A Cliché Christmas(47)
“Fine. But don’t peek.”
He grinned innocently. “Of course not.”
I slapped his shoulder. “I mean it, Weston. Keep your eyes down.”
“I’ll keep them on your pretty legs, okay? Don’t completely rob me of the beauty of this moment.”
Men. Shaking my head, I placed my stocking foot into Weston’s cupped hand.
A minute later, I was climbing through the window, skirt and all.
I should win a prize for this. Seriously.
Once I was inside, Weston tossed my heels up to me and winked.
“I’ll meet you at the front, gorgeous.”
The murmuring of the crowd heightened my senses.
Breathe, Georgia. Just breathe.
Everything was set. Everyone was in his or her place.
This is it.
Savannah and Willa sat in the front row. When I saw them, my heart took flight. All of it had been worth it. That little girl’s smile could melt a glacier. She waved to me as I peeked out from behind the curtain.
And then Sydney took the stage.
“Good evening, everyone. Tonight is a special night for several reasons. Not only are we fund-raising for Lenox’s very own Savannah Hart, we are also about to witness a unique rendition of the Christmas story.”
Okay, maybe she isn’t as bad as I thought.
“Now, as many of you know, there is a bake sale being held at the senior center immediately after the performance, and one hundred percent of the proceeds will go to benefit this great cause.”
Sydney turned to glance in my direction, and as she did, a nervous shiver went down my spine.
“But I also wanted to share some very exciting news—since it pertains to this beloved building. Georgia Cole and Weston James, can you join me on the stage?”
What? No . . . What is she doing?
Weston walked onto the stage from the opposite side, looking as surprised as I did. His glare suddenly turned murderous as he focused on Sydney. On shaky legs, I walked forward, reaching Sydney’s side as the crowd waited, the air thick with anticipation.
“I am sure that many of us remember the last time this building was used for a production of this magnitude. In fact, these two standing beside me were the original leads that night, until Georgia had a little mishap on stage, and I filled in.” Sydney smiled as several of the townspeople chuckled. I could feel the color drain from my face. My pulse whooshed in my ears like crashing ocean waves. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Weston reach for the microphone, but Sydney took a step forward, leaving us standing behind her. When his hand didn’t reach for mine, an icy awareness filled my blood.
“Since that night years ago, this theater has held a very special place in my heart, and as of this afternoon, my offer to buy this building has been accepted. It will undergo some spectacular renovations in order to become Parker Fitness and Spa—Lenox’s first health club! And all of it has been designed by our very own Weston James, my business partner.”
Whoosh.
Whoosh.
Whoosh.
I blinked several times. Savannah’s tender face grounded my urge to run, or cry, or kick someone—or two someones. The stage lights above bore down on my skull as the weak applause from the crowd died down enough to hear the first three notes of a well-known Christmas medley. As soon as Nan struck the keys of the piano, the sound jolted me back. I forced a smile and scurried off toward backstage. My legs felt hollow and numb, each step heavy and deadened by my stupidity and regret.
I gripped the velvet curtain and swayed unsteadily. There was commotion all around me, but I couldn’t move. My knees threatened to give out, and the pressure building in my chest made me short of breath.
“Miss Cole! Are you all right?”
Kevin stood in front of me, concern filling his eyes.
Josie touched my shoulder. “Should I go on, Miss Cole? The music started already.”
Though my throat was completely dry, I managed to croak out a quiet command.
“Yes, Josie.”
I couldn’t let go of the curtain that was in my white-knuckle grasp. “Everyone get back to your places. We’re starting.”
Kevin didn’t budge. “Shouldn’t I get Mr. Jam—”
“No. I mean, please don’t, Kevin. We’re starting.”
He nodded reluctantly and walked away, looking back at me every few seconds before he finally disappeared from view.
Business partner? Designer? Fitness center?
The words were a sledgehammer of pain, striking against my heart repeatedly.
And just like seven years before, the pieces of my life shattered and fell, while Weston James stood back and watched the show.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Despite the rolling sickness in my gut, I made it through the show, physically shrugging Weston off each of the six times he tried to pull me aside during the performance. I had only so much strength—and right now, I needed it for Savannah.
Not for her backstabbing uncle.
I walked to the lobby to shake hands with the townspeople, to accept flowers, and to encourage patrons to head over to the senior center. All the while my smile felt as plastic as Holiday Barbie’s.
The kids had rocked it. And they knew it.
Every moment of every scene had been on target, and they had shone like bright beacons of talent. Especially Josie and Kevin. But instead of brimming with pride, a second wave of grief swept over me. Sydney wasn’t just destroying the theater: she was taking away these students’ ability to belong to something more. Something that mattered. And though I wanted to weep with pride for all they had accomplished tonight despite their emotionally comatose director, a vine of sorrow coiled around my heart.