It was really all right?” Dimitri asked for the fourth time.
It was opening night of Romeo and Juliet and we were slowly making our way out of the theater. Dimitri had stopped in the aisle and was waiting intently for my answer.
“Dimitri, it was more than all right. It was terrific. I mean it. Even if I didn’t know all you’d gone through to get here, I would have been impressed. But considering what you had to deal with? Amazing.”
“Not as good as our Romeo and Juliet at the Cliffside?” he asked. We moved toward the lobby, where the opening night party was being held.
I hesitated before answering, but then decided the truth needed to win out on this one. “No, not as good. But honestly? I don’t think I’ll ever see a Romeo and Juliet as good as that one. That was something. But this one was great. You gave it a different lens, different perspective. You didn’t do your Romeo and Juliet again—you rediscovered it in a new way.”
“It is quite a company. It was an honor to work with these actors. Bringing Stewart Tracy in was a stroke of genius, of course. Harry’s a wonderful Romeo. Cassandra did brilliant things with the costumes, and the set was saved. I think what really brought it together, though, was the tragedy of Babs’s death. Everyone knew this was part of her legacy, the last show she worked on.”
I looked over at Holly Samuel. She was wearing all black, less for dramatic effect and more because she was in deep mourning. She was so young, and had borne so much tragedy already. But she seemed to be holding up. The board was planning on keeping her in place, and had her on the search committee for the new managing director of the theater. They had offered me the job, and I told them I would think about it. But I never even considered taking it. I didn’t want to move back to Boston. Trevorton was my home.
“Is that your ex-husband? With Emma?” Dimitri asked. A waiter came by and Dimitri took two glasses of champagne, handing one to me.
“Yes it is. I’m glad he was able to make it. He’s only been out of the hospital for a few days.”
“That must have been tough, losing his girlfriend in that terrible way. Tragic. I hope the play didn’t resonate too much for him.”
“Well,” I said, trying my best to take any snarky tone out of my voice, “it turns out that she was hardly a Juliet. More of a Lady Macbeth. She’d been playing both sides against the middle for a while, cutting side deals, skimming off the top. She also wasn’t immune to a little blackmail, which was her undoing. Of course, no one deserves to be murdered. But there’s no doubt she was deeply complicit with the con that the Cunninghams were pulling.”
“But Gus wasn’t?” Dimitri asked. “That’s hard to believe. Sorry, Sully, you know what I mean.”
“It is, unless you know Gus. Gus and the Whitehalls were definitely not in this loop. It’s going to take them all a while to sort this out, but I’ve no doubt that they will.”
“It does seem like they’ve had more than their share of a hard time lately, doesn’t it?” Dimitri asked. “So tell me, are you going to take the job?”
“What job?”
“Managing director. The board chair told me that they offered it to you right after they offered me the job as artistic director.”
“Are you taking the job?”
“No, I’m happy at the Cliffside. We’re growing, finally becoming what I wanted it to be. Of course, if you move on, I’d rather work with you—”
“Dimitri, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. No, I’m a Cliffside gal. At least for a while. I did tell them I would help them with their search and advise on operations while they were looking for staff.”
“As did I,” Dimitri said. “They have next season sketched out, and I made a couple of suggestions. Some new work. That play of Pat Gabridge’s that we did last summer—”
“Great idea. It deserves a Boston premiere. So, we’ll both help them get on their feet. Meanwhile, we plan the Cliffside summer season. Which, I’m happy to say, thanks to the Whitehalls tapping a few donors will for sure include building our new production center. Not as fancy as it will be eventually, but the shell of the building will be up and operational this summer.”
Dimitri reached down, lifted me up in his arms, and gave me a hug of pure joy, twirling me around once before putting me down on my feet again. Champagne went flying, but he didn’t care.
“That’s wonderful!” he said. “Having the production center up and running will make it much easier to refill the wave machine every night, and make sure it’s operational.”
“Wave machine?”
“My dear Sully, we’re doing HMS Pinafore. Surely you understood that we must create the sea for the audience. There must be waves.”
“Of course, waves with water,” I said. Tonight was not the time to discuss this in depth. I took a deep breath. “May the waves only be on the stage,” I said, lifting my glass to him in a toast.
“Ha! Not unless our luck changes,” Dimitri replied, clinking my glass back.
Acknowledgments
You write alone, but getting published takes a community. And what a community I have.
This series dovetails with my life as an arts administrator and teacher. I am so grateful to the New England arts community for their inspiration, creativity, dedication, and commitment. Being part of this community has been one of the great blessings of my life.
I’m especially grateful to StageSource, the service organization for the theater community. StageSource bookended a phase of my arts management career and is the support of so many artists and organizations.
Thank you to Marcia Bartusiak for bidding on naming a character at the Lyric Stage Company’s benefit auction.
Thank you to Terri Bischoff, Sandy Sullivan, Kevin Brown, and the rest of the Midnight Ink team. This series has a place in my heart and I will be forever grateful to all of you for publishing it.
I blog on The Wicked Authors with five amazing women—Jessie Crocket, Edith Maxwell, Sherry Harris, Barbara Ross, and Liz Mugavero. They are talented writers, tremendous cheerleaders, and wonderful friends. Thank you all. Thank you to my agent, John Talbot. We’re on this journey together, and his support and guidance are invaluable. Thank you to Sisters in Crime and Mystery Writers of America for providing ongoing support of my writing career.
And thank you to my friends and family for their love and support. My parents, Paul and Cindy Hennrikus; my sisters, Kristen Spence and Caroline Lentz; my brothers-in-law, Bryan Spence and Glenn Lentz; my nieces and nephews, Emma, Evan, Chase, Mallory, Becca, Tori, Harrison, and Alex; and my theater friends who cheer me on this writing path with such joy. A special thanks to Jason Allen-Forrest and Courtney O’Connor for being great sounding boards. This list could be longer than the book itself. I am a very lucky woman.
About the Author
J. A. Hennrikus writes the Theater Cop series for Midnight Ink. As Julia Henry, she writes the Garden Squad series for Kensington. She also wrote the Agatha-nominated Clock Shop mystery series for Berkley Prime Crime. Julie blogs with The Wicked Authors (WickedAuthors.com) and is a member of Sisters in Crime and Mystery Writers of America. She is an arts administrator and teacher who runs Your Ladders (YourLadders.com), an online business school for performing artists.
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