Acting Up (34 page)

“Thank you,” Ethan said, “I appreciate it.”

Gesturing for everyone to follow him, Ethan led the way to the auditorium. He swung the double doors open wide, and his personal army of painters marched down the aisle just as the cast was finishing up a number.

Astonishment swept across Addison's face. “Where did all these people come from?” she asked, as he reached the stage.

“I made a couple calls.”

“You did this in two hours?”

He grinned. “I'm good.”

“No, you're amazing. This is amazing.”

“
This
is Covington Falls.”

His older brother elbowed him out of the way. “Don't let him fool you,” Jake said. “I made most of the calls.”

“Yeah, because I asked you to,” Ethan said.

“Well, then I'll thank you both.” Addison's glorious smile made Ethan feel as if he'd grown an extra twenty feet.

With Bob Olsen's help, everyone was soon organized and assigned a section of the set to repair. Then they got to work.

Pride filled Ethan as he watched his community come together to help the kids and Addison. She hadn't taken up a paintbrush yet. In fact, she seemed to be in a state of shock as she stared at everyone. Their eyes met, and she offered a wobbly smile before ducking her head and hurrying off through the wings.

Ethan followed… to make sure she was all right, he told himself.

He found her at the water fountain backstage.

She frowned at him. “What?”

“You okay?” He leaned against the opposite wall, if only to keep from closing the distance and taking her in his arms.

“Why wouldn't I be?” she asked, eyeing him with a wary expression as if she didn't trust his sudden concern. “You brought an entire town to repair the set.”

“Someone attacked you.”

A quiet gasp echoed in the quiet hallway, but she managed to keep her voice steady. “It was a little paint. I'm sure Marjorie was right. A prank by some bored teenager.”

“You don't believe that any more than I do. You said it earlier. This was personal.”

Her lip quivered. “I was upset.”

Even as he told himself not to, Ethan stepped closer. “I know. Someone deliberately set out to hurt you. I promised I'd find out who did it, and when I do—”

“You'll what?” A bark of laughter escaped. “Run them through with your sword? Come on, Sir Galahad. It's not a big deal.”

“It is to me.” He reached out and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

With a shuddering breath, she wrapped her arms around his waist. No power on earth could make him push her away now.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered into her hair.

“I feel like I was violated somehow, which is stupid. It's only a canvas.”

“It's not stupid. You were attacked.”

Addison must have remembered they'd vowed to stay clear of each other, because as suddenly as she'd latched onto him, she backed up. “Thank you for bringing in the cavalry to fix my set. It may be the most romantic thing any man has ever done for me.”

“You've obviously picked the wrong men.”

“Possibly,” she said, a grin kicking up the corner of her mouth. “Certainly the last man was a loser. Maybe I'll do better next time.”

Except the next time Addison found someone, it wouldn't be him. The reminder had Ethan stepping away as well. “Maybe you will.”

An exasperated sigh escaped at his retreat. “Do you think we can stop avoiding each other now?” she asked. “Go back to being friends? I've missed you.”

Ethan's jaw worked. “Sure. Friends.”

“Thanks again, for the crew and the hug.”

“It was no big deal.”

A long silence followed as she stared at him. “Right. Of course. I'd better get back out there and see to my set.”

Addison walked away without looking back.

The backdrops were miraculously saved. The next week the costumes arrived. Since the play was set in a modern-day high school, the clothes weren't so different from the styles the kids wore most of the time. Of course, Bree, Harry, and the gang had to be dressed more upscale, while Ellie's wardrobe would slowly transform throughout the show, from country bumpkin to glamour girl when she arrived at the prom.

Two weeks and counting. There was so much to do and not enough time to get everything done. Plus, Addison had a high school dance to chaperone tomorrow.

At least the dance gave her an excuse to shop. Lori was going with Aaron, and Addison had agreed to take the girl on a dress search. Seemed she'd become a fashion consultant and makeover specialist now.

Addison was leaving rehearsal when Michelle Cerillo came racing across the parking lot. In the last few weeks, the girl had blossomed. Not physically. She still wore glasses, though she'd gotten a new pair that flattered her face, and her hair was usually still in a ponytail. No, the real difference was Michelle's emerging confidence. Now she walked with her shoulders back and a smile on her face.

Addison liked to think her advice had helped, but she had a feeling the true reason for the transformation had more to do with Luke Mitchell, who'd finally taken notice. The two had become closer in the last couple weeks.

“Michelle, did you need something?” Addison asked. ”I'm late to pick up Lori Thomas. We're going shopping.”

“I know,” Michelle said. “I overheard you talking with Mrs. Shannon. I need your help. Luke asked me to the dance and—”

“He did? I'm so happy for you.”

“So was I. Except I don't know how to pick the right clothes or makeup or how to do my hair. It's going to be a disaster,” the teenager said, her voice rising with panic. “Everyone will laugh at me, and Luke is going to wish he'd asked someone else.”

“Michelle, calm down,” Addison said, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder. “Luke asked you out because he likes you. Not some other girl.”

“Could I come with you and Lori?” Michelle begged. “You always look so amazing and stylish.”

Well, what was one more person?
“Of course you can come.”

Fifteen minutes later, the three of them strolled into the same downtown boutique Addison had salivated over a few weeks earlier. A young woman with shoulder-length flaxen hair tied back with a scarf turned from the rack of clothes she was straightening. She was wearing a slim-fitting, navy dress, which showed off her shapely legs. Nude pumps added to her height. The very picture of a successful businesswoman.

“Hi—” The pleasant greeting sputtered and died as she stared with a mixture of horror and wonder.

Lori was ever her mother's daughter, so she stepped right into the gap and took over introductions. “Hi, Miss Collier. This is my friend, Ms. Covington. We need dresses for the dance. Ms. Covington is a going as a chaperone.”

Addison's skin crawled at the girl's words. When had she become old enough to chaperone anybody? She stuffed the feeling down, however. A job needed to be accomplished, namely ensuring two teenage girls got to be Cinderella.

Ms. Collier's eyes widened even more, her gaze flitting toward Addison. “
All
of you?”

“You know how it is,” Addison said. “A closet full of clothes and nothing to wear.”

For a second, the horrified expression turned to abject terror. Then the shop owner took a bracing gulp of air. “Yes, I understand completely.”

“Why don't you start with the girls?”

“Right. Of course.” Miss Collier blinked. Blinked again. Then the promise of a big sale got her moving. “Girls, what kind of style did you want?”

The question brought forth identical blank looks. Seemed Addison would get to play fairy godmother. Luckily, it was one of her favorite activities.

She sized up Lori first. “Pink or purple. Classy, but fun,” Addison said after a moment. “Straight line with a fitted waist. Skirt ending above the knees. Thin straps and a square neckline. Something with a sheath of solid color under lace would look nice, too. What do you think, Ms. Collier?”

The woman was gaping again, so it took her a second to respond. “Please, call me Karen.”

“Then you must call me Addison.”

“Seriously?” Karen squeaked. “I mean, of course, Addison.”

Addison gave the other woman another moment to compose herself. “What about Lori?”

Miss Collier's head swiveled toward Lori as the professional hat went back on. After a few seconds, she nodded. “Yes. I agree with you and I have the perfect dress.”

“What about me?” Michelle asked with clear trepidation. Addison had the notion the girl thought she was going to be pronounced a hopeless case.

Michelle was so wrong. “I'd go with a deeper color,” Addison said. “Jewel tones to bring out her beautiful hair and skin. Wine or a dark blue. Empire waist with a scooped neckline. Something with crystals or sequins along the bodice would look nice. Draw the eye upward. Keep it conservative, though. She needs to be comfortable. We don't want her pulling at the neckline all night.”

Karen didn't gape this time, but she did send a look filled with awe. “You are a master.”

Addison sent her a playful grin. “We'll need shoes and accessories, too. Everything's on me, by the way.”

Both girls shook their head.

“Oh, we couldn't,” Lori said. “My mom gave me money.”

Addison held up a finger. “I'll take care of your mother.
Both
of your mothers.” she said, pointing at Michelle before she could protest.

Karen made a circuit of the store, picking out several dresses for the girls to try on. They giggled their way through the fittings. Finally, choices were made, including shoes. Addison was helping her protégés pick out accessories when Karen approached.

“I think your charges are going to turn some heads tonight,” she said.

“I think you're right,” Addison answered. “You have some beautiful things in here. Where do you buy your fashions from?”

“Oh, I design everything in the store.”

Now it was Addison's turn to gape. “You?”

“I draw them, anyway. I have seamstresses who put everything together. Unfortunately, I've gotten too busy to do the sewing.”

“How busy?”

“I get clients from the city. Savannah, Charleston, and even Atlanta on occasion. Especially for my wedding gowns. Those I sew on my own.”

“I remember Julia Richardson told me you designed wedding gowns.”

“They were my first love,” Karen said. “The other clothing became a way to keep cash coming in while I worked on gowns.”

“How is it you haven't gotten more notice? Your work is exquisite.”

“I don't need to be famous. I want to design clothes any woman can wear and feel beautiful, no matter what size or shape she is. Not to mention clothes the average woman can afford.”

“You've certainly made those girls feel beautiful.”

“No, you did.” Karen glanced over at Lori and Michelle as they modeled different necklaces and bracelets. “Speaking of you, I set aside a few things.”

Karen had chosen four dresses, and they were hanging from a gold bar in the back.

Addison ran her hands over the material of each one, sighing in pleasure. “I'll take them all.”

Karen nearly swallowed her tongue. “What?”

“Wrap them up and I'll take them now. I can try everything on later and decide which to wear to the dance.”

“You haven't even tried them on.”

“I have a feeling I don't need to.”

Karen stared for another moment, then a huge grin spread across her face. “I have died and gone to heaven.”

****

“Why do I feel like the oldest person in the room?” Addison asked Elizabeth as they surveyed the crowded gymnasium.

“Because everyone in this room is under the voting age and has zero percent body fat?”

More than likely it was because Addison had been here less than twenty minutes, and already she had a migraine brought on by spastic strobe lights and thumping music cranked up loud enough to make the floor vibrate. Silver streamers adorned every available surface and they reflected the lights, turning each sliver of tinfoil into a high-powered, blinding beam.

Of course, her cranky mood could also be the result of watching Ethan Thomas chat up Carrie Rogers all night.

“Tell me why I agreed to chaperone this thing again?” Addison asked.

“It gave you an excuse to dress up.”

True. Addison contemplated her outfit. The decision of what to wear had been agonizing as each dress she'd tried on had been more amazing than the last. She'd finally chosen a simple, strapless black dress with sequins along the top of the bodice. Her hair had resumed the classic chignon so highly favored by the hairstylists of
House of Fashion
. She hadn't worn any jewelry, but she had unearthed her favorite strappy, black stilettos.

There'd been a time when putting on these shoes had been enough to brighten her mood. She sighed. “Right.”

“Thanks again for taking Lori on the shopping expedition,” Elizabeth said. “She couldn't stop talking about her day.”