Page 18 of This Loving Feeling (Mirror Lake)

“I can’t help it,” Jess said, rubbing her side. “The tattoos are hot.”

Sam couldn’t deny Lukas’s heavily tattooed arms added just the right touch of danger to his dark chocolate eyes, his gypsy black hair, and his Mediterranean skin. No wonder why, in her misguided youth, he’d appealed to her so intensely. She’d been begging for escape from the short cords of her brothers’ scrutiny and he’d been the perfect foil.

That was in the past. Perhaps Effie should spend her time counseling Jess on choosing the right man instead of chastising Sam for choosing someone who was reliable, upstanding, and steadfast.

“Maybe you should live a little,” Effie said, looking right at her. Oh, God, this was coming from her grandmother? Really? “I just don’t want you to be stuck in an unhappy marriage.” Effie patted her hand. As if that would take away the sting of her comment.

Gloria nodded. “There’s nothing worse. Look at Charles and Diana. A tragedy all around.”

“Okay, ladies,” Sam said, “thanks very much, but I think we need to get down to business.” She opened her purse and pulled out a folder. “The donor dinner for the Palace Theater restoration is just two weeks away. And the big benefit concert is a week after that.”

Mirror Lake was home to one of only a handful of atmospheric theaters left in the United States, former movie palaces built in the 1920s and made to look like exotic places. Theirs was a Moorish palace adorned with alabaster sculptures, elaborate carvings, and, the crowning glory, the dome of a night sky complete with twinkling stars and passing wisps of clouds. The theater was one of her favorite places in the world, and she was head of the committee in charge of raising money for its restoration.

“We’re still a million dollars short to get matching funds from the state grant that expires this year,” Alethea said. “We could use a high-profile star to perform at the benefit to bring in the bucks.”

“Wait,” Sam said. “What do you mean weneeda star? I thought we were going with that actor who had a little run on Broadway.”

“The one that sings in that lounge off Route 95?” Jess asked.

“He had a wedding to sing at,” Alethea said.

Effie sighed. “And John Mayer said no.”

What? Did they actually think John Mayer would come to Mirror Lake?

“Maybe we should try Barbra Streisand,” Gloria said. “She’d look so regal standing there in our beautiful theater, with the exotic palace setting and the twinkling stars and her glorious voice ...”

“I can’t deny Babs is likebuttah, Gloria,” Jess said, “but she hardly ever does live appearances. Ed Sheeran’s in New York that weekend. Maybe he could stop over for a couple hours.”

John Mayer? Ed Sheeran? Barbra? They were shooting for the stars with no time left to spare.She could understand the old ladies being too far out to reel back in but Jess too? “Jess, do you really think—”

“Oh, I love that young man,” Gloria clapped her hands together. “He’s got that lovely red hair like Prince Harry.”

Something caught Sam’s eye. Stevie was waving both his arms wildly, trying to attract her attention. “Sam. Sammy. Watch this!” He’d wound his blanket around his head to look like a mummy (with all the holes and shreds it came very close to looking exactly like that), and he’d flung his arms out stiffly in front of him and swayed back and forth.

“Now there’s a cute boyfriend for you,” Effie said. “That child is adorable.”

At that moment Lukas turned around, maybe sensing that all five women were staring his way. His gaze suddenly locked with Sam’s. She immediately looked down and studied the contents of her folder.

“I think someone else has an eye out for you, too,” Effie said in a singsong voice.

“Speaking of the devil, maybe you should ask Lukas if he’d sing at the benefit,” Jess said in a dead-serious voice. “Time is getting short.”

Sam sent her now-former best friend the Glare of Death.

Jess held her hands up in defense. “Just an idea. We need a commitment on paper or this theater project is going to flop, right when we’re down to the last stretch.”

Sam bit her lip, lest she remind them that procuring the entertainment hadn’t been her job. It wastheirjob. Which they’d failed to do.

“After all this hard work,” Effie said solemnly. Her compadres nodded.

“Besides,” Jess said, “you two go way back and with him being the hometown son and all, he’d certainly attract a crowd.”

“Um, no. I’m not asking him.” Sam looked down at her stupid folder then back up at everyone. She’d never seen so many I’m-so-disappointed-in-you looks in her life.

“There’s always Victor Irving,” Effie said.

Oh, God. Never!

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