Sandcastle Beach (Matchmaker Bay #3) - Jenny Holiday Page 0,82

that?

Law: Because I’m a nice guy?

Maya: No you’re not.

Law: Because I’m a patron of the arts?

Maya: No you’re not.

Law: Okay, forget it. I just thought you’d have more room to spread out, and you wouldn’t have to get the party catered if it’s here.

Was this because they’d kissed? Was he going to start being nice to her now? She didn’t know how she felt about that. She didn’t want things to get complicated, and with him, nice meant complicated. That kiss had been the result of football-related excitement. Maybe a little bit the result of the slight thaw in their feud, but that was it. It didn’t mean anything.

Law: Anyway, half the town will be at your party, so this way I’ll actually get some business.

Ah. That made more sense. This was a self-interested move on his part. But it would also save her a lot of money.

Maya: Sure, that sounds great. Thanks.

Law: First round of drinks on me.

And dang, he was back to being nice.

It had been a long time since Maya had been this nervous. She always felt a little twinge of anticipation before a show, but it was usually excitement more than nerves. It fed her rather than paralyzed her.

But as she peeked out at the packed theater on opening night, she almost passed out. There were the usual town denizens. Her parents and Rohan were in the front row. Behind them sat Nora and Jake and Sawyer—Eve always helped with costumes for Maya’s shows, so she was backstage.

And all the old meddlers. Her heart swelled.

But aside from all those folks, amazingly, there were also about a thousand people she didn’t know. The box office take as of this morning had been her highest ever, and from the looks of things, they’d had same-day takers for the unsold seats.

She motioned for the cast and crew to huddle up. “We have a full house.” A full house! That had literally never happened. The old theater was bigger than the current demand for it. There were murmurs of excitement, and Holden looked a little green around the edges.

“I know this afternoon was a little dicey.” That was understating it. They’d gathered to go through a couple of the roughest scenes, and they were…still rough. Holden had called for a line prompt twice, which was one thing at the best of times, but in a scene where rapid-fire back-and-forth banter was the whole point, it ruined the momentum. “But in my experience, a rough final run-through is always a good sign. It’s always when you’re struggling that suddenly, with the addition of a live audience, the play sort of bursts through.” Sometimes. Here was hoping. “All the ingredients are there. You’ve worked so hard. You’re all great, and I have so much confidence in you.”

Thank goodness she was a decent actor.

Everyone cheered, and her stage manager, a high-school drama geek named Ingrid who was responsible—and cheap—gave the two-minute warning. Maya pulled Holden aside. This was a bit of a gamble, but sometimes you had to trust your gut. “Holden, you know how we talked about how the Benedick-and-Beatrice scenes depend on pacing and momentum?” He nodded. “If you forget a line tonight, I want you to not ask for the prompt but make something up.”

“Really?” She had shocked him.

“Yes. Preserving the scene is more important than getting it exactly right. If you forget, throw something out there. Try to make it make sense. Then, hopefully, after my next line, you’ll be back on track.” Please, God, let him get back on track.

Let him not get off track to begin with? No, that was probably too much to ask for.

Where were a lake and a full moon and a wishing flower when you needed them? Where was a fortune cookie that read Your play is going to be both great and lucrative?

“Okay, no prob,” Holden said.

No prob.

Here was hoping.

“Places, everyone!” Ingrid called—and here went nothing.

Much Ado about Nothing was great.

Of course it was. Maya’s plays always were. She knew how to tell a story. How to keep you interested. And her shows often had flashes of humor you didn’t see coming—kind of like her.

Law often needled Maya about her penchant for Shakespeare, but he supposed there was a reason the dude endured all these hundreds of years later. As with every Shakespeare play Law saw, it took a while to adjust. When a messenger came running onstage to open the play, panting and talking about lions and lambs, he thought, as