If for Any Reason (Nantucket Love Story #1) - Courtney Walsh Page 0,73

a large group of women of varying ages.

“Nan?”

Hollis’s mother hurried down the stairs, meeting her in the lobby.

“You caught us.” Nan tossed a glance upstairs, where the group of women was still visible thanks to the open atrium above where they stood.

“What are you all doing here? Is there some sort of event today?” Emily asked.

“Of course not, silly,” Nan said. “We’re here for you.”

“I don’t understand,” Emily said.

“Is this her?” Another woman, about the same age as Nan, rushed down the stairs. Well, she more waddled than rushed.

“Emily, this is Pearl Whitmeyer,” Nan said. “She’s an expert seamstress.”

Pearl brightened at the compliment. “I haven’t used my sewing machine in a lot of years, but once I start, I know it’ll all come back to me.”

“And up there is Cheryl Davidson, our marketing expert; Elise Santana, who will handle all your props; and I hear you already met Marisol Duncan—she’ll be your right-hand man.”

By now, the other women had come downstairs, and each gave Emily a slight wave as Nan introduced them.

“We thought you might need some help, so we assembled a few key people.” Nan beamed.

“We didn’t think anything,” Cheryl said. “This was all Nan—and we were happy to pitch in. We think it’s wonderful what you’re doing for our kids.”

“These are just a few volunteers,” Nan said. “Once you get your cast put together, we have a plan for mobilizing the parents.”

Just like the old days.

Before she knew it, the women had formed a circle around her and the circle started moving, pulling her along like a fish at the center of a school. They were walking through the hallway beside the theatre and back toward the classrooms.

“It’s positively wonderful that you decided to stop by,” Nan was saying as they all found spots around a table. “I heard you were in yesterday working. Your enthusiasm is contagious.”

“Have you picked a show yet, Emily?” Marisol sat right next to her.

“Marisol is the perfect person to assist you, Emily,” Nan said. “She’s studying theatre in Boston.”

“She told me,” Emily said. “I’m glad to have her.”

“Are you kidding? This will look so good on my résumé,” Marisol said. “I watched more Dottie’s World last night. It was, like, a really big deal back in the day, wasn’t it?”

Emily forced a smile. “It was, I guess.”

“It’s so cool that I actually know Dottie now.”

“Really?” Emily felt old.

“Really.” Marisol grinned. “I loved the episode where your backyard turns into outer space and you take the kids on an adventure around the sun. I especially liked how there was a cow in red boots floating around out there.”

“The cow who jumped over the moon,” Emily said, remembering. “And then apparently spent the rest of her days weightless in outer space.”

It felt like a lifetime ago, working in television. A million dreams ago.

“So have you picked a show?” Cheryl repeated. “I can get working on updating the arts center’s website and making flyers to take around town, hang in local businesses, drum up excitement for the auditions, and Marisol’s already working double time on the social media.”

Before she could answer, an inexplicable lump formed at the back of Emily’s throat and her eyes clouded over.

She managed to choke out a stifled “Excuse me” as she got up from the table and darted out of the room.

What was wrong with her? She found a restroom and quickly escaped inside and splashed water on her face.

“Get it together, Emily,” she said to her reflection.

The door to the bathroom opened and Nan stood there, Hollis-style concern on her face. “You okay?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? I didn’t mean to upset you by bringing everyone in.”

“No,” Emily said. “It’s not that.”

But it was that. It was exactly that. But not for the reasons Nan was thinking. Emily wasn’t upset by the fact that these women were here to help—she was moved by it.

Why were they so willing to help her? It was as if they were personally invested in her success, and she didn’t want to let any of them down.

What if I fail?

Nan quieted at her side. “It must be hard to be back here after all these years.”

And then there was that. Being here. Digging up the past with a trowel when what she needed was an excavator.

She looked away. “A little.”

Like her son, Nan seemed to have a sixth sense that made lying to her impossible.

“It’s just been a really long time since I had people . . .” She