Straight on Toward Paradise

by Kristin Wallace

  Emma turned her head, her hazel eyes narrowed. “Are you laughing at me?”

  Mary bit her lip. “Of course not.”

  “I can hear it in your voice,” she said, the accusation clear.

  “Baby, it’s okay to laugh at a ridiculous situation, and the carpool lane is ridiculous,” Mary said.

  Emma sat straighter, her shoulders rearing back. She stared out of the windshield for a moment and then nodded. “You want to see something really laughable? Come with me to see my new job prospect.”

  Surprise winged through her. “You have a job already? Why didn't you tell me? When did you go on an interview?”

  “Yesterday, when I went with Layla.”

  Right, the mysterious trip after church. Emma hadn’t spoken about the afternoon, and Mary hadn’t wanted to pry too much. In the end, she’d figured the girls had simply been trying to reconnect after being apart for so many years.

  “Layla offered you a job?”

  Emma was the one to laugh now; only there was an edge of panic in the sound. “Oh yeah, it’s a job all right.”

  “Is she opening a restaurant now?” Mary asked in confusion. “I heard she’d started her own marketing firm in Miami.”

  Emma shook her head. “No, she moved back a couple of months ago. I don’t know anything about her previous business, but the new one is…unexpected.”

  “What is she doing?” Mary asked, intrigued by the mystery and Emma’s strange reaction to a legitimate job offer.

  “I think it’s better if you see for yourself,” Emma said. “Besides, Layla wanted to see you this morning, too.”

  “Why does she want me?” No one had wanted her for much of anything in… well… years. Maybe decades.

  Emma’s mouth twisted. “The same reason she wants me. She has a project, and it involves the help of every person she knows to make it work.”

  Mary went from intrigued to dying to know. “What kind of project?”

  Emma put the car in gear and eased back onto the road. “You’ll see.”

  Since Emma wouldn’t say any more, Mary had no choice but to wait. Her daughter drove the minivan through town and then out toward the highway. Soon, she spotted The Paradise Dinner Theatre up ahead. Mary recognized the building immediately, even though she hadn’t thought about the place in years. Judging from the state of disrepair on the outside, no one else had either. What a shame. The Paradise had been quite a showpiece once upon a time.

  When Emma turned into the parking lot, Mary looked over. “Why are we stopping here?”

  “You wanted to know about Layla’s new project,” Emma said, waving a hand in front of her. “This is it.”

  Mary frowned at the weed-infested parking lot, the listing marquee, the overturned tree by the back wall, and the sad, faded theatre itself. The place sat there like a child’s toy that had been left to rust and decay. “I don’t understand.”

  “Join the club.”

  The front door opened, and Layla emerged. Emma got out of the car, but Mary didn’t move. Instead, she watched through the windshield as Layla reached out to give Emma a hug. A sudden tightness squeezed Mary’s throat as memories flooded back. Memories of high-pitched giggles coming from Emma, Layla, and Callie. Little feet stampeding up and down the stairs. Sleepovers and birthday parties and cookies out of the oven. Layla and Callie had both been fascinated by the cookies. Each batch seemed like a treasure to them. Layla’s grandmother had been too busy with her patients for baking, while Callie’s mother had always been too absorbed in her own dark world to pay attention to her daughter.

  Lord, how she’d loved those little girls, Mary thought. Now, two of them stood before her as adults. The very idea was overwhelming, forcing her to realize how much time had gone by and how long she’d allowed herself to remain stuck in the past.

  She opened her door and stepped out.

  Emma looked over her shoulder. A frown replaced the smile on her face, and she stepped away from Layla. “Mom? Are you all right?” she asked, a note of worry in her voice.

  Mary suddenly realized tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Don’t mind me,” she said, wiping them away. “It’s just so good to see the two of you together again. I only wish Callie were here.”

  That poor girl had suffered so much as a child, first with her mother’s long mental illness, and then the sudden death. She wondered where Callie had managed to land after all these years. What was she doing? Mary hoped she’d managed to carve out a happier life as an adult than she’d had a child.

  “Who knows, Shellwater Key may yet manage to drag Callie back,” Emma said in a dry tone. “Maybe it’s like a mob family. Just when you think you’ve escaped, it pulls you back in.”

  Mary chuckled. Her daughter still had serious hang-ups about the town where she’d grown up. She had quite a few as well. Even this rotting, old building brought up some painful memories, though she doubted Emma or Layla were aware of them.

  She joined the small reunion circle and reached to hug Layla. When Mary pulled back, she was pleased to see a look of contentment in Layla’s eyes. A look Mary had never seen before. Layla had always been so brittle. Smart and pretty, but so aware that she looked just like the beautiful, but troubled mother who had abandoned her as a baby. Now, her arresting green eyes were at peace, a look that suited her. Happiness made her even more beautiful, if possible. Mary wished Emma could find that kind of peace and contentment. Hopefully, coming back to Shellwater Key might force her to deal with the past and move on. Then perhaps she would be truly happy, instead of just existing.

  Like her mother.

  Mary shook off the disturbing thought, and concentrated on the here and now. She searched Layla’s expression once more. “You don’t look troubled anymore.”

  Layla’s smile grew. “No, life is pretty good now.”

  She squeezed Layla’s hand. “I understand you had a project in mind. I hope someone is going to clue me in soon.”

  Emma gave a delicate snort. “Oh, there’s a project all right. Just wait till you see it.”

  Layla gave her a quick, warning look and then turned back to Mary. “You’re looking at my family’s latest investment. Aunt Grace and my grandmother bought The Paradise a few months ago, before it could be sold to a developer and turned into a fancy spa.”

  “Your grandmother bought a dinner theatre?” Mary asked in astonishment.

  She couldn’t imagine the legendary female surgeon doing something so impulsive. Mary didn’t often let anyone intimidate her, but Dr. Barbara McCarthy was such a commanding figure that one couldn’t help but tremble a little in her presence.

  A nervous giggle passed Layla’s lips. “Well, I think it was mostly Aunt Grace’s idea, but Gran bought in with her as a favor.” Layla glanced at Emma. “I’ve already tried to recruit Emma to join us and take over the kitchen. She’s being stubborn, however.”

  “Excuse me,” Emma retorted. “Have you seen that kitchen?”

  Mary could only imagine the state of the kitchen. The outside didn’t give her much hope, and Layla wanted Emma to work here? And what could Mary do?

  Layla gestured toward the building. “Why don’t you come inside? I think you’ll understand once you see the old girl up close.”

  She led them through the front doors. Emma marched straight ahead, not sparing more than a glance at the lobby. Of course, she’d been here yesterday, so she already knew what to expect.

  Mary took a deep breath and forced herself to move forward, past the new wave of memories. Thomas had brought her here for her birthday. The last celebration they’d had together, as it turned out. He’d asked for a divorce four months later. Mary looked over at the souvenir counter. Thomas had bought her a pretty fan that night. The glass case was empty now and covered with several layers of grime and dust.

  Swallowing, Mary hurried through the doorway to the dining room. She barely glanced at the tables. Her eyes went straight to the stage. It was bare, except for the red, v
elvet curtains. They were hooked back on the sides, so the pulleys in the wings were completely visible. There was no set to disguise the stark cement wall at the back of the space.

  The night of her birthday, music and laughter had filled the air. Now, the air seemed stale.

  Much like Mary’s life.

  Once upon a time, being on stage had filled her with absolute joy. She’d dreamed of a career in the theatre, perhaps even on Broadway, but then life, and love, had gotten in the way. Those days seemed more like an apparition now.

  Movement caught her eye, and she turned as Layla approached the stage, staring at the dark, empty space as if transfixed. She stopped under the skylight, and a beam of sunshine shown down around her like a golden halo.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Layla looked over her shoulder, eyes shining with wonder. “Every time I come in here I discover something new.”

  Mary had to admit, there was something special about the old theatre. If the walls could talk, they would have wonderful stories to tell. Still, there was no ignoring the decay that had taken place since the last time she’d been there.

  “I think maybe you’ve breathed in too much dust from this place,” Emma said, her arms folded and expression stubborn. “I see a lot of work to be done.”

  “You’re not scared of a little work, are you?” Layla challenged. “I thought better of you.”

  Emma drew her shoulders back. “I’m not scared of anything.”

  Anything except being back in Shellwater Key and facing the memories of the family that had been torn apart, Mary thought. She also knew her daughter was terrified of messing things up with her sisters. Not to mention freaked out by whatever was brewing with Reece Casings.

  Layla rolled her eyes and focused on Mary again. “I’ve offered Emma complete control of the kitchen. She’d be Head Chef, with the power to make every decision, from the type of stove we put in to the menu selection. However, she’s resisting the idea.”

  Emma planted her hands on her hips. “That’s because I have standards.”

  “Join me, and you will create the standards,” Layla shot back.

  Layla turned so she could address Mary and Emma at once. “Aunt Grace bought this place on a whim,” she said. “When Gran asked me to run it, I thought she was crazy, too. Until I walked in and stood where you all are right now. I feel like this place is important. Don’t ask how I know, but I do. I was at a crossroads the first time I stepped through those doors, and I know both of you are, too. I think the Paradise could be the very thing that helps you find the path again, just like it did for me.”

  “I know you talked about your great epiphany yesterday, but do you really think putting on plays for a bunch of retirees in the middle of nowhere is going to fix everything that’s wrong with my life?” Emma asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “I believe it could.”

  Emma flapped her arms. “You really are insane.”

  Oh, Emma, take a chance and embrace the adventure, Mary thought. Layla is right…you need The Paradise.

  Layla looked back at Mary. “She’s being stubborn, but what do you think? I could use someone else with a musical background to help me get The Paradise ready for a production.”

  Bubbles of excitement coursed up her spine. Mary recognized the sensation, as one she’d always felt right before making her entrance on stage. “You really want me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  In an instant, her decision was made. “Then I’ll do whatever I can.”

  Emma spun around. “Mom?”

  “Honey, I think this is a fabulous opportunity, especially for you,” Mary said. “Besides, I agree with Layla, The Paradise needs us.”

  “The theatre needs us?” Emma asked in a tone dry enough to make a desert thirsty.

  Her chin went up. “Yes, sweetheart. Every theatre has a personality and this one screams—” her voice trailed off as she searched for the right word.

  “Greta Garbo,” Layla murmured.

  Mary looked over and they shared a silent moment of recognition. Not of each other, but of the magic of The Paradise. “Yes.”

  “Oh Lord, you have the disease, too,” Emma muttered. Still, her head turned toward the doors that no doubt led to the kitchen.

  How could Emma not jump at the opportunity to be in charge of her own kitchen? How many chefs her age – female chefs at that – ever got such a chance? So what if the chance came wrapped up in a dinner theatre? Good food was good food, and Emma could create magic no matter where she cooked.

  Mary had long since passed the time when she tried to tell her daughter what to do, but in this instance, she had to give an opinion.

  “Honey, I think this could be an answer to prayer,” Mary said. “A dream job handed to you on a silver platter? Working with your best friend? Take a chance…this will be fun.”

  Layla took Emma’s hand. “What do you say, Chef Bertram?”

  Emma looked at the kitchen door again, then back. “Just Chef will do.”

  Mary’s eyes went to the stage. In her mind she could already envision actors filling it, their voices raised in song. Her heart expanded, and she smiled.

  It was time to rediscover the soul of The Paradise…and maybe even find the one she’d lost.

  Chapter 9

  Emma’s first day as Head Chef at The Paradise Dinner Theatre began with a reception line. She walked in the front door to find over a half-dozen people waiting in front of the stage. She picked out Layla’s new man, Grayson Kendall, along with the mysterious Noah Johnson. A few others were strangers, but two she recognized, starting with Layla’s grandmother.

  Emma smiled as she hurried over to greet Dr. Barbara McCarthy, who looked just a little more frail than she remembered. Of course, she was probably in her eighties by now.

  “Dr. McCarthy, it’s so good to see you!”

  “Oh, none of that Doctor So-and-So stuff here,” she said, a warm smile brightening her usually austere features. “You can call me Gran, too.”

  “And you can call me Boss,” Grace-Anne Carter said, with the same delightful laugh Emma remembered.

  Emma couldn’t help but chuckle in return. “I heard you’re the reason for all of this,” she said, waving her hand toward the stage. “You and some long-ago lost love?”

  “Oh, please don't get her started on Derek the Wonderful,” Layla said, with an affectionate smile. She hugged her great-aunt and kissed her rosy cheek. “We’ll be here all day if we go tripping down Memory Lane.”

  Aunt Grace faked a pout. “I am surrounded by heathens who don’t understand romance in the least.” She turned back to Emma. “I am so happy you’ve joined our little family. You’re a brave girl to take on that kitchen.”

  “Brave or crazy, I haven’t figured out which yet,” Emma responded.

  Layla tugged Emma further down the line. The first person they reached was an older, balding man in jean overalls and a faded, used-to-be-white work shirt.

  “This is Chester. He supervises Noah to make sure everything is done properly,” Layla said, in a teasing manner.

  Chester harrumphed and rolled his eyes. “Whole place would fall down on our heads if I didn’t.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Chester,” Emma said, battling back a grin at the feisty old man’s antics.

  Layla gestured to the two tall, beautiful men. “Of course you met Grayson and Noah.”

  Emma nodded. “Yeah, they were in on the game. I haven’t decided if I should be thankful or curse them for all eternity.”

  Both men laughed.

  A tiny, beautiful woman with red-gold hair and bright blue eyes stepped forward. “I’m Annaliese Matheson, and I mainly just hang out here.”

  Emma was used to looking up at everyone so she was pleased to finally come across someone who was shorter. Still, the comment didn’t make sense.

  Not that anything made sense lately.

  Layla shook her head and laughed. “Annaliese is a colleague of Grays
on. She was in a bunch of shows at his theatre in Chicago. We’re tying to persuade her to be the lead in our first production.”

  Some colleague. Layla must be extremely comfortable in her relationship with Grayson. Emma wouldn’t let a woman that gorgeous anywhere near the man she loved.

  Layla gestured to the last woman in the line. She was a bit older, tall like Layla, and extremely thin. Her short crop of dark curls gave notice to the fact that she’d recently faced a serious illness. Emma tried to ignore the hair and searched the woman’s face, wondering what role the stranger filled at The Paradise, but stopped when she reached the other woman’s eyes.

  They were the same shade of green as Layla’s. Emma drew in a breath as she realized the face was the same, too, although altered by age and by illness.

  “Holy crap…” Emma swung around to look at Layla.

  Layla clasped the other woman’s hand. “Emma, this is my mother, Elizabeth McCarthy.”

  “Holy crap!”

  The woman laughed, a husky vibrato so similar to Layla’s that Emma shivered. “It’s lovely to meet you, Emma. Layla has told me so much about you.”

  “She hasn’t said a word about you, though,” She glanced back at Layla. “I don’t…how is she here…what the hell is going on?”

  “My mother’s reappearance is one of those big changes I mentioned the other day,” Layla said. “She came back to make amends shortly after I arrived.”

  “And you accepted an ‘I’m sorry’?” Emma retorted, as righteous indignation flooded through her. “This woman abandoned you on a doorstep when you were a baby.”

  Emma remembered the countless times Layla had cried over her missing mother. How she’d endured the teasing and nasty comments from the other kids.

  “I know,” Layla squeezed Elizabeth McCarthy’s hand tighter. “It hasn’t been easy getting here, but I learned there was more to my mother’s story than I ever knew, and I determined to forgive her.”

  “Just like that?” Emma rapped out. “Snap your fingers and the past will magically disappear?”