Chapter 13 #2
“I always knew she’d never come back when you two left, even though she said she would after you turned eighteen and were old enough to be on your own.
” Lauren smashed the ground beef with the tines of her fork as she continued.
“She didn’t even make it home for holidays once she got the concierge job in New York. ”
“I don’t think she was made for small-town life.”
Lauren made a rude noise. “No kidding. Mom may not have been born into a rich family or had a college education, but her mindset was big-city through and through. She worked hard to acquire a cosmopolitan polish. I mean, before you two left for San Francisco, she taught herself to speak French and studied fashion and immersed herself in cultural pursuits and the arts.” She took a sip of water. “Do you stay in close touch with her?”
“No. After she married Philippe and moved to France, it was like her old life didn’t exist anymore. These days I get an occasional text from her, but that’s about it. To be honest, even when we lived together in New York, I was mostly on my own. Do you hear from her?”
“I get a card on my birthday and at Christmas and a text once in a while. And she did call me twice while I was in the hospital.”
That was news.
“You never mentioned you’d talked to her.”
“There wasn’t much to mention. I don’t think we were on the phone for more than three or four minutes in either call. She’s almost like a stranger to me at this point. And that’s fine. I had Dad, and he was the best.”
“Yes, he was. I wish I’d been able to spend more time with him.”
“I wish I had too. We lived in the same house, but he was always busy. Did you know he took extra weekend delivery gigs sometimes to pay expenses?”
Devyn frowned. “No. He never told me that.”
“You weren’t here to tell.”
“But we stayed in touch. I called him a lot, and he sent me cards and notes every couple of weeks. I felt closer to him than I ever did to Mom. I always envied you for having Dad all to yourself.”
Lauren squinted at her. “Seriously?”
“Yes. That’s why I came home for holidays or breaks whenever I could.”
“Not after Dad died.”
“Because I didn’t feel welcome anymore.” May as well spit out the truth. “You didn’t seem like you wanted me in your life.”
Lauren poked at a carrot. “I didn’t. I was jealous and resentful and angry. More so after we lost Dad.”
“At least I understand better now why you kept me at arm’s length.
I knew my dancing had a huge impact on your life—and Dad’s—but after some of the conversations we’ve had since the accident, I’m beginning to understand it was even bigger than I realized.
” Devyn scraped a stubborn piece of melted cheese off her plate with her fork.
“I wish Dad had lived to see that all his sacrifices paid off.”
“Maybe he knows.”
“I hope so.” After a few moments, she shifted gears. There had been enough heavy discussion for one night, and she had an idea to broach. “On a different subject, I have a proposition for you.”
Lauren gave her a wary look. “What kind of proposition?”
“I was impressed with your sewing skills on Sunday, so I asked about the status of the costume crew for the show. They have a few volunteers but no one who’s gung ho about leading the charge.
They’d be thrilled to have someone on board who not only knows how to sew but can decide what’s needed and marshal the volunteers to either find the items or sew them.
Would you be interested in taking that on? ”
Lauren stared at her. “You want me to be in charge of costumes?”
“You’d have a lot of help.”
“But . . . I don’t know anything about doing costumes for a show.”
“The ones for Oklahoma won’t be too hard.
Most of the guys should be able to put outfits together from their own wardrobes.
The women’s costumes will be more challenging, but they wore simple clothes back then like gingham dresses and long skirts and blouses.
It’s not as if we have to create ball gowns.
Your job would be more coordinating the effort and possibly sewing a few simple pieces. Plus, it’s for a worthwhile cause.”
Lauren set her fork down. “I’m all for supporting Helping Hands, but I don’t know if I have the stamina to take this on. You know how fast I get tired.”
“It’s not a full-time job, and we have seven weeks to pull the costumes together.
None of them have to be ready until the last week of rehearsal.
I don’t think this would take more than an hour a day.
And having something like this to work on might help you get your concentration skills back faster.
It could be a win-win.” Perhaps positioning it like that would convince Lauren to take it on. “Would you think about it at least?”
Her sister bit her lip. “How soon do you need an answer?”
“By Thursday. We have to have somebody on board by then, and if you decide not to do it, we’ll have to strong-arm one of the costume committee volunteers to step up and take charge.
But no one’s champing at the bit to do that.
Most of them have jobs or other responsibilities.
You’re the ideal person to take this on, since your days are your own right now. ”
“Not for long, I hope. I want to get back to work as soon as possible.”
“Dr. Sherman said it will probably be early July before she’ll feel comfortable signing off on a part-time return. That’s three weeks away. A ton of the work on costumes could get done by then.”
Lauren poked at her lasagna while Devyn held her breath. It wasn’t the end of the world if she said no, but interacting with other people could lift her spirits and speed up her recovery.
“I’ll sleep on it, okay?”
At least it wasn’t an outright no.
“That works.” Devyn dived back into her lasagna.
“Why don’t you give me some background on the show and the cast?”
“Sure.” She began with the auditions, eliciting a few laughs as she recounted Father Murphy’s antics. Brought Lauren up to speed on the first cast meeting. “Everyone is very enthusiastic about the effort, and we have all ages in the show—including an older man and his granddaughter.”
“Do you remember their names?”
“Yes. Isabel and Ben Steele.”
“Oh, I know them. Was Aaron there too?”
She ignored the little flutter in her stomach as an image of the tall, dark-haired man who’d accompanied the two hopeful thespians appeared in her mind. “I didn’t meet an Aaron, but there was a man with them at the auditions. And he sat in on the cast meeting Sunday too.”
“That had to be him. The three of them have been uber tight since Aaron’s wife was killed in a car accident last year.”
A jolt of shock ricocheted through her.
The man’s wife was dead?
“That’s awful.”
“Yeah, it is. Divorce is hard enough. I can’t imagine having a spouse you love die. It has to be rough for Isabel too. But from what I hear and observe, Aaron is a great dad. He didn’t audition, did he?”
“No.”
Devyn toyed with the last of her lasagna, debating. As long as they were on the subject, could she ferret out a bit more information about the man? Just to make conversation, of course. No personal interest involved.
It was worth a try.
“What does Isabel’s dad do for a living?” She kept her manner casual. Chitchatty.
“He works at the mill.”
Not unusual. A fair number of Hope Harbor residents were employed there. And a job like that would account for his toned physique.
She scooped up the last of her lasagna. “I vaguely remember a Steele family from when I lived here.”
“They go back generations in this town. Aaron was a year ahead of me in school. He was kind of dorky as a kid, but he grew up to be pretty hot.”
An understatement if ever there was one.
“Did you ever go out with him?”
“No. He went off to college and I met Dennis. Unfortunately.” Lauren made a face. “A guy like Aaron would have been a much better choice. He comes across as solid and dependable and caring, don’t you think?”
No question about it.
But waxing too enthusiastic could create the wrong impression.
“He seems nice, but I’ve only exchanged a few words with him.” She tried for a noncommittal tone.
“You may have the opportunity for a longer conversation if he keeps showing up at rehearsals.” Lauren set her napkin on the table. “Are you ready for dessert? I found a batch of lemon squares in the freezer that I made a while back.”
“I’m in.”
The conversation moved on to other subjects as they indulged in the sweet treat. But even sweeter than their dessert?
The notion of an actual conversation with Isabel’s dad.
Which was silly.
Yes, he had rugged good looks. Yes, he appeared to have all the stellar qualities Lauren had mentioned. Yes, he’d spiked her interest meter.
But this wasn’t the time or the place to get carried away by hormones. She was here to help her sister recover and to refurbish their relationship.
Period.
So letting a handsome stranger catch her fancy was a no-no.
A rule she would do well to remember if she and Isabel’s father did end up having another encounter down the road.