Page 69 of This Loving Feeling (Mirror Lake)

She pushed all these thoughts to the back of her mind and took her place at the podium. All around her the guests were seated, all snazzy and dressed up, here because they’d donated a thousand or more dollars to save the theater.

She knew nearly all of them. Her entire family sat at a long table off to her right. Effie and Alethea were finger waving and smiling broadly. She blew them a kiss. Surrounding her were the mayor, business owners, hospital staff, lawyers, teachers. Many small bunches of people had banded together to make a group donation to hit the thousand mark so they could be here tonight. Not all of them were rich, but all of them believed in their town, and in saving this gem of a landmark for their children and generations to come. Suddenly she had tears in her eyes.

The crowd quieted and all eyes fell on her. “Hi, Everyone,” she said into the microphone. “If you don’t know, I’m Samantha Rushford, head of the Palace Theater Restoration Committee. Thank you all for coming tonight. I look around and I see all my friends and family—our community—and I couldn’t be prouder to be a citizen of Mirror Lake. The way everyone has rallied together to save our beautiful theater is truly overwhelming.

“Long ago, our theater was dubbed The Jewel on Main Street. A handful of us took that phrase to heart and started the ball rolling to shine her up and restore her to her former beauty. So I’d like to thank the committee, who has worked tirelessly for the past year and a half to pursue donations.” Everyone clapped politely. “This special appreciation dinner was funded by the Buckhorn family, to thank all of you for your contributions. Let’s give a round of applause to our hosts, Mr.and Mrs.Camilla and Harris Buckhorn, the Second.” Harris’s parents stood up and waved, Camilla’s wave looking an awful lot like the queen’s, but whatever. “Through county bonds, private donations, and grants, we’ve managed to raise over twenty million dollars.” There was a collective oohing and aahing. As there should be. Raising and rallying all that money hadn’t been an easy task.

“You should all have a glass of champagne in front of you.” She picked up her own glass and held it out. “I’d like us all to raise our glasses now in a toast of thanks, and a hopeful wish that we successfully achieve our goal in the weeks to come. So enjoy your amazing meal, and the amazing cake in the shape of a Wurlitzer organ, compliments of Ted Lawrence of Mona’s Bakery—thanks, Teddy.” She waved to Ted, who was sitting near the back. “And let’s say cheers to saving our beautiful Jewel on Main—”

Sam stopped midsentence. Past the patio, on the lawn, a man made his way around the tables. He had longish dark hair and a lean, tall form. Was it ... no, it couldn’t be. But then she saw people turning their heads. It was like watching a wave. First a few, then others. The crowd began to buzz. Lukas Spikonos was here.

Lukas strode across the grassy art museum lawn to the area near the stone patio where people were eating dinner. A few people turned to stare at him, more because it was unusual for a solitary figure to be walking alone than because they recognized him. The band was set up under a tent on the lawn, on an elevated platform that functioned as a small stage. Nearby a wooden dance floor had been laid down on the lawn just for tonight.

“Hey, man,” Lukas said to the guitar player.

“Holy shit,” the guy said, his eyes bugging out a little when he recognized him. He turned to his band mates. “Adam! Bruce! Hey guys, look who’s here.” Lukas flashed them a wry smile. “How about we cut the Lawrence Welk and get into the twenty-first century?” They’d just finished playing something that had made his skin crawl. Elevator music. Who was ever going to get on the dance floor with those outdated tunes and that slow, sluggish beat?

“Can’t help it, man,” Guitar Guy said. “The Buckhorn lady’s calling all the shots tonight.”

A familiar voice sounded out from the podium on the terrace. Sam was making a speech, thanking everyone for coming. Her hair was down, soft and wavy around her face, and even from where he stood beyond the crowd he could make out her lipstick-red lips and a sparkly silver dress. He was always stunned by her everyday beauty but to see her dressed up like this—well, she was a vision. He noted her command of the microphone, her confident delivery, how she made everyone laugh. He was so proud of her and what she’d accomplished.

No one had ever made him feel like she did. He’d screwed things up in the past but he had to show her he’d changed. He’d do anything to have a chance with her.

Then that bastard Harris walked up to the podium with his parents. His father started saying something about the theater. It would be just like Harris to make a public spectacle of asking Sam to marry him. Lukas was not going to let that happen. He just had to figure out how.

A young wide-eyed waitress handed him a glass of champagne. And her phone number. He gave her a quick, not-too-encouraging smile and passed on both.

Suddenly an idea bloomed in his brain. A brilliant, once-in-a-lifetime idea.

He’d come here to let Sam know how he felt, but he sucked at talking about his emotions. Yet he was in his element singing about them.

He turned to the band. “When I say go, can you guys give me a cadence in D, moderate tempo. Upbeat. I’ll lead, you follow.” The guys were in, and excited, too.

Just as Lukas stepped onto the stage and took hold of an acoustic guitar, a voice boomed out from the main podium.

“Let’s hear it for Samantha Rushford, my beautiful girlfriend and a very special woman,” Harris said, stepping to the side and making a big sweeping gesture toward Sam. “I’m one lucky guy. Very, very lucky. In fact, I have a special announcement I’d like to share with all of you.”

Lukas adjusted his guitar and quickly grabbed the mic. “Harris, you’re right.” Harris right? About what? My God, what was he saying? He ignored the gasps from the crowd and kept talking so that Harris couldn’t. “You’re right that we—um—all want to thank you and the Buckhorn family for everything you’ve done. And Sam is a wonderful woman.” He looked directly at her as she sat, looking a little stunned, at the head table near the podium. “In honor of our beautiful jewel of a theater, I want to sing you all my brand-new single that hasn’t been released yet.” Oohs and aahs emanated from the crowd. “I have to tell you the song is for Samantha Rushford. I wrote it myself, Sam. Not just the music. The words, too. It’s called ‘The Girl I Can’t Forget.’ Would you all like to hear it?”

Before Harris could respond, Lukas turned to the band. “One, two, one, two, three, four ...,” and he sang, loud and steady and clear.

Long ago I made you mine

Then our love was lost in time

Now I’m asking for one more chance

To have forever a great romance

Please don’t leave it up to fate

You’ve got to tell me it’s not too late

’Cause you’re the girl I can’t forget

You’re the girl I can’t forget—I got to have you

The girl I can’t forget—Girl, I need you

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