I make my way backstage, herding the kids in the general direction of the dressing room.
The lobster flies past me, red limbs flailing, scrabbling down the stairs.
Carter is at the door of the dressing room, and he slaps my shoulder as I pass. “Thanks, man, you’re the best.”
“I know.”
“Your phone’s been buzzing away.” He motions over to the cubby where I left it with my clothes.
I pick it up. There are five missed calls from Jerry. He lives down the street from me, behind the inn. I hope everything is okay.
I call him back, but it rings a few times and then goes to voicemail.
“New girlfriend?” Carter tugs the costumed head off a tiny elephant.
“So many new girlfriends, it’s hard to keep track.”
It’s a running joke between us. Surrender is a small town. Between the two of us, we’ve basically established that we need to move if we ever want to date again. All the women in town are either old enough to be our mothers, we’ve known them since we were six, or they are only here for a season.
“It was Jerry calling.”
“He probably wants you to start shoveling his snow.”
Chloe pats my arm. “Mr. Spencer, will you help me with my boots? My mom is waiting for me outside.”
I crouch down to help Chloe, patting her blond head when we’re done before she scampers back through the door in the main backstage area where parents are appearing to collect their children.
“Excuse me. Coming through. I gotta find Spencer, you seen him? Hey, you seen Spence?” Jerry’s loud voice booms, even over the deafening noise only a few dozen children can create.
Carter steps out of the way as Jerry enters the room, tugging someone behind him.
The loud hum of voices simmers down to a dull roar. My ears ring.
Every cell in my body comes to attention, zeroing in on the someone he’s dragging along with him.
Her blond hair is unbound and damp, flowing a bit wildly around her face. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold. Her eyes lock with mine, bright blue and sharp, despite the gray smudges underneath.
Holy shit.
It’s her.
She’s here.
Vivien Hart.
Heat rises, filling my face. My heart makes a sudden and valiant attempt to bounce its way out of my chest.
Carter is talking to Jerry, saying something, but I don’t register the words.
That wasn’t drunken geriatrics calling and saying ebullient fart, that was Vivien Hart. My stomach drops.
I wasn’t sure if she would show up after we sent notification of her inheritance. She disappeared from the public eye years ago, at least according to what people say online.
Not that I stalk her online or anything, but I did look her up after Beverly died. It was my job. But she’s Vivien Hart. She’s famous. Someone like her would send an assistant or a lawyer or a manager or something.
I have to play it cool. I have to play it professional. She’s my client. I have to pretend I didn’t accuse her of saying ebullient fart and then hang up on her.
I drag my eyes away to check the room behind her. Only familiar kids and a few parents. All locals, people I recognize. There is no one with her, except Jerry. She came to Surrender alone?
