Page 21 of Kiss Me at Christmas
Evaline regarded her steadily, her lips pursed. James passed her the book he’d been writing in, and Harriet watched the old woman’s eyes scud back and forth over his notes. When she’d finished, she handed the bookback to James without acknowledging him or his scribblings. She rubbed the pads of her thumbs and forefingers on each hand together as she ruminated. Harriet’s spirits rose. She was getting through to her.
“Perhaps we could help one another, Ms. Smith.”
In her mind Harriet punched the air and shoutedIn your face, bum weasel!at James.
Evaline continued.
“I have been working toward a private sale of the theater for some time. Most recently there have been two offers on the table, both of which, to coin the phrase of my associate here, have been ‘lowball’ due to the condition of the building. Therefore, I have been left with two choices: one, demolish the theater and sell the land; or two, renovate the building to make it more appealing to potential buyers. Suffice to say, I have decided upon the latter.”
Harriet frowned.
“Wait a minute, if you’re planning to renovate the place anyway, then why I am being made to clean it?”
“One must pay for one’s crimes,” Evaline replied simply. “My legal counsel”—she gestured to James with a limp flap of her hand—“has suggested a counterproposal for you. There are some influential theater companies who have been waiting for me to sell up or die; thus far I have disappointed them on both scores. Now is the time for me to dangle the carrot, so to speak.”
“You’ve lost me, I’m afraid. What does any of this have to do with me?”
“It’s very simple. Any property for sale benefits from some staging—excuse the pun—to help buyers see its potential. Here is where our individual concerns diverge. You may use my property for your little communityproject, on the proviso that you have a production ready to perform on the stage in time for an open house viewing I have arranged for December the twenty-first. It is a theater, after all—buyers will be trying to envision it in working order, and what better way to facilitate that than by providing them with a live production, the first in more than half a century.” She smiled as she warmed to her theme. “In fact”—she tapped a finger to her shriveled, lipstick-caked lips—“why not raise the stakes by opening the performance up to the general public? That ought to stir up some of that ‘media interest’ you’re always so keen on, Mr. Knight, don’t you think?”
James looked up questioningly at Evaline just as Harriet barked out an incredulous laugh.
“What?”
“Are you hard of hearing, Ms. Smith?”
Before Harriet had the chance to answer, James put in, “If I might interject. Ms. Winter, this is a bold proposal with multifaceted considerations; it would be prudent to take a little time to consider. I only meant to have some window dressing on the stage, as it were—”
“No.” Evaline cut him off. “My mind is made up. Ms. Smith can have her little community project and provide some entertainment for my open house on the twenty-first. Call the media. Tell them that the Winter Theater is reopening for one final night.”
“Evaline, please, be reasonable, the logistics alone—”
“Mr. Knight, I pay you so that I don’t have to consider logistics. Make it happen.”
James looked as though he wanted to argue further, but Evaline flicked open a mother-of-pearl compact mirror and checked her reflection, signifying that the subject was closed.
“But.” Harriet glanced pleadingly from Evaline to James and back again. “But what you’re asking is impossible. Nobody could put a production together that fast. The twenty-first is”—she counted on her fingers—“just over five weeks away. Not even a professional company could pull that off. I have zero experience.”
“Then this will be a sharp learning curve for you,” Evaline replied, snapping her compact shut. She regarded Harriet down her long Roman nose.
Harriet pulled her shoulders back in defiance.
“Let’s say for argument’s sake that I agreed to your pie-in-the-sky demands. What happens to my group if you do manage to sell the building to a theater company?”
Ms. Winter opened her mouth to speak, but James beat her to it.
“I would imagine the new owner would be only too happy to encourage community amateur dramatics groups. Theaters are businesses, of course, but they are fundamentally supporters of the arts. I see no reason why the two concerns couldn’t thrive concurrently.”
His employer looked less than pleased, but she pressed her lips together and turned an approximation of a smile to Harriet.
“I’d need some assurance.” She was remembering Pete’s warnings about slippery fishes. “Something in writing to say that the community can still use the theater after it’s sold, something legally binding that the new owners would have to honor.” Harriet tried to sound as demanding as Evaline. This palaver was by no means what she’d envisioned, but equally maybe this was her chance to put her pipe dreams into practice; perhaps the universe was throwing her a bone.
Again, James answered before Evaline had a chance to speak.
“I’m sure there could be a clause written into the sale that would protect your rights on that score—”
“Your choices are limited, Ms. Smith,” Evaline bit out, slicing through James’s conciliatory gesture. “I can still decide to press charges, drag this out through the courts. It would take less than an hour for my contacts to furnish me with the names of each student who trespassed alongside you. Oh yes, I know you weren’t alone. How secure is your job at Foss Independent School? You work in pastoral care, I believe. A worthwhile vocation, I’m sure. I understand that you answer to one Sebastian Cornell. How would he react, do you think? Is your position strong enough to want to find out?”
This was too much.Screw you, Evaline Winter, and screw you, James Bum-Wipe Knight!
