But duty calls.
The theater is just a block away from the café. I walk up to the peeling paint, crooked letters, and cracked windows.
As I arrive, a woman dressed in business clothes gets out of a car, walking toward me. I assume it's the realtor, Sarah.
“Everett?” she asks as she approaches me.
I hold out my hand to shake hers. “Hi, Sarah, yes, I am Everett, it’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s great to meet you, too,” she greets. “Are you ready for the walk-through?”
“Absolutely,” I reply.
Henry told me that Sarah has been in Lavender Creek long enough to know everyone. It sounds like she moved here shortly after I left. She knows everyone and every building, which is perfect for her job.
“Follow me,” she says, opening the door. “Just so you know, this place has…personality.”
I chuckle, stepping inside. The lobby smells of old carpet and popcorn, the lights flickering as I walk through. The ticketcounter is scratched and dented. Nothing a little paint and polish can’t fix up.
“See?” Sarah gestures to the rows of old red seats, the fabric faded, and some seats are ripped.
I run my hand over them. “There is character here, I don’t want to erase it all. It tells a story.”
Sarah nods. “That’s the thing about small towns. People love history. They hate it when you tear it all down. You want a modern theater without losing the soul.”
I make a mental note as I walk through the rooms. Old projectors, some cracked screens. It’s rough, but I can see the potential. A little paint, new seating, and some updated lighting. Nothing fancy, just enough to bring it into the twenty-first century without losing that cozy charm.
“This place needs a ton of work,” I say. “But there’s a reason people love it; it’s a staple.”
Sarah smiles. “Exactly, and since it’s been around forever, people are invested. If you renovate it right, and keep the charm, you’ll have people lining up on opening night.”
I walk toward the concession stand. The popcorn machine is still there. I imagine the smell through the lobby.
“And back here is the office and staff room.” She gestures down a hall. The paint is chipped, and the wallpaper is peeling. The rooms are small but workable. I imagine a table and chairs. Maybe a bulletin board with all the showtimes and upcoming events for the staff.
“I can see you already planning renovations in your mind,” Sarah says.
I take a step back and look around at the whole theater. The lobby, the screens, the concession stand. It’s run down, but it’s history. It doesn’t have to be fancy.
“I want to keep the charm,” I tell Sarah. “The history, but I want to make it something people can be proud of again. How it used to be.”
She nods, writing some notes on her clipboard. “Everett, you know this town. If anyone can do it, it’s you. Just be prepared for a lot of work.”
I grin, looking around one last time. “It’s lucky I like hard work. I’m ready.”
The first Monday of the month is town meeting day, and since I’m a business owner now, I figure it’s time to start showing my face. Good for introductions, good for rebuilding whatever reputation I left behind. Plus, now that the theater is mine, it feels like the right time to plant some roots.
I leave the house a little late, dinner with Mom and Henry ran over, and I am already picturing the judging eyes I will walk into at the community center. The meetings are held in the big open room used for any show or production the town has. Folding chairs are lined up in neat rows, with a little stage at the front. It’s simple and functional.
As I slip in through the door, scanning the room, my eyes find just one empty seat, in the left section, right beside Violet.
“Is anyone sitting here?” I ask, keeping my voice low and tone casual, even though my stomach tightens.
She looks up, flashing a smile. “Nope, all yours, best seat in the house.”
“Oh, and why is that?” I ask.
“Because it’s next to me.” She turns her head to me and smiles.
