Then I see him. Riley steps outside carrying a duffel bag, sunglasses perched on his head, wearing the same confident grin he has had since I’ve known him.
“There he is,” he says, walking toward me.
He pulls me into a quick hug. “Thanks for coming, man,” I say.
“I wouldn’t miss this for anything.”
We head toward the truck.
“So,” he says as he tosses the bag in the back, “how’s the theater? All ready to go?”
“It’s ready. Crazy to think all the hard work is about to pay off,” I say.
He climbs into the passenger seat. “How are you actually doing?” he asks.
I start the engine.
“It’s going,” I say, letting out a laugh.
“How’s Violet?” Riley asks.
“I’m just hoping she doesn’t hate me.”
“She doesn’t hate you. She would have told you by now if she were done. Plus, didn’t you say she’s helping with the grand opening?”
Hope flickers somewhere inside my chest. Maybe she isn’t completely gone after all.
29
Violet
“Good ideas start with great coffee.”
One Day Before The Grand Opening
Lavender Creek is buzzing.
Everywhere I go, someone mentions the theater.
At the café, Mrs. Harper orders her usual lavender latte and tells me she still remembers seeing her first movie there in 1978.
Two high school kids come in arguing about which movie Everett would show first.
Even the hardware store across the street has a sign in the window that reads:
“Closing early, see you at the theater!”
It feels like the entire town has been holding its breath waiting for tomorrow.
I wipe down the café counter and glance through the front window.
Main Street looks different lately. Not because anything has physically changed. But because Everett has changed something in the town just by bringing the theater back. He’s reminded people what it feels like to be excited about something together.
Brie steps out from the kitchen carrying a tray of pastries.
“Staring again?” she says.
“People watching,” I correct.
