Late the next afternoon, after spending most of the day cleaning, Tori stood at the table in the dressing room, finishing up sorting through the old programs. She had a box of ones she wanted to keep, a few she wanted to frame, and some she planned to just recycle. She couldn’t think of a good reason to keep hundreds of extra old programs.
As she sorted through the last stack, she noticed they were all very old, the paper wrinkled and faded. She opened one and smiled. They’d done a musical adaptation ofShow Boat. She loved the songs in the musical. A Vera Whitmore had played the part of Magnolia Hawks, the riverboat captain’s daughter. She carefully put a few copies of the program aside in the frame pile.
She turned at the sound of a knock. Gavin stood in the doorway with a tool belt slung low on his hips, a smile teasing at his lips. “You look immersed in those programs.”
“And you managed to enter the room without startling me,” she shot back, self-consciously wiping the dust from her hands. It seemed like every project at the theater involved grime or dust, and he was always seeing her at her worst.
“I finished up the last coat of paint on the outside ticket booth. And I checked and the popcorn machine will be delivered tomorrow.”
She pushed back a lock of her hair, one hand on her lower back.
“You look beat,” he said, eyeing her with a small frown.
“I am tired. It’s been a long day.”
“You should quit. Rest. Get something to eat.”
“You’re probably right. But I have to go to the market and get groceries. I noticed this morning that I’m out of almost everything.”
“Let’s go grab something to eat at Sharky’s,” he offered up so nonchalantly.
She looked at him in surprise. “Us?”
“I mean, I’m hungry. You’re hungry. We both like Sharky’s.”
As tiredness swept over her, she still hesitated. But she didn’t know if she had the energy to shop and cook. “Okay, yes. That’s a good idea.”
His offer triggered distant memories of late post-show meals with her castmates, their conversations animated from the adrenaline of their performances. But this acceptance was more a response to her exhaustion. The lesser of two evils, not that she’d tell him that.
“Let me just grab this box of recycling to put in our stack in the lobby.”
“Oh, I already hauled off the recycling earlier this afternoon. But we can start another stack. And I mentioned to the workers to make sure they recycle all that they can.”
His diligence to detail brought back a fleeting memory of the favorite stagehand who always checked to make sure her props were in place and everything was exactly right for her performance. She should have thanked him more often.
“Thank you for doing all that,” she said with more gratitude than the situation warranted, trying to make up for her past omissions and hoping Gavin would quit stirring up memories better forgotten.
He reached over and picked up the box. “Coming?”
She followed him through the theater, turning off lights as they went. He set the box down in the corner of the lobby, and she saw there was now a sign on the wall that said recycling here.
“Walking okay? Or are you too tired?” He eyed her as if he expected her to admit how tired she actually was.
“No, walking is fine.” They stepped out into the evening light and she locked the door. The fresh air revived her as they headed to the boardwalk. She hurried a bit to keep up with his long strides, and he seemed to notice and slowed his pace.
“Lucky to have this breeze tonight. Chasing away the humidity.”
“It is nice.”
“Supposed to be much warmer tomorrow, though.”
So they were reduced to talking about the weather? Well, she guessed that was better than him spouting off his opinions.
They headed into Sharky’s and it took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the dimness of the interior. He waved to Sharky, who motioned for them to take a seat. Though this wasn’t the original Sharky. Not the older man who ran it when she was young and came with her grandmother. It was Sharky’s nephew or someone like that. But everyone still called him Sharky.
“Let’s grab a table.” He strode across the room, weaving between the tables, and sat at a booth in the corner.
She slid into the seat across from him. The server came, and they both ordered the fried grouper and a beer. They got their drinks, and she settled back into her seat, glad to be off her feet.
