Romance Me (Boxed Set)

by Susan Hatler

  The Modern Playwrights Festival not only provided an excellent opportunity for local and unknown actors, directors, and playwrights, but also brought in a sizable portion of city revenues due to a high percentage of tourists making the festival their travel destination. Without an experienced and well-known director at the helm, the festival could easily sink into disrepute.

  Although the festival had a national reputation, for some reason only idiots or the inexperienced had been responding to the open position. So far, no one with the caliber required had applied for the position, and time was running out. The current director had made it clear that she’d be gone by the end of summer.

  Sadie rummaged in her desk drawer and found two boxes of #2 wood pencils, all honed to a sharp point. After using the lever to lower her captain’s chair, she tipped it back as far as it would allow and glared at the soundboard ceiling. She grabbed a pencil, closed one eye, took aim, and let the pencil fly.

  Thunk.

  With a smile of satisfaction, she grabbed more pencils and began rhythmically flinging them into the ceiling.

  The sound of her door opening sent her scrambling to an upright position. She swept the remaining pencils from her desk into a drawer.

  “Am I interrupting?” Lia stood in the doorway, picnic hamper in hand.

  Sadie let out a sigh and rubbed the back of her neck. “No, but I’ll warn you, I’m in a funk. Here, have a seat, and help jolt me out of my misery.” She gestured to the guest club chair in front of her desk.

  Lia placed the hamper on the desk, then sat down. One of the pencils came loose, fell on her head, and ended its journey with a clatter as it hit the scarred vinyl floor. She picked it up and shot Sadie a quizzical look.

  Sadie looked back, all innocence.

  Eyes narrowing, Lia placed the pencil on her desk. “You didn’t just toss that at me, did you?”

  Sadie shook her head and raised her eyes to the ceiling, motioning with her head to look up.

  At the sight of a dozen pencils dangling precariously from the ceiling tiles, Lia stood up and moved her chair several feet away from the overhead bulls-eye.

  “No wonder you’re in a bad mood—you’ve been working way too hard.”

  Sadie tried to look contrite, but broke out in a grin anyway. When another pencil dropped out of the ceiling and landed loudly on her desk, Sadie and Lia burst out laughing at the sight of it rolling its way across the teak desk.

  “Looks like another one’s making a break for it,” Lia said, giggling.

  Sadie watched the pencil fall to the floor and roll into a corner. The laughter leached from her. “Wish I could escape like that pencil,” she muttered.

  “How’s your director search going? Any luck so far?”

  Sadie shook her head. “None. I can’t find anyone I like to fill the position. Lots of people have responded, but none with the right experience.” She rummaged around the wicker basket Lia had brought and started pulling out goodies. The scent of home-baked chocolate chip cookies caught her attention, but Lia slapped her hand when she tried to pull out the treats.

  “We need a big name to draw in the season ticket holders,” Sadie admitted. “Those people have high standards, and I can’t afford to give them less than what they’re used to in terms of talent.”

  Thwarted in her cookie quest, Sadie watched as Lia brought out the healthier part of lunch. Lia took a slice of ciabatta bread and spread brie across the rough surface. After handing it to a hungry Sadie, she made one for herself and took a large bite.

  “What about calling Ethan?” Lia asked around a mouthful of bread and cheese.

  Sadie whipped her head up. She paused in mid-bite, her stomach clenching tight. Since the night of the bachelor auction four weeks before, she and Ethan had emailed almost as often as they had before their night—and morning—of amazing sex. At first, the emails had been tenuous, not even hinting at that night. Now, a month later, the emails were filled with the same banter as before, but still, that night was never mentioned.

  She swallowed. “Call Ethan? To see if he knows someone who would like the position, you mean?”

  Lia shook her head, her mouth too full to continue. Sadie waited with impatience. Chew faster, she thought.

  “No, not for a referral,” Lia finally said. “For the job.”

  Sadie felt her stomach contract and her mouth go dry. Ethan as the festival’s new Artistic Director? Living here, in Meadowview, interacting with her every day? She took time to form the words stuck in the back of her throat. “I thought he was busy becoming famous directing Broadway plays.”

  “He wants to come home,” Lia said. “Ever since he learned about how badly Vance treated me, he’s wanted to move back. He says he’s homesick, but I think it’s just a cover for him feeling guilty and wanting to be close. He thinks he can prevent me from being hurt again.” She took another bite. “That’s not necessary—I’m doing great on my own, but it would be great to have him here.”

  “Do you really think he’d be satisfied leaving New York?” Sadie’s throat tightened as she asked the question.

  “Definitely. His agent is already looking for a West Coast position for him. The play he’s currently directing finishes its run in a few weeks, and he’s open after that. He’s tired of New York. He wants to come home.”

  Sadie stared out the window, her brow furrowed. How would she feel working next to Ethan after she’d slept with him? Sleeping with him and knowing he’d be far away in New York had been one thing. What would it mean to have him live back here, to work with him every day?

  “Sadie,” Lia continued. “Ethan would be great for the festival. He’d bring that experience you need, and he certainly is well known in the industry. You need to ask him.”

  She knew Lia was right. Having Ethan as the Artistic Director would be an incredible coup. He could save the festival—save her.

  It was a no-brainer. Really. Besides, what other choice did she have?

  “I’ll do it. I’ll call Ethan.” Her stomach formed a large knot as she spoke. With those words, she’d opened Pandora’s box. There’d be no turning back. But could she handle what she’d just let loose?

  ***

  Sadie took a deep breath, bit her lip, and hit Ethan’s speed dial number on her office phone. He answered within seconds, sounding happy and excited to hear from her. After a few minutes of idle conversation, she took the plunge.

  “Lia told me you’re leaving Broadway.” She twirled the phone cord as she spoke.

  “I did—well, at least, I will be leaving when this play I’m currently directing finishes its run. And when I find a job on the West Coast.”

  “Have you been offered anything yet?” Her voice sounded high to her.

  “Nope, not yet…” Ethan paused. “Why? Have you heard of anything?”

  “Um…” Sadie began, pulling tight on the telephone cord wrapped around her finger. “Actually, weird as this may sound, I’m looking for an Artistic Director for the Modern Playwrights Festival. The current director wants to retire, and she wants to leave now.”

  A long silence followed her statement. Out of the quiet, Ethan spoke. “Are you asking me to apply for the job?”

  “No.” Sadie said.

  “Oh.” Ethan sounded puzzled. “Then why bring it up?”

  Sadie took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to apply for the job. I’m offering it to you.”

  All she could hear on the other end of the line was the sound of loud sputtering. Her heart revved up. Had something bad happened to him? “Ethan? Did you hear me? Are you all right?”

  A series of coughs followed by low laughter told her he was still alive. She blew out a relieved breath.

  “You know how in movies the guy gets some startling news and he chokes on his two fingers of bourbon and sprays it everywhere?” Ethan asked.

  “Yeah…”

  “Well, that just happened to me.”

  Sadie grinned. She leaned back as far a
s her executive chair would allow and felt the laughter begin to build. “Seriously?”

  “I’m serious. And that was an expensive bottle of whiskey. I probably spit out a good ten dollars’ worth of booze.”

  “I guess what I heard about you in college is true. You really can’t hold your liquor.” She laughed out loud.

  “I can hold my liquor just fine,” he charged back. “But you have to admit—that was an amazing thing you just said. Are you serious?”

  Sadie struggled to sober up from her laughing fit. “Absolutely. The only catch is that I’d need someone soon. By the end of the summer at the latest.”

  Ethan’s silence was deafening. She held her breath. She had to nail this, had to convince Ethan. The tapping of her nails on the hard wood of her desk echoed faintly throughout the office.

  “But what about, you know…” Ethan’s voice trailed off.

  “What about our night of orgasmic sex?”

  “Yeah. Wouldn’t it be too strange for you to handle?”

  “Would it be too strange for you to handle?” Sadie snapped.

  The phone went quiet for a while. Before he could speak, she barged on. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t think it would work out between us. Yes, we had a great time between the sheets that night—well, the next morning, too, but that’s beside the point. We’re both adults, we had fun, and now there’s work to do. I promise I’ll keep my hands off you. Besides, I know how much you miss Lia and want to be close to her.” Ethan’s silence had her on edge. She fidgeted with a pencil.

  Ethan responded with a low “Um…”

  Sadie threw the pencil against the wall. “Come on, Ethan, this is a perfect opportunity for you. Sure, the salary is a little lower, but you can come back home again, be with all of us, with your sister. Our little tryst won’t get in the way, I promise.” Her shoulders went rigid, tension slamming into her body. “Ethan, we want you. We need you. Now, say ‘yes’ before I keel over from anticipation.”

  “Can a person actually do that?” Ethan teased. “Keel over from anticipation?”

  Sadie growled. “You know what I mean. Now say yes before I crawl through the phone lines and strangle you.”

  “You’d really do that? Strangle me?”

  “Ethan.”

  “Yes.”

  “Please just give me an answer,” Sadie begged.

  “I just did,” he said.

  Sadie froze. He did, she thought. He’d said yes. “You said yes!” Her feet tapped out a happy dance on the scarred wood floor.

  “Yep,” Ethan said. “I accept the position. On one condition.”

  “Uh oh.” Sadie pretended to groan. “There’s always a condition. Okay, what is it you want: private jet, personal masseuse, a company car?”

  “Sadie, you know me better than that.” Ethan’s voice took on a more serious tone.

  “What is it, Ethan?” Sadie drew out her response.

  “How much leeway do I have in creating my own projects?”

  “As long as any project doesn’t interfere with the traditional programs, you have free rein.”

  A moment of silence followed, then Ethan continued. “I’d like to do a program for disadvantaged teenagers. Kids could do different parts of putting together a play, from writing the screenplay to performing, or working on staging, lighting, the whole process. I want to—” He stopped speaking.

  She leaned back in the chair and stared out the window, waiting to see if Ethan would continue his unspoken thought. The wholesome sound of Meadowview wafted through her window…children laughing, tourists chattering. Realization dawned, and her heart warmed. “You want to give them what you were given,” she said quickly. “A place to belong, an identity. A way to find themselves. A way to find hope for the future. ”

  “Yes,” he said. “You understand. You put it better than I could.”

  She knew what her parents’ foundation had given Ethan. Without the festival, he might never have escaped his traumatic past. This would be his way to give back. “Consider it done. When you start, you and I can work out the logistics. I think it’s an excellent idea and I’m more than willing to throw my backing behind it.”

  “Thanks, Sadie, for everything.” Ethan’s voice sounded low and soft.

  “No, Ethan,” she said, “thank you. I’ve been looking for months for someone I could trust to take this position and was getting nowhere fast. We’re going to have an excellent program with you at the helm. Besides, Lia will love having you close.”

  As will I, she thought. She rocked back in her chair and looked at a picture of the six of them on her desk, taken at the boys’ high-school graduation. They all looked so happy, so alive. The picture was taken poolside at The Cottage, with the group framed by lilacs and a ten-foot hedge background. The spring day had been balmy, with just a hint of a breeze. How perfect everything had been.

  How perfect everything could be again.

  “And Ethan?” Sadie smiled. “Welcome home.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Uh, girls? A little help here, please.” Sadie squirmed, her hair caught in a blackberry vine growing along the path to the swimming hole at the river. “Ow. Jeez, where did this blasted thing come from?”

  In front of her, Chessie stopped and shoved a hand on her hip before turning around. She dropped her backpack and returned to a trapped Sadie. “I’d think for someone who grew up here, you’d have better sense around wild thorny things.” She sighed, carefully reaching her hands into the tangled mess.

  Sadie giggled.

  “What are you laughing at now?” Chessie grumbled.

  “I thought for a moment you said ‘wild horny things.’”

  Behind her, Lia burst out laughing. “I thought so, too.”

  Chessie let out a chuff of air as she unhooked the remainder of Sadie’s curls from the overarching vine, then took off back down the path, Sadie hot on her heels.

  For years, the three girls had been visiting the same spot on the Maidu River. Although the trip involved parking a mile away and hiking to the swimming hole, the pathway along the river was fairly well traveled and gently sloped. Rockroses with their delightful scent, manzanita bushes showing off their silver-dollar leaves, and heady California bay brush lined the trail, shading the girls from the foothill’s oppressive summer heat. Along the riverbank wild grasses and mint grew, as well as non-native blackberry bushes, one of which had captured Sadie’s hair. She’d forgone the flat iron, given that she’d just get frizzy again once she jumped into the river, which made her hair the loop side of Velcro and blackberry bushes the hooks.

  Piled with backpacks, coolers, and beach towels, Sadie and Lia followed Chessie’s footsteps, careful to keep on the path. Sadie found her mind drifting again, mental pictures of Ethan filling her thoughts. Her plan to eradicate him from her mind by sleeping with him had proven to be not only impossible, but rather stupid. Now she couldn’t get the man out of her thoughts. How the heck was she going to work with him on a daily basis? But her community needed him, and in truth, he needed this opportunity.

  She, on the other hand, needed to get her head out of her butt.

  The path opened up to a sunny beach. The sudden splash of sunshine hit her, jolting her mind back to reality. As Lia and Chessie unpacked and draped beach towels over the sand, she focused on not thinking about Ethan.

  Damn. Not gonna happen.

  That man was stuck so far deep in her mind she couldn’t yank him out. Blast. She dropped to her knees and made to spread out on the beach towel, but Chessie had already claimed the middle towel. “Move your rump over, Chessie,” Sadie grumbled. “You’re shading me and I’ll tan unevenly.”

  “You shouldn’t be trying to tan, Sadie. With that pale skin, you could get cancer,” Lia lectured.

  Sadie rolled her eyes. “We don’t all have your gorgeous Native American bronzed skin, Lia. Some of us have to work at looking like we haven’t spent a year in Antarctica.”

  “At
least you don’t freckle,” Chessie said. “I mean, look at me—I look like one of those Connect-the-Dots games we used to do as kids.”

  Sadie squinted at Chessie’s feet, which now were swinging precariously close to her nose as Chessie flipped herself around. “Do you even have freckles on your ankles?” she asked.

  “Stop looking at my ankles and put some sunscreen on my back for me.” Chessie reached behind her back and undid the strings of her blue, green, and purple tie-dyed bikini, then threw the bottle of sunscreen at Sadie.

  “I believe you are the only person I know who would ever wear a tie-dyed bikini. Where on earth do you get your clothes?” Sadie wrinkled her nose, but carefully spread sunscreen over Chessie’s shoulders. No one could ever describe Chessie as overweight; her luscious curves and well-formed muscles illustrated her radiant health, and provided a striking comparison to Lia’s petite, frame, her five-foot, two inches angular and planed. And Chessie had a butt, whereas Sadie had a plank.

  “She shops at thrift stores,” Lia butted in, earning herself a swat from Chessie.

  “I do not,” Chessie growled. “I shop retro—I get everything at cute little vintage shops. Well, everything except for my favorite white cotton undies; I get those at the grocery store.”

  Sadie adjusted the top of her black bikini to expose a little more flesh to the sun. “You dress like you can’t figure out what era you’re in. Like today, for example: you have on a tie-dyed bikini that looks like it came straight from the Free Love era of the 1960s, yet you tromped down to the river in a full-length beige skirt, a white button-up blouse, boots, and a pith helmet, looking like you were going on an archaeological dig back in the early 1900s. You need more style.”

  “I have style,” Chessie argued. “I just don’t dress like a fashion model like you do. And I like vintage. It’s eclectic.”

  “Eclectic my foot,” Sadie snorted. “More like crazy.”

  “Not all of us were raised with the Queen of Perfection, you know.”