Then Came You

by Susan May Warren

  She—no, they were going home.

  Chapter 18

  This was probably the opposite of relaxing.

  Because Boone could nearly taste his heartbeat as he stood in the right wing of the Arrowood Auditorium for opening night. The cast had jumped back into rehearsals and had somehow even convinced Gordy to let them back into the playhouse. He suspected the man was hoping to save face after acknowledging Vivie was innocent, especially when the rest of the school board was prepared to sanction him.

  Yeah. Boone almost felt sorry for him.

  The cast and volunteers had worked late into the evenings to finish the new sets with raw materials donated from Turnquist Lumber, and the curtains had been repaired by a skilled seamstress.

  Like Vivie said—the show must go on.

  Still, even after four final rehearsals, Boone couldn’t help but think that stepping out on stage—and singing, no less—was still an abysmally bad idea.

  But he’d do it. For Vivien. And because it felt good to be back in Deep Haven. It hadn’t taken Vivien long to pack up her suitcase. She hadn’t actually unpacked much of anything. She’d shoved her shoes and T-shirts back in, left her short-term roommate, Lola, a goodbye note, and they’d hailed a cab.

  “I think I’m getting cold feet,” he said to Vivien as she snuck up to him.

  “Don’t look at the audience.”

  He dropped the curtain and Vivien held out the leather jacket. Boone slid one arm into it, then the other.

  He shouldn’t have been surprised the way everyone had come together to fix the sets at the playhouse. He’d even seen Gordy’s stout body pacing around backstage as the expertly repaired curtains were installed.

  “Don’t you look like Dylan Turner.” Vivien straightened his collar.

  “This is a bad idea.”

  She pressed both her hands against his chest. “You can do this.”

  “No, this is a really bad idea.”

  “If anyone can pull this off, it’s you.” Then she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him.

  And, well, when she put it like that, it was hard not to believe it.

  “The show must go on. Get out there. I’ll see you afterward.” She kissed his cheek. “Ten minutes to curtain everyone,” she said in a hushed voice and took off for the backstage crossover to the left wing.

  Ten minutes to get himself together.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket. Oops. He’d probably better leave that offstage.

  Detective Rayburn. He swiped the screen. “What’s up, Detective?”

  “Hey, Boone. You were right. I went back through the area security footage and store records where the prepaid credit card was purchased. We found footage of Danielle Berteau with Dennis Campbell before he’d met with Joslyn Vanderburg. We tracked Joslyn down in Los Angeles. Turns out she’s been there since late July.”

  “No kidding.” Boone rubbed his hand over his jaw.

  “Yeah. We checked with the airlines and her ticket to Duluth was never used. And she was scammed into meeting with Dennis. She showed the local detective text messages she’d received from someone who’d spoofed a talent agent’s phone number. The so-called agent turned out to be Dennis Campbell—which is why she was meeting him at the coffee shop. She’d never seen him face-to-face before.”

  “And Berteau?”

  “Turns out, she hired Campbell and set up Joslyn to get her out of the show too. We were able to arrest her at the theater. Campbell’s in custody too. We found evidence that will tie them to the flower deliveries. Order receipts and phone records.”

  “Outstanding.” He shot a look toward the stage, to where Beth was supposed to be standing in the wings. Should he be worried that she was late?

  “Unfortunately, you were right about something else too.”

  His tone turned Boone’s blood cold. “What?”

  “You had me dig around on Ravil Kozlovsky. He’s in debt—deep in debt—to a man with established ties to the mafia. Your hunch was spot-on. Berteau and Campbell were responsible for the flowers, but not the vandalism in the Deep Haven playhouse. We think Ravil Kozlovsky did that. We found a plane ticket from a week ago, right about the time of the vandalism.”

  Boone’s heart pounded in his chest. “What?” He’d thought it was a long shot when he’d left Rayburn the message asking him to dig around in Ravil’s finances and recent travel. He’d nearly chalked it up to a bit of reprisal—it wasn’t like he could think the best of the man.

  A chill gripped his heart. His Saturday morning run almost two weeks ago. The stranger he’d nearly plowed over. “Why?”

  “Not only does he have his mother’s health care bills, but he’s also got a bit of a gambling habit.”

  “Loans?”

  “Something like that. He gambled before his mom’s diagnosis. Got himself into debt. Then tried to win it back to pay for her treatment. The show receipts look like he started skimming off the theater.”

  “He was stealing from the show to pay off his debts.” And he needed his big star, Vivien, back on the stage. How better to get her to agree to return than to destroy everything she had in Deep Haven?

  “Yeah. And for treatment costs. Looks like it all started to catch up with him and when he dropped Vivien from the show, the revenue tanked—revenue he’s been skimming. Not only is he going to lose the theater, he’s got people who are probably looking to kill him. These aren’t people who play nice or practice loan forgiveness.”

  No doubt. Boone felt a little sick—and it had nothing to do with opening night.

  “When a few cast members were questioned at the theater, they said he became a little unhinged when she left, again. That he’d been aggressive this week. In a panic.”

  “He’s afraid.”

  “He picked the wrong people to get into debt with.”

  “You think he’s coming for her?”

  “He’s in the wind. Could already be there.”

  “She’s with me tonight. I’ll keep her close.”

  “He’s dangerous, Boone. Has a rap sheet in his former country. Be careful.” The detective hung up.

  Adrian stepped into the room, dressed all in black. “You’ve got five minutes before curtain.”

  “Want to trade? I’ll be the stage manager and you can play this part?”

  “No way. I still can’t even believe Ella convinced me to do this.”

  Boone moved into his starting position. He could just see through the curtains a packed house. He shouldn’t have looked.

  “Places!” Adrian stage-whispered.

  Boone blew out a breath and walked out onto the dark stage.

  He found his mark. Here goes nothing.

  The lights came up.

  “Dylan!”

  For a moment, the voice, the form rattled him.

  Not Beth. Beautiful Vivien, his Vivien, walked onstage in the role of Ashleigh.

  Huh. She was perfect for the part, of course, every inch the starlet in her white and blue floral swing dress and cardigan sweater. The cinched waist of the dress accentuated her slender figure and a navy pillbox hat was pinned into her sable hair.

  And, somehow, it was fitting to get to stand here, even playing a role set in the past, and choose a new path. A new future.

  Choose to fall in love again.

  She walked right up and threw her arms around him.

  “When did you get back?” Vivien’s bright blue eyes looked up at him.

  He swallowed. Line! “Last night. I—I should have come by.”

  Vivien-as-Ashleigh released him. “Yeah. I’ve missed you. Have you seen the others?”

  “No. Not sure what I’d say to Samantha.” He looked down at her and caught the gleam in her eyes. Oh, she sure was beautiful.

  “She broke off her engagement, you know.” Vivien stepped away, faced the audience.

  “I heard.”

  She turned, keeping her body open to the front of the stage, and held his gaze. “Always thought the t
wo of you would—”

  “Yeah, everyone did.” But Dylan would have been a fool to marry Samantha. Engaged or not.

  Vivien closed the gap between them. “How about we get each other through these next few days?” She took his hand, her gaze meeting his.

  He nodded. “I always thought there’d be more time.”

  “We all did.” She leaned in, pressed herself against his shoulder. “So, what do you say?”

  What did he say? His mind went totally blank. All the lines he’d memorized. Gone.

  So he spoke from the heart. “I think it’s time I stopped letting my past dictate my future. Stopped living based on expectations and public opinion.”

  Except, maybe he didn’t miss the mark too far, because right on cue, tears fell down Vivien’s face. And she wasn’t acting.

  Somehow, he managed to get his head together. Managed to draw on every bit of rehearsal and muscle memory he had. And when they reached the final scene and Dylan and Ashleigh admitted they loved each other, Boone let his fingers trail down Vivien’s cheek and he drew her to himself.

  She looked up at him from under her dark lashes, a smile curving the corners of her lips.

  He kissed her, soft and sweet.

  The lights went down on the show, the stage turning to darkness while the packed house applauded and the curtains closed.

  And he took advantage of the darkness and let the kiss linger a moment longer. Let Vivien’s arms curve around him and let her mold her body against his.

  She pulled away, a soft giggle filling the darkness between them. “We have to get off the stage.” Her fingers wrapped around his and she tugged him off stage just before the lights came up and the curtains opened.

  The audience continued to applaud. The cast stepped out in order, starting with Ella.

  He leaned in. “I blew a few lines.”

  She clapped her hands together as Ella bowed. “No. It was perfect.”

  “What happened to Beth?”

  “She sent me a message that she had laryngitis.” Vivien winked. “I’m not entirely sure I bought it.”

  The rest of the cast made their stage entries. The applause filled the room.

  He smiled, probably a silly, schoolboy grin. “I think your show’s a hit.” He held out his hand and led her out onstage. They took their bow and then the full cast joined them, along with Adrian. The cast pointed in unison toward Ellie at the piano, who raised a hand and waved to the applause, though blinded by the spotlight. They then gestured to Kyle in the sound booth and his wife, Emma, operating the light board next to him.

  Boone looked to his left. To his right. Out into the audience. All the faces who’d become part of his everyday world. Friends. Peers. And he had a place, right in the middle of them all.

  She leaned toward him, her lips brushing his ear, and whispered, “I think you’re a hit.”

  The lights went down and they exited the stage before the house lights came up again.

  Adrian held out his hand for a fist bump. “I didn’t know you had it in you. That was impressive.”

  “Thanks. I have an excellent acting coach.”

  “I’m going to grab a couple guys to set up the chairs and tables for the after-party.”

  Oh, yeah. Boone had forgotten about that part. The audience lingered in the auditorium while the cast worked their way through, greeting the attendees in turn.

  He turned to Vivien. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Sure.”

  “Vivie?” Megan Barrett ducked around the curtain, holding a stack of plastic tubs in her arms. “Sorry to interrupt—great job, by the way—loved it!” She held up her sweet treats. “I have cookies and bars. Do you know where I could find some platters to put them on?”

  “Yeah. Follow me to the green room. I brought a few from the church kitchen.” She turned to leave.

  “Hey.” Boone grabbed her arm. “They arrested Dennis Campbell and Danielle.”

  Vivien blinked. “Danielle? What about Joslyn?”

  “I’ll explain later. But first, I really need to talk to you about Ravil. He’s—”

  “Viv!” someone yelled. “You coming?”

  “Yes!” Vivien called. She turned back to Boone, a deep V creasing her brows. Then she visibly straightened and shook her head as if brushing off his news. Focusing on the tasks at hand. “I want to hear everything, but after the party, okay? I won’t be long and I won’t go far.” She held up her right hand. “I promise.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  A crash from the lobby caused them all to jump.

  “That sounded suspiciously like a table falling.” Vivien opened the door and glanced into the lobby. Megan’s son, Josh, was helping Adrian with a table. “Would you help them? We need to get those set up and the food out within the next five minutes or everyone will leave.”

  He hesitated. “Sure.”

  Megan hefted her tubs against herself and Vivien took the top two off the stack.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Vivien gave Boone a wink. “You look worried. Don’t worry—the hard part is over.”

  And she walked away. He turned and jogged over to help relieve Josh from table duty.

  “Thanks,” Adrian said.

  “Sure. Is this the last one?”

  “We’ve got one more serving table and two round tables to set up.”

  Kyle and Cole pulled the legs out on their table and locked them into place before setting it up against the one Boone and Adrian had finished working on. “Let’s grab a few of the rounds.” Adrian nodded to the folded tables against the far wall.

  Boone looked for Vivien. They were surrounded by people they knew, he reminded himself. What could possibly happen here?

  There was something about that opening night post-party. The electricity. The sense of accomplishment.

  And, even if Vivien was in the back room plating finger sandwiches from the Flashy Fox Bakery and sliders from the VFW, nothing could dampen her spirits. Not even whether she secured the Creative Arts Committee grant or not.

  Boone had come for her. He loved her. They just had to make it through the party until they could have some time alone together. Make plans for the future.

  The one she intended on having right here in Deep Haven with her very own leading man.

  Megan placed an empty tub on the worktable. “This tray is full. I’m going to run these out to the lobby.” She hoisted a platter of baked goodies.

  “Perfect.”

  Ella filled the doorway as soon as Megan disappeared. “Can I help you with those?”

  “Would you take these trays out?”

  “Sure. Are you joining us?”

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” Vivien said. “I want to take the trash out before it’s filled up again with paper plates from the party. I’ll bring it out to the lobby.”

  “Oh, good call.” Ella lifted the trays, handed one to Adrian when he popped into the doorway. “Off we go.”

  Vivien hoisted the trash bag from the bin and tied off the top before slipping out the back door and carrying it toward the dumpster behind the auditorium.

  The stars twinkled across the velvet night sky and she stopped to take it in.

  Who needs Broadway when you have a marquee like that?

  Not her. She hefted the bag high and dropped it into the dumpster. Done.

  She rubbed her hands together. Back to the party and her leading man.

  “You’re better than that.”

  She gasped.

  The voice, close, set the hairs on her neck on end. She turned.

  Ravil.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I think you know.” He stood in the darkness, the streetlight casting deep shadows over his stony features. It had the effect of sharpening his cheekbones to severe and hardening the angles of his face.

  She put on a smile, hoping it concealed the way his approach caused her heart rate to spike. “You caught the show?” She s
tepped away from the dumpster and he stepped sideways, into her path.

  A sudden breeze blew the putrid smell of the dumpster toward her, turning her stomach.

  “I did.” He narrowed his eyes. “We had a deal, Vivien.”

  A deal? “I’m sorry, Ravil. I know you were counting on me, but it’s over. So what are you doing here?” She slid her hand into her pocket. Felt for her phone.

  Her fingers only found a folded tissue and a stick of gum. Shoot. She’d left her new phone in the green room. “Don’t you have a show—”

  He reached for her, snatched her wrist. “You’ve ignored all my calls. Left me to come chasing after you.” He yanked her against him, ran his finger down her jawline, causing her to shudder. “You’ve cost me so much, Vivie.”

  “You’re hurting me!” She jerked away from his touch, trying to step away. But he clamped down on her wrist.

  “You have to come back with me.” He pulled her toward the parking lot.

  What—? “What is wrong with you? No!” She dug in. Tried to sink her weight down against him. But he weighed at least seventy-five pounds more than she did and she couldn’t get enough leverage. Still, she slowed him.

  “Don’t fight me.” He took a fistful of hair, pulled it tight, and leaned in close, his eyes dark with something sinister. “I don’t have a choice here, Vivien. You have to come.”

  “For what? You seriously think you can make me return to the stage?”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  And the way he said it slid something cold down her spine. He wasn’t in his right mind.

  “No. I have a life here. I belong here.”

  Her shoes scraped across the pavement. He twisted her hair with a harsh tug until she cried out.

  “Help!”

  His fist cracked against her skull and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

  He tightened his grip, throwing her against the wall, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh at the base of her throat.

  “Ravil—” she whispered.

  “Don’t fight me.” His gaze turned lethal, his grasp digging deeper into her flesh. Closing off her airway. “You did this to me!” His stale breath reeked of alcohol.