If for Any Reason (Nantucket Love Story #1) - Courtney Walsh Page 0,66

accident, Emily had left Nantucket before the show date, and she’d always wondered what had happened to her role. Maybe these books would tell her.

“If you need to call out, press nine first. If you need to reach the front desk, press three.”

Emily didn’t anticipate calling anyone. Her plan had been to make a decision about what show they were doing, choose scenes for the kids to read at the audition, and do some dreaming about the set, the costumes, the details.

Now that she thought about it, it was a lofty plan. She’d be lucky to get the show chosen.

“Okay.” Emily sat behind the desk. “I think I have everything I need.”

“Very good,” Gladys said with a quick nod. “I’m going out for a bit. Good luck.” She closed the door behind her as she walked away, the clicking of her thick heels growing more and more faint as the woman left the building.

Emily had just gotten her things situated when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called out.

The door opened and a young woman with dark hair poked her head in. “Look how official you are.” She grinned.

“Don’t be fooled,” Emily said.

“I’m Marisol. I’m your intern–slash–assistant director–slash–professional coffee getter.”

“I didn’t realize I had one of those.”

“I was already interning at the arts center, so Gladys reassigned me to you,” Marisol said. “Truthfully, I don’t think she knew what to do with me. I’m a theatre major at Boston University, but I’m a lot more interested in writing and directing than I was a few years ago when I thought I wanted to be a star.”

Emily forced herself not to tell the girl that writing and directing was a lot harder than it seemed. Instead she smiled and said, “Well, I’m glad to have your help.”

“I already started our social media campaign, but the sooner we can land on a show, the better.” She handed Emily a stack of binders. “I pulled some scripts for you to consider.”

“Thanks, Marisol,” Emily said, truly grateful for the girl’s thoughtfulness.

“Need anything else?”

“Not right now,” Emily said.

“Okay. Everyone else is hard at work, so just holler if you need me. We already have twenty-five kids signed up.”

Emily practically gasped. “Really? How? We don’t even know what show we’re doing.”

“People don’t care. They just want to be involved,” Marisol said. “I’ve got Hillary organizing auditions.” Then, quietly—“It’ll keep her from talking your ear off.”

Emily laughed. “Great, thank you. I’ll let you know if there’s anything else.”

Marisol nodded and started for the door, but before she walked out, she turned back. “Hey, I’m really glad you’re doing this. I think it’s going to be so great for these kids. Especially the ones like me, who have trouble fitting in.”

There were more years between now and high school for Emily than there were for Marisol, but she still remembered that feeling well. Transitioning away from private on-set tutors back to middle school, then high school had been difficult for Emily. Even harder to navigate without her mom.

For a while, she stayed away from theatre altogether, but in eighth grade, the English teacher asked her to audition for the school’s production of Once Upon a Mattress.

She’d been cast as Winnifred, the lead, thereby reuniting her with her first love once again.

From then on, the stage became her safe haven. It gave her what she craved—a community, a family, that feeling of belonging.

It stung, knowing she’d lost that now, the one constant in her life. There was no coming back after her dismal failure. Her bad reviews. Her poor judgment. Her lack of talent. Her . . .

Stop, Emily.

“Also, I rewatched a ton of old Dottie’s World episodes last night,” Marisol said.

Emily’s heart dropped. Did that mean Marisol had also looked her up online? And if so, did that mean her new intern–slash–assistant director–slash–coffee getter knew about her catastrophic attempt to step out of her lane?

“I just have to say, you rocked those gaucho pants.” Marisol laughed.

If she knew about it, she wasn’t saying anything. That made Emily love this girl a little.

“That’ll be all, Marisol,” Emily said in mock annoyance.

“And the butterfly clips all over your hair was quite the style.”

Emily shot her a look and the girl ducked out of the office, the closed door doing a poor job of drowning out her laughter. She shook her head, giggling to herself over Marisol’s teasing.

Once the office was quiet, Emily found it difficult to concentrate. She leafed through a number of scripts, but her eyes