Sandcastle Beach (Matchmaker Bay #3) - Jenny Holiday Page 0,53
can’t tell Mom and Dad any of this. Not till I figure out what I’m going to do.”
“Of course. What have you told them so far?”
“Just that I had a bunch of use-it-or-lose-it vacation so I’m here for a month. I couched it like I was going to help them get ready to sell.”
“I’m glad you came home. You don’t have to figure everything out immediately.”
He smiled fondly at her. “I actually feel relieved having told you. But yeah, I thought I’d hang out, help Dad. Maybe you, too, if there’s any theater stuff I can do.”
“Yes! There is so much theater stuff you can do.” She surprised herself by telling him everything. About how close to the edge the theater was, about her big gamble on Holden.
“I can help you with money,” he said when she was done.
“I appreciate it, but I don’t think that’s the answer. I was going to ask Mom and Dad for a loan, but then they dropped their bomb and started talking about how retiring early was going to be tight financially but doable. It wasn’t a great idea anyway. Turning to family to bail me out isn’t a long-term strategy. If Much Ado does well, and I can get this grant, I think I’ll be able to turn a corner. I want to use the grant money to set up a fundraising program that will help the theater be more self-sustaining. I think.” She was a little worried about how “community-minded” it was to use the grant money for fundraising. Maybe she should be expanding her camp and education offerings. She wasn’t even running any camps this August, having decided to focus entirely on Holden and Much Ado. She winced, thinking back to that A wise man once said do not put all eggs in a single basket fortune.
“Okay, so no cash,” Rohan said. “But you’ll accept contributions in the form of manual labor? Or brainpower? I have a friend in marketing at the Art Institute of Chicago. I could pick her brain on how best to publicize the show.”
“That would be amazing. I think with Holden in the cast, I should be marketing further afield than I usually do. I just haven’t had time to think about it.”
“Luckily for you, I have nothing but time. Let’s make a plan, and I’ll get to work.”
She pulled out her phone to check the time. “I hate to say it, but can we talk more later? I’m supposed to meet Holden for dinner.”
Ro whistled. “Look at you. Lured a genuine celebrity to town.”
She did a silly little victory dance to make him laugh.
“I gotta go, too. I told Mom and Dad I’d be home by six for dinner.” He laughed. “I had this romantic idea of ‘coming home’ to clear my head, but I forgot how much they’re all over me when I’m here. I hope I can deflect all their questions about work and not give off a weird vibe.”
“Have you seen the accounting software Dad got last winter? Ask him about that. He can talk for days about it.”
They started to part ways, but suddenly he was back, pulling her into a hug. She and her brother generally expressed affection by harassing each other. But she went with it. Hugged him back tightly and said, “I’m so glad you came home.”
An hour later, showered and made up, she was unlocking the door to her apartment and ushering Holden freaking Hampshire in. “So here we are.” She gestured at the space as if it were a room at the Ritz.
And honestly, it might as well have been, considering the transformation it had undergone.
Her crappy furniture had been moved out, replaced with a selection of antiques curated by Jake’s stepmom. As Nora had envisioned, they’d juxtaposed the old-fashioned furniture with modern art, the pièce de résistance of which was a giant canvas she’d once used as a prop hanging on the apartment’s exposed brick wall. It was a Banksy knockoff, a graffiti-style portrait of a little girl holding a bouquet of flowers, but in such a way that she looked like she was about to throw it like a grenade.
Maya had switched things around, making her old sleeping area, which was an alcove off the main room, into a sitting area with a TV. She’d signed up for free trials of all the streaming services. The main space she’d left to be dominated by an obnoxiously-over-the-top-but-in-a-good-way king-size bed—like a hotel room. She had chucked her