An uncomfortable ache gnawed in his chest. He’d once thrived on dreams. Music, laughter, loyalty, family, love. But piece by piece his world had fallen apart and, well, he wasn’t certain what to believe in anymore, except his slow-growing faith, Iris, and his family.
But love? The kind his icon, Gene Kelly, danced through the rain to celebrate?
He shook off the thought and turned his mind back to the theater and... the quiet.
With Dani’s help and some small changes Matt had made over the last six months, the theater had started an upward financial trend. With Penelope’s work, even more so. Maybe Matt could turn some of the revenue into a real salary for Dani or Leigh. Something to show his appreciation. The couple proved indispensable to rounding up actors every season and still pulling off as top-notch a performance as the Darling could offer in the moment. But things had started changing a little. For the good, he hoped. Not only the finances but the morale. A lightness of some sort had entered the place, bringing good memories back to light. And hope.
His gaze trailed down the hallway to the very last door. All thatpositivity usually came from the direction of a particular American. An oddly quiet American. He walked toward her office, passing Alec’s, who rarely showed his face before noon. Then Gwynn’s, who’d returned to university last night.
The scent of mangos floated toward him before he even reached Penelope’s office door. Mangos and... he couldn’t quite place it, but Iris called it “sunshine.” Thankfully, it wasn’t a potent fragrance but some sort of light scent dusting the air with a fresh mix of sweet and tangy. He rolled his gaze to the ceiling.Sunshine?His lips twitched at the thought. Very much like its wearer.
He’d never met anyone who wore sunshine quite like Penelope Edgewood. At first, it had been too much. Too overpowering and seemingly inauthentic, but then, over the weeks, her vibrancy melded into the spaces of this theater, shining in shadowy places no one had noticed for much too long. For a second, he wondered how they’d managed to make do without her. And how on earth they could go back to life without her ever-present... her-ness.
He shook off the thought and peeked around the doorframe. He hadn’t been in her office for a week and she’d added more decorations. A bouquet of paper flowers, most likely from Wetherby’s Magic Paper. She’d placed a bookshelf in the corner with a few books, all related to classic musicals or actors, except a set of children’s books, which, upon closer inspection, were all written by Julie Andrews and her daughter.
A picture on the top shelf featured a quote in bright pink by Audrey Hepburn: “Happy girls are the prettiest.” And above it on the wall hung a black-and-white painting of Audrey Hepburn with a list of beauty tips. But these tips weren’t typical beauty suggestions. Matt’s grin grew. They were much deeper. “For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry,” said one. “For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.” On and on, at least ten. One near the bottom read, “For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.”
And that fit her perfectly. From the bright-pink print to thesentiments in various decorative fonts. He’d been so certain Penelope’s positivity and kindness were nothing more than pretense in the beginning. After all, most people didn’t live with such generosity and optimism. Most individuals didn’t run on boundless energy and unending joy. But each day, she kept proving her enthusiasm and goodness were a genuine portrayal of Penelope Edgewood’s heart, and Matt wasn’t sure what to do about it.
Which made the silence all the more noticeable. Usually he heard her come in every morning. She’d burst through the front doors, singing at full volume, with the scent of some sort of baked goods accompanying her entrance. But not this morning.
Her familiar teal laptop sat on her desk and her Mary Poppins bag waited nearby, which meant she must be in the theatersomewhere. He spun around and marched to the front desk, where Evelyn sat behind her desk, her usual tight-bun hairstyle surprisingly replaced by a looser look. It gave the appearance of a younger, softer Evelyn Lennox.
“Good morning, Evelyn.”
The woman looked up from her computer and offered him a small smile. “Good morning, Mr.Gray.”
Despite his efforts, he could never get her to call him Matt. Even after five years.
“Did you happen to see MissEdgewood this morning?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered, patting a container on her desk. “She delivered her Monday breakfast muffins to”—she made air quotes—“‘start our week off with a smile.’”
“Ah.” Matt reached over and grabbed one of the muffins. “They certainly bring a smile to my face.”
Her lips twitched a little wider. “If her enthusiasm in delivering them didn’t, sir, her baking skills certainly would.”
Matt gave a nod and gestured with the muffin before taking a bite.Mmm, this morning, banana.
“But if you’re looking for her, Mr. Gray, she mentioned somethingabout going to Stage A to treasure hunt. I believe those were her exact words.”
“Treasure hunt?”
“Yes, sir.” Evelyn’s eyes brightened with her growing smile. “Because there are no ordinary hunts or mornings or, well, anything when it comes to MissEdgewood.”
“I do believe you’re right.Ordinaryis not a word to pair with MissEdgewood at all.” He patted the counter and took a few steps back. “Thank you, Evelyn.”
“Mr.Gray.” She waved a napkin at him and he smiled his gratitude. “If I may say so, I believe the muffins must be working, sir, because you’ve been a lot happier lately too.”
Her statement caught him by surprise. Had he? Well, certainly Penelope’s presence and skill set had relieved some of his worries, and having some positive numbers to bring to the business discussion lightened the burden of this place. Iris had been happier too. Singing around the house. Dancing. Even wearing tiaras on occasion and tapping his head with her “joyful wand” to inspire a tickle attack. He grinned as he moved in the opposite direction of the offices and the main stage. Yes, things had been better lately. Good, even.
Like he could take a breath and, perhaps, dream again.
It had been so long since he’d lifted his eyes above the everydayness of work and being a single parent. Beyond the wounds of a failed marriage and the insecurities and bitterness his ex-wife’s choices left behind. Did he even know how to dream still?
He shook away the thought, the idea somehow constricting his chest.
As he neared the doors to the smaller stage, a bright-yellow sign to his left caught his attention. A large poster plastered to the front of a set of double doors leading into a space once used for various meetings held the words: