“Please don’t encourage them,” Helga replied under her breath, then went on, loud enough to drown out Maxine, “Do tell us about the rest of the cast—not that I care, because I’m not going to be playing a dead body. I don’t carewho’s going to be pulling me—it—out of the window seat.”
“Not even if it’s Roger Hatchard?” Vivien said with a smirk.
“Did you sayRoger Hatchard?” Helga clapped a hand to her chest, her blue-brown eyes going wide. “Roger Hatchard? For real?”
“The one and only.” Vivien sat back, folding her arms over her middle.
“Wait—I thought you said Baxter is playing Mortimer.” Helga looked skeptical but also slyly interested.
“He is. But in act two, the character of Jonathan Brewster—the villain—also has to help move Mr. Spinalzo—theotherdead body—intothe window seat.”
“That’s a lot of dead bodies being schlepped around,” said Orbra, watching them with her hands on her hips.
“Jonathan Brewster—that’s the role Boris Karloff played,” announced Maxine. “Not that any of you young chickens even know who Boris Karloff—”
“Of course I know who Boris Karloff is. I watchedThe Grinch,didn’t I?Anyway…Roger Hatchard?” Helga repeated. “He’s going to be in your show? VL, how could younothave—”
“Whois Roger Hatchard?” asked Juanita in a prim voice. “Some of us older ladies don’t know all of the newfangled stars—”
“He was only the best center for the Pistons in the early aughts,” said Helga with a dreamy sigh. “Six foot eight inches of deliciousness, not to mention being brilliant on the court. His footwork in that playoff game against the Lakers…mmhmm.” She did a French-chef sort of kissy thing to express her appreciation for either the man’s playing or his so-called deliciousness; Vivien wasn’t sure which. “EvenIcould have worn heels if I wanted to date him—and would still have to look up to kiss the guy.”
“He was a little old for you at ten, Helga,” Vivien teased.
“So how did you managethat?” asked Helga, still moony-eyed. “Getting a basketball player toact?”
“Well,” Vivien replied slyly, “it could have something to do with the fact that I’ve been sort of seeing his son…”
“What?” Helga was nearly out of her seat. “VL, I swear I’d kill you if I didn’t want to make sure this production goes off! How could you not tell me?”
Vivien gave a little snort-laugh. “Well, I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”
Helga swatted her with a napkin and called her an unflattering name.
Maxine had pursed her lips so they stuck out in a massive pout. “What’re youtalkingabout? You got abaseball guyplaying in the show? Why, I ain’t everheardof anything so ridi—”
“Basketball,” said Orbra firmly. “He played for the Detroit Pistons. He’s originally from Lansing, so he’s kind of a local boy. Now he’s an ESPN sportscaster, isn’t he?”
“He is. And yes, he can act—at least enough to play Jonathan Brewster—which isn’t a very demanding role. He’s just sort of hulking and mean,” Vivien said, looking at Maxine. “I wanted to—er—support the hometown actors in the cast by having some local celebrities to round things out. It’ll help create a draw for the show and we’ll raise more money for the renovations.”
“Celebrities?” said Helga.
“Yes…well, Dr. Einstein is going to be played by Michael Wold—you know, the actor who did LeFou fromBeauty and the Beastin the national tour last year, and—”
Vivien’s cell phone chose that moment to buzz from its place on the table. It was the bank. Her stomach dropped to the floor as she snatched up her phone. “Sorry, ladies, I have to take this—it’s the bank about the loan. More info to come, I promise. Rehearsals start next week, Maxine and Juanita.”
I hope.
She answered the phone as she hurried out of the tea shop, knowing Helga not only wouldn’t arrest her for dining and dashing, but would cover her tab.
Of course, then Helga would make her friend pay her back—and insist Vivien do so by going to Trib’s, the trendiest and therefore most expensive restaurant in the county.
The phone call with her small business loan officer was brief and successful, culminating in the very best news: the loan she’d applied for had been approved—and at the highest amount she’d hoped for. She did a little pirouette in the street, feeling like she was back in ballet class at age five. The only thing that kept her from doing a cartwheel was the fact that she was wearing a sundress.
She was here in Wicks Hollow and was one step closer to fulfilling her dream and making a life in this sweet, quaint town.
So different from New York! She’d loved the big city when she first moved there, when she’d been dying to get out of tiny Wicks Hollow right after high school graduation. It helped to get away from memories and gave her a chance to spread her wings. Which she’d done, but not in the way she’d expected.
But sometime over the last ten years, her desire to live in the frenetic, energetic, demanding city had waned. She wanted to be in a place where she felt at home, where she belonged, where—yes, all right—everybody knew her name. And she wanted to honor Liv and the memories Vivien had with her.
