Chapter 17

17

MARIGOLD

" I can't believe you wrote all of this in a few days," Scarlett gushed, and I couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable.

It hadn't taken me that long to write it. Maybe it wasn't good. "It just came to me."

"It makes for a fun yet festive holiday play with a lesson in the end. It's the trifecta. What do you think, Chance?" Scarlett asked him.

"I can't believe you can come up with a storyline."

"You probably don't use your imagination often. It's a muscle that expands the more you use it," I said sounding, like the book nerd I was. Chance was led by a strict set of rules and almost never went outside those parameters. It made believing in something bigger than you nearly impossible.

"I'll have to take your word for it," Chance said with a smile.

"You think we'll have enough time to pull this one off? I'm not sure we'll be able to do much set design," I told Scarlett.

"I already had the Fletchers working on general set design that we could use in any play."

I raised a brow. "Wow. I had no idea you were doing that."

"Eli said it made good business sense, so we didn't have to create new sets each time." Scarlett began moving around the stage. "They're working on steps—a grand staircase, if you will—that can be moved around. We can decorate the sides and banisters with garland and lights." Scarlett moved to the edge of the stage. "The tree will go here, and it makes sense for a fireplace along the wall just before it with stockings hanging. This is where they hope to see Santa, and it's away from the main stage area where the adults and the rest of the cast will be hanging out."

"Who will be the parents?" I wondered out loud.

"Eli and I can do it."

I raised a brow. "I didn't realize Eli could act."

Scarlett shrugged. "There's a first time for everything. I've been so busy with kids' classes, I haven't started one for adults yet. When we do, we'll have a bigger pool of actors to draw from. But for right now, Eli will do in a pinch. I'll work with him in the evenings."

Chance grunted.

I assumed he was thinking about them practicing love scenes together.

"We'll need to do a quick audition this week to see who would be best in which role. I have an idea of who could work, but it wouldn't hurt to hold open auditions so that we get the best kid for the part. Sometimes, kids hold back because they're afraid to act freely in front of friends."

"Maybe have each kid come on the stage without an audience. Just you," I suggested.

Scarlett snapped her finger. "I love that idea. I'll handle the auditions. Eli will coordinate the set design with the Fletchers."

"The costumes can be holiday pajamas, slippers, and Church outfits for the party."

"No need for swords or spears?" Chance teased.

Scarlett shook her head. "Not this time. The kids will be disappointed. We'll have to do the castle one this spring. I could see the kids having a blast with something medieval. We'd have swords, knights, and battles."

I held up my hands. "Focus, Scarlett. We have a holiday play to put on in a few weeks."

"We don't have a title." Scarlett lifted the script. "You just wrote A Christmas Play on it. I'm assuming that's just a placeholder?"

"I couldn't settle on the perfect one. The Magic of the Holidays. Catch a Santa. Believe in Magic. " I ticked off the few I'd thought of. Nothing had struck me as being the one.

"I actually like The Christmas Play ," Chance said simply without an explanation. "It doesn't give anything away about the plot."

"That's a risky move, but it does have a certain ring to it." Then Scarlett turned to me. "This is your play. What do you think?"

"It's the one that's always at the top of my page, so it's stuck with me."

"For now, we'll go with The Christmas Play. We have a few more days to think about it. I know that Eli wants to get the tickets sales going here soon."

Chance sat on the edge of the stage. "It's good to see this place being used again. It sat empty for so many years."

Scarlett nodded. "It's what the previous owners wanted for this place, and now that Eli is pursuing it to be named an historical site, no one will be able to turn it into something that doesn't fit the history of the building."

"I can't imagine walking down the street and not seeing the old ticket window." It was a symbol of the history of the town.

Chance made a move to leave. "I'll let you two keep working. I just wanted to stop in and see your progress."

"How did you even know we'd be here tonight?" Scarlett asked.

"Marigold must have said something about it when I checked in with her about Oakley."

"Oh, I almost forgot. How is the little guy?" Scarlett asked me.

"You wouldn't even know he had a scare. He's happy as can be, and the food is all tucked away in upper cabinets."

Chance hopped off the stage. "I still need to stop by and fix that one cabinet that won't shut."

"Oh, that's not necessary." I hoped Scarlett couldn't see right through us.

"I'll see you two later," Chance said as he walked up the aisle, and I forced myself not to watch him go. It was nice that he stopped in, but pretending we were just friends was difficult.

Maybe I wasn't the one for him. When the right person came along, he'd change his plans for her. That idea struck at the most insecure part of me. The one that said if I wasn't good enough for my parents, I'd never be enough for anyone.

A ll week, I was busy between work and the play. I was in the theater most days helping Scarlett and Eli plan everything. We'd settled on set design, and Scarlett was going to handle shopping for additional holiday decorations.

I'd stayed up late writing the ending we'd discussed. I realized that Chance was right; any one of the endings I'd thought of could work. It didn't really matter which one we chose. I just had to believe in myself that I could write something compelling.

The problem was, Scarlett kept pushing me to take my plays to the local school. I finally gave in one day during my lunch break, and sent an email to the principal asking him to forward it to the person in charge of the music department.

The high school had a great program, but I wasn't sure how robust the elementary and middle schools were.

Once the email was sent, I was anxious to hear a response. Scarlett thought schools would interested because my stories were fresh. But I wasn't so sure.

As the days went on, I assumed I wouldn't hear anything. Teachers were busy, and I was positive a spring play wasn't necessarily on their radar before Christmas break. I sent a sample of a script that didn't have a lot of set requirements. The schools would need something that could be acted out with minimal props.

Chance stopped by most evenings after work if it wasn't too late. There were a few evenings where he seemed to work all day and then late into the night. I didn't think that was sustainable, but it wasn't my place to criticize his choices.

I enjoyed every minute I got to spend with him, grateful he hadn't decided we shouldn't be seeing each other. But it felt like our time was limited. We were living in this dream world, where nothing seemed real.

We worked together when we were alone in my house. But it didn't escape my attention we'd never been to Chance's place. I didn't even know what it looked like. I assumed he'd chosen his property because of its location outside of town. He wanted privacy. But I'd hoped that he didn't want that from me.

Whenever I was feeling insecure, I wondered if it was because he wasn't serious about me. He saw me as this fling that would eventually end. There was no point in getting any deeper or including me in his real life. I'd never been invited to his house. Was it intentional or merely more convenient to hang at my place?

I'd noticed he'd taken to parking several blocks away and walking to my house. I didn't like that either. I wanted to shout from the rooftops that we were together, but he wanted to keep us hidden. Eventually, I was going to have to say something. But I wasn't ready to do that yet. I wasn't ready to let go of what we had.

He knocked on my door late at night and almost immediately started kissing me. There wasn't much time for conversation or reflection. After a round or two of mind-blowing sex, we'd fall asleep. Most mornings, I woke alone.

Either he'd been called into work, or he didn't want to be here when the sun rose. I tried not to let that bother me. I tried to think of it as having a dream boyfriend who only appeared at night, giving me orgasms, and leaving me feeling satisfied.

I wanted a boyfriend I could hold hands with walking down the sidewalk. I wanted to go out to dinner and proclaim to my friend that I was seeing her brother. I wanted townspeople to speculate about when we were getting engaged.

I wanted everything, and I was starting to think I deserved it. I wasn't the lonely, abandoned child of my parents. I was a beautiful, intelligent woman who deserved to be public with her boyfriend. I had nothing to be ashamed of.

I'd hoped that with time, he'd develop the feelings I had. But I wasn't so sure he'd let himself do that.

I was tired of maintaining my parents' home. So on Friday night, I took a deep breath and video called my parents. I wasn't sure why I was so nervous about talking to them. Maybe it was because I'd always let them take the lead on our relationship. I did whatever they asked. This was the first time I was taking charge of something.

When Mom answered, I panicked a little. It was too late to back down now. I never called them outside of our scheduled times.

Mom frowned "Marigold. Is something wrong?"

"I have something I wanted to talk to you about. Is Dad there? I want to include him on this."

"I don't know what could be so important." Mom huffed, but she walked into what looked like the living room and sat next to him. "Marigold wants to talk to us."

When Dad's face appeared on camera, I said, "I hope both of you are doing well."

"Is everything okay with you?" Dad asked, concern etched on his face.

I learned early on never to go to them if I needed anything. They didn't seem to want to hear it, and they were incapable of providing it. Love and care. "I want to talk to you about the house."

"Have you been going over there often?" Dad asked.

"I have twice a month, but I'm wondering why you're keeping it."

Mom looked at Dad. "I just assumed you'd want the house someday."

I thought they kept it because they wanted to eventually come home to visit. But they'd kept it for me? "Why would you think that? I own a house." Their house didn't hold good memories for me.

Mom shrugged. "I just assumed you'd want something bigger."

"I don't want the house. If that's why you're keeping it, I think you should sell it."

My parents were quiet for a few minutes. "If you're sure?"

"I thought you were keeping it for yourselves, but since you're not—" I couldn't' believe I'd maintained it all these years because my parents thought I wanted it.

They exchanged another look. "We can put it on the market. Would you mind cleaning it out?"

"I already removed all the things I wanted to keep." There wasn't much because my parents hadn't kept anything sentimental from my younger years. They were too practical for that. And I always suspected weren't capable of nostalgia.

"Oh. We didn't realize. Are you sure you don't want to keep the furniture?"

I sighed. I didn't want to be this honest with them, but they were leaving me no choice. "I have no interest in what's in the house." It wasn't like my parents had heirlooms that meant anything.

"We were thinking of buying a house in Arizona, so this works for us."

My parents sounded excited? Were they waiting for this to happen? For me to give them permission to find a new homebase? I didn't understand that, because they'd never done anything I wanted. "I'm happy this works for you."

Except inside, my stomach was rolling. My parents never intended to come back. We didn't have a close relationship, and now we never would. If I was holding out for something different to happen, I'd need to deal with that. But now on the phone with them, I couldn't let them see how much they hurt me.

"I'll work with a Realtor to list the house. But I need you to coordinate everything else. I'm helping Scarlett with a play, and it's a holiday production. My schedule is full."

"I didn't know you were doing that, dear," Mom said.

"I wrote the play. This is the second one of mine that's being performed."

Mom smiled. "That's wonderful."

There were no offers to come see it or questions about what it was about. That was too much detail for my parents. Everything with them was surface level.

"Well, we have pickleball starting soon. We have to let you go. See you soon."

I didn't bother asking if they'd come home for the holidays. I knew they wouldn't. They weren't even coming home to deal with the house.

Not for the first time, I wondered why they had me. I think they thought it was the next thing to do. You get married and have a kid. Then they realized they weren't capable of being parents. It interfered with their life in academia. As soon as they could, they moved away.

The realization that they kept the house for me and not for themselves bothered me. I wasn't one to wallow, but I'd give myself the night. I grabbed a carton of ice cream and sat on the couch with Oakley to watch sappy holiday movies.

At least I had Oakley to keep me company. If we were in a relationship, I would have called Chance, but we weren't, so I didn't.