Take a Bow (A Rivervue Community Theatre Romance, #3)

by Fiona Greene

  Her time at Rivervue was probably coming to an end. And with it, CJ’s Youth Theatre.

  Emptiness chased away the joy she normally felt when she thought about her gorgeous old theatre, and for the first time since she’d arrived in Brachen all those years ago, she was adrift.

  Alone.

  Without purpose.

  She pivoted around and headed back to her car, then on autopilot, she headed for home.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mark juggled his vanilla latte, his laptop and the Draven as he took the stairs the following morning. Lexi was already at her desk. Today she was in an emerald green polka-dot dress that hugged every curve, paired with black patent peep-toes. Mark stood outside the floor-to-ceiling glass, watching her work.

  Stop. Just stop.

  It wasn’t important what Lexi was wearing.

  He’d tossed and turned through another rough night. Luckily Emma had been so tired she hadn’t noticed he was distracted, and as soon as they’d finished dinner she’d crashed. Having her home had been good. For the first time since Lexi’s tearful confession, he’d stopped thinking about Caleb Joseph.

  He wanted to describe the last three days as disastrous, and in many ways, they were. But Lexi had shared something really special with him when she’d gifted him the memorial box for Caleb. He could feel the love that had gone into every item she’d placed in there. If not for the strange twist of fate that had brought them both to Brachen at the same time, and forced them to work together, he might never have known he had a son.

  His breath hitched in his throat.

  A son.

  He wanted to hate Lexi. Until this weekend, he would have bet on his ability to do so. He hated that she’d kept his son from him. He hated that he’d never held his son, never known him. He even hated that he could no longer think of Emma as his firstborn.

  And he hated that Lexi’d lied.

  But he couldn’t hate Lexi. A tiny piece of his heart broke every time he thought of her experience: alone except for strangers. When not much older than his Emma now, she’d had a child, and she’d watched him die.

  He hated the way it had happened, but he had the utmost sympathy for her experience.

  Last night, he’d stood for a while and watched Emma as she slept, all cuddled up with her favourite bear. And he imagined the pain of all the birthdays, and holidays, if Emma hadn’t survived past infanthood.

  Hell, just the ordinary days would be purgatory. His gut wrenched.

  Lexi had lived with that knowledge day in, day out.

  He couldn’t hate her, and he was having trouble sorting that out in his head.

  So many times, she could have said something. But she didn’t.

  And no matter how much he wanted her in his life, it made her someone he didn’t want to be around. Not after his experience with Skye.

  His focus now was on saving the play from disaster and securing his job.

  There were only so many times a man could go running to burn off his frustration. And so over the weekend he’d sat down and started working on a plan to spin the information about Draven to their advantage.

  He’d read the play in its entirety, and he could see the brilliance. There were some subtle nuances in the split timeline he wanted to explore, if he could find the right person to navigate Brachen’s recent past with.

  Normally, he would have asked Lexi but that wasn’t even an option now.

  He needed someone Brachen-born.

  Kenzie, perhaps? Sofia’s son, Gabriel? He hated to have to ask him, given he’d just lost his mother to cancer. Hell, the entire theatre was trying not to fall apart over Sofia’s sudden deterioration and death. He had to tread oh so carefully.

  As though she’d sensed his presence, Lexi glanced up. Her expression went from welcoming to unsure to hollow in a split second before the mask slid up and before his eyes she became Lexi the theatre director.

  Cool. Polished. Professional.

  Now, all he had to do was to match her in that.

  He juggled his coffee and elbowed the door open. ‘Good morning.’

  ‘Good morning. I’ve got everything you requested for the meeting.’ Lexi gestured to the pile of paperwork to her right.

  ‘Thanks for pulling that together so quickly.’

  There was a mail satchel on his desk and for something to do, he grabbed the scissors and sliced the end open. Individual plastic-wrapped bundles started falling out. He recognised the fabric inside. It was from the dress that had been hanging in Lexi’s office that first day.

  Jeez.

  It was full of those babies in heaven gowns. He picked one up, surprised that the tiny folded garment fitted in the palm of his hand. He dropped it too, then scooped the lot of them back in the bag and shoved it towards her. ‘These are for you.’

  She looked at the satchel then her eyes shot straight to his face. ‘Sorry. Didn’t realise that was there.’ The air crackled between them. ‘I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Now was as good a time as any to say what he had to say. He cleared his throat. ‘A lot of things happened on the weekend, and a lot of things changed. My priority, and I hope you’ll continue to work with me on this, is to stage a successful production of Larrikin.’

  Lexi nodded. ‘Of course.’

  Mark pulled his chair opposite her desk and slid into it, but he didn’t meet her eyes. Instead he focused on the yin-yang paperweight in front of her. Even though it was handmade it was nearly identical to the one he now had. ‘Thank you for the memorial for Caleb. It brought him alive for me. I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know.’ He reached out and touched the resin, just for a second.

  Lexi didn’t respond.

  Her bottom lip was quivering, but as he watched, she pulled herself together. ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘I also wanted to let you know that I won’t be vacating this office after our meeting today, as was the plan last week. I need to keep close tabs on the production. I can’t do that from the Council offices.’

  Lexi’s spine went rigid. Clearly, she hadn’t been expecting that. ‘Okay,’ She interlocked her fingers and rested her chin on her hands. ‘Probably best we get started then. I’m assuming we’re building a presentation for the mayor?’

  ‘Yes, the mayor won’t be happy. Our role is to ensure that we turn that around and that he leaves happy.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘We let the mayor and your director know ahead of the launch. Use the Draven name in our private meeting this afternoon to the theatre’s advantage and to appeal to the mayor’s requirement for prestige and award. I want the mayor to think this launch is all part of the Draven mystique.’ He paused. ‘And I want him to think that he had a part in that decision, and our success was leveraged off his early involvement.’

  ‘He wasn’t involved early,’ Lexi corrected. ‘I’m pretty sure he would have closed Rivervue down already, if not for the bicentennial.’

  ‘Agreed.’ Mark rubbed his hand over his brow. ‘In this case, I think it’s best to let that slide. Let him claim early involvement. At this stage, you … no, we need to do anything and everything to open on a positive note. If I have read the play right, and I’m no expert, the play will take it from there.’

  ‘The play, if we can open it, will give us what we need. Mark …’ Lexi bit her lip and he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. ‘Given how the last few days have gone down, I wasn’t sure how this morning was going to play out. You’ve nailed down exactly the way I wanted to manage this.’ She paused. ‘Well, except for the mayor thing.’

  He stared at her for the longest time. ‘Number one rule of business. Work with what you have.’

  ‘Agreed.’ She reached out to touch his arm. ‘Thank you.’

  Her touch, feather light, left a lingering burn on his skin. He pulled his arm away. He would work with her, but that was as far as it went. She’d extinguished the spark that had reignited between
them as neatly as if she’d deluged it with a bucket of water.

  He had nothing else to give. Not now.

  He cleared his throat and said, ‘Let’s get started. I’ve drafted a plan.’ He opened his laptop. ‘We need to agree on this, do a PowerPoint, and we’ll present to the mayor at two.’ There. Back to business.

  Lexi tucked a stray hair behind her ear, picked up her pen. ‘Let’s go.’

  Business.

  ‘Right.’ He paused to gather his thoughts. Spreadsheet, not hair. ‘The presentation should start with a visual of the banners.’

  And they were off. As distant as it was possible for ex-lovers to be, but united in their desire to sell Larrikin.

  Business.

  All he had to do was deliver the best play possible. Then extricate himself from Rivervue.

  Business as usual, working for Council.

  Why then, did the whole thing now feel hollow, like he’d abandoned ship on the juggernaut that was Team Lexi.

  ***

  The PowerPoint presentation faded to black and the extras they’d roped in, dressed in full costume, disappeared in the sudden darkness. Just as they would during the production.

  There was two seconds of silence, then when the lights came back on, everyone started talking at once.

  ‘A Draven?’ Thomas Clayborne, the Arts Trust director, looked in imminent danger of having a stroke. ‘Authenticated?’

  ‘A big deal production.’ Forsdyke rubbed his hands together and grinned from ear to ear. ‘Mark Conroy. I knew you’d be able to pull this together.’

  Mark and Lexi exchanged glances.

  ‘Mayor, I provided logistical support only. This was Lexi’s decision to accept the play, and the credit lies with her.’ Or the blame. He turned to Thomas. ‘Every indication, it’s a Draven. Lexi has done her due diligence, and I did a separate scoping and we both concluded to the best of our knowledge this is a Draven.’

  The mayor made a dismissive gesture. ‘Mark, you’re too modest. Likely impact on the bicentennial?’

  Mark went to stand with Lexi. ‘Larrikin will be launched as a Draven this coming weekend. With our media strategy in place, ticket sales are anticipated to go through the roof. Brachen will be the hottest place in New South Wales over the festival weekend. That will leverage through to the festival activities, and also to accommodation and hospitality. The Brachen Bicentennial will be the destination and I’m anticipating we will sell out.’

  ‘Theatre connoisseurs travel overseas to attend Draven’s plays.’ Lexi spoke up. ‘If that happens it will provide a huge boost to Rivervue, giving the theatre, and Brachen, prestige on an international stage.’

  Mark eyed Lexi through new eyes.

  Suddenly, all those background conversations he’d been present for about the complex sets and the exquisite, yet complicated, costume designs and transition of lighting cells made sense. All the way along, right under his nose, she’d been guiding the production towards an international audience. There’d be an outcry about the proposed Rivervue Revitalisation and intense media scrutiny adding weight to Lexi’s case not to relocate to the Butter Factory.

  Well played, Lexi Spencer.

  She was deep in conversation with Thomas, who still looked like he was on the brink of some sort of heart event. That was when the thunderbolt hit him. He’d completely and utterly underestimated her skills and her knowledge when he’d agreed to work with her.

  Heat rose up from his collared shirt. All these weeks. He shifted in his chair. He’d been busy teaching her the business of an event, and she’d allowed him to do it to keep the peace.

  The mayor clicked his fingers close to Mark’s face. ‘Well?’

  Damn. He’d missed the question. ‘Sorry, I was following that conversation.’ He gestured to Lexi’s animated discussion with Thomas. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘What do we need to do now?’

  ‘We don’t need to do anything.’ Mark stared at the mayor. ‘Lexi Spencer has this completely under control. I will continue to touch base with her, but if this explodes the way we think it might, you may need to pull me back. For starters, we’ll need Brachen looking one hundred and twenty per cent. Planters, trees hedged, lawns mowed.’ The list in his head kept growing. ‘We might need the overflow campground, and I’ll need to confirm water supply. I’ll talk to Jo. I probably should come back to the office, but I don’t see that I can leave.’

  Not with Lexi the Surprise Package in charge.

  ‘But …’

  ‘Mayor,’ Lexi interrupted. ‘I appreciate having Mark working with me, but I don’t agree. Once I have my initial sales figures, I’m going to need someone at Council to liaise with. There’ll be parking, and traffic control, and questions about services. They would need to be responsive and understand my business. Mark covers both those things.’ She smiled, that 1940s glamour smile that Mark had come to know so well. ‘Having Mark back with you would help our production out a lot. We can continue to check in daily. Mark can produce your press releases and your content.’ She smiled again. ‘I’ve appreciated every second Mark has spent on the production, but his place is with you now.’

  Their eyes met.

  Just for a second, before she controlled it, there was a tiny quiver of her bottom lip.

  Damn, she was giving him the kiss off.

  Giving him what he’d said all along that he wanted. Giving it with grace and eloquence. This was Lexi, standing on her own two feet and making the best of what she’d been given.

  The way she’d always done.

  ‘He should stay here at Council,’ she said, collecting her papers. Lexi offered her hand and the mayor shook it. ‘Thank you for everything. I need to get back. We’re deep in rehearsals and I want to be there when I reveal the final act. It’s a bit confronting on the first read-through. Thomas, did you want to come over and see where we’re up to?’

  The Arts Trust director jumped at the chance. ‘Of course.’

  She met his eyes again. ‘Mark.’ Her gaze told her everything he needed to know. As far as she was concerned, it was over. She nodded then turned on her heel.

  Mark watched her leave. Memories of the last time she’d walked from his life resurfaced as she walked down the long hallway toward the lift. Last time he’d forced her to go. This time she’d chosen it. She hadn’t fought or screamed or protested. Yet that tiny quiver of her lips a few minutes ago told him that she wanted to.

  Acid burned his throat as she disappeared silently from his world and returned to hers.

  He activated the screens, returning the room to daylight.

  It would be much simpler for everyone for him to stay here and cut ties with Rivervue. Let Lexi do what she did best. But he knew he had to go back.

  If there was one thing he’d learned in the last few weeks, it was that he had to watch Lexi Spencer.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Adrenaline was a fabulous substance.

  Despite working twenty-hour days leading into Hell Week, and an emotion-packed full dress and tech run for a tame test audience last night, Lexi was instantly awake when the alarm chirped in the light of pre-dawn.

  Excitement bubbled through her.

  Tonight was opening night.

  Pre-production was always torrid, but Larrikin was the play that kept delivering. First, she’d lost Hamish Waters, her stage manager, over creative differences. Then Sofia Mora, her friend and the extraordinary talent behind design at Rivervue, had lost her battle with cancer. One of her lead actors, Kenzie Russell, had almost pulled out over a flyer she was never planning to release, and Bruce Clifton’s house had been ransacked and vandalised.

  All that drama in her Rivervue family, and none of it onstage.

  Yet, in true Rivervue style, they’d coped. Bruce was her new stage manager, a promotion that was well overdue. He and Gabriel Mora had more than stepped up to deliver the costumes and sets. They’d knocked it out of the park, even with their grief over Gabriel’s mum on t
op of everything else.

  Lexi smiled when she thought of man-mountain Bruce with dark-haired Gabe. It wasn’t her business, and she wouldn’t say anything until they said something first, but she’d seen a passionate kiss between the two the other day when they thought they were alone on the stage. Even now it made her smile. She was so happy they were exploring a relationship together. Blind Freddy could see they were perfect for one another.

  Then last night, Dylan had surprised everyone at the dress rehearsal when he spoke up—even just spoke!—and declared his undying love for Kenzie. That one hit her out of total left field. They’d kept it all so quiet down there under the stage. She couldn’t even fathom the courage that must have taken, especially saying it in front of Kenzie’s grandmother, and every single person involved in the production.

  That was true love for you. The whole world could be falling down, and you wouldn’t care, so long as that one special person was with you.

  Yes, well …

  She stopped that train of thought right there.

  Now the cast and crew knew everything about the production. More than they’d ever expected, in fact.

  Most people knew Lucy Russell as Kenzie’s nan, the woman whose melting moments sold out every time the Country Women’s Association had their bake sale. But last night they were all introduced to her as Lucy Devon—Ron de Vue’s only child.

  Minds. Officially. Blown.

  And barely before they could recover, Dylan unmasked himself as Draven, then played Lucy a fifty-year-old audio-tape message from her father.

  Not a dry eye in the house, as they say.

  It had been such a special moment. Hearing Ron speak gave her a completely different perspective on his actions. The pauses, the hesitations. Ron wasn’t retelling a callous, selfish act he barely remembered. This was someone who deeply regretted what he’d done each and every day of his life, and who’d buried that regret deep behind his larrikin facade.

  For the first time, Lexi truly understood Ron de Vue. And she’d itched to find a way to build his words into the first public performance.