“Lucy, I think you have some ‘splaining to do,” Emma said, swinging around to stare at her friend.
Layla’s expression tightened. “Look, I know the outside still looks questionable, but I can assure you, we’ve made a lot of progress inside,” she said in a quick staccato, like she was trying to get all the words out before Emma bolted.
“We?”
“My entire family, plus Grayson and Annaliese, Noah Johnson, Chester…everyone.”
“Am I supposed to know any of those people?” Emma asked in bemusement.
“You will if you decide to join us,” Layla said. “This is the wild scheme my relatives cooked up. Aunt Grace bought The Paradise earlier this year, and Gran helped her out.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Nostalgia mostly,” Layla said. “Aunt Grace fell in love with one of the actors here when she was young. He died tragically, and now she’s found a way to reconnect with him.”
“I hope you mean that metaphorically.” Judging from the outside, Emma wouldn’t have been surprised if the ghost of Grace-Anne Carter’s lost love still roamed the hallways like the Phantom of the Opera.
“We’re spirit free, as far as I can tell.” Layla grinned. “Why don’t you come inside and see for yourself?”
Only loyalty had Emma moving forward. The first thing she saw was a distraught-looking lobby, with an empty, glass-encased ticket booth and trinket counter.
Emma glared at her old friend. “I thought you said you’d done a lot of work inside.”
“We have,” Layla insisted. “We’ve been saving the lobby until after we get the dining room and stage more up-to-date. Just wait until you see everything before you pronounce a final judgment.”
Despite her rising misgivings, Emma continued to follow. The main room did seem to have been updated, and it was pretty impressive at first glance. It was an immense space, with a thirty-foot ceiling and large, Greek-like columns. Each column had intricate moldings at the top and bottom, and between the columns were arched buttresses with carved embellishments.
Emma was glad to see that the royal blue carpet looked new and the walls had been repainted with a pretty yellow that reminded her of the buildings in Tuscany. Of course, the main feature was the stage. It was empty, except for some red, velvet curtains, and above them were gold Comedy-Tragedy masks.
“Check out one of my favorite things about this place,” Layla said, pointing above her head.
Emma dutifully looked up and noticed the ceiling had a skylight. The glass windows would allow patrons to see the stars at night. Right now, it formed a large, white square across the dining room.
Overall, there was nothing overwhelmingly special about the place. Emma had been inside some of the most beautiful theatres in the world, but The Paradise had an energy she couldn’t ignore. A quiet, neglected energy right now, but there was a buzz in the room, as if the cursed, sleeping princess was reawakening.
She turned to her friend. “So, now that I’ve had the fifty-cent tour, why don’t you tell me why I’m here?”
Before Layla could answer, double doors to the side of the stage swung open, and two men walked out. The first was tall and wiry, with jet-black hair and light gray eyes. He had an intense air about him, like he was surrounded by energy, even though he moved with languid grace. The second man was equally tall, but more muscular. Emma guessed his physique had not been acquired in a gym, but from some sort of physical labor. He had dark-blond hair and warm, hazel eyes that somehow made her instantly relax.
Layla smiled at the two men. “There are my guys,” she purred.
The dark-haired man’s eyes narrowed and turned…well…possessive.
“I hope you’re not under the impression that I like to share?” He spoke in such an off-hand manner, but the tone carried a note of warning. A warning for Layla, and for the sandy-haired man, judging by the swift glare sent in that direction.
Sandy-haired haired man just laughed.
Layla rolled her eyes toward Mr. Possessive. “I hope you’re not under the impression that I like caveman tactics?”
“You weren’t complaining last night,” he drawled.
“Hey!” The other man shuddered and clapped both hands to the side of his head. “Delicate ears here.”
Layla turned red, and she whacked the cave man in the chest, even as she snuggled closer. Emma’s eyes widened at the evidence that Layla McCarthy and Mr. Possessive were an item. Layla had never seriously dated in high school. She’d never told Emma about anyone in college, either. Layla had always battled hang-ups about men, thanks to her unearned bad reputation, which had mostly been based on the past antics of her mother.
Layla took in Emma’s stare and laughed. “I’ve shocked you.”
“I’d say so,” Emma answered. “You didn’t mention that your crazy scheme came with a man.” She flicked a glance toward Sandy-Haired. “Two men, I guess.”
Layla chuckled again and eased out of Mr. Possessive’s arms. “Emma, this is Grayson Kendall. He’s directing our first show at The Paradise, and well…” She glanced at him, and her green eyes heated.
“I get it,” Emma said. “He’s directing your heart, too.”
Layla’s cheeks colored once more. “It’s still pretty new.”
Emma held out her hand to Layla’s “pretty new” man. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Kendall.”
“Please, call me Grayson,” he said, his wintery-gray eyes reflecting warmth and loads of charm. Emma could see why Layla would have fallen for him. He was delicious and mesmerizing at the same time. He must transfer all that subdued intensity to his work…and his women.
Layla indicated the second man. “This is Noah Johnson, our set designer-slash-carpenter-slash-handyman and general Mr. Fix It.”
Noah took Emma’s hand and looked directly into her eyes. “Hello Emma. I was so sorry to hear about your father’s passing. I’m sure you must still be reeling,” he said, with such compassion that Emma – who had still not allowed herself to cry over her father’s death – was tempted to break down and wail on the gentle man’s shoulders.
Emma blinked as her vision blurred. “Thank you, that’s very kind. It’s been…a bit overwhelming.”
“I understand you’ve also been tasked with raising your younger sisters,” Noah said, still reflecting the same understanding.
“Half-sisters, from my father’s second marriage,” Emma said. “Not that I don’t love them. I just…” She broke off, unable to believe she’d been about to unload all of her anxiety on a virtual stranger.
“Of course you love them,” Noah said, even though he couldn’t possibly know that. Reece Casings continued to doubt such a thing.
Thinking about Reece brought Emma’s runaway emotions back under control. She turned back to Layla. “So, why don’t you tell me why I’m here? Other than seeing your theatre and meeting these handsome men?”
Layla’s expression turned serious. “You haven’t guessed yet?”
“No. Why should I?”
“This is a dinner theatre, Emma,” she said. “We need a top chef who can make The Paradise one of the most sought after restaurants in the area. We need you.”
Emma’s jaw dropped. “You want me to work here? Are you serious?”
“Completely.”
For a moment, horror gripped her. Emma had trained at the top culinary schools in the world. She’d worked at Michelin-rated restaurants all over the United States. She’d prepared meals for billionaires on Isabella’s yacht. Now, her friend was proposing that she work at a place where the patrons ate rubbery chicken and overcooked vegetables while watching a bunch of people in costumes sing and dance.
Emma wondered if she might pass out. She’d known the job prospects might be slim in Shellwater Key, but this went beyond her worst imaginings. Working at a dinner theatre might be several rungs below a taco stand by the road.
“Layla, I’d really like to help you out, but I don’t think I’m the r
ight fit for the job,” Emma said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. She didn’t want to hurt her friend’s feelings, but she couldn’t lower her standards to such a degree, either.
Layla reached for Emma’s hand. “Please don’t faint on me,” she said. “I stumbled into this badly. Normally, I’m much better at closing the deal. I’m just so excited about the future of The Paradise.”
“That’s apparent, and I’m happy for you, but I really think you need someone else,” she said, desperately trying to back pedal. “I’m used to something a little more—”
Layla nodded. “Sophisticated, I know, which is why we need you. I don’t want to serve the usual fare. I want amazing cuisine here, with dishes that are as much of a draw as the show. You’ll be my Head Chef. You would have complete control over the design of the kitchen and the menu. I want you to be able to experiment and create new dishes, including every single one that was nixed by some pompous male chef because he was threatened by your talent.”
Grayson Kendall began to clap softly. “Now, that’s the way to close the deal,” he said, with a tender note of pride in his voice.
Emma’s jaw dropped, but not in horror this time. “I’d be Head Chef and given free reign?”
Other than working on the Queen’s Ransom, Emma had never been in charge. She’d never had true creative freedom, and there were more recipes stuffed in her “someday” box than she could ever create in her lifetime.
Unless she got started now.
“What’s the state of the kitchen?” Emma asked, wondering if she was crazy to even consider such a job.
Layla wasn’t a good enough actress to hide a quick grimace. It was gone in a flash, but Emma knew what the look meant.
“Layla?” Emma said, a note of warning in her voice. How bad were things behind those swinging doors?
Taking the bull by the horns, Emma made for the kitchen.
“Emma wait…don’t just barrel in there!”
She ignored the warning, and pushed through the doors. There was a narrow hallway that probably went all the way to the other side of the theatre, but Emma ignored that, too, heading through a second set of stainless steel doors. Then she paused on the threshold, taking in the devastation left by years of neglect.
Teeth clenching, Emma turned right around and marched back to the dining room. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Layla rubbed her hands together. “I know there’s a lot to do to bring the kitchen up to snuff, but I don’t think there’s anything that can’t be fixed or upgraded.”
“Up to snuff? Layla, the kitchen will have to be completely gutted,” Emma said, afraid her head might explode. “There are probably a dozen health and safety code violations in there.”
“We can handle gutting a kitchen.”
“Oh, really? Do you have any idea how expensive it is to refit a commercial kitchen? Does your family’s money go that far?”
Layla licked her lips. “We’ll make it work. You’ll get whatever you need, and your domain will end up being spectacular.”
Why in heck was she considering such a proposal? Emma would probably get laughed out of town if any of her former colleagues discovered where she was working. “You’re crazy. How do you expect to pull this off?”
“The same way I have with everything else,” Layla said. “By not giving up, and never taking no for an answer.”
“It worked on me,” Grayson said, a spark of humor in his eyes. “Although, maybe you should have worn the red dress to convince her.”
Layla stared at him. “I’ll never live that down, will I?”
“Not as long as I’m still alive to remember it,” he rumbled in a tone that fairly smoldered.
Emma had no idea what they were talking about, but she still wanted to fan herself. She glanced over at Noah, who rolled his eyes.
“I just ignore them when they get like that,” he said. “Or leave the room.”
Layla smirked at both of “her guys”, and then focused on Emma once more. “These two jokers are another reason I need you,” she said. “I’m severely outnumbered here, and I need backup.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Emma drawled.
Layla had both men eating out of the palm of her hand. Grayson Kendall as the love interest and Noah Johnson as…well…Emma wasn’t quite sure about him yet. Maybe he was only around to compel her into bouts of weepiness.
“Please say you’ll join me,” Layla said. “I need you. The Paradise needs you. When I first walked in here, my life had just fallen apart, but this theatre helped heal me somehow.”
“A theatre became your therapy?” Emma asked, wondering if her friend really had gone around the bend. How could a building heal anyone?
“Yes, in a way, and I hope maybe Greta can do the same thing for you.”
“Who?”
“Greta Garbo.” Layla laughed and waved a hand. “That’s just my nickname for The Paradise. I always imagine her as an aging Hollywood starlet who hid away from the world, and now I’m helping to bring her back into the light.”
“That’s a bit mystical, don’t you think? I never took you for a sentimental.”
Layla crossed the distance. Her green eyes were serious. “I’m not sure you can understand how The Paradise has changed my family. It has literally brought us all together again. My grandmother, my great-aunt, my moth—” She hesitated and then shook her head. “Well, you’ll meet the other pieces of my family puzzle soon. It’s expanded quite a bit in the last few months.”
“That’s great for you, but what does your family puzzle have to do with me?” she asked.
“Emma, you’re at a crossroads in life, too. Your father and Mona, taking on custody of your sisters, you’re living in a place that is bound to stir up a lot of memories,” Layla said. “I also have no doubt you’re wondering what will happen to your career while you’re buried in Shellwater Key. I’m giving you a way to make a new life for yourself, and in the process maybe you’ll find the missing pieces of your family puzzle again.”
“Layla…” Emma tried to resist the pull of her friend’s words. They were compelling, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to embark on a journey of self-discovery. She wasn’t sure she’d like the results.
“Listen, don’t answer right now. Take a day to think about it.” Layla took her hand. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow morning?”
“It’s the first day of school tomorrow,” Emma said. “I have to take the girls, and then there’s my mother.”
“Come after you drop them off, and bring your mother. She has a musical background, and I’m sure I could use her advice,” Layla said. “Plus, I’ve been thinking of offering music and acting classes. Maybe she can help with that.”
“You want my mother to work at The Paradise, too?”
Layla shrugged. “Why not? I bet she’d love a distraction. She’s stuck in Shellwater Key with nothing else to do but think about everything she lost here. That can’t be easy for her.”
Emma narrowed her eyes. “Oh, that’s a low blow.”
Layla’s mouth curved. “Hey, I said I’d do whatever it takes.”
“In charge of my own kitchen and my mother has a teaching job, too?”
Layla nodded. “All you have to do is say yes.”
Right. All she had to do was take the biggest risk of her career. No big deal. Not. At. All.
Chapter 8
Mary hadn’t experienced the crazy rush of the first day of school from the students’ side in more years than she could count. It became clear why God in His wisdom had decreed people should have children when they were young, though. She was exhausted. The morning had been spent helping to prepare lunches. Locating a missing bag of school supplies in the back of the minivan. Fixing Paige’s hair since the little girl’s hands were shaking so much she could barely hold the brush. Helping Imogene pick out an outfit that would allow her to feel grown up while not triggering a heart attack in Emma due to all the exposed skin.
> Actually, Mary agreed with her daughter about the clothes. She taught elementary school, so she didn’t have students with cleavage and rounded hips. The current fashions sought to turn budding young women into sexpots. She could only be grateful Emma had never been all that interested in showing off her body when she’d been a teenager. Now, she wore chef’s whites that covered everything.
Mary tagged along as Emma set out for the girls’ schools. Thank goodness, Shellwater Key still had the same two schools they’d operated for the last hundred or so years. Elementary and Middle School on one campus, and the High School only a block away. This made morning drives much more simple.
The drop off/pick up area was an absolute zoo, however. None of the people in the line knew what they were doing, despite the fact that most of them had traveled this same route only a couple months ago. There were more than a few near collisions, one fender-bender, and one near death experience for a seventh grader on a bike.
Emma had come close to losing her cool several times, but had managed to hold it together until she’d dropped Paige off at the Middle School. Once Emma made it off property, she pulled over by the side of the road and dropped her head to the steering wheel.
“Just kill me now,” she whimpered, mostly to herself.
Mary wished there was a way to make this transition easier, but knew nothing short of time and endurance would bring her baby through to the other side.
“You did fine.” Mary rubbed her daughter’s back, the only comfort she could provide. “The first couple of days are always chaotic. Once everyone remembers the routine, things will calm down.”
“I don’t think I’m cut out for a domestic life,” Emma said, her head still buried in the wheel. “I do much better with recipes. I know how those are supposed to turn out.”
“You’ll figure out this recipe, too,” Mary said, fighting back a chuckle.
The situation wasn’t supposed to be funny, of course, but one had to find humor in life wherever possible. Watching Emma white knuckle her way through the drop off line – with non-stop horn blasts, cursing parents, teachers blowing whistles, and people waving signs with directions – had been a little entertaining.
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