Page 21 of Every Star that Shines

“I saw you catching up with Autumn,” Violet said, gesturing toward the counter. “Isn’t it a marvel what she’s done with the place? All of these paintings are by local artists, you know, and they’re for sale. There’s so much talent in the Peace Country.”

Delanie looked around at the canvases of quirky portraits, paintings of the Peace River Valley, and macro photographs of local flora and fauna. There was one large framed photograph of the northern lights that took her breath away. It had been a long time since she’d seen the aurora. “Indeed. Sounds like a lot of work, but she’s obviously doing a great job.”

“I’m glad her parents have been able to help her out like this. It’s so hard to lose a spouse, and so young. And her little guy kept her on her toes even before she was working full time. I don’t know how she manages now.”

Delanie swallowed. “What do you mean?”

Violet cocked her head. “You don’t know? Autumn’s husband died in a quadding accident nearly two years ago. Now she’s raising Julien alone, and he’s quite the little handful.”

“Oh.”

Autumn had been two years behind Delanie and Stephanie in school, which meant that she must be around twenty-six years old. At twenty-six, Autumn was a mother, managed a thriving coffee shop, and had already been married and widowed. That felt like a lot of living in the only eight or so years since she had graduated. Despite the loss Autumn had suffered, Delanie couldn’t help wonder what her own life had to show in comparison. Had her string of short-term acting gigs and collection of failed romantic relationships been worth the time she had spent away from home?

“But has she ever watched a Shakespeare play under the summer stars in Stanley Park while eating fresh caramel corn?” Delanie muttered.

“Pardon?” Violet said.

Oops, that had been Delanie’s outside voice. “Never mind.” Her face flamed, and she busied herself flipping through the binder to find the notes she took the previous night. Who else would hear about someone losing her husband and make it all about themselves?

Fortunately, Caleb and Amber arrived just then. As everyone exchanged civilities, Caleb pulled out the chair next to Violet—but before he could sit down, Amber smiled at him and sat in it.

“Thanks, Caleb.”

“Uh, you’re welcome.” With a bemused grin, he pushed in her chair, then took the seat next to Delanie, placing a spiral notebook and ballpoint pen on the table in front of him.

Delanie would have smirked at Amber’s presumption if she weren’t so uncomfortably aware of how near Caleb was sitting. And the fact that it hadn’t been his first choice either.

“So,” she began briskly to cover her discomfiture, “now that everyone’s here, I have some notes from the rehearsal last night. I think we will need to work with Joe to help him loosen up more. Geppetto is supposed to be a bit uptight, but not that uptight. There’s this great exercise we used to do in college that might help.”

Caleb nodded. “I agree. A few of the other kids could probably relax more too. Some of that will just come in time as they get more comfortable with their roles and with being on the stage.”

“Emma didn’t seem to have any trouble relaxing.” Violet’s eyes twinkled behind her gold frames.

Caleb chuckled and shook his head. “Well, that’s Emma. I hope she wasn’t too rambunctious. She seemed okay while I was in the room.”

Violet patted his hand. “She was just fine. Don’t you worry about a thing. You and Monica are doing great with her.”

“We do our best,” Caleb said with a small smile.

For some inexplicable reason, the reminder that Caleb and Monica still shared parenting duties made Delanie even more uncomfortable. She flipped around in her binder until Violet turned to her, then glanced up as if she’d truly been distracted from her search.

“I could extend the warm-up exercises with the kids at the beginning of every rehearsal,” Violet said, picking up her mug. “Joe isn’t the only one who could loosen up a little.” She raised her cup to her lips and blew across the top.

Amber fished a tablet and digital pen out of her voluminous purse and put it on the table. “Not that Celeste needs it, but the other kids would probably benefit.” She swiped around on the screen until she brought up a note-taking app.

Delanie fought the urge to roll her eyes. She drew a breath. “Thanks, Violet.”

Violet finished taking a sip from her mug, then set it down. “Molly always used to say that a third of the play’s success was giving the kids the tools to succeed. The second third was making sure they believed they could.”

“What about the last third?” Caleb said.

“A healthy helping of prayer.” Violet’s eyes twinkled.

Delanie laughed along with the music director. That last comment was just the sort of joke that Nan would make, though she had no doubt her grandmother had, indeed, prayed before every rehearsal, just as she had seen Violet quietly do the other day. Molly had never been flamboyant with her faith—but Delanie had never known her to waver from it. “Nan was a smart cookie and a good teacher. In fact, I think I saw something about the acting exercises she used to do with the kids in her notes from the play last year.”

Caleb blinked in surprise. “You found her notes from last year?”

“Yes. From all the years. Nan was astoundingly thorough and organized.”

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