Page 64 of Claim to Fame

He worked himself between her legs, reveled in the salt of her skin beneath his lips, and cursed the sun’s ceaseless ascent.

Lady Windtorn met him movement for movement, opening herself to him, pulling him closer, deeper, with her legs around his waist. “You are correct, Sir,” she said, her breathing quickening. “The sun has not yet risen. It is the moon. We still have time.”

“Aye, but a little longer,” he said, his fingers laced with hers, face buried in her raven-dark hair, eyes squeezed shut against the blasted sun. Then, softer, so she would not hear his heart breaking, “Would that it were enough.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Thank you so much for coming. The kids are going to be so excited to meet an actual Broadway star.” Molly led Hannah down the hall of the 1960s-era tan brick building that housed St. Anthony’s High School, navigating with ease around the groups of teenagers gathered at their lockers.

“I don’t know aboutstar, but I’m happy to help in any way I can.” Hannah finally succeeded in removing the backing of the adhesive nametag she’d been handed in the front office, affixing the sticker to the front of her shirt. The printing was crooked and part of the last ‘h’ was missing so it looked like her name was Hannan.

“And I know you’re trying to keep a low profile, but you should know that there are no cell phones allowed in rehearsals, so there shouldn’t be any unexpected photo shoots,” Molly assured her.

It was at least the third time since Friday’s family dinner that Molly had made a similar promise. Hannah was grateful for Molly’s sensitivity, but she’d also already had a long conversation with Micah about what happened if one of those kids snapped a shot anyway. “You’re only in that town for a few more days, so in the unlikely event a member of the AP follows a teenager from Rhode Island on social media, it should be fine,” Micah had said. “Besides, if the press picked up the story that you’re nursing your broken heart by volunteering with teenagers, that wouldn’t be the worst thing.” She’d spent the next ten minutes convincing Micah they shouldn’t plant the story themselves.

“I’m hoping you’ll be able to work with our Audrey, in particular,” Molly continued as she led her through the double doors of a large open room with cafeteria tables folded up along one wall. “Amelia’s a great kid, hard worker, very talented, but she’s also incredibly self-conscious.”

“What teenager isn’t?” Hannah asked.

“True, but this is different. I don’t know how to help her break through that barrier. I’ve never acted before.”

“I’ve never coached anyone before, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Another set of double doors opened into the school’s gym, a stage at one end, a basketball hoop raised above the proscenium. A handful of boys, lanky teenagers in the pleated khakis and starchy button-downs of their Catholic school uniforms, darted around the gym, each vying for the basketball. At the center of their group, Caleb held them off, dribbling with an ease that seemed at odds with his bright white priest’s collar and pristine blacks.

Pockets of teenagers gathered in small groups throughout the room all turned their heads as Molly and Hannah entered the space. Caleb looked away from the ball, catching sight of them, and his mouth spread into a grin as gleaming white as his collar. The distraction was fleeting, but it was long enough for one of the boys to steal the ball, jumping into the air and shooting, the crash of the ball against the backboard before it dropped into the hoop echoing through the gym.

Caleb clapped the kid on the back and made his way over to Molly and Hannah. “Hannah, I’m glad you could join us.”

“Are you done riling up my actors?” Molly asked, tilting her head like a confused cocker spaniel.

The priest chuckled and cuffed the back of his neck. “My apologies, Ms. Proulx. Won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t, Father West.”

With a wink at Hannah, Caleb excused himself, disappearing through the doors of the gym.

“Is he your boss?” Hannah asked.

“The parish priest is in charge of the school, but he isnotmy boss.” Molly turned away from Hannah towards the teenagers scattered throughout the gym and clapped her hands three times. She led Hannah towards the stage, calling, “Circle up!”

The kids made their way towards the front of the room, curiosity slowing them down as they turned to whisper to each other, their eyes trained on Hannah.

“We have a special guest with us today,” Molly said when her ragtag bunch of high school actors was assembled. “My friend Miss Matthews—”

“Hannah, please,” Hannah interjected.

Molly smiled indulgently. “Hannah has agreed to help us out today. She is a professional actress who comes to us straight from Broadway and we are so lucky to have her with us.” Molly led the kids in an awkward round of applause.

“Thank you for letting me crash your rehearsal,” Hannah said.

Molly ran through the rest of her announcements quickly (no gum on stage, she’s looking at you, Tucker; don’t forget to be off book by next Monday; and the candy bar fundraiser to pay for the costumes would be over in a week so get in those last-minute orders), then ushered Hannah to a seat in front of the stage as the kids took their places for the opening number. Hannah bit back her smile as she watched them shuffle about, shoving each other to the right places on stage when the music for the opening number began. She remembered those days of high school drama club, of being both proud and embarrassed to be good at something.

Then Amelia took the stage.

She wasn’t at all what Hannah had expected and she found herself leaning forward in her seat to watch the shy girl move around the stage. Amelia was tall—at least a head taller than the boy playing Seymour—with a round face. It was hard to tell in the oversized sweatshirt she wore but Hannah would bet money she was also plus sized, which definitely was not the usual casting choice for Audrey.

As the cast sang louder and louder, Amelia and her Seymour leading the pack, Hannah’s face split into a grin. The girl was young and probably wouldn’t make a profession out of performing, but she had a pretty voice with a compelling tone. She was also clearly terrified.

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