Page 65 of Every Star that Shines

Amber swallowed. “But my doubts about your abilities were just an excuse. I was jealous, there’s no other way to say it. When I heard Molly passed away, I had planned to volunteer to direct the play. But before I even got the chance, I heard you had been appointed. I thought someone should have at least asked me first—you don’t even live here.”

Her voice broke a little, and Delanie resisted the urge to stop her again. That certainly explained why Amber had had a chip on her shoulder right from the start.

“I’m ashamed to say that I actually participated in your public massacre,” Amber continued. “Not in a big way—I just liked some comments and maybe left a few of agreement—but it was enough. I was wrong to do it. And I was wrong about you.”

Delanie’s heart pounded in her ears, and heat pulsed through her veins. She hadn’t expected that. She swallowed, searching for something to say. But Amber wasn’t done.

“I want you to know I deleted the comments I made.” She put her mug aside and folded her hands in front of her. “For the record, I think you’ve done a great job with the play. Truly. I have learned a lot from you, and I know now why you were put in charge. You have the same joy for theatre that Molly had, and the same ability to infect others with it. I’m only sorry you won’t get to see the kids perform.”

Something in Delanie’s chest let go, and she drew a deep breath. After how Amber had acted, the fact that the woman had been humble enough to clear the air in this way left Delanie a little stunned. She thought Amber might be sweetening her words a little for effect, because Delanie hadn’t done much for the kids that someone else couldn’t have done—but she wouldn’t ruin Amber’s confession by arguing about the woman’s opinion. Her mother had taught her how to graciously accept an apology.

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“No, thank you. Celeste has really blossomed this year, and I think it’s in large part due to the extra help you’ve been giving her to develop her acting.” Amber brightened. “I talked to Violet, and she’s going to start giving Celeste voice lessons next week.”

Delanie smiled, her heartbeat returning to normal. “That’s wonderful! I’m so glad to hear that.”

“It wouldn’t have happened without you.”

Remembering the grateful look on Amber’s face, Delanie took a sip of wine, then swirled it around in her glass, watching the legs trail down the sides. Celeste wasn’t the only one who had bloomed during the last two months. Delanie felt like she knew so many of the kids personally. Helping them develop their talents on the stage had been one of the most satisfying things she had ever experienced. She thought of the dress rehearsal she’d missed that day and pushed aside her regret with another sip. Everyone had probably done just fine without her.

Still, it was too bad Sandra hadn’t been able to convince Crystal McLean to give her even one more week before starting work. And since the production would be playing catch-up with her scenes, there was no way she would be able to take extra time off this weekend to go back to Peace Crossing and see the play. She would have to wait until the videographer Amber had hired was finished editing and producing the videos—though watching a recording was bound to be a poor substitute for being there. At least she had the video she’d made with the kids to tide her over.

She glanced at Nan’s scrapbook, debating between going through the last few pages and pulling up the fundraising video to watch. But the wine had started to do its job, and she had to get up early to drive out to the set in the historic town of Barkerville. What she needed was a good night’s sleep. Instead of indulging her sentimentality, she pulled out the call sheets and looked over the scenes she would be shooting tomorrow.

After downing the last swallow of wine, she went and hopped in the shower. Fifteen minutes later, she was asleep.

Delanie woke up to her phone jangling a show tune. She reached for it, confused. She was certain that wasn’t the ring tone she had chosen for her alarm.

When she picked it up and stared at the screen through bleary eyes, she realized that’s because it wasn’t her alarm. Someone was calling her.

Caleb.

She thought about cancelling the call, but then noticed it was after midnight. If he was calling her this late, it must be important. Had something happened to Emma?

She answered the call and put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Which one are you in?” he asked.

She propped herself up on her elbow. “What are you talking about? Caleb, what’s going on?”

“I’m outside your motel. I found your car, but I need to know which room is yours.”

“What?”

She sat bolt upright, then hopped out of bed and went to the window, pulling the curtain aside so she could see the parking lot. Sure enough, there stood Caleb, surveying the rooms with his phone to his ear. He saw her peeking through the window of her second-floor room and started for the stairs.

“Caleb, what are you doing here?” She dropped the curtain and went to the door, opening it just as he reached it.

“I had to tell you something,” he said, pulling the phone from his ear.

“What did you have to say that couldn’t have been said on the pho—”

Her next words were cut off by his lips. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her like he had been thinking about it all day. And, since it took almost eleven hours to drive here from Peace Crossing—not counting any stops—he probably had.

She awkwardly tossed her phone on the bed and melted into his arms, into the kiss she had missed so much in the week they’d been apart. Then she remembered why she’d been missing it and pushed away from him, stepping back.

“No. Caleb, we broke up. Why did you come here? Did you think you could run into my arms like in some rom-com and stifle all the reasons we broke up with a passionate kiss, and everything would be okay?”

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