Page 7 of Reeve

I look to my left to see Harper and Joe walking toward me without Aaron. In spite of myself, I look over their shoulders, down Broadway, where I see a lone, shadowed figure walking further and further away from the downtown area.

“Aaron went home, huh?”

Harper nods. “Something about having to feed his cat.”

I’m relieved, yes, but that initial spark of attraction I felt for Aaron still exists somewhere deep inside of me, and in moments like this, it burns and stings. I’d never felt like that about anyone at first sight. And from the way he’d looked at me that day, I think he felt something, too. Sometimes I wonder what could’vehappened between me and Aaron Adams if I’d been a few weeks older the first time we met.

Harper takes my right arm in her left, and Joe’s left in her right, linking the three of us together.

“It’s a beautiful night for a stroll,” she says, smiling first at me and then at her husband, “with two of my all-time favorite people in the entire world. Let’s enjoy it!”

And so we walk along together, saying hello to friends and acquaintances, and kicking off the Christmas season together. And little by little I forget that Aaron Adams was, for however long, a part of the plan.

Chapter 2

Reeve (and Sawyer)

Last year, Skagway’s monthlong Yuletide celebration included a performance by the Skagway Theatrical Players, a new group led by the owner of the Purple Parsnip, Bruce Franks. After the smashing success ofWuthering Heights, in which my brother, Sawyer, and his girlfriend, Ivy, had starred, Bruce decided to adapt another classic this year—Rebecca,originally by Daphne du Maurier. And it will come as no surprise to those in the know that Sawyer is playing Maxim, and Ivy is playing the second Mrs. Maxim de Winter.

I cringe whenever I see “The second Mrs. Maxim de Winter” printed on a call sheet or in the scripts, but we’re not trying to be cute by calling her that. The given name of Maxim’s second wife is never mentioned throughout the entirety of the original book or in Bruce’s play. Most literary critics agree that this was on purpose—du Maurier was trying to emphasize that even a dead Rebecca was more alive than her flesh and blood successor.Humph.Misogyny, especially when perpetrated by other women, really gets my back up.

But despite my objections to play itself, I’m helping out again this year. In fact, I’ve been promoted to stage manager since McKenna, who’s got her hands full with four-month-old Madden, couldn’t reprise the role. It’s just me and Bruce behind the scenes this year…oh, and Aaron, I suppose. He’s back for another year as Set Designer, in charge of building the Monte Carlo and Manderley sets, a job which, blessedly, doesn’t intersect much with mine.

I sit beside Bruce at a Sunday night rehearsal, watching my brother moon over his girlfriend, whom he hopes to make the first Mrs. Sawyer Stewart very soon. In fact, tomorrow evening,he and I have a date to go ring shopping together at one of the handful of jewelry stores on Broadway. That’s how serious he is.

Standing on the stage, about half a foot apart, Sawyer, playing Maxim, offers Ivy his hand and gives her an ultimatum.

“Either you go to America with Mrs. Van Hopper, or you come home to Manderley with me.”

Ivy, who’s absolutely amazing at playing a dopey ingenue, widens her eyes and blinks. “Do you mean you want a secretary or something?”

Sawyer steps closer to her, so that Ivy’s breasts graze his chest. He stares down at her with so muchreallove,truelove, watching them on stage almost feels intrusive.

“No,” says Sawyer, a little grit in his low voice. “I’m asking you to marry me, you little fool.”

Ivy’s face registers an appropriate amount of shock and awe before she responds.

“You don’t understand,” says Ivy, her voice breathy with distress. “I’m not the sort of person men marry.”

“What the devil do you mean?” demands Sawyer, his tone full of panic, like he’s practicing for the slim chance that Ivy might turn him down in real life.

She places her palm on his chest, her voice gentle when she replies, “I’m not cut out for your world.”

“My…world?”

“M-Manderley.”

“Blast Manderley to hell!” yells Sawyer, turning away from Ivy and raking his fingers through his hair. Finally, he crosses his arms over his chest and turns back around. His voice is flat, his posture defeated. “I rather thought you loved me. I see my mistake now. This is a fine blow to my conceit.”

“Idolove you!” insists Ivy, her voice pitching up with earnestness. “I love you dreadfully! I’d rather die than be parted from you!”

“Bless you for that,” says Sawyer, reaching for Ivy’s face and cupping her cheek with his palm. “Say yes, then. Say yes, darling. I want to show you Manderley.”

“Cut!” yells Bruce. “Outstanding work, kids!”

My brother leans down to press a sweet kiss to his girlfriend’s lips before pivoting to face me and Bruce. I grin at him, delighted to know a secret about his future that almost no one else in the world knows.

My smile slides to Ivy, and I think,He’s going to propose to you. After the performance, three Sundays from today, my brother’s going to pop the question. Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes.

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