Page 113 of Kiss Me at Christmas
More chuckles rippled around the foyer. Harrietwatched a few people worrying at their carefully crafted coiffures, mostly the men.
“I see some of you have brought your own mops, and more power to you,” Ken continued. “We’ve got tools of the trade you can use as well, and Ms. Winter has paid for some industrial dehumidifiers, which will be delivered later.” He found Harriet in the crowd and gave her a conspiratorial wink.
Ken cut the tape like he was opening a shopping center, and the various groups and clubs climbed the stairs, stopping to take a hard hat before swarming into the auditorium.
A thick layer of turquoise tarpaulin covered the ceiling, sucking in and out like the belly of some mythical monster. It didn’t look pretty, but when Harriet compared it to the overall desolation of the place a few weeks previous, it wasn’t so bad. This building had become an echo of the good people who frequented its halls, humans sculpted by trials and tribulations, cracks and scars chiseled onto their hearts making each one a unique and beautiful survivor. Somehow this disparate assembly had become a family, and this old theater had become its home, and Harriet would fight with everything she had to hold on to it.
Later, Evaline paid a surprise visit, and Harriet had to stifle a snigger when she entered the elderly woman’s favored royal box and found her looking resplendent in a fur coat, pearls, and a hard hat.
“Evaline, how lovely to see you,” she said.
Evaline looked Harriet up and down and presumably found her wanting, judging by the way in which she screwed her nose up ever so slightly. “You seem to have everything in hand. The play will go ahead as planned, I presume?”
“Yes,” Harriet replied.
“Good. All the activity in the theater has stirred up media interest; I wouldn’t like to be embarrassed.”
“I thought you’d enjoy watching us fail.”
“Why ever would you think that? Foolish girl. Your success is my success. I want the whole of Cumbria to see the theater thriving. It will drive the price up.”
“Why not simply open the place back up yourself? You don’t need to sell, it’s not like you’re strapped for cash. You were featured inForbesmagazine twice last year.”
“Someone’s been doing her homework.” Evaline looked impressed.
“Just returning the compliment.” Harriet held the old woman’s gaze.
Evaline gave a wry smile in appreciation. “This theater was God to my father; he was devoted to it, it was everything to him. I was expected to show it the same level of devotion.”
“So, leaving it to rot was your revenge?”
Evaline flashed a wicked smile.
“You are finding your teeth, Ms. Smith. Yes, I believe it was. And now selling it is keeping a promise I made to myself to have all association with this theater severed before I die.”
“And yet you’ve kept it all this time.” Harriet hesitated before sharing her next thought. “I think, despite your neglect of it, a part of you doesn’twantto let this place go. Maybe because the Winter Theater is the only piece of your father that you have left?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Evaline bit back in response.
“More ridiculous than taking revenge on an inanimate object like, say, a theater?”
Evaline pointedly ignored her, taking a sip from hercup and then leaning forward in her seat, looking down her nose at the people below.
“Are they doing all this for free?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Harriet thought for a moment. She hadn’t really considered thewhy; she had only been certain that they would.
“Well, I suppose because they’re invested in this theater and the people in it. They, like me, are hoping that you’ll keep your promise and insert a caveat into the deeds so that the future owners have to provide space for the community.”
“I agreed to consider that concession before I realized how much community there was!”
Harriet tried to quash the nagging feeling that Evaline was looking for ways to renege on their agreement.
There was a shuffling from outside the curtained royal box, and then “Knock, knock,” said a small voice.
