And they’re announcing auditions. I love that musical.”
Alex slowed the car. “Me, too. Why don’t we turn around and go inside to check out what parts haven’t been filled.”
Lizzie shrugged, showing less enthusiasm than Alex had hoped for. “Mom, I didn’t know you were interested in theater,” she said.
Alex raised her eyebrows in an incredulous stare. “I was thinking about you, honey. You’re the actress in this family.”
The use of the word family seemed to leave a pall hanging over the car. As Alex pulled next to the renovated barn, Lizzie just said, “Oh.”
Once they were inside the theater, Lizzie’s demeanor changed. Her gaze darted around the interior, seeming to take in everything at once—the red velvet chairs, the rough-hewn rafters, the elevated stage with lights above and below. The stage lights weren’t illuminated now, but one could just imagine... And Lizzie obviously was.
A man a couple of decades older than Alex called from the stage. “Can I help you?”
Glen Spenser was eighteen years older than the last time Alex had seen him at the Birch Shore Resort on Lake Erie. He had been their guru back then, both for the actors, like talented Daniel Chandler, and for the set builders and extras, like Alexis Foster.
Glen shielded his eyes from the glare of the overhead lights and came slowly down the steps at the side of the platform. “We’re having tryouts today,” he said. “If you’d like to audition...”
He stopped midway down the aisle. “Oh, my gosh, Alexis Foster!” He quickened his pace and took Alex’s hand. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still that gorgeous strawberry blond hair and a dazzling height of... What are you, five foot nine?” He chuckled. “I can still remember needing a prop from the top shelf and calling for you to come get it for me.”
Alex smiled. “Hi, Glen. You haven’t changed, either.”
“Oh, honey,” Glen said. “It’s been almost twenty years, hasn’t it?” He smoothed his hand over the sparse hair at his crown and smiled. “I think I’m even shorter now. Old age does that to a guy.”
“How have you been?” Alex asked.
“Busy. Doing some graphic art work for local businesses and still puttering around theaters. Can’t seem to get it out of my blood.”
“Nor should you,” Alex said. She took Lizzie’s arm. “This is my daughter, Lizzie. We’re going to be here for the summer.”
“Wonderful. Staying out at the farm, are you?”
Alex nodded. Everyone in the area knew about Dancing Falls. Most everyone had been to barbecues there or knew the medical skills of Martin Foster.
Glen cupped his hand under his chin and appraised Lizzie. “You’re as pretty as your mother,” he said. “But your dark hair suits your olive complexion. You didn’t get that from the Foster girls.”
Lizzie smiled. “I guess not, but my dad was fair, too. So who knows? Genetics is a mystery to me.”
Alex quickly jumped into the conversation. “I thought Lizzie might want to audition. Do you have any parts left?”
“You bet. One very important part. Zaneeta Shinn, the mayor’s daughter. It’s not a big role, but it’s vital to the production.” Glen took Lizzie’s hand and began walking her to the stage. “Read for me now, honey. I know it’s a cold reading, but you can take a script home and practice and come back tomorrow for a retry if you want.”
Lizzie shot her mother a perplexed look as she was more or less propelled toward the stage. But she was smiling. Just like Alex was almost always smiling during that summer eighteen years ago.
Just like she was smiling now—until she heard the door open behind her and turned to see who’d come into the theater.
Later, when she had time to think about it, she would have to admit that recognizing Daniel after eighteen years from thirty yards away down a long aisle was as natural as breathing. Only she wasn’t breathing now. She felt light-headed and dizzy, fighting an urge to flee and a struggle to draw air into her lungs.
Alex was aware of noise around her though she felt as if she were in a vacuum. Someone on stage, working on the set, pounded a hammer. Overhead a fluorescent light buzzed and pulsed. And Glen hollered, “Hey, Danny. You’re just in time, buddy. We’ve got a new audition for Zaneeta, and Larry needs a hand building the bridge.”
“I came as soon as I could,” Daniel responded, walking down the aisle toward Alex. His voice was as familiar as the sound of the waves on shore that summer, or the soft beat of rock and roll coming from a window in the summer staff’s dormitory. Alex trembled, almost as if his words had been whispered into her ear.
Of course he was nowhere near enough to whisper anything into her ear. But she could see he hadn’t changed. The years had been good to Greenfield’s native son, the young man who’d risen from humble roots to succeed in college and become the youngest state senator ever sent to Columbus from their district.
He slowed his pace when he got to Alex, gave her a brief smile as he walked past, and said, “Morning.”
Then he refocused his attention on the stage. A hint of silver threaded the dark, wavy hair at his temples. Hair the same color as Lizzie’s. He moved with the purposeful gait of a politician, each step determined and powerful. There had been nothing subtle about Daniel back then. There wasn’t now.
And all the self-esteem and confidence Alex had acquired during her marriage to Teddy vanished in that one awful moment. Daniel Chandler didn’t have the faintest idea who she was.
Eighteen years earlier
“SO WHAT DO you think, Alexis? Does Birch Shore Resort look any different now that you’re going to be working here? You used to love coming here when you were a kid.”
Martin followed the signs leading to the employees’ dormitory, keeping his large SUV within the twenty-mile speed limit.
Alex’s anxiety had reached new heights in the last five miles. Granted, she was only seventy-five miles from Dancing Falls, but this home away from home seemed remote and alien, while at the same time exciting.
Martin pulled up in front of Pelican House, a two-story wooden structure built for Birch Shore employees. “Remember, Alexis, the first floor is for girls only. The second is for the boys. No wandering around in the middle of the night.”
Martin’s smile took the sting from his words. “Stop teasing, Daddy,” Alex said. “I’m here to earn money for college.”
“And don’t I appreciate it!”
Martin and Alex got out of the car, and he opened the back cargo door. She’d managed to cram her most necessary possessions and three months of clothes into two suitcases and three large boxes, but getting them to her room wouldn’t be such an easy task.
“I don’t want you carrying this stuff,” she said. “We need a cart or something.”
As if by divine miracle, one appeared, an old grocery basket steered by a tall, incredibly good-looking
