At Hidden Falls (Angel's Bay Novel) (9 page)

“You also need the cheapest,” he said pragmatically. “Let’s be real.”

His uncle grinned. “That’s true. And speaking of reality, I’ve got to run down to the hardware store and pick up some supplies. Paul, are you coming?”

“Yes.” Paul turned to Harrison. “Dad, do you have that list of supplies?”

“It’s in the office,” Harrison said. “I’ll walk out with you.”

“Nick, we’ll talk soon,” his father said.

“Sure.” Nick rolled up the rough sketches as they left.

“We’re really glad you’re going to be in town for a while, Nick. We’ve missed you and Melanie,” his grandmother, Alice, said, giving him her sweet smile. He loved her, but she’d been flighty and forgetful even before she could blame old age as an excuse. “It’s Megan,” he reminded her. “My daughter’s name is Megan.”

“What did I say?”

“Melanie.”

“Oh, well, it’s close,” she replied as she wandered off.

“Is she all right?” he asked his mother.

Pamela shrugged. “It’s difficult to say. She loves to act, even when we’re not performing.”

“Like the rest of you,” he said dryly.

His mother rolled her eyes. “We’re not that bad.”

“You all live in dreamland. Renovating this theater is another example of your complete lack of reality.”

“Or perhaps an example of our faith and commitment to keeping this place going. Angel’s Bay needs this theater, and so does our family. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“Don’t try to talk her out of it,” Tory warned. “You’ll only be wasting your breath.”

“I want us to have a family dinner,” his mother interjected. “We haven’t sat down together, all of us, since Megan arrived. We’ll do it this weekend.”

He nodded, but he wouldn’t be surprised it didn’t happen, since she’d made the suggestion three times already without following through.

“Hello? Excuse me?”

Nick whirled around, shocked to see Isabella coming up the steps. What was she doing here?

“Can I help you?” Tory asked.

“I saw this flyer and thought I’d offer my services,” Isabella said, holding out a yellow piece of paper. “I’m Isabella Silveira.” She gave Nick a cautious look. “Hi. I didn’t realize your meeting was here.”

“You’re Joe’s sister,” Tory said. “And that means . . .” Her gaze darted between Isabella and Nick. “You’re the one Nick rescued last night.”

“You’re the woman?” his mother echoed, curiosity in her eyes. “I’m Pamela, Nick’s mother.”

“And I’m Tory, Nick’s sister.”

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” Isabella said. “Anyway, I’m a costume designer, and I normally work in L.A., but I’ll be in town for a while, so I thought I’d see if you needed any help with costumes. I’d be happy to volunteer to do whatever.”

Great,
Nick thought with a sigh. Not only was Isabella spectacularly pretty, with a body that a man would happily die for and a touch that had made him feel as if he was going to spontaneously combust, she was also a theater person. No wonder alarm bells had gone off in his brain.

“We can always use help with the costumes,” Tory said, “especially experienced help.”

“Particularly this year,” his mother added. “Our designer, Mariah Olin, has been having health problems, and I didn’t know what we were going to do. We have some ladies who can sew but no designers—no one to help us create a new look to go with the new production. You’re like an angel sent from costume heaven.” She smiled at Nick. “And you were the one to save her. How perfect is that?”

“Just perfect,” he drawled. “I need to get back to my office.”

“I’m sorry if I interrupted,” Isabella said quickly.

“You didn’t at all,” Tory said, waving off her apology. “I’ll take you down to the costume shop, so you can see what you’re getting into. We’re still trying to figure out what costumes we can reuse and what we need to create.”

As they turned to leave, they ran into his grandfather. Harrison stopped abruptly, his gaze catching on Isabella. His face paled, and he drew in a quick breath as he put a hand to his chest.

“Grandpa, are you all right?” Tory asked.

He made it up the last two steps, his gaze still fixed on Isabella. “Your eyes,” he murmured, and shook his head in disbelief. “It can’t be you. It’s not possible.”

As his grandfather began to sway, Nick rushed to his side. His sister grabbed a nearby chair, and they helped him into it.

“Should I call nine-one-one?” Tory asked with concern.

“No. I’m okay,” Harrison said quickly, putting up a hand as Tory reached for her cell phone. “I just need—water.”

“I’ll get some,” Nick’s mother said, running down the stairs.

“Is it your heart?” Tory asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Harrison said, his voice stronger now. He patted her hand. “It’s all right. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just need to sit for a minute. I didn’t eat anything today.” His gaze darted back to Isabella.

Nick glanced at Isabella, who returned his look with a silent question that he had no idea how to answer. It was obvious that his grandfather was unsettled by her appearance. “Why don’t you take Isabella to the costume shop?” he suggested to Tory. “I’ll stay with Grandpa until Mom gets back with the water.”

“All right,” Tory said, still a bit hesitant. “Grandpa?”

“It’s okay. Go.” He waved her off.

As Tory led Isabella down the steps, Nick pulled up another chair and sat down across from his grandfather.

His grandfather gave him a scowl. “I’m fine. I don’t need a damn babysitter.”

“Well, I need an explanation. What happened? You looked at Isabella as if she were a ghost. I thought you were going to pass out.”

“She reminded me of someone for a second, that’s all. What did you say her name was?”

“Isabella Silveira. Her brother is the chief of police. Is that who she reminded you of ?”

“I don’t think she should work on the production,” Harrison said abruptly, a faraway look in his eyes.

“Why do you say that?”

“You need to get rid of her, Nick. She’s not for you.”

A shiver ran down his spine at his grandfather’s words. “I never thought she
was
for me.”

His grandfather’s gaze met his. “She’ll take you in, and she won’t let go. She’ll cast a spell over you. And all your plans, your goals, will get pushed aside. You need to make her go away before it’s too late.”

Harrison Hartley was the king of drama, but there was a fear in his words that Nick had never heard before.

“Find a way,” his grandfather added as he stood up.

“If you want her gone, then
you
need to do something,” Nick replied. “I don’t have any say over what goes on in the theater. If Isabella wants to work on the costumes, I can’t stop her.”

“She didn’t come here to make costumes. She came here for you.”

“We barely know each other.” But as he finished speaking, he flashed back to when Isabella had looked into his eyes and said, “It’s you,” as if she’d recognized him, as if she’d known all along that he would be the one to save her.

Was she crazy? Was he? Or was he letting his grandfather’s imagination fuel his own?

His cell phone rang, and the name of the high school appeared on the screen.
Damn.
This could not be good. “I’ve got to go, Grandpa.”

He punched in the school’s number as he jogged out of the theater.

Isabella didn’t know why she was surprised to see Nick in the theater. Ever since she’d started on this trip, she’d felt as if she were dancing to someone else’s tune. She’d been meant to have that accident and meet him, meant to find the flyer, meant to go to the theater. She didn’t know why, but she would eventually. When it came to her visions, trying to rush to a conclusion never worked. She wouldn’t know until it was time to know.

“I hope your grandfather is all right,” she told Tory as they walked down the stairs and into an adjacent building housing props and costumes. The older man’s reaction to her had been unsettling. He’d looked at her as if she were someone else, as if he knew her.

“I hope so, too. He has such a strong voice, I sometimes forget that he’s eighty-three years old.” Tory paused, giving her a thoughtful look. “I probably should have asked you if you wanted to do this now. You must still be feeling the aftereffects of your accident.”

“I’m a little sore, but I’m okay. And I’d love to see the costume shop.”

“Here it is.” Tori pushed open the door and waved Isabella inside.

As soon she stepped through the doors, Isabella felt a rush of excitement. She stopped to drink in the atmosphere, the racks of clothes and shoes, bolts of material, shelves laden with hats, buttons, belt buckles, zippers, and other accessories that would be used to transform ordinary people into extraordinary characters. A trio of sewing machines lined one wall. Large work tables were in the center of the room, surrounded by empty dress forms. This was her world, and she loved it.

“We’ve accumulated quite a bit over the years,” Tory said. “For this particular production, we’ll need both alterations and new pieces. We open just four weeks from this Friday, and saying that makes my heart race! It always feels like a rush, but somehow we get it done.”

“I’m happy to help. It’s been a long time since I’ve worked on a stage production, and it will be a nice change.” Isabella paused. “I’m not sure your brother is too excited about me working here, though. I went to his office earlier to say thanks for saving my life, and I got the impression he barely wanted to talk with me.”

Tory gave a dismissive wave. “That’s just Nick. He keeps most people at arm’s length these days; I wouldn’t take it personally. He’s a little distracted right now with his teenage daughter, Megan. She is trouble with a capital T.”

“Most teenagers are.”

“True, but Megan is carrying around a lot of extra emotional baggage. Her mother took her away from Nick when she was three years old. She’s only recently come back.” Tory took a breath and smiled. “And Nick would kill me for gossiping. Anyway, I hope they can find a way to make things work. They both really need each other, even if they don’t know how to admit it. Nick’s ex-wife is Kendra Livingston—maybe you’ve heard of her.”

“Oh, wow,” Isabella murmured. Kendra Livingston was an accomplished stage and film actress and had won several awards for her work. She was also gorgeous, a leggy Marilyn Monroe look-alike.

“Wow is right. She’s a piece of work. Anyway.” Tory paused, glancing around the room. “I know Mariah left a list of things that need to get done first. Let me see if I can find it, to give you an idea of what we’re working on.”

While Tory searched for the work list, Isabella wandered around the room. One wall was lined with photographs of actors and actresses from various productions over the years. A lot of famous people had played in this theater. It would be a shame if they couldn’t find a way to keep it going.

“We actually did this play once before,” Tory said as she riffled through the papers on a nearby counter. “The run ended early because of a fire. We lost almost all of the costumes, except those few over there.” She tipped her head toward a sparsely filled rack of costumes near the door.

Isabella moved closer to take a look. As her fingers curled around the material of one dress, her nerves began to tingle, and a wave of heat ran through her. Tory’s voice faded away.

A woman called for help as the flames drew closer and the smoke grew thicker. She could feel the heat, a burning sensation in her chest, terror pounding through her veins.

“Isabella?”

Tory’s voice brought her back to the present.

She let go of the dress and drew in a deep breath, trying to calm her jangled nerves.

“Everything okay?” Tory queried as she walked over with a sketchbook in her hands.

Isabella tucked her hair behind one ear, needing some movement to expel the sudden rush of adrenaline. “I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

“Well, you can come back tomorrow or even the next day. You should probably be home resting.”

“Did anyone die in the fire?” she asked, still feeling shaken by the brief vision, the emotional connection to someone in the past. She’d never had a costume trigger a flashback or a vision. The clothes were part of a pretend world, worn by characters, not by real people, and they’d never had any effect on her before. So why now?

Tory gave her an odd look. “Yes, my grandfather’s sister, Caitlyn, died in the fire. She was sixteen. My grandparents don’t like to talk about it. Some people think putting on this revival is a big mistake, that the show is cursed, because it was the one and only production that never finished its run. But theater people tend to be superstitious. I hope that doesn’t scare you off.”

A chill ran through Isabella’s body, in direct contrast to the heat she’d felt moments before. “Not at all,” she said. But she had a feeling that the fire was another clue to deciphering her dreams.

Nick strode through the door of Angel’s Bay High School, feeling a mix of emotions. He’d been a terrible student himself, more interested in music and girls than in academics. His parents had moved around so much that he’d always felt behind whenever he was actually in school, so he’d skipped class as often as possible.

He’d also spent quite a bit of time in the principal’s office back in the day. Apparently, his daughter was following in his footsteps.

Megan sat in a straight-backed chair in the outer office. Next to her, a boy slouched in his seat, his hair down to his shoulders, an earring in one ear, and a cocky smile on his face. Megan didn’t look nearly as confident as her friend—at least, not until she saw Nick. Then she stiffened and put on her usual I don’t-give-a-fuck-what-you-think-of-me expression.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m awesome,” she said sarcastically, a slight British lilt to her words. She’d lived all over the world with her mother, and he wasn’t really sure where she considered home to be—except not with him.

“Who’s your pal?”

“No one.”

Nick glanced at the kid, who didn’t seem at all concerned about his fate. Yeah, he knew this attitude. He’d shown it off a few times himself in this very office.