Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Grant
Grant had arrived at the community center at four-thirty, half an hour before the pageant started.
He told himself it was because he wanted to help set up. Because the volunteer coordinator had asked for extra hands arranging chairs and testing the sound system.
But really, it was because he wanted to be there when Riley arrived. Wanted to see her walk through the door, flushed and apologetic, proving that she'd kept her promise.
The community center was already buzzing with activity. Parents wrangling excited kids into costumes. Teachers doing last-minute rehearsals. The smell of popcorn and hot chocolate thick in the air.
Grant found two seats near the middle—good view of the stage, aisle access in case Riley needed to slip in quietly. He set his coat on the seat beside him and pulled out his phone.
No new messages.
The last text from Riley had come at noon.
Riley: Meeting ran long. Going to try to catch the 2pm train. Should still make it in time.
Grant had responded immediately.
Grant: No problem. I'll save you a seat.
That was five hours ago.
Grant checked his watch. 4:47 p.m. The train from the city took about two hours. Even if she'd caught the two o'clock, she'd be cutting it close.
He sent another text.
Grant: On your way? Pageant starts at 5.
The message showed as delivered. Then read.
No response.
Grant's stomach tightened, but he shoved his phone back in his pocket. She was probably on the train. Couldn't text back. She'd be here.
"Grant!"
He turned to find Hannah making her way through the growing crowd, looking frazzled and holding a shepherd's crook that was taller than she was.
"Have you seen Max's other shoe?" she asked. "He swears he had both of them in the car but now we can only find one."
"No, sorry. Want me to help look?"
"Would you? I swear, these kids are going to give me gray hair before I'm forty."
Grant followed Hannah backstage, where organized chaos reigned. Kids in angel costumes arguing over who got the better halo. A wise man crying because his crown was itchy. Teachers moving through the fray with the calm efficiency of people who'd done this a hundred times.
He found Max's shoe under a folding chair and delivered it to Hannah, who looked ready to cry with relief.
"Thank you. You're a lifesaver." She glanced around. "Where's Riley? I thought she'd be here by now."
Grant's chest tightened. "She had to go to the city for work. Emergency meeting. But she said she'd be back in time."
Hannah's expression flickered—something that looked like concern. "She texted me a little bit ago. Said she was going to miss it."
Grant's stomach dropped. "What?"
"About an hour ago. Said she was sorry, asked me to tell the kids she tried." Hannah paused. "You didn't know?"
Grant pulled out his phone with shaking hands. Anew text, received at 3:52 p.m.
Riley: I'm so sorry. I'm not going to make it in time. My boss kept piling on work and I missed my train. I'm trying to get there as fast as I can but I won't make the pageant.
The message had come in while he'd been helping Hannah search for the shoe. While his phone had been on silent in his pocket.
There was another one, timestamped ten minutes later.
Riley: Grant, please. I know you're upset. I tried everything to get away. I'll be on the next train. I'll explain when I get there.
Grant stared at the screen, his throat tight, his chest aching.
She wasn't coming.
She'd promised. Looked him in the eye this morning and sworn she'd be back. And now she was stuck in the city, exactly like he'd feared, exactly like he'd known would happen.
"Grant?" Hannah's voice was soft. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Fine." He shoved his phone back in his pocket. "I should get back to my seat."
He walked back to the main room on autopilot, barely seeing the people he passed. The two seats he'd saved sat empty, his coat still draped over Riley's chair like a placeholder for someone who wasn't going to show.
Grant grabbed his coat and sat down heavily.
The seats around him were filling up now. Families settling in with anticipation. Friends greeting each other. The energy in the room building toward something joyful.
Grant felt hollow.
"Grant! You made it!"
Carol Monroe slid into the row in front of him, David right next to her. She turned in her seat with a bright smile that dimmed when she saw the empty space beside him.
"Where's Riley?"
"Work emergency. She couldn't get away in time."
Carol's face fell. "Oh. That's—that's too bad. I'm sure she tried."
"I'm sure she did."
David reached over and squeezed Grant's shoulder, his expression sympathetic in a way that made Grant's chest hurt worse.
They turned back around, and Grant was left staring at the empty seat.
More people arrived. Hannah and Mark. Ryan and Jenna. Chris and Emily. Chris was carrying a video camera.
They all asked the same question.
"Where's Riley?"
Grant gave the same answer each time, his voice getting tighter with repetition.
"Work emergency. She couldn't make it."
Their expressions ranged from sympathetic to pitying to awkwardly uncomfortable. Like they'd expected this. Like they'd known Riley would choose work over being here.
The thought made something hot and sharp twist in Grant's gut.
At five minutes to five, Max and Ava found him in the crowd. They were dressed as sheep—white cotton balls glued to sweatshirts, construction paper ears pinned to headbands.
"Uncle Grant!" Ava threw her arms around his neck. "You came!"
"Of course I came. Wouldn't miss it."
Max bounced on his heels. "Where's Aunt Riley? She promised she'd be here."
Grant's throat closed up. "She had to work, buddy. But she's really sorry. She wanted to be here."
Ava face crumpled. "But she promised."
"I know. Sometimes grown-ups have to break promises even when they don't want to."
The words felt like glass in his mouth.
Hannah appeared and shepherded the kids back toward the stage area, shooting Grant an apologetic look over her shoulder.
Grant sank back into his seat and pulled out his phone.
Riley had called twice. Both times while he'd been talking to people, his phone still on silent. She'd left a voicemail.
Grant stared at the notification, his finger hovering over the play button.
He didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to hear her apologize. Didn't want to hear the excuses about why work had been more important than keeping her promise.
He shoved his phone back in his pocket without listening.
The lights dimmed. The crowd quieted. A teacher walked onto the stage to welcome everyone and explain the program.
Grant sat in the dark with an empty seat beside him and tried to pay attention.
The pageant was exactly what you'd expect from a small-town production put on by kids under ten. Lines delivered with varying degrees of success. One wise man who forgot to bring his gift. An angel who waved enthusiastically at her parents every thirty seconds.
It was chaotic and imperfect and absolutely wonderful.
Grant watched Max and Ava stumble through their parts—Max projecting like he was performing for a stadium, Ava so quiet the microphone barely picked up her voice—and felt his chest ache.
Riley should have been here for this.
She should have been sitting beside him, laughing at the kids' antics, whispering commentary in his ear. She should have been taking pictures to send to Hannah later. She should have been here.
But she wasn't.
Because work had come first. Again.
Around him, the audience laughed and clapped. Parents filming on their phones. Grandparents beaming with pride. Couples leaning into each other, sharing the moment.
Grant sat alone with an empty seat beside him and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat.
He kept his phone in his pocket, but he could feel it buzzing. More texts. Another call. Riley trying to reach him, trying to explain, trying to make this okay.
But there was nothing she could say that would change the fact that she wasn't here.
During the finale—all the kids singing "Silent Night" in enthusiastic if not entirely on-key voices—Grant felt his phone buzz again. A long vibration. Another voicemail.
He didn't move to check it.
When the last notes faded and the audience erupted into applause, Grant clapped mechanically. The kids took their bows. Teachers came on stage to thank everyone for coming. Parents started gathering coats and herding children toward the refreshment table in the lobby.
Grant wanted to leave. Wanted to slip out before anyone else could ask him where Riley was or give him those sympathetic looks that made him feel pathetic again.
But he'd promised Max and Ava he'd come. The least he could do was tell them they did a great job.
He found them in the lobby, surrounded by family. Hannah saw him first and waved him over.
"Uncle Grant!" Max launched himself at Grant's legs. "Did you see me? I remembered all my lines!"
"You were amazing. Both of you." Grant ruffled Max's hair, then knelt to Ava level. "You were the best sheep I've ever seen."
Ava giggled, then her face got serious. "Where's Aunt Riley?"
"She had to stay at work, sweetheart. But she's really sorry she missed it."
"Is she still your girlfriend?"
Grant's throat tightened. "Yeah. She is."
"Okay." Ava seemed satisfied with this answer and ran off to show her grandmother her costume.
Hannah touched Grant's arm. "Hey. You okay?"
"Everyone keeps asking me that."
"Because you look like you're about two seconds from either punching something or falling apart."
Grant almost laughed. "Maybe both."
"She didn't mean to miss it. You know that, right?"
"Doesn't really matter if she meant to or not. She still wasn't here."
Hannah's expression softened. "Grant—"
"I should go. Tell the kids again they were great."
He turned before Hannah could say anything else, weaving through the crowd toward the exit.
He almost made it.
"Grant! Wait!"
Carol Monroe caught up with him near the door, David trailing behind her.