Acting Up (37 page)

The needle darted in and out as she worked. “You won't like my opinion.”

“You've never pulled punches with me before.”

Aunt Ruth sighed and dropped the square of fabric again. “I'm trying to reconcile the person in that interview with the woman in front of me now,” she said. “It's just so odd watching you play Addison on TV.”

“I'm not playing anything.”

“Honey, that was a persona,” Aunt Ruth said, clicking her tongue. “A carefully crafted image you want the world to see. You've spent so many years creating her, I'm not even sure you realize what you're doing.”

She was right. Addison didn't appreciate her aunt's opinion. “We're back to me being a fake?”

“Not a fake, dear,” Aunt Ruth said, with a gentle smile. “A layer of protection. I only hope someday you'll decide to stop hiding behind Addison and be Alice again.”

With those parting words, her aunt picked up the quilting square and shuffled off to bed.

Addison sank onto the couch, her earlier pride gone. She didn't know who Alice was anymore and hadn't much liked her to begin with. Only now Addison had become fuzzy, too.

Great. A few weeks in Small Town, U.S.A., and her whole life had become one big soft focus filter.

The stage saboteur struck again three days before dress rehearsal. This time the bandit went after the costumes.

“Burned them?” Addison cried, when Marjorie told her.

“One of the maintenance men found them in a metal trash can out by the dumpsters this morning.”

“Let me guess,” Addison said. “No one noticed a bonfire in the middle of night.”

Marjorie shook her head.

Addison felt a headache was coming on. The kind that squeezed her temples and sent her stomach roiling.

Nursing a migraine would have to wait, though. Addison followed Marjorie out to a walled area behind the school. When they arrived, the cast was encircling the can, looking like mourners at a funeral. There were no tears this time. Most likely everyone was in a state of shock.

Addison steeled herself before glancing down. The costumes were nothing more than ashes now. Only a few blackened, soot-covered pieces of fabric remained intact. She recognized Ellie Dooley's prom dress and one of the cardigan sweaters Lisa would have worn in the opening scene.

“Nothing like this has ever happened at our school before,” Marjorie said.

“Lucky me,” Addison murmured.

A door opened behind them and Ethan and several other administrators marched outside.

He came to a halt when he saw Addison. Regret filled his eyes. “Addison, I swear—”

“You're going to find the culprit. I know,” Addison said. “Meanwhile I have a show set to debut in four days and no costumes. Excuse the gallows humor, but I'd say someone wants this production to go down in flames.”

A round of suppressed sobs erupted around her and Addison tried to block them out. If she lost her composure now, she might give up.

Michelle turned a tear-stained face in Addison's direction. “Ms. Covington, what are we going to do?”

“I'd say we need another miracle. I'm not sure an army of painters will help this time.”

“We could start raiding closets,” Marjorie suggested. “It's not like the cast is going to be wearing hoop skirts and corsets.”

“They do need specific looks though. Especially Ellie and Bree.”

Marjorie sighed. “A really big closet then.”

Yeah, if only they knew someone with a big enough closet.

Of course!

“Marjorie, you're a genius,” Addison said, giving her assistant director a bear hug.

“I am?”

Addison headed for her car.

“Where are you going?” Ethan called out.

“To call something with a really big closet.” She whirled around, looking for her stage manager. “Robin?”

“Yes, Ms. Covington?”

“Do you still have the list of costumes and everyone's measurements?”

“In my folder,” Robin said.

“Get your folder and come with me.”

One hour and one phone call to the costume designer from
House of Fashion
later, Addison had clothes. A second call to Karen Collier's boutique resulted in new dresses for Michelle and Lisa for the prom scene.

Robin related the whole story to the stunned cast. Ethan drifted over to stand next to Addison while the stage manager described every detail of the phone call.

“And here I thought producing forty people with paintbrushes was an accomplishment,” he said.

She grinned at him. “I have connections too, you know.”

Ethan's expression turned serious again. “Addison, we will find out who's behind all this.”

“I hope so.”

“Someone I know is trying to hurt you,” he said. “I can't wrap my mind around it.”

“I must have a gift for making enemies around here.”

He clasped her hand. “If I hadn't asked you to direct this show, you could have had a nice vacation with no stress or cameras following your every move.”

“Are you kidding?” Addison said. “This show saved my sanity. You and these kids.”

His gaze roamed over her face. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”

Addison leaned forward. “I'm not that nice.”

“Do we need a chaperone for you two?” Marjorie asked as she strolled over.

“I was telling Ethan he needs to leave now,” Addison said, pulling her hand back. “We have a rehearsal to finish, and he has a paintbrush-wielding pyromaniac to catch.”

Marjorie arched a brow, not bothering to disguise her amusement. Ethan escaped, leaving Addison to deal with Marjorie's gleeful smile.

“Wipe that look off your face,” Addison said.

“I can't help it. You two practically simmer. I doubt you'd need a floodlight to illuminate your face on stage.”

Addison stared at her. “Excuse me?”

“You're glowing.”

“I don't glow.”

“You do now.”

“Oh, please,” Addison said with a scowl.

Marjorie laughed. “I've never known anyone to fight falling in love so hard.”

“I am
not
falling in love.”

“Are too.”

“Am not — Argh! Stop. Go do something. Grade papers. Or better yet, find out who's trying to sabotage my show.”

Marjorie did as directed, but not before offering up another wicked cackle.

Friends. Who needed them?

****

“You didn't have to take me out, you know.”

“It's your birthday, Aunt Ruth,” Addison said. “Of course I'm taking you out. I didn't figure you'd be up to a big party, and you've been cooped up in the house too much.”

“I went to my quilter's circle.”

“Where you were cooped up in someone else's house.”

“She's pretty determined, Aunt Ruth, so you might as well stop arguing and enjoy yourself,” Aaron said as he opened the door of the restaurant.

“Are you nervous about getting around because of your hip?” Addison asked.

Aunt Ruth jerked her shoulder's back. “Absolutely not.”

Addison glanced at her stepson, and they shared a conspiratorial wink. “Didn't think so,” she said, trying not to sound too smug.

“There's no need to fuss over me.”

“Well, guess what?” Addison said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “You saved my life these past couple months, so if I want to fuss there's nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I didn't save your life,” Aunt Ruth said, her cheeks turning rosy.

Aaron stepped forward. “Ma'am…”

Astonishment had Addison whipping around to stare at him. When had he learned to be a gentleman and say ma'am?

“I think you've saved both our lives,” Aaron said, ignoring her shocked expression. “So dinner is the least we can do to repay you.”

A beat passed before Aunt Ruth relented. “I can't argue there.”

Addison glanced around. A transplanted Chicago chef had opened the place a couple years ago, and she'd been assured the food was amazing. The dining room was at once elegant and comfortable. Red tablecloths with white tea candles floating in bowls of water accented the tables. Soft lighting lent the cream-colored walls a romantic glow.

The hostess approached and after a brief deer-in-headlights stare, led them to a table. Aaron held out a chair for Aunt Ruth, gently pushed it in, and then moved to stand behind Addison's seat.

Addison stared at him in astonishment again.

“What?” Aaron asked.

“I was just wondering when the body-snatchers came and took my stepson.”

“Last week.”

A startled burst of laugher erupted from her chest. Addison was still chuckling as Aaron pushed in her chair.

Within seconds, the door leading to the kitchen opened and a slim, six-foot-tall woman strode out. A short cap of black hair framed a striking, heart-shaped face made even more arresting by violet eyes.

Something about the way the woman glided across the room caught Addison's attention. A perfect runway strut by a chef in Covington Falls. A second glance and recognition dawned. She'd seen the same face on the catwalk during Fashion Week in New York four years ago.

“Good evening,” the woman said with a wide generous smile. “I'm Devon, the owner. Ms. Covington, it is such an honor to have you dining with us.”

The expression solidified Addison's hunch. “Devon Heart.”

The welcoming smile froze. “I'm sorry?”

“You're Devon Heart,” Addison said. “I've seen you on the runway a thousand times.”

Aunt Ruth's eyes widened in surprise and she studied Devon with curiosity.

Devon's lips clamped into a thin line. “Sorry, my last name is Franklin.”

“I never forget a face,” Addison said. “Especially one as beautiful as yours.”

The warmth disappeared from those amazing eyes. “Devon Heart doesn't exist anymore.”

What had happened to this young woman? Whatever it was had sent her into hiding. In any case, Addison understood the need to escape.

Addison forced a carefree laugh. “Wow, I'm sorry. You must have a twin somewhere.”

Relief flashed across Devon's face. “They say everyone has a doppelganger. You three enjoy your dinner, all right? Let me know if I can get you anything.”

Their meals were being served when Meredith Vining approached.

“Addison, I thought it was you,” she said. “Evening, Ruth. Aaron, right?”

He nodded.

“Hello, Meredith,” Aunt Ruth said. “It's lovely to see you again, dear.”

“I didn't know you were back in town,” Addison said.

“I couldn't miss the premiere of the musical,” Meredith said with a grin. “Think you'll be ready?”

“As long as the school doesn't burn down.”

Her head tilted. “I'm sorry?”

Addison waved a hand. “Nothing. I'll save you a good seat.”

“Thanks. Addison, I'm glad I ran into you. Can we meet tomorrow? There's something I want to show you.”

“Sure. It'll have to be a quick visit. We have dress rehearsal, and there's still so much to do.”

“Don't worry, I won't take long. Meet me at the south end of Main Street across from Rice's Emporium at eleven.”

“Eleven it is.”

****

“It's a building,” Addison said.

“Very observant,” Meredith confirmed.

“A big, empty building.”

“Yep.”

The building in question had obviously been abandoned some time ago. It stood three stories high and sported a façade of aged brown stone. In the midmorning sun, the stones were painted a burnished gold. A large plate-glass window took up much of the first floor. The upper floors had four arched windows each. Right now the windows were covered in grime and soot, but cleaned up, they would gleam.

There was something infinitely sad about a forgotten building. Like an aging beauty queen. The windows even seemed to droop, like they were depressed.

“Do we have to play Twenty Questions before you tell me what we're doing here?” Addison asked, suppressing a shudder of unease. “Are we going on an architectural tour of Covington Falls?”

“You're looking at
my
big, empty building,” Meredith said.

“You bought it? Whatever for?”

“I want to open an arts center. Teach classes in music, drama, and dance.”

“Ambitious of you. Congratulations.”

“Thanks, but I didn't bring you here for a pat on the back. I'd like you to join me.”

“Teaching classes?”

Meredith nodded. “It's obvious you love working with the students at the high school. Here you'd have a chance to keep doing that. Plus, work with younger kids and even adults.”

“It'll be hard to teach classes when I'm in L.A.”

Meredith's eyes dimmed. “Oh, I thought—”