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I smile a little. “Yeah, I think I won the lottery on moms.”
“You bet your booty you did.” Mom sails into the room, her hair restored to its former glory. She puts a lipstick into her bag and pats her lips with a tissue as she looks around. “Cute place.”
“It’s the girls’ pad.” Maddie bounces on the couch. “We should have picked up some margarita mix!”
“Or some cab.” Mom sinks gracefully into an overstuffed chair.
“Wine is in the kitchen, Mom. Sorry, I didn’t buy tequila. Or limes. And I have a rehearsal to get to, so you two will have to occupy yourselves.” I pull a pair of wine glasses from a cupboard and place them on the countertop. “If you promise not to drink too much, one of you can drive me to rehearsal, and you can have the car while I’m gone. I’m sure I can find someone to bring me home.”
Mom gets up and wanders to the stools by the kitchen island. “Maybe your hot new boyfriend can bring you home.”
“Mom! I broke up with him.” My eyes burn as I choke out the words.
“Oh, honey.” She swoops around the island and wraps me in a warm, fragrant hug. “He sounded so perfect for you.”
I pull back a little. “Why do you say that? He’s fifteen years older than me, and he lives in the middle of nowhere. He makes guitars for a living. And teaches high school shop classes.”
“So? Timothy is eighteen years older than me, and he’s an accountant in northern California. None of that matters if he’s Mr. Right. From what I could tell, Matt made you happy. That’s the important thing.”
“But what if I screw it up? I don’t want to be like Destiny. I don’t want to break his heart.” More than I have already.
Mom grabs my arms and shakes me. “Please, you’re nothing like Destiny. Heck, even Destiny isn’t like Destiny—she was a con artist, remember? And before you go there, you’re not that much like your father, either. You and I are made of the same cloth, honey. We’re built for commitment, even though it takes us a while to figure it out. When you find the right guy, you gotta go for it. I married your father because he swept me off my feet. He was romantic and impulsive, and I was young and chasing a fantasy. But I married Timothy because he was steady and kind—and he made my heart sing. You need to slow down and listen to your heart. If he’s the right man, all the sacrifices are worth it.”
“But I already dumped him,” I wail as I throw myself back into her arms.
Maddie comes up behind me and wraps her arms around both of us. “Then the three of us will have to come up with a plan to win him back.”
Chapter 29
MATT
Backstage at the festplatz on Wednesday night, I roll my shoulders and straighten my Tyrolian jacket as the crew sets the last pieces of the abbey. The women playing nuns line up, whispering and jostling for their marks. I move deeper into the wings to give them space.
Dame Edith glides to the middle of the stage, barely visible between the set and the closed curtains. Actors peer between the masking curtains on either side. Music swells, muffled by the heavy fabric. The director spreads her arms, her voluminous blouse flowing with her movements. “Cleansing breaths, everyone! Clear your heads. This is our last rehearsal before Locals’ Night! Anything that can go wrong should do so tonight, so we have a chance to correct it! Places!”
Because the show has become so popular in recent years, the final dress rehearsal has become “locals’ night.” Anyone in town can attend with the understanding the show won’t be perfect yet. Although, the tourists seem to have caught wind of it, because final dress rehearsal has become more popular over the years, so we strive for our best work.
Edie claps once as she strides off the stage. Behind me, deeper in the wings, the stage manager mutters into her radio. Backlights come up, leaving most of the stage in shadow. The music builds, then falls, and the curtains slide apart. The nuns pace forward, singing in Latin.
On the far side of the stage, Nica waits for her cue. She’s wearing a dark dress and the braided, blonde wig. Just seeing her makes my heart pound louder and my eyes sting. I suck in another “cleansing breath” and try to armor my heart against her.
“This is just a play,” I mutter to myself, pacing in a tight circle behind the sets. Since Monday, Nica and I have only spoken during our scenes together, reciting lines and singing as if the other were a stranger. Before each scene, I pretend Nica is Hannah—a young woman I have no interest in. The kiss at the end of our duet nearly broke my heart last night, but I made it as quick and painless as possible.
Apparently, I’m a magnificent actor. After last night’s finale, Edith congratulated Nica and me specifically on our stellar performances—something she almost never does. I couldn’t detect any sarcasm, and the rest of the performers echoed her praise.
I guess personal heartache is integral to good acting.
We get through the first half, ending with Nica’s duet with the Mother Superior. As they begin singing, I move out of the wings and along the side of the “house” where the audience will sit. Folding chairs have been set out in rows on the cement pad. A sprinkling of random people watch—probably friends and family of the actors or stage crew who can’t come tomorrow night. I stride across the gravel beyond the seats, intending to take a quick lap around the lot before we resume. I need to get into the right headspace.
A woman comes down one of the rows, smiling at me. She looks familiar—not like I should know her, but because the resemblance to Nica is stunning. Everyone says Nica takes after her father, but clearly, she got the best from both sides.
“You’re Matt Hertzsprung.” She steps past the last chair with her hand outstretched. “I’m Nica’s mom, Loretta.”
I shake her hand and nod. “I know. Nice to meet you.”
Her blue eyes size me up. Because I’ve been crazy about Nica Holmes for years, I know Loretta married Nick Holmes when she was barely eighteen and had Nica two years later. They divorced when Nica was six and moved to northern California. Loretta remarried when Nica was fifteen and has been with her second husband since. She’s in her fifties now, and quite attractive, with blonde hair and a full figure. It occurs to me that I’m probably closer in age to Loretta than Nica. I try not to let that bother me.
She takes my arm and steers me back toward the stage. “So, tell me, Matt, why are you letting my daughter hide?”
