Lottie dissolved into tears, and Gilbert patted her on the back. “Hold your horses, Lottie. No one said anything about being ruined.”
“They didn’t have to. I can sense it…” She pointed to her midsection. “Right here, in my gut.”
“What happened to all that positive thinking from last night?” he asked. “When we left here, we agreed to trust God to work out the details. He’s the one who’s going to save this show, not us. And if He’s for us, as Flossie reminded us last night, who can be against us?”
“It’s true. I did say that,” Flossie acknowledged. “Though, I must confess I’m a bit worried about the quality of acting, so it is a little disconcerting that a theater critic is headed our way.” She looked at them. “I know that a lot of the men said they could act—and we’ve been really patient with them as they’ve fumbled their way through their lines—but maybe it’s time to require more of them.”
“They’re so kind to take on acting roles in the first place,” Lottie said. “I just don’t know how it would make them feel to be demanding. They’re not benefiting in any way from being in this show.”
Flossie quirked a brow. “I daresay they are benefiting. Being in this show has put them in the company of many a fine woman. And they’re having the time of their lives. That much is clear. So, requiring more of them isn’t asking too much. Their acting skills are lacking, at best. Jeb is the poorest in the bunch, but Phineas isn’t far behind him.” She reached down to grab a cookie from the tray.
“Doesn’t take a trained eye to see that Jeb Otis is no actor,” Gilbert threw in. “But he’s doing his level best.”
“Yes, but we have a paying audience,” Lottie reminded him. “I mean, in theory we have a paying audience. No one has actually purchased any tickets yet, and that has me very nervous.”
Now Gilbert looked nervous too. “I see your point.”
“And if this theater critic shows up on the very first night, as this letter suggests, we’ll be doomed.” She leaned her elbows on the table, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. So much for taking her hands off and giving this situation to God.
“Not doomed, Lottie.” Gilbert sat across from her. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
His words pinched. “Someone has to be,” she said.
Flossie squared her shoulders. “This is a matter for prayer, and I, for one, promise to hit my knees. Just as soon as I have a little chat with Phineas and Jeb.”
“A chat?” Lottie and Gil spoke in unison.
“Yes, if you don’t mind. I think I’m the right person for the task, because of my many years in the theater. I can encourage them to take their acting more seriously. If I word things carefully, they won’t be wounded.”
“You don’t mind?” Lottie asked.
“Not a bit. This won’t be the first time I’ve had to give this speech.” She smiled. “And besides, I daresay Phineas will do as I ask. He’s, well, he’s…” Her words drifted off as her cheeks remained the loveliest shade of pink.
“Yes, he is.” For the first time since opening the letter, Lottie smiled. “He’s a great fella, Flossie, and I think you’re right. He’ll listen to you. And you can give him some special acting lessons on the side.”
“I think he’ll enjoy the extra attention from you, to be honest.” Gil laughed. “So I doubt you’ll hear any complaints.”
“Hope not. But I’ll say a little prayer just in case.” Flossie gave them a little wave.
No point in worrying about spilled milk, as Mama always said. Surely by the time the show kicked off the first weekend in August, the fellas’ acting would improve.
Lottie only hoped they kept their acting to the stage between now and then.
* * * * *
G
ILBERT SPENT THE MORNING
working on set pieces for the melodrama. He needed to stay focused on the task at hand, now that he knew a theater critic would be analyzing his work. No shoddy craftsmanship here. Of course, with Chauncy at his side, there was little chance of that. They worked together to build a backdrop for the first scene, Chauncy chattering all the while about Grace.
“Looks like you two are getting along well.” Gilbert couldn’t help but smile.
“Yep. This whole plan of bringing in brides is working out better than we hoped. I think Phineas is sweet on Flossie.”
“I’ve noticed that.” Gilbert laid down his hammer and stepped back to analyze his work. “And it’s clear Fanny and Jeb are cozying up to each other, as well.”
“Yep.” Chauncy pieced together a couple of two-by-fours and reached for the bucket of nails. He put several in his teeth then spoke around them. “Ain’t quite figured out who Augie’s got in mind. That uppity Margaret gal is just his type, though.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Gilbert took his hammer in hand again. “He’s been singing another lady’s praises, as well.”
“Oh, who’s that?”
Before Gilbert could respond, Flossie came flying into the room, her face pale. Lottie followed directly behind with a group of women after her, all looking distraught. Gilbert stopped his work to listen.
“What’s wrong?” Lottie placed her hand on Flossie’s arm. “Has something happened?”
“Something has happened, all right.” Flossie’s face contorted. “Only, I think you know all about it.” She looked at the men, her eyes narrowing. “All of you.”
“Know all about it?” Lottie looked alarmed, and Gilbert didn’t blame her. “What do you mean?”
By now the other women had joined them, all talking at once. Gilbert could hardly make sense of it. Well, until Fanny’s voice rang out.
“We know, Lottie.” Fanny placed her balled-up fists on her hips. “Flossie told us.”
“Everything,” Margaret added.
“Yes, absolutely everything,” Cornelia said, her eyes filling with tears.
Once again the women’s emotional voices began to layer, one on top of the other.
Unnerved, Gilbert laid down his hammer and took a few steps in their direction, though he had a feeling he would end up regretting it.
“Let me just ask you a question.” Flossie took over now, her gaze shifting back and forth between Gilbert and Lottie. “Were we brought here”—she gestured to the room full of women—“to marry the single men of Estes Park?”
“Uh-oh.” Chauncy spit out his mouthful of nails, which hit the floor plinking and plunking. Instead of picking them up, he skedaddled out of the room.
Coward.
Gilbert wished he could do the same, of course, and all the more when he stared into the angry eyes of nearly a dozen women.
“Are we nothing more than a bunch of mail-order brides?” Flossie asked. “Is that what this is?”
“Wh–who told you such a thing?” Lottie looked as if she might be sick.
“Phineas.” Flossie dropped into a chair and shook her head. “I went over to his place to talk to him about his acting skills, and things got ugly.”
“Ugly?” Gilbert pulled out a chair and sat next to her. “What do you mean?”
“I guess he didn’t take to my critique of his acting.” Her expression tightened. “Though, I did my best to explain about the critic coming and all.”
“There’s a critic coming to see our show?” Margaret asked. “A professional one?” When Flossie nodded, she dropped into a chair and muttered, “Oh no!”
“What about Phineas?” Gilbert asked, his heart in his throat. “What did he say after that?”
“He got good and mad about my critique of his acting. He said he worked hard to get the ladies here and deserved better. I asked him what he meant when he said he worked hard to get us here.”
“Oh dear.” Now Lottie dropped into a seat and leaned her forehead on the table.
“And he said…?” Gilbert felt his jaw twitching as he anticipated Flossie’s next words.
“He said that he’d paid good money to bring us all here and hadn’t gotten his money’s worth.”
Tell me he didn’t.
A gasp went up from the ladies. They gathered around the table in a cluster.
“Lottie? Gilbert?” Fanny looked back and forth between them. “Something you want to tell us?”
“Yes, tell us the truth, Lottie.” Hannah’s eyes filled with tears. “Was this whole thing some sort of hoax? Were we brought here under false pretenses?”
“You two have a lot to answer for.” Fanny waggled her finger back and forth. “If even half of what Flossie says is true, then we’ve got a lot to talk about.”
Lottie lifted her head, lashes damp. “I can’t deny that the men have always hoped they would find wives from the group of women,” she said. “But I can assure you, the idea of putting on a melodrama to raise funds for the lodge has always been the chief plan, though the men had other ideas. From the start I told them not to make assumptions, but you know how they are. They’re anxious to marry.”
Gilbert cleared his throat and the women all looked his way. His gaze shifted downward.
“Well, not anymore,” Flossie said with the wave of a hand. “After the discussion I just had with Phineas, I daresay he will never marry. If his display of temper was any indication of his true personality, I don’t know a woman who would put up with him. Especially not a strong woman like me.”
“I didn’t come to Colorado to get married.” Cherry’s eyes grew wide. “I came to do a show. Plain and simple.”
“Wait a minute…” Sharla snapped her fingers. “Is
this
why the ladies in that Women’s League think we’re—we’re…” Her face tightened. “You know.” Another pause followed. “Do they think that of us because we were brought here for the men from the very beginning? In other words, do they know that the men paid money for us?”
Gilbert had just opened his mouth to respond when Grace interjected her thoughts on the matter.
“Well, they can lay those hopes to rest,” she said, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Any thoughts I might’ve had about letting Chauncy court me just flew out the window.”
“Same here,” Fanny said. “If I’d known for a minute that Jeb had paid some sort of price for a mail-order bride, I would never have considered him.”
Lottie groaned. “Honestly, ladies, it’s not like that. And no, you’re not mail-order brides. As I said, the men were just hopeful you might take an interest in them.”
“Is this why we were made to sign that ridiculous contract?” Flossie asked. “So we would stay long enough to end up falling for the men?”
Gilbert sighed. “Look, ladies, I can’t deny that the men felt they would need time to woo you. But you can clearly see that we primarily needed the time to put together a show. We’ve never done a show before, and—”
“Now I see why.” Flossie gave him a sour look then turned her attention to Lottie. “You were never meant to be a director, and those men were never meant to be actors.”
“You’re wrong. I wanted to help Parker Lodge from the very beginning.” Lottie dissolved into tears and Gilbert felt his heart grow as heavy as lead. She’d tried to tell him this was a bad idea and he hadn’t listened. Now he had to pay the piper. Er, pay a room full of women. But how could he go about paying them back when the fellas had invested very real money into the show? If these ladies skedaddled and the show fell apart, everything would unravel. The lodge would have to close its doors and he would end up owing the men their investments back.
With the eyes of the women boring a hole through him, Gilbert rose. He’d just started to say something brilliant—though he hadn’t quite figured out what—when his mother entered the room, her face ashen.
“G–Gil?”
He faced her, happy to be looking away from the women, though he had to wonder why she looked ill.
“Um, I think you’d better come with me.”
“Come with you? Where?”
She fussed with her apron strings, her hands trembling. “To the pie parlor. We, um, have an unexpected guest.”
From the expression on Mama’s face, they weren’t talking about a welcome guest. Gilbert went to her, and she leaned over to fill him in. “It’s Thaddeus Baker, the lawyer from Loveland.”
Perfect. Just what he needed to cap off the ideal morning.
EIGHTEEN
L
OVESICK IN
L
OVELAND
What good is a theatrical without conflict? Good versus evil. Hero versus villain. A great melodrama must have all of the above. Of course, we would rather just get straight to the happily-ever-after part, but would that really leave the audience satisfied? Of course not! Patrons are looking for angst and lots of it! And do we deliver! Of course, this isn’t the first story chock-full of conflict. Between now and opening night, we would like to encourage our upcoming audience members to read the original good versus evil story, starting with the book of Genesis and going all the way through to the book of Revelation. You will find that it, too, has a large cast of likable—and unlikable—characters. —
Your friends at Parker Lodge
Rushing out of the room on Gil’s heels seemed the only logical solution to Lottie. She’d rather face a den full of lions than ten angry actresses with their penetrating glares. As she ran, she heard a couple of them making comments that stung—almost as much as Flossie’s words about how she was never meant to be a director.
Only when she reached the pie parlor did she realize why Mrs. Parker had called Gilbert out. Thaddeus Baker. Althea Baker’s nephew. The attorney. Though she hadn’t seen the fella in years, she would recognize him anywhere. Same haughty expression. Same businesslike attire. No, nothing had changed.
And yet, everything had changed.
She looked on as Thad extended his hand in Gil’s direction.
“Gilbert Parker.” Thad offered a strained smile. “It’s been years.”
“Yes.” Gil shook his hand, but Lottie saw the tight expression.
“Is there a place we can sit and visit?” Thad asked. “I have some important things to discuss.”
“My office is, well…” Gilbert stumbled over the words and then paused. Lottie knew why, of course. Gil’s office was filled, top to bottom, with costumes for the show.
“Maybe we could find a place outside to sit and talk?” Thad said. “I noticed a table and chairs out by the river.”
“That would be fine.”
Lottie’s heart continued to race as she tagged along on the men’s heels. Mrs. Parker stayed put in the pie parlor to wait on customers but mouthed, “I’m praying!” as Lottie walked by. They needed those prayers right now. No doubt about it.