Chapter Fifteen

THE EMILY THEATER OPENED with a film noir gala that kicked off with a showing of The Maltese Falcon. Guests wore evening attire, a relatively rare event in Lake in the Clouds, with most women choosing styles that fit the theme. “Face it,” Genevieve observed as she, Helen, and Willow watched the arriving guests from the third-floor office. “Nineteen forties fashion was simply the best. Classic and flattering.”

“Well, ladies.” Helen made a game show hostess sweeping gesture. “All I know is that we look gorgeous.”

Genevieve and Helen both wore long gowns, Genevieve in gold and Helen in red. Willow had settled on a cocktail dress in basic black with a fitted bodice and pencil skirt that hit just below her knee. She wore her hair up and a vintage pearl choker.

“Well, you and I aren’t too bad for a pair of old broads,” Genevieve said to her sister. “On the other hand, Willow could be a star of one of the movies we’re showing tonight.”

“Because I look dead?” Willow asked.

“You know that’s not what I meant. Glamorous. Lana Turner glamorous. Noah is going to swallow his tongue when he gets a look at you.”

“Might be lots of tongue swallowing going on tonight,” Helen commented. “Once Gage gets a look at you, Vivie.”

“Stop that!”

Helen laughed, then continued. “Our favorite grumpy firefighter just arrived. He’s wearing a suit. You know, it occurs to me that the next time we need to get involved in a fundraiser, we could do one of those calendars with sexy men. Think of our pool. Noah. Zach. Even Gage. No reason not to represent the sexy seniors. Or how about one of those bachelor auctions. Why—”

“Auntie!” Willow interrupted, laughing. “Stop. Just stop. I’m going downstairs now to meet my date.” She picked up her evening bag from the desk, then stopped in front of her mother. “Mom, congratulations. You’ve done a fabulous job. I’m so proud of and happy for you.”

“Thank you, honey. And thank you for all the work you did for tonight. I’m so glad that Gage suggested we use you as our event planner. You’re really good at this sort of thing, you know.”

“I know.” Smiling happily, Willow gave Genevieve a hug, then exited the office.

Genevieve started to say something to her sister, but Helen held up her hand, motioning her to stay quiet. She walked to the door and cracked it just enough to ensure they weren’t about to be disturbed. Then she turned the lock and said, “The e-mail arrived just as I left home.”

“The DNA test came back?”

“Yes. Just as we expected ever since we saw how closely AJ resembles Emma, the test proves that he is Drew and Emma’s half sibling.”

Genevieve exhaled a long breath. “Okay, then. Well, we had to do that. So, on to step two?”

“Yes, step two. I’ll call the brother in the morning.”

“I don’t know, Helen. I’m having second thoughts. Maybe we should tell Willow.”

“Yes, in step three. We don’t know anything certain yet. We have suspicions. We could be wrong. Just like with DNA, let’s verify. Then in step three, we bring in Willow with facts and actionable information.”

“Okay. You’re right. We keep to the plan.”

“And in the meantime, let’s go downstairs and enjoy the party. It’s your night, Genevieve. The theater is beautiful. You and Gage have done a fabulous job. So go downstairs and accept the adulation you so richly deserve. Maybe flirt a little with that handsome rancher.”

“Oh, Helen.”

“Oh, Helen, what? You’re not dead yet, Gen. Of course, the man just had a heart attack. Maybe you should hold off on that for a while and let him recover. Until your birthday, at least.”

“Don’t mention the b-word,” Genevieve said and led the way downstairs. “And Gage didn’t have a heart attack. It was angina.”

Her eyes twinkling, Helen gave a shrug. “So you have no excuse. Go flirt.”

Genevieve gave her sister a look that equated to flipping the bird without having to use the vulgar gesture. Helen laughed, slipped her arm through Genevieve’s, and the Bennett sisters descended the stairs.

The theater restoration had turned out even better than Genevieve had hoped when she and Gage began the project. While the bones of the old theater had stood firm, time had taken its toll on the interior. Gage had worked with his construction specialist son on the structural renovations. Genevieve had been starting basically from scratch on the interior. She’d spent hours upon hours researching theaters built during the same period as the one in Lake in the Clouds. With a vision in mind, she’d worked with her own professional—Jake’s new wife, Tess—to develop a design she loved.

It turned out splendidly. The murals painted in the theater were re-creations of historic travel postcards advertising some of Colorado’s natural wonders—the Royal Gorge, Pikes Peak, and Garden of the Gods. She’d used forest green velvet for the curtains and the upholstery on the seats, and lots of gold braid and tassels.

The one place the color scheme differed was the founder’s box, which sported a portrait of the theater’s namesake and was done in the late Emily Throckmorton’s favorite color of rose accented with gold.

Tonight, all three of Gage’s children were attending the gala. Gage’s recent health scare had been a wake-up call, not just for him but for his children, too. Life was short. It was a crime to waste a day of it.

Blast it, Helen. You had to bring my birthday up tonight of all nights, didn’t you?

“Genevieve!” called a guest who greeted her as she began to mingle. “The Emily is fabulous. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“I can’t believe what you’ve done here,” said another guest. “This was such a great idea. I’ve always loved this old building, but I never would have thought to try to save it.”

Genevieve was talking to one of Lake in the Cloud’s librarians when she felt a touch on her elbow. She glanced up to see Gage. He remained by her side and they worked the room as partners. It was lovely. People said such nice things; the praise was constant and genuine. Genevieve basked in the glow of it and in the approval she saw in Gage’s eyes. All too soon, it was time for the first movie to start. She joined Gage on the stage at his request because he wanted to say a few words.

“You look lovely tonight, Genevieve,” the rancher said to her as they waited for their guests to take their seats and the room to quiet down.

“Thank you. You’re looking fine yourself. How are you feeling?”

“Good. Good. Getting tired of answering that question, though.”

“Any time an ambulance has been involved, and you live in a small town, I imagine you can expect it.”

“I know. I know.”

At that point, Willow walked onto the stage carrying a wireless microphone. “I suggest you start talking, Gage. In my experience, that’s the only thing that will shut them up.”

Willow flipped the switch on and handed the microphone to him. He tapped it twice, then said, “Good evening, everyone. I want to thank you all for coming. I’d like to take just a couple minutes here before the movie starts to mention two incredible women.”

First, he made a brief but heartfelt and beautiful tribute to his late wife that brought tears to Genevieve’s eyes. Emily and Gage Throckmorton had shared a deep and abiding love, the kind of love she liked to think she and David would have enjoyed had he not been prematurely taken from her.

Gage finished by saying, “I can’t begin to explain how much it means to me to be able to honor the memory of my movie-buff wife by dedicating The Emily to her here with you all tonight. Which brings me to the second incredible woman I need to mention. My family and I owe this joyous moment tonight to Genevieve Prentice.” He looked at Genevieve and gave her an affectionate wink.

Genevieve’s heart gave a little flutter. Working with him on this project had been a pleasure. He was a good man. Not an easy man, but one who was true to his word. She respected him and admired him. And, if she was being honest, she was attracted to him, too.

But that was not for tonight. Tonight was about Emily Throckmorton and The Emily.

Gage continued. “Genevieve had the vision to suggest this project as a way to honor my late wife, and the drive and fortitude to make it happen. While officially, Genevieve and I were partners in the project, the truth is that she was the boss, and I did what she told me to do. Those who know me know that’s not how I ordinarily do business.”

“No kidding,” called his son Zach.

“Quiet in the peanut gallery,” Gage fired back with a grin. “Genevieve put an enormous amount of time, effort, and thought into this restoration, and it shows, don’t you agree?”

Pleasure at the praise washed through Genevieve as the crowd clapped enthusiastically.

Gage raised his voice to be heard over the noise. “So my hat’s off, my glass is lifted, and I offer my most sincere thanks to my theater partner and friend, Genevieve Prentice. She is a special woman.”

And Gage Throckmorton is a special man, Genevieve thought as she gazed up at his ruggedly handsome face.

“Now, for all our guests here tonight, welcome to The Emily. Make yourselves comfortable and enjoy the movies.”

Gage escorted Genevieve off the stage to applause. She said, “Gage, I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much. That was so sweet.”

“I meant every word I said. You gave your all for this project, and it couldn’t have turned out better. You’re a treasure, Genevieve. It was a lucky day for Lake in the Clouds when you decided to make our little town your home.”

Genevieve took her seat to watch the movie. The Maltese Falcon was one of her favorites, and she’d never seen it on a big screen before. She expected to be swept up in the story by Humphrey Bogart playing Sam Spade, private investigator. Instead, her mind wandered. Her mood plunged.

It was done. This project was over. What was she going to do now? What did she have that mattered?

The fish? Oh, she’d enjoyed the research. She’d decided to start small. After spending a lot of time investigating equipment, she’d purchased a small “practice” tank and the required accessories. Then, she’d bought her first two fish to see how long she could keep them alive.

So far, the fish experiment was going swimmingly. She found watching the tank relaxing, and when the children visited, they loved it. Genevieve was just about ready to dive into deeper water, so to speak.

And yet, as much as she enjoyed the activity, she wasn’t passionate about it. She’d been passionate about restoring The Emily, but that job was finished. Maybe she could find another building to restore, but that idea didn’t excite her, either. Been there, done that. What next?

This find-her-passion thing wasn’t working out quite the way she had hoped.

At intermission, Genevieve made the rounds, thanking the guests for coming and receiving their adulations. It should have all been wonderful, but every “way to go” and “great job” scraped like sharpened fingernails against her heart. Needing a few moments of escape, she stepped outside into the cool springtime night air.

A half dozen groups of people congregated under the lights of the theater marquee. Genevieve heard the chimes inside the theater signal the end of intermission, and people began to return inside.

Genevieve remained where she was, standing just beyond the reach of the lights in the shadows. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, wishing she had brought her jacket. Despite having lived in the Colorado Rockies for a year and a half, Genevieve had yet to shake all of her Texan ways. Dressing for cool nights didn’t come second nature to her yet.

“Here,” came a familiar deep voice. Noah slipped his suit coat around Genevieve’s shoulders, and warmth chased away the chill. “You and your daughter are just alike. Willow forgets her jacket more often than not.”

“Thank you. I should probably refuse it, but I won’t. I’m an old lady, and my skin is thin.”

“Oh, don’t give me that ‘old’ business. I know you recently signed up for a rock-climbing class at Lake in the Clouds Outdoors. That’s not the action of an old woman.”

“It is if she’s crazy, too. I don’t know what got into me, thinking that rock-climbing might become a passion of mine. Just thinking about doing it scares me, never mind actually tackling the activity. I let the guys at the outfitters shop talk me into it. They don’t understand that I’m a chicken.”

“Balderdash.”

Genevieve jerked a glance up at him in surprise. “You sound like my sister.”

“Where do you think I got the word? I love using it. It’s much more satisfying to say than bullshit, which is the appropriate but impolite response to your statement. Willow has talked to me about her family. You have more courage than most people I know, Genevieve.”

Danged if her throat didn’t close and her eyes filled with tears at that. What was wrong with her tonight? Ten years ago, she could call herself hormonal. Well, that ship had sailed, hadn’t it? At least she was in the shadows, so Noah wasn’t witnessing her inexplicable meltdown. Again. All she needed was for him to tell Willow that her mother was crying on the street corner, and her daughter would launch into mothering mode.

She went on the offensive, hoping to deflect. “That’s sweet of you to say. So tell me, why is it that I discover you lolling about in the shadows at every party I throw? You’re missing the movie. Intermission is over.”

“I know. I’m heading back inside. I just needed to stretch this leg of mine for a bit. It’s better if I don’t sit for too long.”

“Oh, of course. You’ve made such huge strides in your recovery I forget you were injured. My bad.”

“Not at all. That’s the way I want it. Besides, it allowed me to play the gentleman and loan you my jacket. Are you ready to go in?”

“No, not yet.” Genevieve started to shrug out of his jacket, but he stopped her. “Keep it.”

A figure moved out from the deeper shadows. Gage Throckmorton said, “Give Noah back his jacket, Genevieve. I’ll give you mine.”

“How long have you been standing there?” Genevieve asked as she handed Noah his coat. “Why aren’t you inside watching the movie?”

Gage didn’t immediately respond but waited as Noah gave a little salute before disappearing into The Emily. Gage slipped his jacket around Genevieve’s shoulders. It smelled of the woodsy aftershave he wore, and she couldn’t stop herself from inhaling a deep breath.

“My kids got to talking about their mother at intermission, and I got a little emotional. Needed a few minutes to myself. So I sneaked out the back door and walked up on you and Noah chatting. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t exactly help it. So, what’s this passion talk all about?”

Genevieve didn’t want to talk about it. She was feeling emotional herself. So she couldn’t understand why she opened her mouth and spilled her guts to Gage. She explained about her conversation with Noah the night of Jake’s wedding and her hunt for something—a grand passion—to give the winter of her life meaning.

“Winter of your life? Hell, Genevieve. You must have been going to church over at First Community and listening to Reverend Mays’s sermons. He’s the most depressing minister I’ve ever known.”

“I’m not explaining it properly. Gage, I’m lost. Not all that long ago, I made huge changes in my life. I reinvented myself. I breathed new life into my life. But here it is less than two years later, and I’m… well… back in the same old rut. I need something to live for. I need a reason to keep getting out of bed every morning. For the majority of my lifetime, that reason has been my children. That life is over. It’s dead. I had the funeral for it.”

“Most spectacularly, I’m told.” Gage referred to the family dinner to which Genevieve had summoned her children for an old-fashioned tongue-lashing.

Genevieve continued. “I recognized that my old life was gone, and I attempted to move forward, to build something new here in Lake in the Clouds. I’ve tried to create a life with value and purpose, a life I’m passionate about. I’ve continued the charitable work I did in Texas, and that’s good, but it’s not filling the hole. I have my sister, thank God, but she has her own life and probably a new job soon because I cannot imagine she won’t win this election. All I have are colorful fish and naked-man drawings and impending lessons on how to climb up the side of a mountain when there’s a perfectly good road leading to the top. Why can’t I find something to do with my life that I’m as passionate about? Something that fulfills me the way raising my family did?”

“Hell, Genevieve, I understand the struggle. Truly, I do, especially with my recent history. But, I have to ask, why now? Why are you looking for the meaning of life tonight of all nights? Why aren’t you inside enjoying the fruits of your labors?”

Defensive, she fired back. “Why aren’t you?”

“I’m mourning my wife.”

“I’m mourning my life.”

“Why?”

“Because it has no purpose. My life’s work is completed, but I’m still looking for something to feel passionate about. That sounds whiny, I know, and I hate myself for it. I tell myself that Grandma Moses didn’t start painting in earnest until she was seventy-seven, so I still have some time. Nevertheless, I think my chances of discovering some new interest just waiting to bloom into passion this late in life are slim to none. I blew up my old life, thinking that would solve everything. It did for a while because I had much to do to settle in. Now, I can find activities. I can find projects. But what do they matter? What does it all mean? Shouldn’t my life mean something? Shouldn’t I have a purposeful life? Shouldn’t it be important? Raising my children was important. What does a person do when her life’s work has ended, but she’s still on this side of the grass?”

“You stay busy, that’s what,” Gage said. “Listen, I like Noah. He’s a good guy, sharp as a tack, and quick to do the right thing. I get the point he was trying to make, but I think that makes a mountain out of a molehill. You don’t need a grand passion that will consume you for the rest of your years to make your life rewarding, Genevieve. What you need is to fill your life with people you love, like, or admire. And have something to keep yourself busy for the next three to six months. After that, see where life takes you. Maybe it’s fish. Maybe it is mountain climbing. Maybe it’s throwing pots.”

“Pottery? I hadn’t thought of pottery.”

“Well, put it on your list. Look, I understand your fear. I feel it, too. You’re right that life should be more than just waiting to die. I’ll tell you this. Whoever coined the term golden years and made us think our retirement years were supposed to be easy sold us a bill of goods. Getting old isn’t for sissies. It’s an aching back and painful knees and sagging skin and bumps where bumps aren’t supposed to be. It is loss. People you love pass on, and life gets smaller. You don’t have the means or the energy to try to grow it again because, like you said, what’s the point?”

“Are you trying to cheer me up, Gage?” she asked, her tone droll. “If so, you’re doing a poor job.”

“Give me a minute to make my point. I’m an old man. Takes me longer than it used to, but I can still get the job done. You are on the right path, Genevieve. You are actively growing your life.”

He took her hands in his and gave them a squeeze. “It’s not the things you do in life that make life rewarding; it’s the people you do life with that make it your… oh hell. What is that term the young ones use?”

“Best life,” Genevieve said. “Oh, I like that bit of philosophy, Gage.”

“Well, good. Remember it. So, are you ready to go back inside? See what Sam Spade is up to at the moment?”

“I am.”

The sound of a child’s cries pulled Willow from the oblivion of sleep. AJ. She groaned into her pillow. She didn’t want to open her eyes, much less pull herself from bed and take care of the toddler. She was exhausted, the good kind of exhausted from a night of being thoroughly loved, but nevertheless, bone-deep tired.

“Mama. Mama. Mama.”

I am not your mama.

Immediately, guilt washed through her. AJ was just a little boy. An innocent little boy who missed his mama. He must be so confused.

“Mama. Mama. Mama. Mama.”

Willow opened her eyes. The sun was barely up. Groaning, she started to rise, but a large, warm hand settled on her naked hip and stilled her. Noah’s deep, masculine voice rumbled, “No. You sleep. I’ve got him.”

Memories of the night skittered through her, and she couldn’t help but smile. No wonder she was so tired. Nevertheless, AJ wasn’t Noah’s responsibility. This was her job. “I can’t let you—”

“I have this. Go back to sleep, beautiful.” He kissed her hair, released her, and rolled from the bed.

Willow vaguely heard the bang of his belt buckle against the wood floor and the rustle of denim as he pulled on his jeans. She should have argued with him. She would have done so, except exhaustion won out, and she drifted back to sleep.

When she awoke again, the bedroom was awash in sunlight. Willow sat up, stretched, inhaled a deep breath, and froze. “Bacon.”

It was a shock to her system.

“He babysits and cooks breakfast?” she murmured aloud as she climbed from the bed. To say nothing about the great sex.

She really should find a way to keep him.

Following a quick shower and feeling like a new woman, Willow searched for Noah. The house was empty, but she found a note on the kitchen counter. “Breakfast is in the warming oven. AJ and I have taken the dogs for a walk.”

Noah, three dogs, and a toddler? Just where did he keep his Superman cape?

A few minutes later, with a mug of freshly brewed coffee in one hand and a breakfast burrito in the other, she went outside in search of Noah. She saw him walking across the wildflower-carpeted meadow leading down toward the spring. He pulled AJ in the red collapsible wagon used to haul things around his place. Marigold, Thor, and Anna scampered ahead of him, behind him, and ahead of him again.

As she watched them, Willow’s breathing grew shallow. Andy’s son and Noah. There, right there, was her past and, if not her future, certainly the possibility of one.

Suddenly, she was so afraid. She hadn’t lied to Noah when she told him she had a wall around her heart. What was she doing hanging out with Superman? He leaps tall buildings in a single bound. If he wanted her heart, her little old wall wouldn’t stop him.

Then what? Was she ready to finally move on from Andy’s death? Was she brave enough to give her heart again? To Noah. And, maybe, to AJ.

She needed an answer. Soon. She’d thought she would have a couple of months to find her courage, but now that seemed like a stretch. Were the decisions being made for her? Were they out of her control? Had she already torn down the walls and left her heart unprotected?

All Noah needed to do was take it. It was right there waiting for him if he wanted it. If he wanted it—there was the rub. Just because he babysat, cooked breakfast, and made sweet love to her didn’t mean that the heart exchange was a two-way street. Just because she might be ready to plant permanent roots in his kitchen and his bedroom didn’t mean he wasn’t ready with a hoe to weed her out.

Oh, she was afraid. What should she do about her feelings for Noah? And what in the world was she going to do about AJ?

Hurrying back inside, she located her phone and called her mother.

Genevieve didn’t answer. She’d had a late night with The Emily gala. Though ordinarily an early riser, she might still be asleep. Or out on her walk. Who knows—maybe she had scheduled a mountaintop sunrise yoga class, and now she was well into her day? She could be on her way for a day of shopping in Eternity Springs.

So, Willow sent a text: MOM, I NEED YOU.

Genevieve Prentice had changed over the past year and a half. She didn’t automatically drop everything and rush to her children’s aid like in days past. But Willow had used all caps.

Her mother would call.