Then Came You
Page 9
“Look, I think it’s important to require excellence. There’s no reason for anyone to ever do less than their best.”
“And your best is one hundred percent?”
“Absolutely.” He hadn’t meant for it to come out like that. Hard. Angry.
“Talk to me about the difference between perfectionism and excellence.”
He frowned. “Is there a difference?”
“I’d like you to consider that there could be. If there were a difference, what would it be?”
“I don’t know. I think anyone who strives for excellence does so with perfection in mind.”
“Can there be something unhealthy about perfectionism?”
“I’m not a perfectionist.”
She sat, her soft eyes on him. He squirmed in his seat.
“When I look at your records, I see a very strong structure. High performance. That can be a really good thing.”
“I think so.”
“But what would happen if you failed at something? Or a case didn’t go the way you plan?”
He didn’t answer.
She looked at him, like an interrogator sizing up the suspect. “I want you to think about a few things. You have choices, Boone.”
Except, apparently not, since he’d been banished to Deep Haven and his entire career was in limbo. He’d never really had choices. Because every day of his life, he faced expectations. Others’. His own.
“You’ve got some excellent qualities. You’re tenacious. You persist through adversity. You’re loyal and committed. You do strive for excellence in everything you do.”
He nodded. “That’s true.”
“Do you ever use that high standard to punish yourself? Continue to beat yourself up over it?”
He didn’t answer.
“Those qualities need to be harnessed for good. Not used to punish yourself by staying stuck.” She repositioned in her chair. “Before our next appointment, I want you to spend some time living in the moment. Being present in the world around you.”
“Okay…?”
“And don’t be afraid to try new things—even if you don’t think you’ll be the best at it.”
He may have actually flinched.
“You don’t have to be the best at any of it. Now tell me, what are you enjoying most about the book Steve gave you to read?”
Boone pressed his lips together and stared at the flowers, which looked entirely too cheery, all things considered.
She let the silence gnaw at him for a few moments. “Or should I ask, how is the reading going?”
He rubbed his hand across his chest, trying to alleviate the sudden tightness. “It’s going.”
“Looks like the reading plan has you through chapter three by now.”
Boone looked up at her. “What reading plan?”
She paused, looked back to her notes. “Hmm. I have a note here that your treatment has a plan of a chapter per day. Don’t you have that?”
Treatment? “No.” But the fact that he’d actually read and reread the first paragraph no less than twelve times should still count for something. “Are we counting words or forward progress?”
She set down her pen and clasped her hands together. “Boone, are you taking this seriously?”
He sat up in the soft chair. “Of course I am.”
“You don’t have to be the best, but you do need to follow the plan. Steve has in the notes here that you need to finish the book. It’s one of the requirements for me to clear you.”
“I’ve been doing other things. He told me to get a hobby. Look, some guys in the coffee shop talked about kayaking. I’ll do that, okay? I’ve also made some friends—you said new friends are good. And I’m helping with the football team.”
“That’s really good to hear. Those are exactly the kinds of activities I want to see you doing. But Steve really feels this book is important for you.”
“I’ll get it read.”
“It sounds like you’ve got a lot scheduled for yourself. Do you think you’re getting over scheduled for a man who’s supposed to be on vacation?”
So, everyone was going to call it a vacation. “No.”
“How do you feel about being sent here to Deep Haven?”
“I don’t think it’s necessary.”
“When was the last time you took time away from work?”
He stared at the gray carpet, riffled through his memories. “I went to a Blue Ox game last season.”
She tilted her head. “A guys’ night out at a hockey game hardly counts as a vacation.”
“They were really good seats.” And, well, there had been a good fight. He met Rachelle’s brown eyes. Yep. He’d leave that part out. Maybe it didn’t count as a vacation—but it had given him a few hours to focus on something other than work.
She looked unconvinced. “What techniques do you use for stress management?”
Considering the charges that had been leveled against him, he figured the shooting range and boxing ring wouldn’t pass her test.
“Um—” He paused. Thought. “I run.”
“Right. That’s good. Anything else?”
He adjusted his position in the chair. Scratched his temple.
“Okay. Well, are you finding time to relax? You’ve told me about several activities you’re doing, but they don’t necessarily translate to mitigating stress in your life.”
“Sure. I mean, I think so.”
“Let’s check your blood pressure and see how it’s doing.”
He tucked his T-shirt sleeve out of the way while she wrapped the monitor cuff around his bicep. He took a few deep breaths, clearing his mind to calm. And then Vivien’s laughter filled his head. The way she grabbed on to life. Swept him right into the whirlwind with her. And, yeah, the way even her eyes smiled did something to both soothe and excite him. There was definitely something about his new friend that he found a little irresistible.
Like the way she glowed when she talked about theater. The lilt in her voice when she teased him. All the things he shouldn’t be noticing. Because, he reminded himself, she was just a friend. A friend he was finding he very much enjoyed spending time with. And well, nothing said he couldn’t enjoy her feminine company on his vacation.
“Boone?”
“Huh?” By her expression, he’d missed something. Rachelle tugged on the cuff to remove it.
“I said your blood pressure looks better than the last report in your record.”
Well, then.
She jotted in her notes. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. I think as long as you stay out of trouble, you’ll be okay.”
He nodded. “How would I get into trouble in this small town?”
She smiled and tucked a gray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m glad you’re finding ways to enjoy yourself. I’ll see you next week.”
“Thank you.” He stood and walked to the door.
“And Boone?”
He paused, his hand on the knob. “Yeah?”
“Read the book.”
Maybe Boone should have spent more time with Rachelle, because he may well have lost his mind when he’d agreed to help Vivien with her auditions. He knew zero—absolutely zero—about theater. His minor foray into the world of drama in middle school hardly counted, especially since he’d only done it to be near PJ.
And it had been a nightmare.
Vivien had looked so desperate though, and offering his help felt like the right thing to do at the time. It had seemed like a much better idea than sitting idle in his cabin. Instead, he was moving furniture and shelves around in the Footstep of Heaven Bookstore for their after-hours open audition.
“Could you slide those chairs out of the reading nook? We’ll use that space as the stage.”
She said “we’ll” like he wasn’t a guy on vacation, leaving before the fall weather set in. But, he was. He was leaving. Heading back to Kellogg and, if he played it all the right way, stepping into the police chief position.
He gripped the arm and back of a thick reading chair. “Sure.”
This, Boone could handle. He nudged the recliner a few inches closer to the wall before standing to survey the rest of the bookstore.
If he painted it the right way, Rachelle might consider this compliance with her directives. There weren’t any foot chases or crime scenes.
Nope. He perused the titles on the nearby shelf. Just classics and new releases—every one of which looked more interesting than the book he’d been given to read.
“Do you have the box with the scripts?” Vivien buzzed around the bookstore, eager with excitement.
“I put it over there.” He pointed to one of the other chairs he’d moved from the reading nook.
A few early arrivals were gathering around the coffee and tea bar where Vivien had left a platter of cookies and a bowl of fruit. Boone recognized the woman from the library along with one of the guys from the Java Cup. Casper Christiansen had come in carrying several plates of cookies that he passed off to Vivien, then took up residence against the back wall.
She’d directed Boone to a spot near the door to hand out contact sheets for each auditioner to complete. The steady stream of people whittled his paper stack down to just a few.
When the clock hit six, Vivien gave him a nod and moved to the front of the group. “We’re going to keep this relaxed and low-key. I want everyone to feel comfortable.” She glanced at the group of seventeen, mostly women. “Is this the first time auditioning for anyone?” Nearly half the group raised their hands and she made a few notes on her clipboard. “Okay, well, don’t be shy. We’re all here to support one another.” She picked up a script. “I wish I had a part for each and every one of you—and I do hope that if you don’t get a part in this show, you’ll still consider auditioning for future opportunities.”
While she spoke, Boone moved around to the far side of the room so he wouldn’t block the main walkway.
“Can you tell us more about the play?” the library lady asked, her voice as diminutive as her stature.
“Sure, Beth.” Vivien opened the script. “Then Came You is a one-act play that takes place in small-town America. It’s a romantic story about overcoming the past and finding hope in the future.” She flipped through her script and shared the same details with the group that she’d shared with Boone in her kitchen two days before. She finished with, “I have to tell you, this is one of my favorite plays—not quite a musical, but it does have a few songs in it.”
Boone tuned out the discussion and busied himself perusing the nearby book titles.
“My lovely assistant, Boone, will help me out.”
Boone dropped the book of war stories he’d snagged from the New Releases shelf and it landed with a thunk. “Wait—what?” He stooped to pick it up and looked at her.
A few giggles and deeper laughs skittered across the room.
“It’s okay—you already saw that half our group here hasn’t auditioned before. You’re going to show them how it’s done.” She pumped her fist like she’d just given the cheer squad a pep talk.
“Why can’t they show you how it’s done by doing it?” He placed the book back on the shelf. Hadn’t she just said it was supposed to be relaxed and comfortable?
She wove all her fingers together except her index fingers, which she used to point to him. “Because they need someone to show them that there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Oh, there was a whole lot to be afraid of. How had he been roped into this? He caught Casper’s eye across the room.
The man leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a twitch of a smile at the corners of his lips.
Adrenaline pumped through his body as he faced down Casper from fifteen feet away.
Challenge accepted. How hard could it be?
Vivien held out a script for him and waited until he walked to the front of the group and took it. Then she flipped through her own script. “Okay, let’s show them a fun scene. We’re not going to use one of the audition scenes I’ve picked because I want to see how each of you interpret them.” She stopped and skimmed a page. “Okay, if you’ll turn to page thirty-five, we’ll start at the second line from the top.” She pointed to Casper and gestured for him to turn down the room lights, leaving only the reading nook where they stood under a soft glow.
“Really?” Nothing like being put in the spotlight. Again. Something Vivien clearly had a knack for.
“It’s okay. We’ll just go for a few lines. This is good for them—they’ll be able to see how someone comes in cold and auditions. Just follow the blocking notes already in the script. They’re in all caps. It’s perfect.” She grabbed two folding chairs that were leaning against the wall, opened them, and plopped them down next to each other.
Perfect. Right.
“You didn’t have to follow me here.” Her voice sagged, regret sharpening the edge of it. She slid into one of the chairs.
What happened to the count before the ball got hiked? Uh—she’d just dove right in. No cadence. And he was about ready to fumble. Boone slid his finger down the page to the third line. “Have you—have you been…crying?” He recovered. Read the blocking.
DYLAN SITS NEXT TO HER.
“Whatever are you crying about?” He plopped down on the chair next to her.
“It doesn’t matter.” She wrung her hands in her shirt hem and cast her eyes downward.
“It does to me.”
She turned back to him, blinked, her eyes glossy with tears.
Really—whatever was Vivien crying for?
She swallowed. Sniffed. “In two days, you’ll be gone and, well, I’ll still be here.” She threw out her hand toward the space around them.
Oh. Okay. Acting.
She was close. So close her jasmine scent intoxicated him. So close he could see the silver flecks in her eyes. So close, he could feel her breath against his lips.
Script. Script. He looked down to read his blocking and next lines.
DYLAN PLACES A HAND ON HER CHEEK.
No help there. He paused before finally reaching up and cupping her face in his hand, his thumb rubbing across her cheek. “Is there any reason for me to stay?”
Vivien’s eyes flicked to his lips. “Me.” She met his gaze, his hand still brushing the silky skin of her cheek.
He could kiss her. Wanted to. He might have even ignored the script and just done it, except a cough from the back of the room shook him back to his senses and he jerked away from Vivien, dropped his hand. Looked at the script. Nope. Shoot.
Vivien jumped to her feet. “Perfect.” She gestured for him to stand. “Thank you, Boone. That was…excellent.” She motioned for the lights and someone flipped them back on.
The crowd sat in silence until a strawberry blonde in the front row clapped and others followed suit.
What was he doing? Just over four more weeks here until he’d be heading back to Kellogg. Back to his life. And he’d never been the guy for a passing romance. Besides, he’d been acting. Hello.
The applause died down and Vivien picked up the stack of scripts, handing half to him to distribute. She winked. “Good job.”
And well, maybe it was time to step out of his comfort zone. Live a little.
He took one side of the group, handing out scripts to everyone who asked. They had quite a crowd of auditioners, family, friends, and a few curious passersby. Besides Casper and the woman from the library, Boone recognized Ree tucked in the back taking what looked like copious notes. Hadn’t Vivien said something about her being a reporter?
He could only hope his stage performance would be omitted from the news.
Vivie handed out the last of her stack of scripts and returned to the front. “So, hopefully that’s eased some of your apprehension. All you do is jump up here on
stage and, just like Boone, read your lines like you mean them.”
Well, maybe not exactly like he did, since he kinda had meant them. At least, a little. Which was totally ridiculous.
She moved one of the chairs from their reading-nook stage and Boone moved the other one out of the way. “If you didn’t end up with a script, we’ll pass them off as the other auditioners finish. We’re going to use the scene on page seventeen, which has two females and one male, and the scene on page twenty-five, which has two males and one female. I’ll need you to come up in groups of three, introduce yourself, and give me a quick snapshot of your experience. Any questions?”
Heads around the room shook in response and Boone made his way to the coffee pot and cookie bar.
“Okay then, as you come up, I’ll take your forms, and we’ll jump right in.”
Three people stood and walked to the front. The girl from the library, the strawberry blonde from the front row, and…huh. Nathan Decker, who looked to be shoved out of his seat by a twenty-something young man who resembled Nathan in no small way.
This should be fun.
“I’m Beth Strauss,” the woman from the library said, projecting her voice into the small space.
Next the strawberry blonde, whose freckles made her look younger than her likely age. She stepped up with confidence next to Beth. “I’m Courtney Wallace.”
Nathan introduced himself, and Vivien set up the scene, explaining to everyone present who the characters were and giving them the scene setup before letting them jump in.
Boone nearly dropped his coffee when Beth started speaking her lines. She projected her voice across the bookstore, believable inflection in her lines.
Courtney responded likewise, moving around the small stage area like she’d done it before.
When it came to real estate agent Nathan Decker, Boone wasn’t so sure. No matter how well he delivered the lines, the age difference between him and the girls translated more to fatherly advice than peer counsel.
When they’d finished, Vivien scribbled notes on the pages in her lap and looked up at the trio. “Really good job speaking from the diaphragm, Beth.”
The woman smiled at Vivien’s praise, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said, her voice back to its usual library-quiet decibels.