Page 30 of Every Star that Shines

Delanie shook her head. As exciting as that news was, people in the industry said that kind of thing all the time and never followed through. She couldn’t lay any hopes on actually hearing from Tessa Montague, even if it would be one of the coolest moments in her career so far.

“Whether anything comes of that or not, the Starlight Gala is on the same weekend as the play performance. I don’t think I would be able to take the time away to go. That wouldn’t be fair to the kids.”

Desmond snorted. “You’d let some volunteer gig with a community theatre play stand between you and your lifelong dream?”

“I, uh . . . well, no, of course not. But it doesn’t seem like a choice I’ll need to make.”

Marie pursed her lips. “You know how these events go. Even if you don’t have another job lined up by then, someone you meet that night could be the key to you landing something. Just like me running into Tessa. This business is all about who you know.”

“True.”

“Tessa will probably be there,” Desmond said. “If she hasn’t touched base with you by then, seeing you might remind her to talk to you. It could be the beginning of a bee-u-ti-ful collaboration,” he said, exaggerating the syllables with a silly expression on his face.

“Also true.”

Delanie tapped her fingernail against her keyboard. Some of her best opportunities had come from the people she’d met at parties. She had even met Josh at the Starlight Gala three years ago. How glorious would it be if she could take her next major step forward there, right under his nose? She wasn’t one for revenge, but there was a certain satisfaction in the idea, none the less.

“You know, by the performance weekend, the director’s job is pretty much done. I’ll get to see the kids perform on opening night on Thursday. They don’t need me to watch every performance.”

Marie smiled. “So you’ll come?”

Delanie nodded. “That town won’t know what hit it.”

And neither would Josh Rosenburg.

CHAPTER TEN

Delanie closed her laptop and looked around at the chaos on her bed, the overwhelm setting in once more. Despite how positive she had sounded about going to the gala while talking to her friends, the idea of not seeing the kids’ play through the full four-day run and missing the wrap-up party left her neck prickling uncomfortably.

She shrugged it off. It won’t be that bad. They’ll get over it. They probably won’t even notice I’m not there. And at least I’ll be there for Nan’s birthday. Only she and her family would know opening night coincided with what would have been Molly’s eightieth birthday, but it seemed important to her somehow that she would be there, watching the performance of the final production Nan had been involved in.

She placed her laptop on her nightstand, then closed the play binder. Stacking it and the script together, she clambered off the bed and took them over to her small white desk beneath the dormer window. As she set them down, she spotted the box of photo albums she had taken from Nan’s on the floor beneath the desk. Carefully, she slid the scrapbook on the end—the one her mom had said she could keep—out of the box, then sat on the desk chair with her leg tucked beneath her while she opened it.

She flipped through pages and pages of Nan’s successes on the stage, pausing once more at the arresting black-and-white photograph of Nan as Anna Leonowens. Delanie had never seen The King and I, but she had enjoyed the Jodie Foster movie based on Anna’s story. In Anna and the King, the Victorian-era widow had opened a school teaching the children of British officers in Singapore, then accepted an offer to give the many wives and children of the king of Siam a secular scientific British education. In the film, Anna’s strong, independent nature and willingness to stand up to the king for what she wanted and believed in and his fierce protectiveness of his family and vision for his country had led to an unconventional affection and respect between the two—a romance that could never come to fruition.

Thinking about it now, Delanie’s admiration for the inimitable Anna Leonowens grew. The courage and chutzpa she must have had! Much like the lovely woman portraying her in the photo. A woman who could have been as famous as Meryl Streep now, if only she had chosen to go to Hollywood or Broadway instead of Peace Crossing.

Had Molly realized what she would be giving up in pursuit of love? And why was it so often a choice between one or the other?

Sometimes you couldn’t have everything you wanted—Delanie knew that. Anna and the Siamese king had wanted love, but hadn’t been able to explore it with each other. And that was life.

But isn’t that why that story is so heartbreaking?

If Anna’s story had ended differently—with her and the Siamese king married, like Maria and Captain von Trapp in The Sound of Music—would it have been more satisfactory?

No, not with all those other wives in the picture.

But Ernie Davis had had no other wife. Molly had been the love of his life from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, as Pops had often said with a wink and an affectionate smile at Nan.

Wasn’t that what everyone wanted? Someone who would be for you, no matter what, for life?

Delanie fingered the ripple-cut edge of the photo. Begrudgingly, she admitted that a guaranteed happy ending with one person sounded a lot more appealing right now than this striving for the love and approval of people who only cared for her as long as she did as they pleased.

But the problem was, going in, there was no guarantee. You could be stumbling along, as happy as a spring lamb, thinking all was fine with your relationship. And then something unexpected could happen, and suddenly the one thing that was the bedrock in your world crumbled to pieces, leaving you in free fall. The Ernies and Mollys of the world were the lucky ones, but most people never got what they had. And how could you know if you had found solid, life-long love or if you were standing on quicksand?

Her phone chimed, startling her from her thoughts. She set down the scrapbook, still open to the same page, and went over to her bed to retrieve the device. When she saw Caleb’s name, her heart leapt. She opened the text and was even more startled by what it contained. Not the words, which simply updated her on the status of the set-building for that night. It was the heart-eyed emoji at the end that made her heart brace itself against her ribs.

Why is he sending me heart eyes? Is he trying to tell me something? The memory of the intense look in his eyes that afternoon at Cool Beans made her pulse speed up even faster.

---