“Sure.” He focused ahead, the road taking a sharp turn to the right. “And I have some private clients who I help with business planning.” He shot her a grin. “Not a lot of money in resuscitating a dying theater.”
“No, I’d say not.” She played with the ends of her scarf. “But hopefully it won’t stay that way. There are lots of good indicators that our hard work is moving The Darling House in the right direction.”
His shoulders slumped with his sigh. “Listen, Penelope, I don’t know what my brother or sister have told you, but apart from its heyday for a few decades nearly a century ago, it’s not been the most profitable endeavor from the start. Small theaters rarely are.”
JMC’s call yesterday confirmed some of those concerns, but not entirely. Penelope had grown up in the Ashby. She knew the business worked with the right place and the right people... and a whole lot of passion and snacks. Some theaters went under, it was true, but with hard work, creativity, the proper productions, and community support, a theater could thrive. Most of the theater owners she knew didn’t end up filthy rich in the venture, but they lived well enough. And loved what they did.
And she’d still heard that love in JMC’s voice yesterday. The passion and hope of providing the beauty, escape, talent, and creativity of the stage to the community.
“But we’ve made good progress.”
“For how long, princess?” His sad smile bordered on condescending. “You’ve not been in this business long enough to recognize a sinking ship when you see one. In fact, you’re barely out of thecrib as far as business is concerned. We may win this battle for the moment, but we can’t win the war, no matter how much we may wish it.”
“Some of us have ideas that will make a long-term difference.” She stiffened. “Even for someone ‘barely out of the crib,’” she added with air quotes. “Besides, I don’t think you’rethatmuch older than me. What? Three years? Four?”
“Life experience can’t always be measured by years.”
She rarely wanted to punch anyone in the nose, but he was getting pretty close to forcing the desire to the front of her mind. And it would be a shame to damage such a fine nose. “I’ve been working in theater since I was thirteen. From volunteering to designing the summer camps by seventeen and teaching classes by nineteen. So I can boast some life experience too.”
His expression sobered and she continued. “We may not end up rich in money, but we can stay afloat, so I’m all for folks who have a real desire to fight hard enough to win the war.”
“I’m sorry I not only offended you but underestimated you.” His expression gentled and she relaxed the death grip on her scarf. “You have made excellent changes, ones that prove you are not as naive as I inadvertently made you out to be. Forgive me?”
She gave a slow nod, allowing his admission and compliment to sink in. Alec didn’t know her as well as Matthias did, so of course he’d misjudged her like most everyone did.
“I hope our dinner will make up for my blunder.” He flicked her his grin, a dimple flashing to life. A dimple. She softened even more. She’d always loved dimples. “I look forward to hearing about all your lovely ideas, princess.” His accent curled over therin his words. “I feel certain your passion will inspire mine and together we can make those ideas a reality.”
“The more people we have in the battle, the better,” she added, her comment bringing out his chuckle.
“I’d better join the fray, then. I certainly don’t want to be left out of watching you work your magic.”
She settled back into the seat and breathed out her frustration. Here she sat, ready for her fairy-tale moment in a castle, and a little tiff wasn’t going to dampen her experience. Honestly, how often did a girl dress up for a very handsome man to have dinner in a castle on a quaint island to talk about theater? She was living her best dream.
The road narrowed and began a twisty climb through evening-soaked countryside. And then, on Penelope’s side of the car, the road fell away to reveal a view of the sea. Bright moonlight bathed the water in pale silver and summoned thoughts of fairies, mermaids, lost boys, and pirate ships rather than sea monsters. Just around a bend in the road, the dark-gray castle came into view, towers jutting up into the night. Cradled by the hillside, its lights glowed welcomingly at their approach.
The inside proved as dramatic as its exterior. Stone walls rose on all sides, some covered with tapestries. Despite the fires in the massive fireplaces, a chill cloaked the air and she drew her scarf more tightly around her shoulders.
Their server, a young woman with absolutely movie-worthy blonde hair trailing down the back of her little black dress, welcomed them with an equally movie-worthy smile. Alec must have known her, because he engaged in some light small talk and some definite glances of appreciation at the way God had made her. Penelope stilled herself against the sudden rise of annoyance. What did she expect? Didn’t most guys in the real world have a wayward eye or two? She looked away and steadied her expectations. No wonder she preferred fairy tales and classic musicals.
In the real world, girls had to settle.
She shook her head. No, they shouldn’t. When she loved someone, she was all in, eyes included (well, except for an occasional movie crush here and there), but nothing serious or distracting.
And she and Alec hardly knew each other, so if anything were todevelop into a relationship, it would take time. Besides, this wasn’t even a date, so why should she expect undivided attention—though he did owe her for the interview debacle.
She nodded at her internal dialogue and followed the server into a large room, which must have been a ballroom at one time. Tables dressed in white dotted the space and windows lined the wall facing the sea. With a flourish of her gloved hand, the server placed them at a table with a breathtaking view of the cliff-lined coast until the sea disappeared into the dark horizon.
After they’d settled into their places and ordered, Alec stared at her from across the table, his hazel-green eyes glittering in the candlelight.
“You really do look amazing.”
“Thank you.” She smiled and turned her gaze to the room. “This isn’t a place you show up to in jeans and a T-shirt.”
“Most certainly not.” He chuckled, taking a drink. “But I daresay, you rarely go anywhere in a T-shirt and jeans.”
Her smile stilled on her lips. Actually, she’d spent two days out of this week working backstage in the dusty boxes and dilapidated theater props. Jeans and a ratty T-shirt proved indispensable, though the T-shirt boasted some very well-loved sunflowers. But again, Alec rarely made an appearance at the theater, so how would he know?
“What do you love most about The Darling House?”