the door and smiled when Paul walked in, his shaggy brown hair hidden under a hooded black jacket. Water beaded on the hood and dripped down to land on his nose. He carried two steaming to-go cups and handed one to Amy.

  “Your tea, madam.”

  “My savior.”

  They took their usual spots on the aisle a few rows from the front. Paul settled into his seat with a sigh, stretching his legs.

  “Haven’t seen you around much.”

  “I’ve been…busy.” Amy felt a blush creep into her cheeks.

  Paul sighed and gave her a mournful puppy dog look out of his big, brown eyes. “I’ve been discarded like yesterday’s news. All for some hot guy. Shameful.”

  Amy elbowed him. “Stop it. I asked you to join us for dinner the other night.”

  “Three’s a crowd.”

  “You need the love of a good woman. In fact, I’m going to make that my next project,” Amy said, thinking of Nell.

  “Just because you have stars in your eyes doesn’t mean the rest of us singletons need to be converted.”

  “I don’t have stars in my eyes,” Amy protested.

  “What, then?” Paul draped a friendly arm around her.

  “We’re just…having fun. He’s leaving in a few weeks, so I’ll be back to the single life soon enough.”

  Paul gave her shoulder a quick rub. “And you’re okay with that?”

  “Yep.” Amy smiled up at him. “It’s nice while it lasts. He writes in the morning while I work on the inn. I’m clearing out that attic bedroom—maybe my bank account can’t afford it, but no reason I can’t get a head start on getting it ready. In the afternoons we usually kayak or hike or sail.”

  “How domestic,” Paul commented.

  “Anyway.” Amy rolled her eyes at him. “What’s up with you?”

  “I bought a house.”

  “What? You already have a house.” A few years ago, Paul’s parents had moved to Arizona to retire and be closer to Paul’s younger brother, who had three young children. Paul had bought his childhood house from them.

  “I know. This is an investment. You know that place out on Fisherman Bay Road—the one next to Shannon’s place?”

  “Ew.” Amy made a face. “The one painted that God awful dirt brown? The one that’s literally falling down?”

  “It’s great,” Paul said with cheer. “Just need a few fixes, and it’ll be good as new.”

  “The porch has a giant hole in it. Blackberry bushes cover the entire front yard.”

  “Cosmetic,” Paul assured her. “It’s got that view of the Bay, once I cut down all those dead fir trees. I’m going to rent it out to tourists.”

  “In other words, you’re going to compete with me? So that’s why you brought me tea, to soften the blow.”

  “No, no, no. How distrustful you are.” Paul shook his head with sorrow. “Okay…maybe just a teensy bit of competition. But, one or two vacation cottages catering to families with kids aren’t going to cut into your business. Most families want separate bedrooms for the kids and a kitchen.”

  Amy frowned. “One or two? How many other houses have you bought? Good God, I leave you alone for a few weeks, and you become a real estate baron!”

  “It’s just the one, to start with.” Paul sipped his coffee. “I’m also thinking about adding a farmers market to the store. I could hold it in that vacant lot next door, if the city would let me.”

  “You’re just full of ideas, aren’t you?” Amy considered this. “I’d love to have a farmers market in town. Where’d all this come from?”

  “I’m almost 40.”

  “In five years,” Amy pointed out.

  “Still. Mom and Dad have been in Arizona for a few years now, and I decided it was time to make the store my own. Maybe bring in some extra income, too. You know.” He smiled at her. “Be a grown-up.”

  Amy pealed with laughter, loud enough that a few heads turned to look at her. “Oh please, you’re the most responsible person I know. You were grown-up at 10, I bet.”

  When he sighed, she tried to rein in her giggles and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun of you. I think it’s great that you’re figuring out what you want, that you have ambition.”

  “Good. You can show your support by serving as vice chair of the farmers market committee.”

  Before she could respond, the meeting began, and Paul grinned at her, mouthing “vice chair” even as she shook her head. Sure enough, he brought up the idea of the farmers market, and the Chamber loved it. Even less surprising, the suggestion that he serve as chairman and Amy serve as vice chair was met with huge approval—because that meant no one else in the room would be on the hook, she thought wryly.

  At the end of the meeting, she chatted with Shannon, who bubbled with excitement at the idea that Paul would renovate the cottage next to her house. When Amy realized Shannon planned on keeping the florist shop open the day before Thanksgiving to accommodate the rush for centerpieces, she insisted on inviting Shannon to join everyone at On the Sound.

  “How many are coming?” Paul asked as Amy shrugged back into her coat.

  “I don’t want to think about it,” she muttered under her breath. “Now my parents, who have persisted in thinking this is just some fantasy of mine and that I’ll come to my senses have finally, finally realized that I’m living here and decided it’d be perfect for me to host the family Thanksgiving. Never mind that I’m hosting it for the whole town. What’s a few extra seven people?”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry, it’ll be great.”

  “Easy for you to say. You aren’t doing anything.” She drilled him in the chest with her finger. “Why aren’t you doing anything? You’re in charge of the mashed potatoes.”

  “What?” Paul held up his hands, backed away. “I’m bringing the music. I’ll entertain the masses while dinner is cooking.”

  “Potatoes,” called Amy as she walked back out into
the rain. “See you…next weekend.”

  She shuddered as the wind whipped at her raincoat. God. Next weekend. It hadn’t fully sunk in that she was having…she did a quick head count. Fifteen. Fifteen people—that she knew of, because Hannah threw out invitations as if they were confetti.

  Amy decided to swing by the wine shop. Hannah assured her that most people brought drinks, but it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared. Plus, they had a lovely sparkling non-alcoholic cider pressed locally that would be good for the kids or anyone who didn’t want to drink. She checked her watch—plenty of time. Ben had asked her to attend the premiere of the kid’s play that evening, so she planned on sailing over early with him to Friday Harbor to help out.

  In the wine shop, Amy bought a few bottles of white that the owner, Les, assured her would go well with turkey. She added on the sparkling cider, when she spotted a bottle of Jack’s favorite red. Made on Orcas Island in small batches, it had a devout following amongst those who preferred a Shiraz with a bold, spicy flavor and delicate acidic balance. Kevin used to buy a bottle online and bring it to family dinners.

  On impulse, she added that to her purchase and headed back out. The rain poured down in sheets, so she dashed to her car and sat, waiting for it to subside. She scrolled through her contacts and called Jack.

  “Guess what I just bought at the wine shop?” she said by way of greeting.

  “Damn. Not my favorite?” He let out a gusty sigh. “Be a doll and ship it my way, won’t you?”

  There was something in his voice…Amy sat up a bit straighter.

  “How are you?”

  Jack sighed again. “We’re…” he trailed off. “I was going to say we’re fine, but you’re family. Let’s not pretend. It’s rough around Thanksgiving. I guess because you and Kevin always came up here. And, Jeremy is trying to reconcile with his ex.…”

  “That’s wonderful! Isn’t it?”

  “We’d love it,” Jack assured her. “Thing is…I have my doubts if it will work out. Anyway, they have to try, and she wants them to stay home over the holiday. So, it’ll just be Deb and me. We’ll get by. Deb’s tired of cooking the whole shebang anyway. We’ll just do a turkey breast and call it good.”

  He sounded sad, but determined to be cheerful, and it broke Amy’s heart.

  “Enough of that. How about you? Any more outrageous guests?”

  It took her a minute before she remembered the last time she’d talked with him, Ben’s assistant had sent the list of demands for his stay. She laughed. “Oh, Jack, let me tell you all about that.”

  She regaled him with the story, playing it up deliberately here and there just for the pleasure of drawing a few chuckles out of him.

  “That takes me back. The stories Amelia used to tell.…” Jack trailed off, cleared his throat. “I don’t know if I ever told you straight out, Amy, but I’m really proud of you and what you’ve done with On the Sound. It warms my heart that it’s still in the family and that you’ve made it come alive again. Because no matter what, you’ll always be family to Deb and me.”

  “Oh, Jack.” Amy struggled to speak past the lump of tears in her throat. “I feel the same way. In fact, please, please, won’t you come to On the Sound for Thanksgiving? I’m hosting it for a bunch of friends and people who don’t have family in town, just like Amelia used to do. My family is coming…it would mean a lot to me if you were there too.”

  Jack was quiet for a minute. “I’d like that, Amy. Really, I would. Let me talk to Deb and get back to you.”

  Amy slumped a little in her seat. She knew what that meant. They chatted a few more minutes, and she took solace in the fact that Jack sounded more cheerful by the time they hung up.

  When she got back to the inn and carefully slid the wine bottles into the wine rack, her phone beeped. There it was, the “no.” And really, who could blame them? But, she’d been close to both of them before Kevin’s death, and Deb’s distance had especially stung. Amy picked up the phone, and her mouth dropped open when she read, “We’d love to come. Is there room at the inn or should we book somewhere else?”

  She just stood, staring at the text and closed her eyes against tears of gratitude. If she could provide them with family, laughter and love, maybe, just maybe, she could help them hold their grief at bay and enjoy the holiday.

  “Of course you’re staying here!!” she texted back.

  “We’ll be there on Wednesday to help with prep,” Jack’s next message read.

  Amy smiled. She was up to 17. And couldn’t be happier.

  ***

  By late afternoon, the rain still hadn’t subsided. Amy huddled with Ben inside the ferry to Friday Harbor. He alternated between tapping his foot and drumming his fingers on his knee.

  “Are you nervous?” She expected him to scoff at the idea, that he, an Oscar nominated actor, would be nervous about a kid’s play at a tiny community theater. Instead, he closed his eyes for a brief moment then turned to face her.

  “Absolutely. I always get pre-performance jitters. It goes away once the action starts.” He jiggled his knee, blew out a breath. “That’s when I’m acting, though. This is different. What if it doesn’t go away? What if all those kids start swarming around me, peppering me with questions, and I just sink to the ground on my knees, and the curtain opens and there I am, lying prone on the stage, with little children beating me with their scripts, yelling, ‘Mr. Morrison! Mr. Morrison!’”

  Amy started to laugh and then disguised it as a cough when she realized, nope, he wasn’t joking. “How about I promise to bodily drag you off the stage if that happens?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be good.” He ran a hand through his hair, checked his watch.

  “So, how can I help once we get there?”

  “I have no idea.” His eyes met hers, just a little wild.

  “All right then.” Amy inwardly rolled her eyes. It was a kids’ play. How hard could it be?

  As it turned out, pretty hard, she realized when they walked through the doors to the theater and were met with a wall of sound that made her physically step back. Kids raced up and down the aisles, laughing and screaming, others huddled in the corner with their scripts, muttering to themselves. One lone adult, an older woman in her sixties with short silver hair that gleamed under the lights, stood on stage dabbing makeup on one boy’s very black eye, all the while chewing out another boy who was nursing his hand and sulking. Both boys still shot looks of death at one another.

  “Mr. Morrison!”

  Sure enough, it was almost as Ben had described it. Kids from all areas of the theater rushed to him as if drawn by puppet strings. They clambered around him, questions overlapping with questions, describing the fight between the two boys, demanding help with costumes, lines, etc. Two of the smallest children attached themselves to Ben’s legs, and he began to drag them down to the stage step by step, all the while bellowing in mock protest, in what was clearly some sort of routine. The kids screamed with laughter. Amy felt a headache begin to form between her eyes.

  But, when Ben reached the front, he lifted each of the kids clinging to him up onto the stage and then jumped up himself. He let out a piercing whistle, and the kids fell silent. Immediately. Amy watched, impressed, as he took total and complete charge, issuing orders off rapid fire. A small bunch of kids dispersed to the corner of the stage, sitting in a circle to read lines. Another group marched off to the dressing room for costumes, hair and makeup. The third group began dragging scenery onto the stage, while Ben bent down between the two kids and not only diffused the staring contest death match but convinced them to shake hands, although they did so with great reluctance.

  He strode over to where Amy still stood, taking it all in. “Think you can help with the costumes, maybe even get a head start on makeup? One of the kid’s moms was supposed to do that, but she’s down with the stomach flu. There are pictures of each kid fully made up from dress rehearsal in the dressing room.”

  “I’ll give it a shot.�
� She reached up on tiptoe and kissed him. While it was brief, the kids left on stage still yelled out, “Oooooooh.” Amy just smiled. “I guess I won’t have to drag you off stage after all.”

  He wiped his brow, looking a bit dazed. “Not yet.”

  “You’re doing great.”

  She dashed off stage and spent the next hour helping hyperactive and nervous kids into their costumes, then began applying makeup. The older woman arrived after a bit—thank God—and introduced herself as Lindsey. She examined the makeup Amy had done and pronounced it much better than what she could have done herself. While not the total chaos she’d walked into earlier, the theater still buzzed with energy and nerves, especially when the curtains swung shut. Amy put the finishing touches on the last few kids and joined Lindsey in urging them to be quiet as, out in the audience, people began streaming in.

  “Go ahead and grab a seat,” Ben said, giving her a quick one-armed hug. “You were a life saver.”

  “Can I watch from backstage?” Amy asked. “I won’t get in the way. It’s cool to see it all from this side of the curtain.”

  “Sure. Here.” He led her to a spot behind a side curtain where she had a view of the action but would be hidden from the audience.

  Amy watched as Ben gathered the cast in a circle on stage. His voiced pitched low so as not to reach the audience, he gave them all a quick pep talk, reminded them of key scene transitions and then ran around the circle, giving them all goofy high fives. The kids, nerves calmed and all smiles now, got into their places. The curtain went up.

  Over the next hour, Amy watched, completely fascinated. Ben had described some of the principal cast members, but she was still surprised at the depth of talent and commitment. There had to be no more than 50 people in the audience, but the kids poured their hearts into the performance. Two proud parents in the front row sat with their hands gripped together the entire play, and Amy noticed the woman brushing away tears more than once. And, Ben had been right on in his assessment of Nathan—far and away the star of the show.