“Then what is he?”
“Something else I don’t want to talk about.”
Seeking any form of distraction, Emma flipped on the radio.
“Okay, message received,” Layla drawled. “No probing about the hot lawyer.”
A news report came over the airwaves. Emma reached to turn the station, but Layla put a hand out to stop her. “Wait.”
Emma frowned. “What?”
She waved off the question. “Just listen.”
“Sources tell us that Austin Dalton, Founder and Pastor of the Glory Gospel Church, is under investigation. Federal agents went to his offices with warrants this morning and walked away with several computers and files. We understand his home has been searched, as well. Mr. Dalton’s attorney released a statement a few hours ago saying his client is cooperating fully with authorities and expects to be completely exonerated. We’ll keep you updated as details emerge.”
The news report moved on to the latest Hollywood gossip.
“Oh my gosh!” Layla gasped.
“Why are you freaking out over Austin Dalton?” Emma said in confusion. “It sounds like yet another televangelist who’s turned out to be less than what he seems.”
“That’s Callie’s husband.”
Emma blinked in astonishment. “Wait…our Callie? She’s married to that creep?”
“Creep might be a little harsh.”
“I’ve seen him on television,” Emma said. “There is something off with him. I’m more interested in the news that Callie is married to him. How do you know that? Have you kept in touch with her?”
As far as Emma knew, no one had heard from Callie since the day she and her father moved away from Shellwater Key.
“No, I got it through the Shellwater Key grapevine a few years ago,” Layla said. “Someone must have recognized her on television.”
“I can’t quite picture Callie as a televangelist’s wife. I wonder how she met him?”
“No idea.” Layla shook her head. “She must be freaking out now that he’s under investigation, though. I wish there was a way to contact her.”
“Me too,” Emma said.
Callie must be terrified. Her entire world was about to come apart, something Emma understood more than ever now.
“It’s weird to think of Callie being married to anyone,” Emma said. “I guess she’s frozen in my mind as a little girl. Now, you’re about to tie the knot, too, but at least your Grayson isn’t creepy.”
“No, he’s definitely not.”
The secret, womanly smile on Layla’s lips made Emma deeply envious. “I’m kind of surprised you of all people are willing to get married.”
“Of all people?”
“Come on, you had some major trust issues,” Emma said. “You wouldn’t even date in high school.”
“You don’t date, either,” Layla pointed out.
“Because I have trust issues, too. That happens when your father walks out and starts a new family with another woman. Watching your parents divorce kind of explodes the myth of happily ever after.”
“Does that mean you’ve never had a serious relationship?” Layla asked. “No one at all?”
Emma, you make me smile.
Joseph had tempted her to let go. For once in her life, Emma had taken a chance on love. Joseph had ended up shattering her trust as easily as he’d created mouth-watering dishes. The relationship had destroyed more than her heart, however.
She shuddered at the memories that had sent her running to the other side of the globe. “Nothing worth mentioning,” Emma said, looking out the window.
Layla had her own mind-reading abilities because she clicked her tongue. “It must have been pretty bad.”
“It was worse,” Emma admitted.
“You want to tell me about it?” Layla asked in a gentle tone, as if she didn't want to frighten a wild animal.
“Tell you that I was a fool for believing a man’s pretty words?” Emma asked, unable to control the bitterness. “That the one time I decided to let go, it cost me my reputation and nearly my career?”
Layla swore softly. “What happened?”
Emma let out a growl of frustration. “Look, I don't like to talk about it. I already feel like an idiot for trusting the wrong person. I almost let him ruin my life, and I hate knowing how easily I was duped.”
“I can understand that. I’ve been duped by people I trusted, too, and I know how much it hurts,” Layla said. “Listen, I get that your life is in an upheaval right now, but I do know you’re going to survive. Come next year, I bet you’ll look back and realize how much things have changed for you.”
Emma swallowed. “My life changed the moment my dad died. I had to give up a job I loved, move back here, and now I’m living in the house my father shared with his other family. Oh, and I’m working at a run-down dinner theatre. That’s a great addition to my résumé.”
“Hey…watch how you talk about my baby.” Layla’s tone sounded teasing, but Emma sensed a steely warning underneath.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to criticize your pet project,” Emma said. “I’m still trying to come to grips with everything, and I’m not sure my story will have the happy ending you found. There is no enigmatic director to sweep me off my feet for one thing.”
“No, you have the hot lawyer,” Layla said.
Emma’s jaw clenched. “I already told you, there’s nothing going on with Reece. He hates me.”
Layla clucked her tongue. “Somehow I doubt that. He helped you clean the kitchen the other day.”
“I think he wanted to make sure I’d landed a legitimate job,” Emma groused.
“So, he was looking out for you.”
“No, he sits around and judges me. He only comes around to make sure I’m not mistreating my sisters or making their lives miserable, which honestly, I probably do.”
“Emma, you’ve only been back a couple of weeks,” Layla said. “It’s going to take time to build a relationship with them. Plus, they are grieving for their parents, just like you are.”
“I’m supposed to be the adult.”
“And adults can’t feel lost and alone and frightened out of their minds?” Layla returned. “I think that’s the definition of being an adult. Don’t be too hard on yourself, and don’t project those feelings onto Reece Casings. I think he’s only acting out of love for your sisters. They seem to adore him, too, which means he can’t be all bad.”
“No, he’s not all bad.”
Which might be the problem. Reece Casings was a good man under all the judgmental crap he liked to pull. Someone who left her unsettled and questioning everything she ever believed about her past, her family, and her place in it.
Chapter 12
Mary opened a large steamer trunk and yelped when she discovered a brightly painted face staring back at her. “Dear Lord in heaven.” She released a gust of shaky laughter when she realized it was an old clown mask.
She hated clowns. The maniacal grins, bulging eyes, and Joker-like cheeks gave her the creeps. The mask cracked when she picked it up, which gave her a good excuse to throw it away. Who knows how long it had been hiding in the trunk, waiting to frighten her? Underneath the mask, she unearthed a hula skirt and a coconut bra. Chuckling again, she held the coconuts up to her chest and turned so she could see herself in the floor-length mirror.
“Oh dear…” She looked like an old lady trying to play dress up.
With a dispirited sigh, she placed the skirt and bra in a cabinet with the other miscellaneous costume pieces and continued with the sorting.
The enormous prop room in the back of The Paradise contained surprises at every turn. Mary had been tasked with trying to organize and catalogue what they had. After more than a week, it felt as though she’d made little progress. The room was stuffed to the rafters with old costumes, props, and even furniture. After years of neglect, a lot of it was junk, but there were genuinely nice pieces, like the old victrola on a dais near the door.<
br />
Massaging the stiffness in her back, Mary reached for her water bottle and took several long swallows. One thing was certain, work like this made her feel every one of her fifty-two years…and then some.
From out in the hallway, she heard the scuff of tennis shoes on the tile floor and glancing at her watch, was surprised to see how late it was. A moment later, Paige appeared in the doorway, just like she had every day this week.
When Emma had started bringing her youngest sister to The Paradise after school, Mary had applauded the move, thinking it might help them get to know each other better. If that had been her daughter’s aim, she’d missed the mark. Paige had no interest in cooking, but the theatre itself fascinated her. She usually managed to sneak away from the kitchen in search of something more interesting to do. That something right now was Mary’s current project of organizing the prop room.
Mary smiled. “Hi, I guess school is out already. Did you have a good day?”
“Got a B on my math test, even after Uncle Reece helped me study,” she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
Paige might have memorized every word of every Rodgers & Hammerstein musical, but long division gave her fits.
“That’s not so bad,” Mary said, using her best you-can-do-it teacher’s voice. “It’s better than the C you got last week, right?”
Her skinny shoulders lifted. “I guess.” She pointed at the trunk. “Can I help?”
“Of course you can.” Mary pointed to the clothing rack a little way down the row. “Why don’t you sort through those costumes and see what we might be able to keep?”
Paige quickly got to work, and soon she was lost in the magic of Arabian Nights costumes and 1920’s Zoot Suits.
Mary watched the girl out of the corner of her eye. Unlike her more volatile older sister, Paige seemed fine. Other than a few bouts of tears and long silences, she was adjusting as well as one might expect after losing her parents. Even so, it was hard to tell what was going through the girl’s head. She didn’t say much, which in some ways worried Mary more than Imogene’s attitude. At least you always knew what she was feeling.
Paige stopped pushing the hangers around and turned. “Um…Miss Mary? They’re trying out for the show in a couple of weeks,” she said, scuffing her tennis shoe against the floor. “I heard Mr. Grayson talking about it. They’re putting an ad in the paper.”
“That’s right,” Mary said, wondering where this conversation was headed.
Her shoe continued to squeak like a timid mouse. “There’s a part for a girl my age, and I want to try out for it,” Paige said in a rush as if she wanted to get the words out before she changed her mind.
Mary paused. “Really?”
Paige jerked her head up and down.
“Have you ever done a show in front of people?”
“I had a solo in the recital at school, and I sing in the kids’ choir at church.”
Not exactly the same as standing under the lights while a roomful of strangers stared at you. “It can be scary up there all by yourself,” she said, not sure if Paige was ready for the kind of stress she’d experience, on top of losing her parents.
Paige raised her chin, suddenly looking a lot more like Emma when she became defensive. “I can do it.”
Despite her misgivings, Mary could only nod and smile. “Well, honey, if you want to try, I think you should go for it.” Perhaps a distraction would be a good thing in the end. Paige clearly loved the theatre.
Paige released a pent up breath. “Will you help me practice?”
“I’d love to.”
A smile bloomed on the child’s face, and Mary’s heart warmed. Anything that brought such an expression of utter joy could only be a good thing.
“When can we start?” Paige asked. “Tomorrow after school? Or tonight?”
“Now’s as good a time as any.” She dusted her hands with a rag she’d tucked in her pocket. “There’s a piano in the rehearsal room across the hall.”
Paige’s eyes went wide. “Really? Now?”
Mary laughed. “Come on.”
The piano was badly out of tune – something else that had to be fixed – but it would do for today. Mary played a few chords, fought a wince, and then turned to Paige.
“We’ll start with something easy, so I can see where you need help. Let’s try Happy Birthday.”
Paige actually looked insulted. “Anyone can sing that.”
“Not true. It’s deceptively difficult, with a lot of jumps in the melody. Come on, try it. We can always switch to something more challenging later.”
Mary played the intro and then nodded toward Paige at the entry. On the first note, Mary’s head whipped around in surprise. By the middle, she’d gone beyond impressed, and by the time the girl finished, she was completely blown away.
The final note echoed in the quiet of the theatre. Mary stared in amazement. She’d worked with children for over twenty years. Listened to kids with tin ears and perfect pitch, but she’d never yet heard a child who possessed such pure quality of voice. Paige not only looked like an angel, she sounded like one, too.
Mary swallowed. “Paige, that was—”
“Incredible,” a deep, velvet-laced voice said from behind them.
Mary turned on the seat in surprise. A man in his late thirties stood in the doorway. Not too tall, but with a slim, muscular body. A lock of brown hair rode just above eyes of deep, chocolate brown. Handsome, but in a rugged, I-can-fight-your-enemies way.
He took a step closer. “Was that you singing?” he asked Paige.
Paige nodded, her face glowing at the praise.
“Amazing.” He walked over and rested his arm against the piano. “What’s your name?”
“Paige Bertram.”
“Nice to meet you, Paige.” He turned to Mary and smiled. “Hi.”
Mary’s heart did something it hadn’t done in almost a quarter century. It…fluttered. If she’d experienced the sensation under any other circumstance, she might have suspected a heart attack. Since a handsome man was standing two feet away, she could only conclude the jump in her pulse was due to him.
“I’m Brent Atwood.” His smile grew as if he knew her pulse was jumping. Of course he was very good looking so he was probably used to women reacting that way.
Her cheeks burned. “Mary Bertram.”
“A pleasure to meet you, too.”
“Paige!” Emma’s voice rang through the corridor.
Paige jumped at the summons. “I gotta’ go.”
She sprinted for the hallway and disappeared around the corner.
Brent watched her go. “Wow.”
Mary pulled her gaze away from his chiseled profile with more reluctance than she could explain. “Yes. I had no idea Paige could sing like that.”
Brent looked back at Mary. “You’ve never heard her before?”
She shook her head.
He hesitated, looking a little confused. “Oh. You have the same last name. I thought maybe she was your—” He trailed off, obviously not wanting to insult her by guessing granddaughter, but knowing daughter had to be unlikely.
“Paige is my…well…it’s complicated.”
He seemed even more curious, but wisely backed away from dangerous territory. “Okay, we’ll leave it at complicated. You play very well.”
“I’m a music teacher.”
“Are you?” His eyes crinkled when he grinned, and tiny lines appeared, indicating he was a bit older than she’d first guessed. “I had the biggest crush on my music teacher in the fourth grade. Miss Collins. Do you sing as well, Mary Bertram?”
“Not in a very long time.” At least nothing more serious than the church choir, where she tended to blend into the background.
Brown eyes searched her face. “Something caused you to stop?” he asked as if she were a puzzle he was trying to figure out.
Life. Love. Heartbreak. “Something.”
He nodded as if the single word made complete sense. �
��Right.”
For a moment a shared understanding threaded between them. Mary broke contact. “Can I help you find something? I doubt you were passing by The Paradise and decided to just drop in.”
“I might have if I’d known the place held such intrigues as a little girl with a siren’s voice and a beautiful lady who’s forgotten how to use hers.”
The flutter in her chest returned, only at double time. Beautiful? He thought she was beautiful? More likely, he was a professionally trained and accomplished playboy.
“Grayson Kendall is a friend of mine,” Brent said. “He asked me to stop by for a chat.”
“You flew all the way from Chicago to chat?” Mary asked in disbelief.
“I wasn’t in Chicago. I’ve been vacationing in Palm Beach.”
“Must have been nice,” she said.
His eyes shifted away. “Just left of paradise. Anyway, I was bored with sun and sand so it was no trouble to make the drive over. It’s a charming town. You must like living here.”
“I don’t really.” She flushed. “Live here anymore, I mean. I did years ago, but now, I’m back for a little while helping my daughter with something.”
The grin reappeared. “As well as little girls with music lessons?”
“Paige wants to audition for the show.”
He nodded. “She’ll get it, too.”
“Do you think so?” She didn’t want Paige to get her hopes up, only to have her fragile self-esteem smashed.
“You heard her. What do you think?”
“I think I’m going to have to talk to Emma and convince her to let Paige be in the show.”
He laughed. “Wise choice, whoever Emma is.”
More than her heart fluttered as the sound of his mirth wrapped around her entire body. Even though she was too old to go “gaga” over a man who was…well…she wasn’t sure how much younger he was, but she knew much younger factored in. Despite all that, her fifty-two-year-old body didn’t agree.
“You absolutely intrigue me, Mary Bertram.”
“You’re easily intrigued then.”
Straight on Toward Paradise Page 14
