Page 88 of The Christmas Keepsake
“Whose story is that?” Nan asked.
Mallory had thought it was Nan’s but she realized now it was so much more. It was also her mother’s story. And Maddie’s. And hers. “It’s my family’s story.”
“Well, I hope it has a happy ending. I never did like those tragic stories. Shakespeare was the worst,” Nan said distastefully.
Mallory found herself bursting into unexpected laughter.“Agreed… I hope it has a happy ending too. Speaking of which, I need to go. I’m directing a play tonight. And starring in it too.”
Nan clapped her hands together in front of her chest. “How exciting. Oh, I’m so happy for you. There’s something I should say.” She looked down, as if searching for a lost earring, and then finally back up at Mallory. “Break a leg.” Her lips immediately dropped into a frown. “I’m so sorry. I’m not sure why I said that.”
Mallory laid a hand on Nan’s shoulder. “It’s theater talk. It means good luck.”
“It does?”
Mallory wished she could lean in and kiss her temple, but that was a risk she best not take tonight. “Thank you for visiting with me.”
Nan grinned. “Come back and see me, and tell me all about how tonight goes.”
“I will.”
After she left Memory Oaks, she climbed into her car, realizing she hadn’t taken her cell phone into the facility. Instead, it lay in her middle console. Tapping the screen, she saw missed call and text notifications. Most of them from Hollis.
Her heart rate quickened as she listened to his voicemail. “Mallory, please call me back when you get this. I need to explain… I’m so sorry.”
She thought about the play and all the work she’d put in, and about how Evan had stepped into Hollis’s role to make up for his absence. Evan didn’t want to, of course. He wasn’t prepared. But he’d said yes because he was a loyal friend—to Hollis and to Mallory.
Despite everything, a part of her longed to hear Hollis’s voice, to check on him and make sure he was okay. It was too risky right now though, with the play opening its curtains in under an hour. All her energy needed to be directed toward that.Sorry, Hollis.
Whatever Hollis had to say, it would have to wait until after the performance.
There was no time for games tonight. She had a play to put on, with or without him.
Mallory typed out a quick message:
Mallory:I’ll call you after the show.
As she hit send, Mallory took a deep breath. Then she tossed her phone onto the passenger seat and put the car in drive.
As she drove back to the barn theater, she found herself humming the song that opened the show. Whatever the future held, with Hollis, her career, and with her grandmother, she knew one thing for certain: Tonight, she would make Nan proud.
Mallory stood inside a tent, which served as the dressing area of the barn theater, her heart racing. The air was thick with the scent of hairspray and the buzz of preshow jitters. She smoothed down her costume, a vintage-inspired dress that sparkled under the lights, and took a deep breath.
“All right, everyone,” she called out, her voice carrying over the chatter. “Gather round, please!”
The cast members, all in various states of costume and makeup, huddled around her. Evan stood at the edge of the group, a serious look on his face, which let her know that he was all nerves. The kind of nerves that came with not being prepared enough.
“Evan,” Mallory said, meeting his eyes, “you ready?”
He tapped the small earpiece he wore. “All set. I’ve got the lines if I need them, but I stayed up half the night. I think I’ve got most of my part down.”
“You’ll do great. We all will.” She looked around at the faces of her castmates, seeing anxious excitement reflected at her. “I know we’ve had some last-minute changes,” she continued, carefully avoiding mentioning Hollis by name, “but we’ve worked hard, and we’reready for this. Remember, this play isn’t just about us. It’s about Nan, about this town, about the magic of Christmas and theater…” She took a cleansing breath, feeling a rush of theater nerves. “Okay, everyone. Let’s make Bloom proud.”
A chorus of agreement rose from the group, and Mallory felt a surge of affection for her fellow actors. They’d rallied around her, adapting to the changes without complaint. All the complainers had dropped off early in the process. Growing pains, Nan would have said.
“Places in five minutes,” called Savannah, who was serving as stage manager.
The group dispersed.
Mallory made her way to the makeshift wings, which were basically some boards of plywood standing vertically. She peeked out at the audience filing in. The barn was transformed, twinkling lights strung across the rafters and the scent of pine and cinnamon filling the air. Her heart swelled with pride at what they’d accomplished.
