Chapter Seven

Norah

I made it to the campus early. My theater class is from one to three o'clock, and it's my favorite class, for obvious reasons. But I also love the hustle and bustle of everyone during rehearsal season, the whole team working so hard to put on an amazing production.

We typically do two bigger programs, one in the fall or winter and one in the spring. When the department head, Dr. Andrews, approached me with his idea for a modernized Beauty and The Beast, I wasn't sure I'd be able to pull off designing the costumes he wanted. We spent countless hours pouring over Google searches, books, and catalogs until we finally found something that fit his vision. I went home that same night, locked myself in my house, turned on some music, and started sketching. I sketched until four in the morning. Naturally, I started with Belle. Beauty and the Beast was my favorite Disney movie as a child, but I've always loved fantasy and anything magical. There's just something about falling in love with a beast, someone filled with hatred and so much rage, and changing their heart. I sketched the opening scene—a cobbled French street with cafes lining the sidewalks, a car or two parked along the side, and bikes leaning up against bike racks. Belle is walking next to a flower vendor in a soft light blue sweater that hangs loosely off of one shoulder and light denim, artfully distressed jeans tucked into knee-high boots. Her long brown hair falls over her shoulder in a loose braid, and she's reading a book, naturally.

I'm so lost in my thoughts while sitting in the courtyard, that I don't even hear Layla come up beside me. "What are you daydreaming about, Norie?" she asks.

I start and let out a squeak. "Layla! Sorry, I was thinking about the production."

"What else is new?" she teases and sits down on the bench next to me.

"Ha!" I laugh. "Well, if you must ask, I skipped history this morning and had coffee with Eamon Kennedy,"

I hadn't planned on sharing that with anyone just yet, but I know that I can trust Layla to keep my secret for a little longer.

Her dark brows shoot up in shock. "What? Are you serious? Tell me more!"

I shrug and tell her about how Eamon scared the living daylights out of me, then offered to make it up to me with coffee. I even told her about how I made a complete fool of myself with the coffee and Guinness comment.

Layla laughed loudly at that. "You're kidding me! Wow, this guy must really be something for you to lose all of your inhibitions like that!"

"I have no idea what came over me!" I exclaim, rubbing my hands down my face.

"I do!" Layla says. "It sounds like our Norie has finally found someone who piques her interest."

I scowl at her.

"Don't say anything to the girls yet," I beg her. "I'm not ready for the onslaught of comments and questions. No doubt Myra will already have me sleeping with him."

"You know that's true. Myra has only one thing on her mind," Layla agrees with a laugh.

We chat for a few more minutes before heading our separate ways. When I walk into the empty theater, I head towards the stage, pulling my sketch pad from my bag and flipping to an empty page. I've found that the best way to clear my mind when I'm feeling overwhelmed is to pour it onto paper. This time, I start sketching a dress that's long and flowing with a small train on the back. It has a sweetheart neckline with a tight-fitting bodice covered in delicate lace. The skirt is a soft A-line, and I'm imagining a lightweight fabric that shifts easily with the wearer. It's simple and beautiful.

"That looks an awful lot like a wedding dress, Norah." I hear from behind me.

I turn quickly to see Macie standing there. "Sheesh, Macie. You scared me!"

Pathetic. That's the third time today someone has snuck up on me and made me jump.

"Sorry! I wanted to see what you were sketching. It's beautiful. Are you making wedding gowns now?" Macie asks.

I pause to think about that. I'd never considered making wedding gowns before, but the thought intrigues me. I always said I would make my own wedding dress someday—not that I'm even entertaining the idea of getting married. Dr. Andrews walks in and I realize the room filled up while I was sketching away, completely oblivious to my surroundings.

"Attention, everyone! Attention!" he calls, hands cupped around his mouth. "Today, we are going to work on Act Two, Scene One. Where are my villains?"

This scene always makes me uncomfortable, so I usually sneak back to the costume room and work on the outfits for whatever scene is next. Creating costumes for the villains was easy enough; they're donned in black hoodies and black pants. It wasn't hard to create this scene: Belle walking through Central Park at night alone. She had just stormed out on the Beast after a quarrel and needed some air, unexpectedly finding herself surrounded by men with ill intentions. Knowing it could be a trigger, Dr. Andrews changed the villains to muggers instead.

I wander over to the rack of costumes for the next scene when Belle and Beast start to realize their feelings for each other. I let the colors from the Disney film influence these designs. Belle will be wearing a light pink hooded sweater with leggings. Her hair will be half up with soft curls framing her face. Beast will be in a white shirt with a denim jacket, complete with a bruised eye gallantly acquired while protecting Belle from her attackers. This was always my favorite part of any story, when the couple escapes from a dangerous situation and realizes that life is too short to not love each other.

I'm confident the costumes are all set for this scene, as most of the items were found in the actors' own closets. The attire for the ballroom scene will be the most time-consuming to make, but thankfully, my team is amazing, and we've never missed a deadline. However, Dr. Andrews is demanding so much more with this production. He wants it to dazzle and stay in the minds of the viewers forever. I spent over a week sketching ideas for this scene and none of them dazzled. Eventually, I approached Andrews about an entirely new idea for that scene. Rather than keeping the traditional ballroom scene, we could change it to a garden party that included not just Belle and Beast dancing together, but other couples as well. The women would be wearing dresses resembling different types of flowers. He loved it immediately. My sketches began to flow like water after that. Roses, calla lilies, peonies, hydrangeas. Each one came naturally to me, which wasn't surprising as I was raised by a mother who was an avid gardener. She had some of the most beautiful flower beds in the whole Midwest, and I easily brought Mom's garden to life on paper. Andrews raved over each one, stating it was some of my best work. Creating it on the department's budget would be the difficult part.

* * *

I'm walking back across campus when I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. Fully expecting it to be one of the girls, I don't even look at the caller ID and just answer with, "Yes, my love?" Then wait for one of my friends to start prattling.

"Well then, lass. I hadn't realized we were declaring ourselves today, or I might have planned a better speech."

I gasp, nearly dropping the phone, as my heart starts galloping in my chest. "Eamon?"

"The one and only. I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" he inquires.

Why is he calling me? How did he get my number? Why are my hands so sweaty?

"Uh, no. I'm just on my way home. How did you get my number?" I ask, surprised that I'm not outraged that he has it.

"Ah, you can thank Paddy O'Nelly for that," he explains.

I should have known. Who else would have my number that knows Eamon as well?

"I see. What can I do for you, then? Is Pat okay?" I ask, suddenly worried.

"Aye, fit as a fiddle," he says, his deep brogue doing more than just reassuring me that my favorite pub owner is okay. His warm voice reverberates down my spine. "But it is because of him I'm calling. Would you be interested in coming back in for dish duty on Wednesday night? Our dear Paddy has an out-of-town appointment and needs the extra coverage. I offered to make stew and wondered if you wouldn't mind helping out?"

Dare I say he sounds…hopeful?

"I don't see why I couldn't. What time should I be there?" I ask, feeling as giddy as a schoolgirl.

"He said the dinner rush starts around seven. Can you be there then?"

"Absolutely!" I nearly shout, then take a deep breath before adding, "I mean, yeah, of course. Seven is great."

There's a low chuckle in response. "Great. Thanks a million, Norah. You're a gem."

"Sure, anytime. Can't wait!" I say a little too enthusiastically.

"To wash dishes?" he asks, clearly amused.

"Uh, well, no. Just…uh…happy to help out. That's all."

Real smooth, Norah. I slap my hand to my forehead.

"Right," he says, seemingly unconvinced. "I'll see you then. Have a good day, love."

My brain short circuits. Love. He called me love. I know that's a common phrase in Ireland, but damn. I like the way it sounds rolling off of his tongue.

"You too," I choke out.