Augie rose and addressed the group. “They’ll show up all right, dressed to the nines. You’ll see finery like you’ve never seen it. Want to know why? Because I’m going to run pieces in the
Mountaineer
about how to dress for the theater. The local woman will be rarin’ to go, each one trying to outdress the other.”
“Maybe.” Fanny still didn’t appear convinced.
Flossie didn’t either, but she didn’t seem worried. “Those women are the very last thing you need to worry about. They’re not our problem. They’re our answer.”
Every eye in the room turned to her.
“Our answer?” Lottie couldn’t help but voice the words. Since when was Althea Baker an answer?
Flossie now spoke with great passion. “Look, I know not all of you are going to agree with me. What I’m about to say might not even make much sense to you. But I’m a firm believer in the Bible, and the Bible says that we are to take possession of our territory.”
“Take possession of our territory?” Sharla shook her head. “What does that mean? Are we going to war?”
“Maybe. Ever heard the story of Joshua at the town of Jericho? He marched around that city seven times, blew his horn, and the walls fell down.” Flossie lifted her arms.
“And David facing the mighty Goliath,” Fanny spoke up. “Surely you’ve heard that story.”
“That
one I know.” Cherry chewed her fingernails. “But I still don’t see what it has to do with us. I don’t even own a slingshot.”
“Well, I do.” Flossie gave her a smile. “The Word of God is my slingshot, and it’s one I plan to use. I’m going to give you gals some Scriptures to memorize. You’re going to say them every day.”
“Scriptures?” Patricia wrinkled her nose. “But I’m busy memorizing my lines.”
“These lines are more important than any in a script. So get ready. We’re going to start marching around Jericho—er, Estes Park—right away. Put your walking shoes on.”
“Better yet, put your boots on.” Lottie grinned. “I’ll have all of you in cowboy boots before long, anyway.”
Sharla mumbled something about how she didn’t have any boots—and even if she did, she wouldn’t be caught dead walking around the mountains in them—but Flossie kept going, regardless. She quoted Scripture after Scripture, honing in on one Bible story after another as proof that God could—and would—move on their behalf if they banded together.
“This is what theater people do,” Flossie said. “We’re a family. We’re more than just a cast. These are the people you eat, work, and play with. And we’ve been brought together, as the Bible says, for such a time as this. So don’t question why you’re here in Estes Park. Just accept it and understand that God is up to something bigger than us.”
Lottie saw that Phineas watched Flossie with an admiring look in his eyes. And when Fanny rose to share her heart, Jeb could hardly stay in his seat. The fellas definitely appeared to be enraptured with these strong female heroines who’d swept in to save the town.
And why not? As Lottie looked on—as she listened to Fanny’s impassioned plea—she felt pretty enraptured, herself.
* * * * *
G
ILBERT LISTENED TO
F
LOSSIE
’
S SPEECH
with renewed hope. Though he’d always trusted the Lord, he hadn’t fully given over this situation to Him. He’d spent more time trying to come up with solutions on his own. But no more. The time had come. He would let go of the reins and march around Jericho. He would trust God in the same way Moses trusted Him at the Red Sea, the way David trusted Him as he stood before Goliath. And Gilbert would do it with a group of women—well, mostly women—who looked fit for the task.
At least, with those who were paying attention. As the meeting ended, Grace and Chauncy made their way to the stage, where she began to work with him on his dance steps. They’d been together a lot lately. So had Phineas and Flossie, who were now engaged in a conversation on the other side of the room. And Jeb and Fanny, who seemed like an odd but somehow appropriate fit.
Augie approached with a smile. “Gilbert, I just wanted you to know that I’ve got the perfect person to help me with the new fashion column for the
Mountaineer.”
“Oh? Who’s that?”
“Prudy.”
“Prudy?” He glanced at the shy young woman who stood on the far side of the room chatting with one of the other ladies.
“Yes.” Augie’s face lit into a smile. “We’ve been discussing her love of writing. Did you know she’s quite talented in that area?”
Gilbert took a seat and gestured for Augie to join him. “No. I wish I’d known. Lottie could’ve used her help with the script.”
“Well, not that kind of writing.” Augie gave Prudy an admiring look. “She’s done several journalistic pieces in the various towns where she’s lived. She’s even written for the
New York Times
. Her clippings are great.”
“Clippings?”
“Oh, sorry. Always forget that people who aren’t in the business don’t always understand the terminology. Clippings. When you’ve been published in the paper, you cut out the article and keep it in a file. Those clippings are shown to editors—people like me—to prove a history of publishing.”
“Interesting. So…” Gilbert did his best to hide a grin. “She has nice clippings?”
Augie crossed his arms. “She’s a wonderful lady, Gilbert. Very professional. I know she seems withdrawn, but she’s not. The real Prudence comes out on paper. You might be surprised to discover that she’s quite bold in print.”
“That is interesting.” He could hardly believe it, in fact. Still, if what Augie said was true, she would be the perfect person to write the articles, because she understood the women’s point of view.
“Sometimes writing things down makes us courageous. In her case, she’s far more outspoken on the written page, and that’s a good thing. Finding a balanced reporter—one who doesn’t come across as aggressive, but one who gets the job done—well, those reporters are hard to find. And when you do find one, you do your best not to let her—er, them—go.”
“What are you saying, Augie?” Gilbert leaned his elbows on the table and gave his friend a closer look.
A smile turned up the edges of Augie’s mouth. “Oh, just saying I have a lot to think about.”
“Sounds like it.” Gilbert extended his hand and Augie shook it. “Thanks for your help, my friend. It means a lot.”
“You’re welcome.” Augie rose. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got to go see a woman about a newspaper job.”
Gilbert chuckled. He sat alone for a moment, thinking through everything that had been said. From across the room he noticed Lottie glancing his way. For a moment, he hardly knew what to make of her. Standing there in that pretty blue dress with such a relaxed expression on her face and with her fashionable hairstyle, he hardly recognized her.
She approached the table and took a seat next to him. “In spite of everything we’ve been through up till now, I have such hope,” she said and then smiled.
“Me too.” A wave of guilt washed over him as he remembered the kiss he’d stolen from her. Oh, he wasn’t sorry for it. Not really. Just sorry that he’d been so mixed up about it after the fact.
Lottie shared about the various romantic unions taking place around them. He didn’t correct her when she reported that Augie had his eye on Margaret Linden. No point in stirring up more gossip. When she paused, he happened to catch a glimpse of Flossie. Something about her seemed different. Had Lottie noticed it too?
“All right, I just have to come out and say it,” he finally managed.
“Say what?”
“Flossie.” He glanced at the woman, who sat next to Phineas, laughing and talking. “She looks—”
“Younger?”
“Yes!” He turned to Lottie, stunned. “You’ve noticed it too. I thought maybe it was just me. Don’t you remember what she looked like when she got here? I thought she was much older.”
“I remember one of the fellas guessing she was a hundred and three.”
Gilbert chuckled at the memory. “It’s the strangest thing. Looking at her tonight, I would say she’s dropped several years.”
“I agree.”
“And this might sound crazy, but she doesn’t seem as wrinkled.”
Lottie nodded. “I have a theory about that. She’s not as tense. When she got here, she was wound up tighter than a clock. These days she’s more relaxed. When you’re anxious, it shows in your face. When you’re relaxed, your whole countenance changes.”
“Guess she’s relaxed, then.”
Sure enough, Flossie let out a little giggle, one that had Phineas turning red in the face.
“Wonder what’s up with those two,” Gilbert said.
“I don’t know. But if you’d told me in the beginning that Phineas and Flossie would eventually see something in each other, I would’ve said you were crazy.” Lottie grinned. “Sometimes the Lord has a plan we can’t see.”
“Yes.” Suddenly Gilbert felt that same attraction to Lottie as the morning he’d kissed her. “Sometimes He does. Maybe we’re just too busy or too distracted to notice.”
“Yes.” She gazed into his eyes, and his heart skipped to double time.
Just then Winifred came up to them, giggling. “Gil, you’ve got to come and see Cornelia’s costume for the play. It’s simply divine.” Winifred took him by the arm and pulled him up out of his chair. “You don’t mind, do you, Lottie?”
“Oh, I…” She looked disappointed but didn’t stop them.
Gilbert felt a strange reluctance at leaving her seated at the table without him. What right did Winifred have, interrupting their private conversation? Then again, he’d never been very good at turning her away, had he?
Until tonight.
“Winnie, if you don’t mind, Lottie and I were in the middle of something. We’ll have to talk later.”
Winnie’s eyes widened, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she turned with a huff and headed back across the room to Cornelia.
Gilbert reached for Lottie’s hand. “You were saying?”
“I was saying…” Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Gil, I’m just so happy. Everything’s going right for a change.”
Yes, everything was going right. And Gilbert couldn’t help but think that things were only going to get better from here.
SEVENTEEN
H
OT
D
AMES
, C
OLD
H
EARTS
Folks, Alice Well down at Parker Lodge. No, you didn’t read that wrong. Alice Well is the name of one of the characters in our upcoming melodrama. She will be joined by our villain, Earl E. Bird, played by Augie Miller, who—according to our sources—has announced his run for mayor in the upcoming election. We at Parker Lodge find this news Justin Credible. Oops. There we go again, introducing you to yet another character in our show. We try to keep things light here at the lodge, where rehearsals are in full swing. In fact, things are going so well that we will begin selling tickets for the show just one week from today. So save your nickels and dimes! We don’t want you to come Penny Less. Oops. There we go again! Guess you’ll just have to c’mon out to the show to meet these folks in person.
—Your friends at Parker Lodge
O
N
M
ONDAY MORNING
Lottie awoke in a blissful state. After last night’s meeting, she could hardly wait to get to work. With all of her cast members linking arms, the show would be a rousing success and the lodge would be saved. And with Gil’s hand in hers, they would prove that true love could win out, no matter the bumps and bruises along the way.
Her happy frame of mind lasted all the way to the lodge, where she found Mrs. Parker and Hannah baking up a storm in the kitchen. Lottie’s smile widened even more when Gilbert walked in and gave her a cheerful “G’morning!” Indeed. It was a good morning. And nothing—and/or no one—could change that. This morning she held the world on a string.
“Oh, Lottie, I almost forgot…” Mrs. Parker reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope. “The postman came by early this morning to deliver something for you.”
“For me? Here at the lodge?”
“Yes. Look, honey.” She pointed at the envelope. “It’s from Denver. A Mr. Gerald Jefferson. Does that name sound familiar?”
“Not at all.” Lottie reached for the envelope, fingering the expensive paper for a moment.
“It’s addressed to Miss Lottie Sanders, director of
Predicament at Parker Lodge,
so it must be for you,” Mrs. Parker said. “Open it, honey.”
Lottie gingerly opened the envelope and pulled out a letter. She didn’t recognize the handwriting at all, but she was quickly caught up in the message of the letter.
Gilbert leaned in close. “What does it say?”
The letter trembled in her hands as she read. “Oh, no. Oh, no!” Her stomach churned as she absorbed the note; then the paper fluttered out of her hand and drifted to the floor. She plopped into a chair and began to fan herself with the envelope. “This is terrible news. Terrible.”
“Did someone die?” Gilbert took her hand.
“Only our show. Our reputation. Our…everything.” Lottie leaned forward, her forehead dropping to the table.
As Gilbert reached down and snagged the letter, she looked up. He scanned it then shrugged. “Lottie, this isn’t terrible news. A famous theater critic wants to come see our show. All the way from Denver, no less. Why, this could be the best thing that’s happened to us. Think of the promotion we’ll get in the Denver paper.”
“Best thing?” She groaned. “I doubt it. This man has the capability of putting an end to our show before it even kicks off.” She hated to state the obvious but had no choice. “Gil, have you been at the same rehearsals I’ve been to? Sure, the women are doing a great job, but…the men? They’re lacking in so many ways.” She paused to think about Jeb’s latest attempt then shuddered. “All we need is for some big-name reporter to sweep in here and do a write-up blasting our show. We’ll close that same night.”
“What?” Flossie’s voice rang out as she came into the kitchen. “Did you say a critic is coming?”
“Yes.” Lottie groaned. “A Mr. Gerald Jefferson from the news-paper in Denver. I’ll have to ask Winnie about him, but it sounds like he reviews most of the big shows in Denver theaters.”
“Hmm.” Flossie frowned.
“What are we going to do if the show opens to poor reviews? We’re—we’re…we’re ruined!”