He took his time answering. “You can leave when you want and you can return when you want. The choice is yours.”
The first Friday of November, Lindsay walked into Knight’s Pharmacy after school, feeling excited and happy.
“Lindsay,” Hassie called to her from the back of the store. “You look like you just won a lottery.”
That was the way she felt. She held up a key dangling from a bright red ribbon. “Look what I’ve got in my hot little hands,” she cried, resisting the urge to jump up and down with glee.
“You have the theater key from Ambrose Kohn?”
“Got it.” Not without her share of angst and resentment at being manipulated into attending a ridiculous costume party with him. But it had all been worth it.
“You wore the prisoner costume with the ball and chain? You borrowed it from Calla Stern, right?”
“Yes and yes.” To Lindsay’s way of thinking, if Ambrose was going to make her attend the Halloween party with him, she’d wear a fitting costume. She’d felt trapped—like a prisoner—but had agreed because she badly wanted the use of the old theater for the Christmas play her students were putting on. The kids were in on her scheme and Calla had lent her the Halloween costume her mother had designed for her the year before.
“You slay me, girl,” Hassie said with a laugh of sheer delight.
“Rachel’s meeting me here, and we’re going to take a look inside.”
Ambrose had told her the movie house had been closed for ten years and he had no idea what condition the place was in. He’d also let it be known that he was unwilling to commit even one cent to it. Anything she or the high-schoolers did was at their own expense and at their own risk.
“My heavens, it’s been years since anyone went in there,” Hassie muttered.
“That’s what Ambrose said.”
“Have you and Rachel got flashlights?”
She nodded. “Plus a kerosene lamp.”
“You’ll need those and more.” With the approach of winter, the days were shorter now, and it was nearly dark by the time school was out. “Let me check my back room,” Hassie said, “and see what’s there.”
A jingle of bells alerted Lindsay to the arrival of her friend. “You got the key?” Rachel asked.
“It’s in my hand as we speak,” Lindsay told her, holding it aloft. “I picked it up this afternoon at the post office.” Ambrose seemed to think she’d abandon him the minute she took possession of the key, so he hadn’t brought it to the Halloween party. He’d put it in the mail, instead.
Rachel glanced at her watch. “We’ll have to hurry.”
Lindsay knew it wouldn’t be long before the pizza orders started coming in, and was grateful Rachel had agreed to accompany her. “I know, I know.”
Despite what she’d said to Gage a week earlier, she was making friends. Slowly but surely. Since Rachel drove the school bus, she made a stop at the high school every afternoon. Lindsay had gone out of her way to talk to Rachel and was gratified by the fledgling friendship. She admired the young widow and wanted to support her business venture.
Hassie returned with a third flashlight. “I’d come with you girls, but I’m the only one at the store.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.” Lindsay was thrilled that the drama club had been such a success. She was pleasantly surprised by how much talent, ability and initiative her students possessed. The impetus for creating their own production had come after Joshua McKenna’s classroom visit. Her students’ play revolved around a bleak Christmas in the depths of the Great Depression. Everyone was involved, not only in putting together the script and performing, but in making costumes, set construction and all the other production elements. Everything hinged on being able to use the old theater.
“You ready?” Rachel asked.
“Ready,” Lindsay said.
Like giddy schoolgirls, they hurried out of Hassie’s and down the street to the boarded-up theater. The door opened easily enough—a good sign, Lindsay decided. The interior was dark and smelled of must and mildew. Cobwebs cluttered the doorway and Lindsay swept them aside with a gloved hand.
Rachel flashed the light about the lobby. “I remember this place from when I was a kid,” she whispered, “and it didn’t look anything like this.” The light shone on a glass counter where popcorn and other snacks had once been sold. Doorways on either side led into the theater itself.
“Why are you whispering?” Lindsay asked, as she moved toward a heavy velvet curtain to the right of the counter.
“I don’t know—but it’s kind of spooky, don’t you think?”
“Nah,” Lindsay said, and she meant it. She was entirely focussed on the future and its possibilities.
“This place smells dreadful,” Rachel complained.
“Nothing some fresh paint and a few dozen bowls of potpourri won’t cure.” Lindsay was too excited to let reality dampen her enthusiasm. She imagined the theater as it would look on opening night. The light fixtures would be polished and gleaming; the faded maroon velvet, draped with gold braid, would be cleaned and elegant. She could see the audience, farmers and ranchers from miles around, filling the seats, could hear the applause as the curtain slid open for the opening scene of Dakota Christmas.
“We have our work cut out for us,” Rachel said with a deep sigh.
“Just you wait. It’s going to be fabulous.”
Rachel laughed. “You’re such an optimist.”
Lindsay thought of all the time she’d wasted on a dead-end relationship because she couldn’t make herself stop believing that Monte would eventually marry her. “It’s a curse,” she said, laughing now, refusing to let the memories distract her.
Pushing aside the drape that led to the audience seats, Lindsay used the handle of her flashlight to sweep away more spider webs. The light revealed rows of velvet-covered seats and her breath caught. They were beautifully preserved, at least those she could see.
“I’ll light the kerosene lamp,” Rachel offered.
“This is incredible!” Lindsay cried. “I didn’t dare hope.”
Once the lamp was lit, she saw that her first estimation had been correct. The seats were old, but for the most part in surprisingly good condition. “This place is a piece of history.”
“It first opened in the early 1920s,” Rachel told her. “At least that’s what my mother thought. She remembered it from when she was a kid and recalls her mother talking about watching silent movies there.”
“This is just incredible.” Lindsay couldn’t help repeating herself.
“Rachel? Lindsay?” A male voice called to them from the lobby.
“It’s Heath,” Rachel said to Lindsay.
Lindsay watched her friend carefully and saw how she struggled to hide the telltale burst of excitement at the sound of Heath’s voice. She’d wondered about the two of them—particularly since Heath seemed to be lingering at the café whenever she went in to pick up a pizza—and that had been easily half a dozen times. Now she was convinced something was going on between them.
“In here,” Rachel called out.
Heath Quantrill pushed back the entrance curtain and paused in the doorway. “Mark said I’d find you at the theater. I stopped by the café on my way home for a pizza.” He glanced at Lindsay. “I realize it’s a bit early, but I hoped you’d be open.”
“Oh,” Rachel said, sounding flustered, “I am open—well, sort of. I’ll be right there—as soon as Lindsay and I are finished in here.”
“Take your time,” Heath said, joining the two women. “What are you doing, anyway?”
Lindsay explained and he nodded, but made no comment.
“I know it needs a lot of work,” she murmured.
“That’s an understatement,” he said. “But I assume you have plenty of volunteers.”
“Yes—I hope so, anyway.” She’d talked to Joshua McKenna about giving the theater a face-lift, and he’d promised to discuss it with the town council. Lind
say would need all the volunteers she could get. But her guess was that Gage Sinclair wouldn’t be among them. It amazed—and disturbed—her how much she missed him.
She hadn’t heard from him in weeks, but she’d heard plenty about him from a number of sources. Both Hassie and Leta had taken it upon themselves to drop his name into casual conversation as often as possible. Lindsay wasn’t fooled. She knew matchmaking when she heard it, and suspected Gage was getting an earful about her, too. But if they were going to establish some kind of friendship, she supposed it would have happened before now. That was her fault as well as his. She might not be Dakota-born like Gage, but she could be just as stubborn.
“My grandmother used to love this theater,” Heath said. “I remember hearing stories about it when I was a kid.”
“I wonder if your grandmother and mine used to go to the movies here together?” Rachel asked on a wistful note.
“How about your grandfather and my grandmother coming here on a date?”
Rachel laughed. “That would’ve been something.”
“Their grandchildren just might.”
Rachel went speechless at the suggestion, and Lindsay sympathized with her discomfort. From what Hassie had told her, Rachel hadn’t dated since her husband’s death.
“You’d better get over to the café and work your miracles with the pizzas,” Lindsay suggested, hoping to give her a way out. “Otherwise you might lose customers.”
“Mark will let me know once the phone starts ringing,” Rachel assured her, still flustered.
No sooner had she spoken than her son barreled into the theater. “Mom, Mom,” he shouted, then stopped, apparently awestruck. “Hey, this place is cool.” He grinned as he gazed around the theater. “Hi, Miss Snyder. Hi, Mr. Quantrill. Hey, you got two orders, Mom. Calla told me to come get you.”
“Two orders!” Rachel was jubilant.
“Three,” Heath corrected. “Remember mine. I’m going to visit my grandmother this evening and thought I’d bring dinner with me. She’ll get a kick out of eating a slice of Buffalo Valley’s own pizza.”
“When you’ve got a chance, make me a medium sausage and black olive,” Lindsay told her. “I’ll be by to pick it up when I’m through here.”
A few minutes later, the others had left. Lindsay stayed on for a while, savoring the feel of the place, anticipating its return to glory with the students’ production.
She flicked off the lantern and tucked the flashlights in her pockets. Then she locked the door and turned back toward Hassie’s. She came to an abrupt standstill when she saw Gage Sinclair.
He was in his pickup, heading down Main Street. The joy that had risen inside her only minutes earlier evaporated. Silently she watched as he pulled into an empty parking space near Buffalo Bob’s and climbed out of the truck’s cab. He glanced casually around.
Lindsay didn’t move when his gaze came to rest on her. She resisted the urge to greet him with a wave. Their eyes held for a long while as if he, too, felt tempted to acknowledge her. Then he slowly turned his back and walked away.
Once more, Lindsay experienced a feeling of unaccountable loss. He would have made a good friend.
Ten
Rachel was genuinely satisfied with the success of her pizza venture. She’d been in operation for only two months, and was already showing a profit. With the disastrous news of low grain prices, she’d been afraid her business wouldn’t stand a chance.
It helped that people like Heath Quantrill routinely ordered from her, and Lindsay Snyder, too. Hassie and Sarah had turned into good customers, as well. The second Saturday in November she’d sold a record fifteen pizzas. For the first time since Ken’s death, she felt hopeful about the future.
Even with the profit from Buffalo Valley Pizza, Rachel continued to work on Hassie’s books two mornings a week. She suspected Hassie was perfectly capable of handling her own accounts, but she enjoyed her time with the older woman. And, of course, the extra income was a help.
Rachel considered Hassie a blessing to the community and, in fact, to the entire county. People went out of their way to shop at Knight’s Pharmacy because Hassie dispensed far more than prescription drugs. They were drawn to her because of her optimism; she inspired and encouraged them. They came to her for medical advice, as well, and she wasn’t shy about steering folks to a physician when she felt one was needed.
“Rachel.” Hassie stepped into the back room where Rachel pored over the ledgers. “I’m afraid I’m feeling a bit under the weather this morning.”
Hassie did look pale. “The flu bug got you?” Mark had missed two days of school the week before because of a virus.
“That’s what it feels like.” She blew her nose with a honking sound that made Rachel smile despite her sympathy. “I’d better follow the advice I’ve been giving everyone else—go home and take care of myself.”
“That sounds wise to me.”
“I’ll need to close the pharmacy.” She coughed from deep inside her chest.
“Oh, Hassie, you sound wretched. Now listen, there’s no need to close the store until I have to leave to drive the school bus,” Rachel said. She was eager to show her appreciation for all Hassie had done to help her. “I’d be more than happy to stay. People who need prescriptions filled will have to wait, of course, but anything else I can do.”
Hassie’s look was hesitant, but relieved. “You’re sure it wouldn’t be too much of a problem?”
“Positive.”
“That would be wonderful. I’m expecting a delivery sometime today that has to be signed for. If you can deal with that, I’d be grateful.” She brought her hand to her forehead as though to test for a fever. “I’ll be fine in no time,” she mumbled, obviously wanting to convince herself as much as Rachel.
“Is there anything I can get for you?” Rachel offered, escorting Hassie to the door.
“Not a thing.” That was followed by another hacking cough.
“Well, call me if you need anything.” Rachel watched her cross the street and then round the corner. She sincerely hoped it was just a touch of the flu and not something more serious. Buffalo Valley couldn’t afford to lose Hassie Knight. She was the glue that held them together.
Rachel was surprised by the number of customers, considering that this was a weekday morning. By noon she’d waited on more than a dozen people, all of whom asked about Hassie.
There seemed to be a lull following lunch. Rachel had returned to working on the books when the bells above the door chimed, alerting her to a customer’s arrival.
She left the back room to find Heath Quantrill. “Heath!” she greeted him delightedly. “Hello.” At his insistence, she’d dropped the Mr. Quantrill months ago. Heath had actually become a friend, and she still found that somehow astonishing. At first he’d intimidated her and she’d felt awkward and ill at ease around him, but gradually that had changed. He regularly came in for pizza, and while she knew hers was good, he could probably get equally good pizza at home in Grand Forks. One Friday, soon after she’d opened, they’d talked for an hour over cups of coffee. Calla and Mark had been involved in a Monopoly game, and the phone had remained silent. That was the night he’d first mentioned his brother, and she’d told him about Ken. She understood his pain over Max’s death and he seemed to understand hers. So often, especially since her family had moved, Rachel had simply brushed aside talk of her husband, brushed aside others’ concern, rather than acknowledge the loss. But Heath empathized with the emptiness she felt, even the anger, because he, too, had been dealing with those emotions since Max’s death.
No one needed to tell Rachel that she and Heath Quantrill were about as different as could be. She’d only left the state of North Dakota once, and that had been on her honeymoon. Heath had traveled all over the world. He was rich and sophisticated and could probably have any woman he wanted. A struggling widow with a child to support wasn’t going to interest him. Still, Rachel had found him witty and clever, fascinatin
g and, yes, she’d admit it, damned attractive. It probably wasn’t a good idea to let herself think of him in those terms, but she couldn’t help it.
Recently Lindsay had suggested that something romantic might be developing between them, but Rachel was quick to correct her. It was true he’d made that vague remark about the two of them going to the theater together, the same theater where their grandparents had once sat, but that was all it was: a vague remark.
“Rachel?” he said, obviously surprised. “Where’s Hassie?”
“Home, probably in bed. She wasn’t feeling well this morning.”
“So you’re taking her place? I’m glad I came in.” He grinned as he said it, and she found herself blushing, wondering whether he really was pleased to see her there. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into fixing me one of Hassie’s sodas?” he asked.
She looked away. “Sure.” She suspected Heath had come to talk to Hassie, that he wanted some of the sensible advice Hassie served along with her famous sodas. Rachel also knew that Hassie and his grandmother, Lily Quantrill, were good friends.
“How about a strawberry soda?” Heath suggested.
“Coming right up.” She reached for a glass and an ice-cream scoop.
“I don’t know Hassie all that well, and I’ve often wondered about her,” Heath commented absently.
“How do you mean?” Rachel glanced up from her task, her eyes meeting his.
“Well, for one thing, why does she have an American flag by the picture of her son? I’ve never heard anyone mention him.”
Rachel’s hand stilled. “That’s Vaughn. He was killed in Vietnam. Some people say Hassie changed after that. I was only a few months old at the time and I don’t remember him, but my parents do. They say he was a good kid. My dad’s views about the war changed after Vaughn was killed. Hassie keeps his picture out and the flag the Army gave her when they laid Vaughn to rest because she wants people to remember his sacrifice.”