“I have other business meetings in the area that I’m seeing to, for which I’m grateful. It gave me a good excuse to come check out my baby and see the progress in person.” He gives me a nod. “I’m glad a man who also has a love of restoring old buildings and of the theater sought me out. He’s been the perfect fit for this project.
“It really is time for me to go see to other obligations, though. It’s been nice meeting the person who lights up Owen even more than this building does, Ms. Lancaster.”
As he shakes Charlie’s hand, I can’t help but wonder what all Giovanni saw in me when Charlie walked in, because I hadn’t mentioned her to him at all. I catch her eye for a moment as Giovanni turns from her to me, wondering what she thought of Giovanni’s comment. I don’t get enough of a glance to tell, though.
“And it’s been great seeing your progress, Owen,” Giovanni says as he shakes my hand, then gives me a business card that has only his first name and a phone number. “I look forward to your updates. Do let me know if anything changes along the way.”
Once he’s gone, I turn to Charlie. I’m so energized by Giovanni’s visit that I’m practically buzzing. “Isn’tGiovanni great?”
“It sounds like he was asking a lot of really specific questions.”
I grin. “I know! Isn’t it amazing? Most people just say, ‘Looks good’ and leave. But not Giovanni. It’s rare to find someone who just gets a project this much. And he wanted to see everything, even more obscure things, like trapdoors and backstage catwalks, probably because of his wife’s acting background. He even looked like he was interested, down to the hidden alcove behind the stage that I found!
“He wanted to know the timeline on each part, too. I love that he’s so invested in it. I mean, he’sliterallyinvested in it.” I point up to the cameras in the main area. “And I’m glad we got the cameras installed to ward against vandalism from the start, because he even asked about that. And, I mean, the man is a unicorn. It’s so rare to get someone who will bankroll the entire project.”
“I bet,” Charlie says. “He must be investing alot. What is in it for him? Just the resale value of the building? Or does he think he’ll make back his investment through ticket sales?”
I shake my head. “He doesn’t own the building. He sees it as more of a donation than an investment, since you bring up an entire community when you build up the arts. And it’s so generous of him to do it in a place that’s so far from home. I hope that his wife loves it,and that they travel here often to see the fruits of his donation.”
Charlie nods. Not like she’s so impressed that Giovanni would do that. More like she’s just taking in the information, filing it away. I’m not quite sure what the expression is on her face, but then she steps closer, grinning at me, and it’s all I can do to not wrap my arms around her waist and pull her in close. “I love that you’re this excited about it,” she says. “And that you got to share your enthusiasm about this place with someone who seems just as passionate about it.”
“Me, too. Okay, enough gushing about my investor. I want to take you on a tour!”
I loved showing Giovanni around, but it is nothing compared to showing the place to Charlie. Giovanni wanted to see everything, to know the timeline, to know my plans.
But Charlie notices all the little details that make this place amazing. She understands the craftsmanship and the care put into every part of its original design. Instead of just taking it in as a whole, she imagines an actual person designing each part and wonders aloud what that person must’ve been like. She ponders how many people worked on the design. If, when they went to bed at night, they dreamed about the design.
Then she asks me if I dream about it at night. (I do.) When we stop at the railing thatcurves around the grand staircase leading up to the second-floor balconies that we are in the middle of stripping down to fully restore, she asks how long it takes me to work through what might be the best way to get each part looking like it once was. So I tell her about my process.
I take her through the theater, the stage, backstage, the dressing rooms, the balconies, the ticket counter, the offices, the grand foyer, everything. Basically, all the things that I just showed Giovanni. I tell her about plans I have, what’s coming next, and the biggest challenges I have coming up. She seems excited and interested in it all. The whole time we walk around, my bad knee is really aching, but I don’t even care. Charlie is here, appreciating all the things I’m passionate about.
“Okay, so now you’ve seen what I’m interested in. I want to hear what you’re interested in, and if I can come see.” Her eyes go wide, almost in alarm, like she very much doesn’t want me to know what she loves to do. So I backtrack. “Or not. It’s not a big deal.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s that most of my hobbies are related to work, and we deal with a lot of client confidentiality stuff. It isn’t exactly something I can show.”
I nod. It’s okay. Maybe someday I’ll get to find out what really makes Charlie who she is.
“Oh,” she says, “but I am passionate about safety.”
“Safety? Like seat belts and bike helmets?”
“Well, yes, but more like being prepared. Which…is…also something that’s hard to show.” She sounds almost apologetic. But being passionate about safety is something. I tuck the info away.
As we’ve walked through The Shadowridge, we’ve passed several battery-powered drills. All without battery packs, since they’re currently plugged in for when my crew shows up ready to work tomorrow morning. And every time we do, I have flashbacks of my attempt to rescue Charlie and Reese from the intruder.
What had I planned to do? Poke him with the little Phillip’s head bit sticking out of the end of the drill? I’d been deeply asleep when I sensed a problem. I like to think that if I’d actually been awake, my weapon of choice would’ve been a better one. A framing square, perhaps? Nothing says “back off” like right angles and rage.
Charlie has a family thing she needs to head to, but she seems reluctant to leave. I feel the same. Having my favorite person in what is currently my favorite place is pretty sweet. We head back toward the grand lobby and stop near what was originally a coat check but was later turned into a concessions area.
If I’d have noticed that stopping here would’ve put a drill, sans battery pack, right in plain view of both of us as it sits on the concessions counter, I’d have directed us anywhere else. But now, it’s the elephant in the room. So I say, “Sorry about barginginto your place in my misguided attempt to save you from a terrifying adversary. It was a total breach of?—”
“—a door that was practically unbreachable?”
She smiled through her words, and I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. “It was more of the unwritten rule that I won’t pass through a piece of plastic as thin as fabric, held together by painter’s tape and a wish, without your express permission.”
“I still think it was sweet. And brave.”
“You know, come to think of it, Iwasbrave. I mean, that could’ve been a diabolical serial killer I was rescuing you from, and I went in with what amounted to an inch-and-a-half-long screwdriver with a big handle.”
