Chapter 2
Victoria
My friend Brittneycomes bursting through the doors of Banks Family Dentistry, brandishing a piece of paper in front of her. “Tori, have you seen this?”
I shoot her a quick glare before turning back to the man in front of me who’s waiting for his kid to write her name on the Cavity Free Club paper tooth so she can enter this month’s drawing. Handing him the pamphlet we fill out for all minor patients, I point out a few things. “As you can see, we did X-rays today, so she won’t have to do that again until next year.”
“Thank Christ,” he mutters, scratching the dark stubble along his square jawline. He’s fit and handsome, a few years younger than me, and happily married to the girl who runs the Christmas Emporium. Theirs is a well-known story in a town like Arcadian Falls. He’s not actually Sophie’s father, but her brother turned guardian after their parents passed a few years ago. Still, he’s attractive, and I can’t help noticing.
Grinning, I nod. “Yeah. My kiddo always hated getting X-rays too. Sophie did great today, though. They get better as they get older.” We chat for a few minutes about brushing and I admonish them to keep up with flossing, which prompts an eye roll and a grin from him.
“Doing our best.”
I offer him a smile of commiseration. “That’s all any of us can do, right?”
He smiles back then turns to the nine-year-old at the counter. “C’mon, Bug. Sarah’s probably got something special for you since she knows how you feel about the dentist. Let’s get going.”
Holding in a wistful sigh at the way he interacts with Sophie, I watch him schedule Sophie’s next appointment with Anna, the officer manager that took over after Dr. Banks’s daughter Olivia quit and moved away, and briefly think about what it would be like to have a guy like that for Erin, my ten-year-old daughter. But pickin’s around here are slim, and my last several attempts at dating have all ended rather dismally.
Brittney distracts me from my ruminations on my sad love life by brandishing the flyer in her hand at me again. “Tori! Check this out.” Her brown eyes are bright with excitement and she’s practically bouncing on her toes, shaking the paper at me.
“What is it?” I ask, grabbing for the paper. “Another bake sale?”
She scoffs, unzipping her black, fitted nylon jacket, revealing the red sweater she’s paired with her jeans today. It’s early April, so it’s not freezing anymore, but it’s still cool. We’ve had a long winter that started early and wouldn’t quit, so none of us quite trust the sunshine that’s been peeking out the last couple of days. It was windy and blustery all through March, including multiple days where we got several inches of snow. We’re all ready for spring, but no one’s sure it’s actually here yet.
“Just read it,” she encourages, muttering about me mistaking this level of excitement over something as boring as a bake sale.
I’m reading the words on the page, but I can’t make sense of them. “What is this?” I ask, flipping it over, but the back is blank, so I start at the top and reread the whole thing. “Is this a job posting?”
“Multiple jobs,” she says. “Yes. For a movie. Tori, they’re going to be filming a movie right here in Arcadian Falls! Isn’t that exciting?”
“I guess?” Movies are cool and all, though I’m guessing it’ll mean more random people around even earlier than normal. Our high season is summer through Christmas. There are always a few people who show up a little early—the die-hard outdoorsy types who don’t care about camping when the temps are still just barely above freezing at night in the mountains—but the summer doesn’t really get underway until almost July because it’s usually too muddy and chilly at night for the hiking and camping that draws people here in the warmer months.
“Aren’t you reading it?” she demands, stepping around closer to me. “Look!” She points at one of the bullet points under positions they’re hiring for. “They want a costuming assistant.”
“So?” I ask, still lost about why she’s so excited.
“It’s perfect for you! You love sewing. You do it all the time. And you make the costumes for the theatre productions here. It’s right up your alley.”
“I dunno, Brit,” I say, glancing over my shoulder and trying to hand the paper back to her. Dr. Banks’ll probably be out here any second to see what all the fuss is about and scold me for engaging in personal business while I’m on the clock. He doesn’t mind when Erin comes by, since she’s my daughter, as long as it’s not too often, but he can’t stand it when Brit stops in just to chat. He says it distracts everyone from our real work, and the fact that we have no more patients today won’t make any difference for him. Personal business is for outside of work, and since I’m still in the office, I should be engaging in work tasks or I should leave.
“No.” She holds up her hands in refusal. “You keep it. I know?—”
“What’s going on out here?” Dr. Banks asks from the back hall, clearly coming this way.
I shove the paper at Brittney, making my eyes go wide to try to communicate for her to take the damn thing, but she sidesteps, leaving me hanging like an idiot.
“Oh, Dr. Banks,” she says, all charm. “I’m sorry for barging in, but since it was the end of the day, I figured you’d be about done with patients, and I just couldn’t wait to tell Tori about this amazing opportunity I just discovered.” I appreciate that she’s trying to smooth things over with my stuck-up boss, especially after leaving me literally holding the flyer.
He gives her a skeptical look, his dark brows climbing over his glasses toward his salt and pepper hairline. “Another opportunity to sell makeup door-to-door?” he asks, his voice the perfect balance of polite disdain.
The man seems to be trapped in some version of the past where the town doctor and town dentist were the most important people in town and everyone else is beneath them. Anna and I get slightly less disdain than the rest of the town. But he’s always an asshole to Brit, and not for any real reason other than that he considers her a distraction, flighty and stupid—though she actually runs a successful shop downtown called Bitty B’s Treasures. The closest thing to makeup she sells is the lip balm she stocks by the register sourced from a local maker. That’s her niche—high quality, locally produced goods, mostly housewares, stationery, and souvenirs.
Brit laughs off his jab like it’s a great joke. “You know I don’t need to sell things door-to-door. My shop’s doing great.” She wiggles one hand back and forth. “I mean, we’re coming out of the low season, so it could be better, but that’s part of why this is so exciting.” Dr. Banks’s eyes follow her gesture to the paper in my hand. “They’re going to be filming a movie here, and they’re looking for extras plus some other behind the scenes jobs. I was just telling Tori that she’d be perfect for the costuming assistant, especially after she did the costumes for Romeo and Juliet last year.” She glances at me and points at the paper. “It says they’re doing some kind of Shakespeare adaptation, so you can tell them you have experience with Shakespeare. Plus you made those Ren Faire outfits for all of us last summer.”
“Those weren’t exactly historically accurate,” I mutter, but she waves that off.
“Like that matters? You made our corsets based on Elizabethan styles. And the costumes you made for the play were more accurate from what you said. You can tell them you have experience with period styles. And it’s not like they’re asking you to be in charge of costume design. It’s just help with tailoring and mending things that need it if they get damaged during filming. See?” She points at the small print description, but before I can finish reading it, Dr. Banks plucks the paper from my fingers.
“Extras, you say?” He studies the paper. “Interesting.” After a beat he hands the paper back to me. “Make me a copy before you leave,” he demands, and without another word, he turns and heads for the back again, though I’m not sure if he’s just going to his office, or if he’s leaving through the back exit.
Sophie was our last patient of the day, and Anna left after Shane scheduled another appointment for Sophie while she finished filling out her Cavity Free Club tooth, so I’m sure he’s gathering his things to leave. Which makes me the last one here. I just need to turn off the lights and grab my things, and I can leave too. After I make a copy of this, I guess.
Brittney meets my eyes, and hers are dancing with suppressed amusement. “Why do you think he wants a copy?” she whispers.
I shrug. “My best guess is that he wants to be an extra.” I keep my voice low. “He likes to audition for the community theatre parts.” He doesn’t get many of them, though. Or if he does, they’re just bit parts. Nothing major. He always acts like he really prefers it that way so rehearsals don’t take up too much of his time, but if that were true, why does he always audition for the lead male roles?
Brit looks like she’s about to explode from holding in her laughter as she follows me to the copier. “Do you think he’s still here?” she whispers.
Instead of answering, I take the fresh copy and walk down the hall, checking to see if he’s in his office. But the door is closed, no light coming from beneath it, so I leave the flyer in the box on his wall for patient files, taking the one he’s left there from Sophie and putting it away. “He’s gone,” I tell Brit when I come back to the front.
She bursts into cackles the moment I finish speaking, and I can’t help grinning as I pull my fleece jacket on over my navy blue scrubs.
“Can you imagine?” she says through gasps. “If he got a part, but it was like”—she waves a hand around, searching for words to articulate her thought—“I don’t know. Something awful, where he had to dress in dirty rags and play an idiot or something. Wouldn’t that be the most hysterical thing?”
I laugh along with her as I lock up and walk out of the office with her. “Where are you parked?” I ask, because my car’s the only one in the lot.
“My car’s still by my shop. I don’t mind walking back over there. It’s only a few blocks, and the weather’s not bad today.” She grips my arm. “But seriously, Tor, can you imagine it?” She bends at the waist, gasping for breath through her laughter, and we stand there cackling like loons for several minutes at the picture she paints.
“Maybe it’d help him get the stick out of his ass,” she says after we calm down a little, but that sets us off again.
I shake my head. “Not sure that’s possible. I think that’d require surgery at this point.” I try not to talk badly about Dr. Banks. He hired me fresh out of dental hygienist school when his last hygienist retired, saying that he liked that I was a local and remembered that I always did a good job taking care of my own teeth and was certain I’d help the community do the same. Kind of weird job qualifications if you ask me, plus it felt ridiculously condescending—especially when coupled with his comments about me being a single mom. It’s like he considered hiring me some kind of community service on his part that also allowed me to do community service as penance for getting pregnant out of wedlock—at least I imagine that’s the kind of term he’d use if he were to describe me to someone else. He’d never say that to my face. That would be too gauche. And Dr. and Mrs. Banks are anything but gauche.
Condescending and with sticks up their asses, though … that’s entirely accurate. But other than that, he’s not a bad boss, allowing me plenty of leeway for things like Erin’s doctor’s appointments and conferences and activities. My parents help out a lot, picking her up after school and staying with her when she’s sick, but being a single mom with a kid in elementary school means there are things I need to show up for. Or at least want to show up for. And Dr. Banks doesn’t fuss as long as I don’t abuse the privilege.
But that stick up his ass doesn’t help with his acting aspirations, that’s for sure.
“Seriously, though,” Brit says, carefully wiping the tears from beneath her eyes so she doesn’t scratch herself with her sparkly pink fake nails. “I really think you should send an email about the costuming job.”
I bite my lip. “I don’t know, Brit. I’m not sure I have time.”
“Just ask what the commitment is. There’s no harm in sending an email, is there?”
From: [email protected]
Dear Ms Mathews,
The costuming assistant is on an as-needed contract basis with most work able to be done off site once initial fittings are completed. If you are interested in the position, please forward your resume and at least two references.
Sincerely,
Brady Green
Director
I bite my thumbnail as I read and reread the email, studying the name Brady Green. Is that the same Brady Green that everyone drooled over when I was in high school? My friend Miranda had the biggest crush on him. Like she wallpapered her room with his posters and magazine covers, and the inside of her locker had his face next to hers inside a heart.
He was cute, sure, but that always seemed a little over the top to me. Whatever, she was fun, and as much as I’m sure she would’ve jumped all over the chance to meet him, she was a high school girl in a tiny town in the middle of Washington. We all knew the chances of that happening were basically zero.
And yet … here he is—maybe?—coming to Arcadian Falls to work on a film. Assuming it’s the same guy and not some other guy with the same name.
I wonder what Miranda’s doing these days …
Shaking my head, I pull my wandering thoughts back to the task at hand. Namely, to respond or not to respond?
My heart pounding, I pull up the resume I put together after I sent the first email inquiring about the hours—because if they wanted someone on set full time, I wouldn’t be able to do it so there was no point even applying—quickly attach it to the email and type out the information for my references—Brittney, who I’ve done countless hemming and alterations for, the head of the community theatre, and the last bride whose wedding dress I altered. My finger hovers over the track pad for a second as I chew my lip and reread it all, then I hit send and close my laptop with a firm snap.
There. It’s done.
Now I can let Brittney know so she stops hounding me about it.