"Before you disappear..." He gestured toward an elaborate archway dominating the center stage. "I could use your eye on something. The balance feels off, but I can't figure out why."
The request was casual, but something in his tone suggested more beneath the surface. Like he knew I needed an excuse to stay without admitting I wanted to.
He was using plywood and paint to transform the arch into Macy's elegant entrance. He'd captured the architectural details perfectly, but something about the proportions wasn't right.
"See how it leans?" He ran his hand along the curved top. "I've checked every joint twice. Even asked the archway nicely to straighten itself, but apparently, it's stubborn."
I circled the piece, letting my dancer's understanding of space and movement guide my eye. "It's not the construction. It's the weight distribution." I moved closer, aware of Ben's close presence. "May I?"
He nodded, and I reached past him to trace the problem area. "The decorative scrollwork on this side is heavier. It draws the viewer's focus and throws off the visual balance. If we mirror it here..." My hand brushed against his as we both reached for the same spot. The contact sent warmth racing up my arm—and one of the work lights overhead flickered three times in quick succession.
"Show me exactly where?" His voice dropped lower, and the theater seemed to shrink around us.
"Right..." I swallowed hard as his fingers followed mine along the carved detail. "Here."
"I see it now. You've got an incredible eye for this."
"It comes from years of having to hit my mark while moving backward in the dark." I tried to laugh off the observation, but my voice was unsteady. "When you dance, you learn to feel the space around you."
"Is that what you're doing? Feeling the… space?"
Silence stretched around the question, loaded with meanings I wasn't ready to unpack. Jack's voice boomed from the house, saving me.
"Places for the toy department scene, everyone! Charice, prepare yourself for romance."
"Please tell me you've retired the cash register metaphors," Charice called as she took her position. She winked at the kids, who quickly settled into the front row.
Jack pressed a hand to his chest. "I'll have you know I spent all night working on this. Prepare yourself for genuine retail passion."
He was right—something was different. Instead of his usual overwrought delivery, Jack softened as he approached Charice. When she straightened a display of toy trains, he tilted his head in wonder.
His voice was quiet but confident. "You make everything magical. The way you arrange these toys—it's like you're creating little worlds for them to live in."
Charice's usual sarcastic expression melted. "That's... kind of beautiful, Jack."
"I mean it. You see stories everywhere. Like how you've got this family of teddy bears having a picnic, and these toy soldiers standing guard over the dollhouse..."
The lights warmed around them, shifting from cool white to something closer to candlelight. Jack and Charice moved through the scene with their usual theatrical flourishes set aside. They were now two people finding joy in each other's company. When Jack helped Charice rearrange the window display, their laughter was genuine.
Marcus tugged at my sleeve. "They're not acting anymore, are they?"
"No. Sometimes the best performances happen when you stop trying so hard to perform."
"Like magic?"
I glanced at him, surprised. "Yeah. It's magic."
Ben appeared at my shoulder, close enough to catch the mingled scents of cedar and coffee. "Speaking of performances, these set pieces won't paint themselves. Care to lend a hand?"
"Sure, but don't give me the crucial parts. My high school art teacher still shudders when she sees me coming."
While Jack and Charice continued rehearsing, Ben and I settled into a rhythm, working on opposite sides of a towering storefront panel. The quiet between us was comfortable rather than awkward.
"How did a Broadway veteran learn so much about stage lighting?" Ben reached up to catch a drip before it could streak the woodwork.
"Lots of downtime between scenes. I used to hang out with the tech crew while waiting for my cues. They taught me more than any dance class ever did about how theaters work."
"Like what?"
