Chapter 8
Soft light from the new fixtures made the fresh gilt gleam and deepened the richness of the wallpaper in the Holiday Pines Playhouse lobby. Rayne couldn’t help but be proud when he looked around. The arts council was hosting a VIP reception at the playhouse for the biggest donors to the restoration to give them a preview of the finished project. The dress code was black tie, and as he gazed at the men in their tuxedos and the women in their elegant evening gowns, Rayne wondered if this was how patrons had felt on opening night back in the 1920s.
Tomorrow, the mayor planned to hold a ribbon cutting ceremony at noon, and the first Christmas show would debut that evening, but tonight, the concession stand was serving champagne and canapes instead of popcorn and soda. Although the lobby was where the guests were congregating, Steve was offering tours of the auditorium and backstage area for anyone interested. Rayne remained in the lobby where he’d set up a small display of photos depicting the playhouse as it appeared when it opened to show how closely he’d matched the original design. He’d also included copies of the archival material that had helped him most, such as newspaper articles and invoices. Some of the history buffs in attendance had questions, and Rayne was happy to natter about the challenges of historical reproduction for as long as they wanted to listen. Most guests, however, wanted to compliment the work. He lost track of how many times he heard “I feel like we’ve gone back in time,” but every time he did, his chest puffed up with pride.
There was a small congregation of people chatting near the entrance, but as Rayne watched, the crowd parted as if by magic, and a couple stepped into the lobby. They were dressed formally, but the style of their clothing wasn’t modern, rather perfectly matched to the Art Deco decor. The woman wore a slinky, above-the-knee red dress with an overlay of black beads, including a fringe that swayed as she walked. Her silver hair was styled closed to her head, with a headband of black and red feathers. When she smiled, he recognized Isabel, and the man in the old-fashioned but well-fitted tux who escorted her was none other than Emilio. The tux fit Emilio beautifully, and he carried a cane and wore a top hat. Together, the two of them looked as though they could have stepped out of one of the newspaper clippings of the original opening night of the theater.
Isabel stopped to chat with the mayor’s wife, and Emilio excused himself with a smile. Then Emilio crossed the lobby, heading directly to Rayne, and Rayne’s mouth went dry at the predatory way Emilio moved.
By the time Emilio stood in front of him, Rayne had regained his composure. “Congratulations,” Emilio said. “It really does look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” Rayne let his pride come through in his smile. “It’s great how the whole town rallied together to make this happen.”
“Despite some people who needed some extra convincing?” Emilio smiled wryly in return. “I admit it, I was wrong. You did a great job. This will definitely help bring in the tourists.”
“I hope so,” Rayne said. “Holiday Pines needs something to draw people in beyond the holiday season.”
“Hopefully this will help do that.” Emilio waved his hand, an expansive gesture that encompassed the entire lobby. Rayne remembered how much Emilio communicated with his hands and his body, his dance training carrying over naturally into conversation. “There’s been some talk of starting up a community theater troupe to perform musicals from the golden era of the Twenties. You know, things likeLady, Be GoodandNo, No, Nannette. Maybe evenShow Boatif they can find a good enough bass to sing ‘Ol’ Man River’. I think it could be really popular.”
“I wouldn’t limit it to works from that era,” Rayne said, the business part of his brain kicking in. “Offering a wider range of productions would appeal to a broader audience and that’s what we need, especially at this point.”
“True. I think they wanted to start with the Twenties, though. As a tribute to the remodeling.” Emilio shrugged slightly. “I’m sure there will be meetings about it. Mama wants them to try bringing people in from Asheville retirement communities by bus for the shows. But that means we’d need more shopping and restaurants, too.”
“The meetings have already started, informally at least,” Rayne said with a little nod. “I’ve had a couple of conversations about an idea I have for the old stables.”
Emilio raised his eyebrows, obviously interested. “What’s your idea?”
“There are a lot of talented artists and craftspeople in this area, but they tend to be scattered around unless there’s a craft fair like the one in Asheville or the craft exhibit building at the state fair.” Rayne grew more animated as he spoke, not bothering to hide his excitement over his potential new project. “Since Holiday Pines needs something to draw people in year-round, I thought turning the stables into an ongoing craft fair might work. The space could be sectioned off and rented out, and it could be marketed as a one-stop place to shop for unique, handcrafted furniture and decor.”
Emilio’s jaw dropped. “That’s a great idea, if you can find enough artists to rent the space. I could put out an inquiry among my adult students, if you like.”
“Sure, that would be one place to start,” Rayne said. “The idea hasn’t been greenlit yet, but I’m getting my proposal together so I’ll be ready to pitch it when the time comes.”
“Who owns the stables?” Emilio asked. “I know they changed hands a few times over the years, but I can’t think who owns them now, the city or a private developer.”
“They belong to the city. The last owner bequeathed the building to the council because of its historical significance with the stipulation that it wouldn’t be torn down.” Rayne began to pace in front of his display table as his designer brain kicked into high gear. “The structure is sound, just like the playhouse. It could be restored too, and it wouldn’t take that many modifications to make it a useable space for craftspeople.”
“It sounds really cool,” Emilio said softly. He gave a lopsided smile. “I forgot how passionate you always got about your projects.”
Rayne spread his hands and shrugged. “You have dance. I have design.”
“True.” Emilio nodded and then stepped back. “I shouldn’t monopolize you. After all, you’re the star of the night. Congratulations.”
Before Rayne could respond, he was distracted by someone calling Emilio’s name, and he glanced around to see Vanessa Garrison, president of the arts council, approaching them with Isabel Rives right beside her.
“Just the man I wanted to see!” Vanessa greeted Emilio cheerfully. “I wanted to talk to you about entering the tour of homes we’re hosting during the week leading up to Christmas. The Rives house is one of the older homes in town, and we’d love to showcase it on the tour.”
Emilio’s eyes widened. “My house? Seriously? But I don’t decorate it for the holidays. I’m too busy with the shows!”
Vanessa looked chagrined. “But I remember your parents used to go all out…”
“Ah, but that was many years ago.” Isabel stepped up beside Emilio and rested her hand on her son’s arm. “All the decorations are still in the attic, I believe. But Emilio is quite busy. I wonder if there’s anyone who might be interested in taking on the project? It would be a shame to be left out for lack of time.” The smile she slanted at Rayne was far too innocent to be innocent.
“Uh…” Rayne glanced back and forth between Isabel and Emilio, feeling like the breath had been knocked out of him. All things considered, he thought forced contact between him and Emilio was a terrible idea. “I’m pretty sure Emilio doesn’t want me all up in his business.”
Emilio looked at his mother, and Isabel smiled. “Think of it,mijo. Your little nieces and nephews haven’t seen the house the way your papa used to decorate it with all the lights and toys. It would be lovely for them, don’t you think? And a sweet tribute to your papa.”
“It would be fine with me, if you have time,” Emilio said, turning his dark gaze to Rayne, his expression apologetic.
