The Last Chance Matinee Read online

  “Not as good as a spin class,” Allie grumbled. “And in case no one’s noticed, it’s cold outside.”

  “It’ll get warmer. It’s only March.” Cara opened her notebook and shuffled things around in her bag, searching for a pen. “So I thought maybe we should start making some lists. Like what we need to do and who’s going to do what.”

  “Well, basically, Joe’s going to take care of who’s doing what.” Allie brushed aside the question.

  “No, I mean, someone’s got to be riding shotgun on that whole construction project. And someone needs to be in charge of the money, keep track of what we’re spending, writing the checks.” Cara sat back against the chair. “I think we need to start to focus our attention on the reason we’re here.”

  “Cara, you’re the obvious point person for the construction, since you at least know a hammer from a screwdriver.” When Cara nodded her agreement, Des continued. “And I’m really good with money, so I can do that.” She turned to Allie. “Unless you want that job . . .”

  “Please. Do your thing.” Allie waved a hand dismissively. “So Cara does the construction thing with Hottie Joe and Des has the checkbook. What does that leave for me? Because if I don’t have a job, it means you don’t need me here. And if you don’t need me here”—Allie crossed her arms over her chest—“I’m going home.”

  “You can’t leave, Allie. If you leave, no one inherits anything. I don’t know about you, but I could use the money,” Des said softly.

  “Who are you kidding? You’ve invested every dime you’ve ever made. And if memory serves, you made one sweet bundle on that TV show of yours.” Allie picked a dead leaf off a begonia.

  “I worked really hard for everything I earned. And I hated every minute of it.”

  “Poor you.” Allie rolled her eyes.

  “What was that like, having your own TV show?” Cara asked, hoping to defuse the situation.

  Des sighed. “The truth? I hated it. I never wanted it. I hated the attention and I hated that everywhere I went, people—”

  “Yeah, we know. Heard it all a million times before. Poor Des. Had a smash TV show and made a fortune before she hit her teens. ‘Everyone looks at me everywhere I go. People are always taking my picture.’ Oh, boo-hoo.” Resentment wafted off Allie in waves. “Why not just admit that you loved every minute of it? That ‘I just wanted to be a regular kid’ act grew old a very long time ago.”

  “Stop it, Allie.” Des felt her heart speed up in her chest, the way it always did when she had to talk about that part of her life. “It wasn’t an act. I did just want to be a regular kid.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to pretend. I’m sure your new sister will be impressed when you tell her all about it.”

  “Allie, not every kid wants to be a TV star,” Des said pointedly.

  “And some kids do,” Allie growled.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get that chance. The show wasn’t my idea. I did it because Mom made me. I wasn’t given a choice.” Des tried her best to contain her emotions. “So just stop it.” She turned to Cara. “I’m really sorry, but Allie has never forgiven me because our mom pushed me into acting and not her, and she’d rather blame me than Mom.”

  “Mom pushed you because you were—”

  “Drop it, Allie. It’s gotten old.” Des took a deep breath. “And Cara doesn’t care who was or wasn’t on TV. Could we talk about the present and what we’re going to do about the situation we’re in?”

  When Allie didn’t respond, Des added, “The will is very specific that we all need to be here, that we have to work together, that we have to stay.”

  “How would Uncle Pete know if I left early?” Allie turned angry eyes on Des. “Would you rat me out?”

  “No, but maybe Barney would.”

  “What do you think her role is in all this?” Cara wondered aloud.

  “I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with the money,” Des said, grateful to Cara for helping them to move past the drama.

  “You still haven’t come up with anything for me to do,” Allie reminded them.

  “We need someone to be in charge of the design and the décor, inside and out,” Cara said. “The Sugarhouse is a historic theater, so we’re going to want to restore it back to the way it was. Someone is going to have to do some research on theaters of this era. I looked online after we got back this morning, and I found a lot of information. There’s even an organization you can go to for help in finding the right paint and ideas for refurbishing the seats and the curtains for the stage and, well, just about everything you need to restore a theater like this one. They also have guidelines on how to best use the theater once it’s been renovated and—”

  “Not our problem,” Allie interrupted her. “Nowhere did the will say anything about what happens to the place after we restore it. It just said we had to do it. Since I have to be here and I can’t leave without someone getting their panties in a twist, I’ll be in charge of design. It doesn’t sound very difficult.”

  “I’ll email you the links for everything I found and you can decide if the information there is relevant.”

  “Thanks.” Allie fell quiet.

  “I’ll bet the library here in town has some information. Maybe old newspapers that covered the theater opening,” Allie said, breaking the silence a few minutes later. “And somewhere there have to be some photographs. Barney mentioned some old photo albums, and she also said that her grandmother and her mother never threw anything away, and that she put tons of stuff up in the attic. I’ll ask her when she gets back from lunch.”

  “The Good Bye Café,” Des mused. “So how do you set that date up? ‘Honey, let’s have dinner at the café tonight’? With a reputation like that, you’d have to know something was afoot.”

  Allie turned to Cara. “Did your husband really dump you?”

  “Yes, he did.” Cara nodded.

  “Did he tell you over dinner?”

  “Actually, yes. I think he figured if we were in a public place, I wouldn’t make a scene.”

  “Did you?” Allie asked.

  “No. He knew me well. We were in a restaurant in the town where I grew up and it was packed with people I’ve known all my life. He knew I’d never put them in a position to be embarrassed for me.”

  “You’re way more considerate than I am,” Allie said.

  Cara shrugged.

  “So what did he say?” Allie pulled one leg up under her.

  “Allie, stop.” Des cringed. She couldn’t imagine asking someone that. “It’s none of your business.”

  Allie feigned innocence. “Just trying to be sisterly. Isn’t that the whole point of all this?”

  “It’s intrusive,” continued Des. “Maybe Cara doesn’t want to talk about it.”

  “I don’t mind, Des, but thanks.” Cara waved off Des’s concern. “He said, ‘I don’t really know how to tell you this, but I’ve fallen in love with someone else and I want a divorce. I’m going to marry her.’ ”

  Even Allie was shocked. “What a callous . . . How long were you married?”

  “Four years.”

  “That’s horrible, Cara,” Des sympathized. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Oh, that’s not the worst part.” Cara’s eyes narrowed. “The woman he was leaving me for?”

  “Don’t tell me you knew her.” Allie was clearly caught up in the drama.

  “Lifelong friend since grade school. She was one of my bridesmaids.”

  “No!”

  “The bitch.” Allie shook her head. “I always said, never trust your friends with your guy.”

  “Did he marry her?” Des asked.

  “The wedding is in a couple of weeks, actually. They wanted to get married before the baby is born in May.”

  “Oh my God, he knocked her up?” Allie’s eyes grew even wider. “That’s just . . . God, I hate men. Where are the brownies?”

  Des sat back and watched Allie and Cara bond over being divorcées. She’d
figured Cara had been married, since her last name wasn’t Hudson, and, since she hadn’t mentioned a husband or child, had assumed she was DNC—divorced, no children. As far as she knew, Allie’s husband hadn’t left her for another woman, but still, she heard the depth of pain in both her sisters’ voices. Besides the fact that she’d never been married, Des knew she’d never felt deeply enough about anyone to have married him. She’d come close to considering it once or twice, but never close enough. She wondered what it felt like to care that much about someone that they could inflict the kind of pain she saw on Cara’s face. Just as well she’d never fallen that hard for anyone, Des reminded herself. She didn’t need that kind of drama in her life. And look at Allie. She’d never been the nicest person, but since Clint divorced her she’d become bitter and bitchy. She looked from Cara to Allie and back again. Look what love had done to them.

  And then there was the fine example of wedded bliss set by her parents.

  Allie’s phone buzzed and she looked at the screen. Her face lit up. “It’s Nikki. I’m going to take this. . . .” On her way out of the room, Allie turned to Cara and said, “You didn’t have children?”

  When Cara shook her head no, Allie told her, “My daughter’s the only good thing that came out of the last fifteen years of my life. I’d do it all again, just to have her.”

  Allie left the room, her “Hi, sweetheart. Yes, I’m here. Wait till I tell you about this fabulous house . . .” trailing after her.

  “She’s a royal pain sometimes, but she’s a great mom. A much better mom than ours ever was. Nikki is Allie’s whole world. She’s a good kid. I haven’t seen her since the divorce.” Des picked up the mister that she had set on the table earlier and sprayed water on the ferns. “I understand Clint’s put Nikki in a very posh private school. I don’t know if that experience is good for her or not.”

  “If she’s that good a kid, the school she goes to shouldn’t change that,” Cara said.

  “I don’t know, what with peer pressure . . .” Des shrugged. “Who knows what’s influencing her now? I do know that Allie was very good with her.”

  “Maybe I’ll get to meet her. We’re going to be here a long time. If Allie and her daughter are that close, Allie isn’t going to want to be apart from her until this project is done,” Cara reasoned.

  “I hadn’t thought about it, but you’re right. Nikki’s my only niece and I adore her.” Des paused. “You know, she’s your niece, too.”

  Cara nodded. “The thought just occurred to me. My only, as well. I wonder what she’ll think of me.”

  “Well, God knows what Allie might have said.”

  “True. I can tell she still isn’t happy about me, but at least we’re on speaking terms.”

  “I suspect she isn’t happy about much in her life right now. I think the divorce was harder on her than she lets on.”

  “Maybe getting involved with the theater will be good for her, give her something else to focus on.”

  “Good idea you had, to have her in charge of the design and the décor of the place. I could tell she liked it.”

  “Well, obviously I don’t know much about her, but she looks like someone who has style and good taste and would know how to do what that place is going to need on the interior, and if she doesn’t know, she’ll learn. I think I’ll go upstairs and put some of my things away. I was too tired last night and we got up so early this morning.”

  “Yeah, that’s some bedside manner Barney has.” Des dropped her voice to imitate their aunt. “ ‘Girls! Girls! Your contractor will meet you at the theater in an hour. Better get up now if you want coffee and some breakfast before you go.’ ”

  “Not bad for only knowing her for twenty-four hours,” Cara said as she headed upstairs.

  Des finished misting the plants that Barney had mentioned, all the while wondering what to do with herself for the rest of the afternoon.

  If she were back in Montana, she might be working with a new rescue dog. It had been years since she’d been without a dog, and she missed the quiet companionship, that sense of knowing she wasn’t alone. That something depended on her, that she mattered. She wondered if there was a shelter here in town where she could volunteer. Surely writing checks and keeping after the money wasn’t going to be a full-time job, and she wasn’t one to sit idly, waiting for something to do.

  Des stood at the French doors and looked out into the woods that lay beyond the yard. Were they part of the Hudson property? She went outside and started down the steps, but the wind all but blew her off, and she wasn’t wearing her coat. Giving up on the idea of a walk in the woods, Des went back into the house.

  If she couldn’t explore outside, she might as well become better acquainted with the inside. The library would be the perfect place to start. Somewhere on all those shelves she was sure to find the perfect book to curl up with in one of those big, cushy leather chairs.

  Short logs and kindling had been stacked on the hearth in the library, and after checking to make certain the flue was open, Des arranged a few sticks and three logs in the firebox and searched for matches. She found a mechanical starter on the mantel and used it to light the logs. Once the fire was burning nicely, she searched the bookshelves, hoping something would strike her fancy. Apparently Barney’s reading tastes leaned heavily toward suspense, since several shelves were packed with recent thrillers. Remembering that her father had liked them as well, she selected a Michael Connelly novel and, after giving the fire a poke, settled into the nearest chair.

  The house was quiet, and it again occurred to her how much she missed having a dog around. She opened the book and began to read, but she’d barely gotten through the first several pages when she recalled something an old would-be suitor had said. Funny how she’d remembered his words, but not his name.

  “I think the dogs are just substitutes for whatever it is you’re missing in your life,” he’d said. “Ever asked yourself who or what you’re trying to replace?”

  In a huff, she’d left the restaurant where they’d been having dinner and taken a cab home. He’d called several times after that night, twice leaving an apology on her voicemail, but she’d written him off the moment those words had left his mouth.

  At the time, it hadn’t occurred to her to wonder if maybe he hadn’t been on to something.

  She placed the book upside down on her lap and watched the flames flicker across the top log, knowing that if someone asked that same question of her now, she’d have an answer.

  Not her mother, who’d neglected her except when she could use her to further her own interests.

  Not her father, who, though he’d loved her, was always jetting here and there, and who had, as she’d so recently learned, led a double life.

  It was Allie, the big sister, whose attention had always been so elusive. Allie, whose companionship she’d sorely craved for as long as she could remember. Allie, whose approval and love Des had never been able to earn.

  And it was Allie who, even now, barely gave her a second thought. Allie who’d never been able to get past her jealousy to love her younger sister. Des would have given up everything if it would’ve made Allie happy, if it would have made Allie love her.

  They should have been best friends, should have depended on each other when it became apparent Nora wasn’t dependable and their father was so rarely at home. They should have cared more for each other. They should have been more like sisters and less like adversaries.

  Had there been times when Des might have fanned those flames when she could have put them out? If she were to be truthful, she’d have to admit maybe the blame for the ongoing tension wasn’t all on Allie’s shoulders.

  Des wiped the wetness from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

  Maybe now that we’re living together under the same roof for the first time in years, and we’re working on something toward a common goal, maybe now we’ll get to know each other as adults. Maybe Allie can find her way past the old bitterne
ss and put it aside, at least enough so that we can love each other the way sisters are supposed to.

  Maybe . . .

  Des stared into the flames for a moment more, then opened the book and tried to find her place, but her mind wasn’t on reading. She closed the book, returned it to the shelf, and shut the fireplace doors. She turned out the light and made her way upstairs. Standing outside Allie’s door, she raised her hand to knock, but heard her sister’s laughter as she chatted with Nikki on her phone. Des dropped her hand, went to her room, and quietly closed the door behind her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The early-morning air was cool and crisp and held a whiff of the pines that stood sentinel at the very end of the backyard where the dense woods began. Cara had debated which way to go on her first early-morning run in Hidden Falls: along the sidewalks that led through the town, or down the path that led through the woods.

  The sound of a door closing had awakened her at dawn, and it had taken Cara a moment to remember that she was in the house where her father had grown up, and not the little house she’d inherited from Susa in Devlin’s Light. She’d gotten out of bed and looked out the window in time to see Barney stride across the street to join up with one of her walking buddies. Fully awake and never one to crawl back into bed once she was up, she bent at the waist hoping to relieve the stiffness in her back. She’d never gone this long without some sort of exercise, and she knew exactly how to work out the kinks.

  She unrolled the yoga mat she’d tucked into her suitcase and went through her usual morning routine. Twenty minutes later, she felt better but still needed more. She changed into a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt and dug around in her gym bag for her running shoes. Sitting on the lone chair in her room, Cara tied the shoes and tucked her phone into the pocket of her shorts, then eased open the door leading to the hall. Descending the steps as quietly as possible, she hesitated for a moment before heading out the back door.

  Once outside, Cara jogged toward the opening between the trees. A thick layer of pine needles, slick with dew, covered the ground, and she proceeded slowly, with a bit of caution, until the pines gave way to hardwoods that had yet to leaf out. The path snaked through the woods, and once she felt the ground hard beneath her feet, she increased her speed until she found her normal stride. It was a quiet, peaceful morning. Overhead birds called to each other and the temperature was perfect for a comfortable run. Before long, Cara felt her shoulders and neck begin to relax. Around another curve, the path began a steady incline, and what had been an easy slope became a slightly more challenging hill. Where once trees lined the path there were now large rock formations, and the bird chatter had been drowned out by something else. She stopped on the path, her breath coming in gasps that escaped her mouth in white puffs, and tilted her head to identify the sound. After a moment, she smiled. What she heard was falling water.