Balancing Act, page 4
Angry more than afraid at this point, Noah strode toward the barn’s front door and shoved it open. What he found inside stopped him in his tracks.
A kid. A little boy. Seven or eight years old, he’d guess, wearing outdoor gear. Blond hair peeked out from beneath a red stocking cap. Carrying a BIC lighter in his hand, he stood looking at the shelves lining the wall where half a dozen dollhouses in various stages of construction sat. Finally, the kid jerked his head around to stare at Noah, wonder and excitement glowing in his big blue eyes.
Noah growled. “Who the hell are you?”
The boy’s expression quickly transformed from wonder to accusation, and he declared, “You’re not Santa Claus!”
Genevieve crossed the fingers of her right hand behind her back as she observed Gage Throckmorton flip through the stack of French movie posters that she’d stacked on her dining table. She’d asked the Colorado rancher to drop by her house this morning on his way to his standing weekly appointment at the barbershop. Gage wore his poker face, so she couldn’t judge his reaction to her purchase based on his expression.
She’d spent a pretty penny on the posters, an unexpected find during the sisters’ trip she and Helen had taken to Germany to visit the Christmas markets in December. After discovering a pair of vintage posters at a booth in Bonn, she’d learned that the vendor had an entire collection of French posters of classic American film noir movies. Knowing they’d be perfect to grace the walls of The Emily, she had met the vendor at his shop and agonized over which posters to choose. Finally, an impatient Helen convinced her to buy them all. Genevieve had shipped them home and waited on tenterhooks for the box to arrive in Lake in the Clouds.
Like almost everything she and Helen had bought on their Christmas market extravaganza, the shipment home had been slow to arrive. She hadn’t told Gage about her purchase, and she was worried he wouldn’t love them as much as she did. The man had been surprisingly opinionated about interior decorating choices for the theater. After butting heads with him repeatedly, Genevieve challenged him about it. He’d explained that he was making selections he believed his Emily would have made.
Genevieve quit arguing with him after that. But oh, she wanted him to like these posters.
However, he’d worked his way halfway through the stack and had yet to speak a word. Genevieve’s nerves were stretched tight.
If he hates them, I’ll resell them on eBay. It’ll be no big deal.
No, I won’t resell them. The Emily is my project, too. So I get to have some say-so.
Compromise. We will simply have to find a way to compromise.
She crossed her left-hand fingers, too.
Finally, having studied all twelve posters, Gage let out a low, slow whistle. “Genevieve. I am in awe.”
Her tension eased. “You like them?”
“Like them! Le Faucon Maltais. Le Grand Sommeil. Les Enchaînés. Bogart. Alan Ladd. Orson Welles. Bacall. Ingrid Bergman. Veronica Lake! It’s a treasure trove!”
Whew. “We talked about tracking down vintage posters for musicals, but we never discussed detective movies or film noir. I didn’t know how you felt about it.”
“Love it. I don’t think you can beat Bogart and Bacall. This was a great find, Genevieve.”
Genevieve beamed from the praise. “They’ve given me all sorts of ideas about programs for the theater. Depends on which direction we want to go with it.”
He looked up from the movie posters and pinned her with his crystalline blue-eyed gaze. “What do you mean?”
Goodness, the man is fine to look at. Genevieve forced her attention back to the matter at hand. “This theater project began on a lark.”
He shot her a grin that made Genevieve’s toes tingle. “Actually, it was more of a lie at the time.”
“That’s harsh, Gage.” What happened was that Genevieve had conceived of the idea on the spur of the moment to ward off gossip about Gage’s presence at her home very early one morning. It had been an innocent visit. Gage had been widowed less than a year and was still deeply grieving his wife. But small-town tongues like to wag, so Genevieve gave them something positive to wag about with her theater-redevelopment partnership plan. “I like to think the idea was inspired.”
“Okay, yeah. I’ll give you that. So, tell me what’s on your mind about our direction with The Emily.”
“I think we have some mission drift, and it’s my fault.”
Gage removed the reading glasses he’d donned to study the posters and slipped them into his shirt pocket. “Mission drift?”
“Yes. If the weather doesn’t cooperate for an outdoor event at Raindrop Lodge, our first event in The Emily will not be a salute to classical movies but a wedding reception. That leads to this question. Is The Emily going to be a theater or an event center?”
“Can’t it be both?”
Genevieve nodded. “Yes, but is that what we want? We never sat down and discussed it. You agreed to allow Jake and Tess to use it for their wedding reception. Since then, the focus has been on flooring and flowers instead of playbills and popcorn.”
“I’m not focused on flowers,” he replied, flashing a grin. “That would be you. It’s completely understandable since you’re the mother of the groom and the wedding planner’s contact person.”
Not to mention being her nanny.
Something in her expression must have telegraphed her displeasure, because Gage arched his brows and asked, “Do you regret offering the theater to Jake and Tess?”
“No, not at all,” Genevieve truthfully responded. “It’s a perfect solution, and chances are we won’t need to use it. I just didn’t think…”
“You didn’t think what?”
She’d be so happy? So resentful? So fulfilled? So uncertain? So torn? No way was Genevieve going to express the thoughts tumbling around inside her. They didn’t make sense to her. Everything was at odds. She was thrilled to have Willow and the children living here in town. That was a truth. She loved her grandmother role. However, she’d also grown to love the new version of herself that she’d been creating here in Lake in the Clouds. Honestly, right now, Genevieve didn’t know who she was. Or, more precisely, who she wanted to be.
She couldn’t admit that to the confident man standing in front of her. Instead, she deflected. “I guess I’m simply the type of person who needs a little more organization with my projects. I think we need a mission statement. We need policies and procedures. Otherwise, I’m afraid we will look up one day, and we won’t have time on The Emily’s calendar for a film noir festival because we’re booked to the rafters with weddings.”
“I’m a rancher, Genevieve,” Gage said. “I don’t write policy and procedure manuals.”
“I know that. That’s not what I’m asking. I want a meeting. A brainstorming session, if you will, where we discuss our vision for The Emily going forward. We did that last year when we first began the project, but a lot has happened since then.”
“I don’t have a problem with that. Let’s get it on the calendar. Who do you want to attend? Willow might be good. She’s an organizational whiz, from what I hear around town.”
“No,” Genevieve responded, more sharply than she liked. “This is our project, yours and mine. I think we should get a good grasp on what we want before we offer the rest of the world an opportunity to tell us what we want.”
Gage eyed her speculatively. “Something has put a bee in your bonnet. Want to share with the class?”
Genevieve sighed, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m in a mood, but it has nothing to do with The Emily or you. I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed at the moment. Lots going on.”
“Understandable. The wedding is, what, a month away?”
“Six weeks.” And in all honesty, she wasn’t very involved in the wedding planning. Which was fine by her. Truly.
“Well, I’m happy to sit down with you and talk about The Emily.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and scrolled to his calendar app. “So, sometime in April, then? After the wedding?”
“Do you have any time this week?”
Gage glanced at her in mild surprise, then returned his attention to his phone. “How about this afternoon?”
“I can’t,” Genevieve responded with genuine regret. “I’m watching Drew and Emma this afternoon. Willow has vendor appointments.”
“Lucky you. I don’t get to see my grandson again for almost a month. Looks like tomorrow afternoon and Friday morning are best for me.”
Genevieve had promised to drive over to Eternity Springs with her sister on Friday for a day of shopping and to have lunch with their friend, Celeste Blessing, and Genevieve couldn’t cancel. They’d already rescheduled the trip once because the ballet class Emma attended scheduled a mini-recital for grandparents that Genevieve had wanted to attend. “Tomorrow afternoon works for me.”
“This sunshine we have now is supposed to hold through the end of the week. Want to come up to the Triple T? I’ll introduce you to Jarvis.”
“Jarvis?”
“My blue-ribbon bull. He’s a special one. Blue ribbons everywhere we showed him.”
Genevieve laughed. “Well, I can’t pass up that opportunity.”
“Come for lunch. Around twelve thirty or so?”
“Sounds great. Thanks, Gage.”
“Now, I’ll drive by the theater when I leave here. Want me to drop these posters off there? Or would you rather keep them here?”
“I’ll keep them, thanks. Helen is stopping by later to take another look at them. We’ve both been frustrated that our purchases have been dribbling in since January. But one good thing about it is we can revisit our sisters’ trip when each box arrives. We enjoy that.”
“Do you have another vacation lined up?”
“No. We’re talking about it, though.”
“Where do you want to go next time?”
Genevieve smirked and said, “My sister hasn’t convinced me yet. We’re discussing the South Pacific.”
Gage said his good-byes, and Genevieve shut the door behind him. She liked Gage Throckmorton. He’d become a true friend the past year, and she enjoyed working on the theater project with him. He was good company. And then there was the whole Kevin Costner doppelgänger thing he had going on, which set the hormones Genevieve still had left aflutter. Of course, it didn’t hurt that a time or two, she’d caught masculine appreciation in his gaze as he gave her a surreptitious once-over.
Not that he ever came close to doing or saying anything flirtatious. Genevieve was good with that. At this point in her life, she needed friends more than she needed a lover.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
She returned to the dining table, where the posters lay neatly stacked. She began to flip through them again, her mind racing with ideas for a film noir festival at The Emily. Then Genevieve heard a car door slam in her driveway, and she assumed that Helen had arrived. As she turned toward the door, intending to greet her sister, Genevieve’s cell phone rang.
Willow. Genevieve glanced at the clock on her wall. She still had forty-five minutes before she needed to leave to babysit the grands.
Her daughter probably wanted to ask Genevieve to arrive early. Well, dear, you’re out of luck. Helen had dibs on Genevieve’s time for the next little while. She was not bailing on her sister or rushing her along to play the grandmother. She’d done it twice last week. Although Helen refrained from saying anything, Genevieve had picked up on her sister’s disappointment.
Genevieve had sworn to be more aware going forward. However, the transition to local nana from long-distance one had presented some unexpected speed bumps. Learning to balance Genevieve the sister, Genevieve the grandmother, and Genevieve the woman was challenging.
“Hello, Willow.”
“Mom, where are you?”
Genevieve straightened in alarm at the tight, anxious tone in her daughter’s voice.
“Are you at the lodge?” Willow asked. “Is Drew with you?”
“No. I’m still at home. Why are you asking about Drew?”
Willow exhaled a troubled sigh. “That boy. He asked to walk up to the lodge to buy a candy bar in the gift shop with his allowance money. He should have been home half an hour ago, so I called the shop. He never came in.”
“Oh no!”
“I’m not frantic about this,” Willow continued. “He’s probably sitting somewhere playing his Switch and lost track of time. I need to go look for him, but Emma’s asleep. She felt a little warm when she went down for her nap. I think she’s having a hard time shaking this ear infection, but I can’t be one hundred percent positive about that. I’d planned to check her temp at the top of the hour and cancel with you and the vendors if she’s febrile. I don’t want anyone to catch something from us. But now, oh, Mom, you understand how it is. Could you come over early so I can look for him? Or, if you don’t want to get near Emma, could you go look for him for me?”
“Of course.” Genevieve walked toward her kitchen and gathered her purse and keys as her sister swept into the house. Helen’s wide smile died a bit as she spied Genevieve lifting her keys from the key rack. To Willow, Genevieve said, “I’m not worried about being around Emma if she’s feverish. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
When she ended the call, Helen asked, “Now what?”
“It’s Drew.” Genevieve quickly summarized the situation. “I’m sorry, Helen. There’s probably nothing wrong beyond a boy lost in his video game, but I can’t tell Willow no.”
“I know that.”
“Would you come with me? We need to catch up. We haven’t talked all week.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Mine. I know. I know. Come with me, Helen? Please?”
Helen hesitated. “I’ll join the hunt for Drew. I don’t want to babysit.”
“I’m not asking you to babysit. I can multitask, you know. But I’d like some sister time.”
“I’ll take my own car,” Helen said, pivoting to leave. “This is Drew, after all. It might be handy to have an extra car in addition to extra hands if a rush trip to the doctor for stitches or a cast is on the docket.”
Genevieve grabbed her purse and followed her sister outside. “I’m hoping he’s outgrown that.”
Helen paused as she opened her car door. “I like your positive thinking, Genevieve. However, I wouldn’t count on that. You know that bad things always come in threes.”
“Threes!” Genevieve’s purse slipped to the ground. “He hasn’t had a single accident since they moved to Colorado!”
“Well, in order to get to three, there must be a one and a two.” Helen slid into the driver’s seat.
“Aren’t you just Miss Merry Sunshine?” Genevieve grumbled as she bent and scooped up her bag.
“No, I’m Betsy Boy Scout. I believe in always being prepared.” Helen started her car. “Face it. Drew has a history of being snakebit.”
“He’s never been bitten by a snake!”
“You know what I mean, sister, and if you’re gonna be Nana-on-Call, you’d better be ready to earn your badges.” With that, Helen finger-waved good-bye, pulled the driver’s door shut, then drove away.
“Nana-on-Call,” Genevieve muttered as she climbed into her own car and started the engine. At times like these, that’s exactly who she wanted to be, and she was grateful for the opportunity. Truly. Never mind how many ones, twos, and threes.
Bad things always come in threes.
“Please, God,” she prayed aloud as she backed out of her driveway. “Keep our precious little guy safe.”
Always.
Chapter Three
AFTER SPEAKING WITH HER mother, Willow set down her telephone with a sigh. Single parenting was not for the faint of heart.
She told herself not to worry about Drew. Hadn’t she spent the past six weeks shooing him outdoors to play? Wasn’t she determined not to be a helicopter parent or a snowplow parent or whatever was the label du jour of the overprotective progenitor? Yes and yes. It was a challenge in today’s dangerous world. Not for the first time since moving into the Raindrop Lodge cabin, Willow wished she’d rented a place in the middle of town.
She’d wanted to nurture a sense of independence in Drew, to encourage him to get off his Switch, get outside, and explore. She’d believed that to be easier—and safer—to do on property owned by her family than in a neighborhood where she didn’t know another soul.
Willow was so worried about Drew. But landing the helicopter-mom chopper was easier said than done for a mother who carried around the baggage that she did.
Willow’s teeth tugged at her bottom lip as she checked the clock, glanced at the window, and looked back toward her daughter’s bedroom. Then, switching her worry from her elder child to her younger, Willow decided to sneak into Emma’s room and take her temperature.
This risked waking her. Emma was a light sleeper. If she wasn’t ill and Willow woke her prematurely, the child would be grumpy and clingy for the rest of the day.
But Willow didn’t want the responsibility of getting her mother sick. She had enough guilt where her mother was concerned. She didn’t need more. If Emma was ill, Genevieve could choose whether or not to stay with her.
Willow sent up a quick prayer that her daughter wasn’t ill.
She followed that with a prayer that Drew was all right.
She added a third prayer that she wouldn’t backslide into the kind of behavior that was destructive for her children and herself. Once the praying was done, she made a mental note to call her counselor’s office and make a virtual appointment.
Drew wasn’t the only family member who’d suffered from PTSD after the auto accident that killed his father and left Drew bleeding and traumatized. No one in the Prentice family knew that a bomb had gone off in Willow’s world a week before the wreck when she’d learned that Andrew Eldridge was a cheat and a thief. During the weeks and months after the collision, she’d been dealing not only with Andy’s betrayal and death and Drew’s injuries but also with her own self-doubt. How could she have been so wrong?
