It Really IS a Wonderful Life: The Snowflake Falls but Hearts in Love Keep a Home Warm All Year Long (2 page)

“Have you done much theater, Zeke?”

“I’m in just about every play. Midville Players doesn’t have that many men, so I always get a part.”

Dorie smiled. For all his size, Zeke’s friendliness was a balm she desperately needed. He pointed to the far right corner. “That’s Danny Riley, the director. Evie’s the properties manager, but she often promotes herself as the assistant director. Danny likes getting new people involved, so you’re practically guaranteed some kind of part …”

Zeke droned on about the Midville Players while Dorie’s eyes zoomed in on Danny, whose near-black hair and yellow Oxford shirt set him apart from the flannel-clad men skirting nervously back and forth. An aura of confidence surrounded him as he sorted through a stack of papers. Even his diction demanded attention, his consonants accentuated with the precision of a Shakespearean actor.

“He’s a real asset to our theater group. He’s a playwright as well as a professional actor. Even played Hamlet on Broadway.”

Dorie glanced back toward Danny who owned a self-assured gait—not pompous, but rather purposeful. A picture-perfect, model-handsome man in Midville? She thought men like that existed only in fairy tales. She blushed at his allure.

“Danny’s not from Midville?”

“He was born here and came back two years ago with his wife and kids. Our version of
Welcome Back, Kotter
.”

Wife and kids?
Dorie’s cheeks heated. Though Danny might be out of circulation, she’d noticed him, even held a vague romantic fantasy for a brief moment, the first since Devon had died. There was hope in that. Hope she might be ready to date again. As quickly as she held the hope, guilt squashed it. How could she think of a romance? It’d only been a year.

Dorie breathed fresh resolve. “Thanks for the intell’, Zeke. I’d better get one of those forms before it’s too late.”

Gestapo Woman rose from her chair as Dorie approached, her vaporous demeanor a wall of resistance. Dorie’s five-foot-four-with-pumps frame shadowed beneath Evie’s five-ten-with-flats height shadowed Dorie’s five-foot-four-with-heels frame. The woman hadn’t looked that tall from the other room. She glared at Dorie as if she were a plate of lima beans. Would Evie spit her out or swallow her whole?

“You’re late.”

Great! Rejected before she’d even had the chance to make a fool of herself. Mom always said the best way to deter a sour spirit was to offer a smile and a compliment.

“Evie, right?”

She nodded.

“I see you’re very efficient. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I arrived early, but I didn’t know I had to fill out an audition form. May I please have one?”

Chapter Two

Jamey clicked his pen as he studied the audition form.

Every few minutes Evie had glanced his way, her eyebrows moving up and down in a grotesque attempt to flirt. He ignored her overtures, although she had her good points—almost attractive except for being thin, even thinner than he was, so thin she’d get lost behind a flagpole. Evie seemed all business, but he liked the unpredictable in a woman. Humorless, she tended to turn even the simplest tasks into a process. Definitely not his type.

Then again, what was? He hadn’t dated in over a year.

Not for lack of opportunity. There were lots of available, attractive women in Midville. Why take the risk? Small-town girls came with small-town visions, content with picket fences and brick houses. Not the life Jamey Sullivan pictured for himself. He wanted more. If he became romantically involved now, he’d have to break it off when he returned to the Big Apple - his personal end of the rainbow.

Jamey returned to completing his form. He scribbled his usual curt responses. Besides Danny Riley, no one in Midville came close to Jamey’s credentials. Ridiculous to keep stating the obvious. Danny gave Jamey meaty, supporting roles, roles requiring depth and empathy, roles he much preferred, like Quasimodo or Cyrano de Bergerac.

Evie’s squeaks brought him to attention. “I suppose I could let you fill one out, but you’ll have to give it to Danny yourself.”

Jamey studied the blonde Shirley Temple. Anyone tussling with Evie had to be either brave or naïve. The woman had been Midville High’s debate champion four years in a row. Should he play Gawain and rescue the fair maiden from the dragon’s claws? He handed the dragon his incomplete form. “Evie, would you be a doll and give this to Danny after you hand this nice lady a form to fill out? Danny knew I’d be late … business meeting at the store.” Evie’s eyes rolled but she gave the stranger a form, then stomped into the main room with Jamey’s paperwork.

He turned his attention to the poor woman left trembling in Evie’s wake. In an effort to appear nonchalant he took off his ski jacket, slung it over his shoulder, then bowed. “James Paul Sullivan at your service, but my friends call me Jamey.”

She held the questionnaire out like a ticking bomb, her eyes wide with terror. “Dorie Fitzgerald.”

“It won’t explode, I assure you.”

She flashed a grin that set off deep dimples. Not a flirtatious smile exactly, but alluring all the same. He should say something more, engage her in conversation—not his best skill, as ineffective as his flirting. He should take lessons from Gabe Wellington, who could charm the quills off a porcupine. “Don’t let the form thing scare you. Only a formality. I’d be glad to help you with it if you’d like.”

Her dimples disappeared behind a mask of stone. “You said your name is James Paul Sullivan?”

“Yes.”

She squared her shoulders. “I’m quite capable of filling out a form, but thank you for the offer.” She turned around and steamed like an engine toward the main room.

What had he said to offend her?

But if she never spoke to him again, it might be for the best. Although he was attracted to her, this was not the time for him to date anyone. He had far too much uncertainty shrouding his life right now.

On to matters at hand, Sullivan.

He sauntered into the audition area of the main room, surprised to see Dorie sitting next to Zeke, whose mound of flesh spread over a kid’s chair like melted mozzarella. Why would a girl that cute be with Zeke? Jamey’s conscience seared with his unkind thought, perhaps prompted by a bit of jealousy given Dorie’s hasty retreat a moment ago. Zeke was a good man with a heart as big as his frame. Why shouldn’t he have a girlfriend as pretty as Dorie?

***

Dorie plunked into a child-sized chair next to Zeke. The nerve of that Jamey Sullivan, flirting with her after sending her a rejection letter. It had to be the same name as on the letter. Midville was a small town. He’d seemed cute, though, especially his smile. He reminded her of Emma’s Cowboy Bob doll. She clicked her pen and began filling out the form as if it were a job application. She’d completed at least twenty of them since moving to Midville. Name, address, phone number - these she could handle. The second part asked for availability times. Easy. “Whenever,” she clucked as she wrote the single word in the large space provided. Some people in Midville must have a life.

Zeke glanced her way and said, “You talkin’ to me?”

“No, to the Man Upstairs, but sometimes I wonder if He’s home.”

Zeke laughed. “Oh, He’s always home, but sometimes we don’t wait long enough for Him to answer.”

The next section asked for the desired part. She had watched the movie every year and could recite most of it verbatim. “Whatever.” She choked on her own saliva at the last section. “List your previous roles, including those with Midville Players.”

Discretion reared and flailed its hoofs. She should get her coat and leave now—save herself time, trouble, and terror. She tucked the audition form into her pants pocket, then sped toward the coat rack in the hall. That Sullivan man leaned against it like an appendage.

“Leaving already?” Understanding oozed from his inquisition, his eyes probing as if he understood her fear and was kind enough to skirt the issue.

Dorie pulled her coat from the hanger and draped it over her shoulders while he took a step back and crossed his arms. Something in his oval brown eyes, slightly hidden behind Ben Franklin-style glasses, hinted more than polite interest.

“Why don’t you hang around a little longer? If you’re in a hurry, I’ll tell Danny you have to be someplace and he’ll let you audition first.”

First? Please, no!
“I’m not going anywhere. Just came out to get my coat. It’s a little chilly in there.”

Jamey smiled. “Welcome to the North Country. At least I’m assuming you’re not from here. I’ve lived in Midville all my life, and I pretty much know everyone in town.”

“I moved here in June.”

A flannel-jacketed man bustled into the hall. “Hey, Jamey, Danny wants to get going.” This guy had no projection problems.

Jamey raised his hand in acknowledgement. “Be right in, Dave,” he said, then turned to help her put on her coat. “Please stay. You’ll be glad you tried out. Our last production was
Ten Little Indians
. They cast me as the Australian because my British accent is the pits. Irish I can do, but no one will ever accuse me of being to the manor born.”

Dorie gasped. “Will I have to do an accent?”

“I don’t think so.”

Should she go or stay?

“Do you want me to give your form to Danny?”

Why did he have to be so nice? He’d rejected her once already and she didn’t want to like him. Didn’t he even remember doing so? Yet like a landscape drawing one in for a closer look, her dislike ebbed with each smile he gave her. She handed him her uncompleted form.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Dorie followed Jamey into the audition area. He graciously folded it without peeking, then zigzagged through the crowd to where Danny sat. The two talked as if they were lifetime friends, a warm scene.

Will I ever find that comfortableness with anyone from Midville besides my parents?

Dorie looked for Zeke, who mingled on the other side of the room. Great, abandoned by Sulu the Great without so much as
sayonara
. She leaned against the wall as Danny Riley took center floor, her heart only flipping once this time.

“Thanks for coming, everyone. What a great turnout—better than I’d hoped. We’ll read in a group tonight. I might need to do callbacks for the leads; otherwise I’ll notify every one of their assigned parts within three days. Jamey, Evie, and Zeke—come on up. Begin with the opening scene.” As they read, Danny sat at a desk and wrote on their audition sheets. “Mrs. Davidson, would you come up, too?”

Dorie pinged her forehead. The lady from Mom’s church. That was her name. Gillian Davidson. Best tuck it away for future reference in case the tryouts came up in conversation Sunday.

Danny gave everyone a script. “Let’s read the scene where the town descends on the Savings and Loan.”

Jamey read the part of George Bailey with convincing professionalism, especially compared to Zeke and Evie’s more obvious amateur renditions. Then Danny switched scenes and had Jamey read Clarence, while Zeke and Evie took the leads. Evie as an ingénue? Not even in Midville. But Jamey, though much thinner and younger than the movie’s version, made a very believable Clarence.

Danny closed his script. As the first group took their seats, he picked out more forms. “Now I’d like Dorie Fitzgerald to come up.”

He called a few other names—names she’d never remember. She walked the imaginary plank to her doom while the rest of the group confidently sauntered forward, among them a shapely brunette with gyrating hips.

Danny handed all the readers a script. “Let’s go back to the first scene with the townspeople. Dorie, would you please take the part of Miss Andrews?” He spoke to the female Elvis next. “Susan, would you be the other townsperson for now?”

Susan flicked her long curls. “Whatever.”

Put the distraction aside. Focus on how someone might feel if they were about to lose every cent they owned
. Dorie remembered how Daddy had fumed at selling some stock at half what he had paid. As she read, she modeled Daddy’s anger.

“That’s good,” Danny said. “Thanks.” Sincerity covered his words of approval. Dorie took her seat feeling a little more confident than when she’d entered the building. Maybe the night wouldn’t be a disaster after all. She watched the remaining try-outs with reserved amusement. Like the dichotomy of wealth prevalent in the North Country, talent stood side-by-side with absurdity. Danny and Jamey huddled for a few minutes, and then Danny took center again. “That’s all for tonight. I’ll be in touch.”

The hopeful cast put on their coats. Some lingered to chat while others paraded to the parking lot. Dorie joined the latter group, their pace a little shy of a full gallop. She had done the best she could do, and Danny had seemed pleased. Now she’d have to wait for his call.

“You read well, Dorie.”

When had Jamey caught up to her?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you did a great job tonight.”

She’d accept the compliment, even though he didn’t think she was good enough to work in his store. She stammered an acknowledgement and resumed her brisk clip.

He kept pace. “I’ll probably see you at read-through next week.”

“Read-through?”

“That’s when the cast gets together and runs through the entire script. Then we do the blocking over the next few rehearsals.”

“Blocking?”

“Don’t worry about the terms. You’ll catch on.”

He hesitated, as if waiting for a response. She should make a stab at being friendly, even though she still seethed a little at his unfeeling rejection letter.

Wait, Dorie
. You don’t know for sure he is the same James P. Sullivan or even if he’s connected to Bargains Galore. How many times had Mom told her she should always give people the benefit of the doubt?

“I liked your readings the best. I hope you get the part you want,” she said.

“Danny has already cast me as Clarence. I always get the oddball parts. Typecasting I guess.”

A brown-eyed typecast angel? Another reason to stay clear of Jamey Sullivan.

“Danny wants you to play Miss Andrews and help with publicity.”