The Last Chance Matinee

by Mariah Stewart

“There are.” Cara pulled a stack from the cabinet and quickly went through them. “None with your mom’s name on them, though.”

  “How ’bout we take them with us.” Des looked to Cara.

  “Maybe just your mother’s,” Cara said. “This stuff is really dusty, and I’d rather get things cleaned off before we drag them into Barney’s beautiful home.”

  “You have a point.” Des stared at the poster on the desk. “Maybe we can clean this one up in the car before we get to the house.”

  “I’m sure we can find something to dust it off with,” Cara told her.

  Seeming to lose interest, Allie drifted back into the hall. When Cara joined her, she found Allie running her hands over the walls.

  “What are you doing?” Cara asked.

  “The walls are plaster, but I don’t see or feel any areas where it’s peeling. Which is a good thing, because that means the wall hasn’t been damp. Which bodes well for the roof,” Allie said. “At least in this section, it doesn’t appear there’s been any water damage.”

  “Which is almost a miracle, when you think about it.” Cara, too, ran her hand over the wall. “That’s just this section, though, and it’s a big theater. Who knows what else we’ll find?”

  At that moment, something ran across Cara’s foot. She screamed and took off for the steps.

  “Cara!” Des called. “What happened?”

  “Something . . . oh God, something big and furry! Right over my foot! Ugh!” She kept running, the light still in her hands.

  “Oh, gross,” Allie yelled, and ran up the steps behind Cara.

  “Don’t you dare leave me down here alone!” Des dropped the poster onto the desk and followed them.

  The three women ran straight through the lobby and right into the hulking figure blocking the doorway to their escape. Visible in the daylight through the open door, the man wore a denim jacket over a dark green tee and well-faded jeans; a red Philadelphia Phillies baseball cap sat backward over his blond hair.

  “Hey, Jersey.” He stepped forward with an outstretched hand and, to Cara, a painfully familiar grin. “Good to see you again.”

  “Of course it would be you,” Cara murmured, and turned off her flashlight.

  He laughed out loud good-naturedly, his hand still aimed at hers. Reluctantly, she took it.

  “You know each other?” Des joined them under the canopy of the marquee. “When did you have time to meet anyone?”

  “We met last night.” Cara added, “Briefly.”

  “But we didn’t meet properly. Joe Domanski.”

  “Cara McCann.” She tugged her hand from his grip. “So you’re Barney’s friend’s grandson.”

  “Yup. Your aunt called this morning and asked me to stop by and take a look at the old place, see if we could figure out what it would take to fix it up. I have to admit I’ve always wanted to see what’s inside. Sorry to be a little late,” he added. “I had to pick up some supplies for a job I’m working on.”

  He turned to Des and Allie and asked, “So, are you all from Jersey, too?”

  “You think I look like I’m from New Jersey?” Allie frowned.

  “Montana, by way of Los Angeles,” Des said. “Allie’s from California.”

  “Why would you even ask if I’m from New Jersey?” Allie still appeared offended.

  “Because he thinks he’s funny, apparently,” Cara said.

  “So what was all the screaming about?” he asked.

  “You heard that all the way out here?” Cara grimaced.

  He nodded. “What happened in there?”

  “A mouse—” Des began but Cara cut her off.

  “A rat ran across my foot. It was huge,” Cara told him.

  He held his hand apart by about a foot. “ ’Bout this big?”

  “Bigger.” Cara moved his hands apart.

  “I should have expected this.” He shook his head slowly, a grim look on his face.

  “What? You should have expected what?” Cara asked warily.

  “You probably have a big ol’ infestation of ’em.” He looked at the building. “You’re going to need an exterminator who has experience getting rid of them. Not too many have been successful in the past, but maybe you’ll get lucky. I bet there are generations of ’em here.”

  “What?” Cara asked. “Generations of what?”

  “Pocono Raceway rats.” His expression was sober, but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away.

  “I think the only rat here is you.” Cara’s eyes narrowed. She wanted to smack him. “You made that all up. I know about the Pocono Raceway. The Pocono Five Hundred, whatever they call that race.”

  Joe laughed.

  “I thought maybe the Phantom of the Opera was chasing you, the way you were screaming and came running out.”

  “You’re not funny, Joe.”

  “Hey, if you lose it like that over a little ol’ rat, you might want to rethink what you’re doing here.”

  “What did Barney tell you?” Cara still felt like punching the guy, but he’d had his little laugh. Now it was time to get to work. She could be professional even if he was determined to act like a juvenile.

  “She said that her three nieces had inherited the theater from their father and they were here in Hidden Falls to restore it,” he said. “And that since none of you have construction experience, you needed someone to oversee the operation, and she thought maybe that someone could be me.”

  “Why you?” Des asked.

  “I guess because she’s known me all my life and knows she can trust me and that I’m one hell of a contractor.” Joe looked Cara in the eye and added, “I’m flattered she’s willing to trust me with her family legacy.”

  “Perhaps she isn’t aware that you have an eighth-grade sense of humor,” Cara said.

  “She probably assumes I’ve outgrown it.”

  “It’s not like Barney to miss something so obvious,” Cara replied.

  They stared at each other for about ten seconds.

  “So, there are a couple of issues that are immediately apparent.” Cara went into business mode. “Obviously, we’ll need an exterminator and an electrician.”

  “I imagine the electricity was cut a long time ago. But we can get that turned back on for you,” he said.

  “I can call the power company myself. I’m just going to need to know when it’s safe to do that. What we need from you is the name of a good electrician to make sure the wiring is good, that sort of thing.”

  “Mack Williams,” Joe replied. “I can give him a call if you like, see when he can take a look. He’s the best around. I use him on all my jobs.”

  “Good. Please ask him if he could swing by.” Cara had already decided to run the name past Barney, but if Joe used him, given all the faith Barney had in him, Mack Williams was probably the right choice.

  “Do you have time to let me take a quick look inside?” Joe was gazing past the three women into the building.

  “Sure.” She hoisted her big flashlight.

  “I have a bigger light in my truck. Give me a minute and I’ll get it.”

  All three women watched him walk to the truck.

  “He is hot,” Des said under her breath. “Great rear view.”

  “He’s a jerk,” Cara said.

  “Not my type, but yeah, great buns. All in all, I have to say he’s put together quite nicely.” Allie turned to Cara. “What makes him a jerk?”

  “It’s a long story,” Cara replied.

  “I can’t wait to hear it.” Des poked her between the shoulder blades.

  Joe jogged back and Cara led them into the building. They gave him the tour they’d already taken.

  “There’s really a lot to do here. I mean, painting, carpets, lights, ceiling, seating, and that’s just scratching the surface.” Joe took off his baseball cap, smoothed the hair off his face, and put the cap back on. “You sure you want to take this on?”

  “As if we have a choice,” Allie said dryly.

>   Cara and Des ignored her. “Yes,” they both replied.

  “Well, you’re right to get the electricity up and running first thing,” Joe said. “Once we have light, we can evaluate the general condition of the building and see what it’s going to take to not only repair it but bring it up to code. Then there are the mechanics—beside the electric, there’s plumbing, HVAC—though I’m pretty sure the AC part is academic. The roof, the foundation, and the structural integrity of the building need to be assessed by an engineer.”

  “The sooner we get going on this the better,” Cara said as they returned to the lobby.

  Joe took a 360 look around and whistled softly. “This is going to be a major project, no doubt about that. But oh, mama, when it’s done . . .” He shook his head, contemplating the end result. “It’s gonna be something else.”

  “At least we agree on that,” Cara said.

  “I’ll bet we’d agree on a lot of things.”

  “You’d probably lose that one. Back to business, sir.”

  “Right. Just so you know, this isn’t going to happen overnight. No way right now to say how long, though. I won’t be able to give you a ballpark number for the overall renovation until we can get the mechanics worked out. After we get the building secured, then we can look at the details—the painting, the carpet, the light fixtures, that sort of thing. Like I said, it’s not going to happen overnight.”

  “Can you give us estimates as you go along?” Des paused in her note taking. “You know, after the electrician is finished, then maybe someone to look at the roof, then the foundation. Whatever order you think, but ask them to prepare their estimates and give them to us as you get them?”

  “I’ll ask each of the contractors to do that, sure.”

  “We’d appreciate it.” Des turned to Cara and Allie. “We’re going to have to budget the expenses. If we can keep a running tally, we’ll be better able to do that.”

  “Agreed.” Cara nodded.

  “Can you call your electrician today and get back to me?” Cara headed toward the front door, following her beam of light. “And I guess we need to agree on what role you’ll play. Barney thought maybe you could be the point person for the renovation. Help us find the subs, make sure they’re all doing what they’re supposed to be doing, not overcharging us.”

  “Like a project manager?” he asked.

  “I guess that’s what you call it.” Cara thought for a moment. Pete could probably work up a contract for them. “And there should be a contract between you and us. You should think about what you want—money-wise—for the job. Assuming you want to work on this with us.”

  “I wouldn’t miss this opportunity. The Sugarhouse is legendary. Every contractor around is going to want to be part of this.” Joe smiled. “And besides, if Barney wants me, I’m all in.”

  They walked back into the gray day, and Cara put her bag down on the ground and closed the door.

  “Des, do you still have the key?” she asked.

  “Right here.” Des took the key from her pocket and relocked the door.

  “Wouldn’t there have been a ticket booth?” Allie was saying. “Every theater I’ve ever seen had a ticket booth outside, before you go into the lobby.”

  “I’m sure there would’ve been,” Joe agreed. “It would’ve been somewhere right around here, I’m guessing.”

  “Maybe it was taken inside and put downstairs or somewhere in the back of the house,” Allie suggested. “How ’bout we look for it next time? I’ve had enough darkness and dust for one morning, and I’m exhausted just thinking about everything that has to be done here.”

  “We didn’t get to see the balcony,” Des reminded her.

  “So next time we’ll find the stairway that leads up,” Allie said. “I’m done for the day, and apparently Cara is, too, since she’s putting the board back up.”

  Joe stood with his hands on his hips, watching Cara replace the sheet of plywood over the door.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m going to put this back so the stained glass doesn’t get vandalized and so that no one gets into the theater,” she said without turning around. She leaned down and took the screwdriver from her bag, then proceeded to retrieve the screws from her pocket. She could feel Joe’s eyes on her as she replaced the first screw.

  “Hold up there,” he told her. “I have a better idea.”

  Joe went to his truck and opened the cab door. Moments later, he returned.

  “Here you go.” He held up the item he’d brought with him. “Battery screw gun.”

  He turned it on and went to work replacing the remaining screws as Cara passed them to him. In less than five minutes, the plywood was back in place.

  “Bet you wish you had one of these babies.” He held the screw gun up to Cara.

  “It does seem pretty efficient.”

  “I’d be happy to teach you how to use it sometime.” He put his head down and whispered, “If you promise not to call me a jerk again.”

  “I . . .” Cara grimaced. Crap.

  “Most people get to know me before they call me a jerk.” He smiled, then resumed his normal speaking voice so Des and Allie could hear. “I’ve left my crew alone long enough this morning, so I need to get moving.”

  “Thanks for stopping by.” Cara started to turn to walk toward the curb, and her car.

  “Cara, what’s your number? So I can call you about the electrician.” Joe held his phone in his hand.

  “You already have Barney’s number, right?”

  “Just in case I can’t get her.” He stood with the phone in his hand, waiting.

  She gave him her cell number and watched him tap it into his phone.

  “Thanks.” He put the phone back into his pocket and started toward his truck. “Des, Allie—nice meeting you both. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. Cara, I’ll be in touch.”

  “I bet he will be,” Des teased after Joe had driven away.

  Cara shrugged. “He wants the work, and I told him to get back to me.”

  “He could have asked for my number, or Allie’s,” Des persisted. “I bet you hear from him and it won’t have anything to do with his fancy tools.”

  “Ah, there you are.” Barney, dressed in dark jeans and a dark blue sweater under a tan corduroy jacket, came into the plant-filled conservatory where Des and Allie had been admiring the flowers, her handbag in one hand and a spray bottle filled with water in the other. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying my little oasis.”

  “Barney, I’ve seen pictures of conservatories but I’ve never been in one.” Des looked around the room at the many plants her aunt nurtured. “It’s like a tropical paradise in here. I’ve never seen so many orchids in one place. They’re spectacular. Which one is Lacy again?”

  Barney had given her nieces the rest of the house tour earlier that morning, and Des had been totally captivated not only by the conservatory and its many plants, but by the fact that Barney had named many of her leafy friends.

  “Lacy is that lovely cymbidium there on the end table. She’s seven years old now, and still pumping out flowers, bless her. Which reminds me: Would one of you mist the ferns for me so I’m not late? I’m having lunch with some of the girls from bunco at the Good Bye. Anyone want to come along, meet some of the locals?”

  “What’s the Good Bye?” Des asked. “And I’ll mist the plants for you.”

  “The Green Briar Café. Locals call it the Good Bye.” Barney handed the spray bottle to Des, who placed it on a nearby table. “Story is that traditionally, that’s where you’d go to break up with your significant other.”

  “So if your boyfriend said, ‘I’ll meet you at the café for dinner,’ you knew you were being dumped?” Allie raised an eyebrow.

  “So they say.” Barney nodded.

  “Then why would you go?” Allie made a face.

  Barney laughed. “Some might not. Some might, just to see what the excuse is.”

&nb
sp; “Well, having been dumped myself, I think I’d pass.” A mug of coffee in hand, Cara came in and sat in one of the white wicker chairs. “You look nice, Barney.”

  “Thanks. I do clean up every now and then. After having had to dress up every day for twenty years, I like to be casual. Of course, some days I’m more casual than others, but I’ve earned that right.”

  “You certainly have,” Des agreed.

  “There’s still chicken soup in the fridge, and salad fixings. Maybe even a few of Cara’s brownies left for you girls for lunch. And while you’re all sitting here, you might want to think about turning in those rental cars. I have a car that you can drive when I’m not using it, so keeping the rentals is a waste of money. Just my opinion, of course. I have my cell with me if you think of anything you need from downtown.”

  “Thanks, Barney,” the three yelled in chorus after her.

  “If you’re worried about turning in your rentals and not having a way around, I have my car here. You’re welcome to use it anytime,” Cara offered.

  “Thanks. I might do that. Barney’s right—why waste money on a rental?” Des said thoughtfully.

  “I’ll leave my keys on the wall with Barney’s. Just don’t bring it back with the tank empty so that I don’t have to deal with the gas-pumping thing again,” Cara said.

  “What’s the big deal about pumping gas?” Allie asked.

  “I don’t know how to pump gas. In New Jersey, only the attendants can do that. It’s the law. So I never learned.”

  “Seriously?” Allie snorted. “Even I know how to pump gas.”

  “Well, then, maybe you can teach me.” Cara took a sip of coffee, then put the mug down and related the story of how she’d met Joe Domanski the night before.

  The cushion on the chaise was thick and comfy and Des settled into it. “Either of us would be happy to teach you, Cara. It’s really easy.”

  “Thanks. It doesn’t look that hard, but I felt like the dumbest person on the planet last night.”

  “So we’ll find a gas station out of town where you can practice. Just in case Joe is around.”

  “I appreciate it, Des. Of course, we can always walk into town and back. It isn’t that far,” Cara pointed out. “We can save some money and get exercise at the same time. Win-win.”