The memorial service was held, appropriately enough, at the University Theater two weeks later. Joy was touched to see how many people were there; a couple hundred at least. Most of the cast from Midsummer Night’s Dream had made the effort. Charlotte had flown up from college the day before and was now sitting next to her in the shabby, velvet-covered seats. Cat, Zena and Moira sat just behind them. Moira had forgone the black lipstick and heavy eyeliner in favor of more natural makeup, looking younger, prettier and somewhat vulnerable as a result. Wyatt and Tracie sat near the front; Luke entered, and she saw him greet Krystal, but there were no empty seats near her and he went to sit by Rob.

Chris was there, of course. He’d arrived after she had, and she’d watched him sweep the audience with his gaze, looking, she knew, for her. Their eyes met and they exchanged brief smiles, but even as they did so, Brice and Doreen took the seats to her other side, filling her row, and Chris slipped into an empty seat in the front. Joy was aware of Charlotte glancing at her sideways, but neither of them said anything.

Joy turned instead to study Brice and Doreen sitting side by side, holding hands. Doreen dabbed her eyes and sniffed loudly as one by one, friends, relatives and colleagues got up on stage to share memories of Victor.

The speeches moved Joy, but she didn’t get up to give one herself. She listened instead, as Simon, Brice, and Luke and many others got up to share their best stories about Victor. Chris, naturally, gave a wonderful speech, funny, poignant, and inspiring, as he recounted the myriad ways that Victor had helped him grow as an actor, and as a person. Even Charlotte got up to talk about how Victor had helped her prepare for her role in Hedda Gabler and how the experience had given her a confidence she’d never had before. Throughout it all, Joy was moved, frequently to the point of tears, but she stayed in her seat.

“Don’t you want to say anything, Mom?” Charlotte whispered when she left the stage and slipped back into the seat beside her.

Joy shook her head. She had her own stories, of course, about how much the Players had meant to her, about how touched she’d been by Victor’s interest in Charlotte’s acting, by the dinners and tea and countless small gestures of kindness that he and Simon had shown her as her marriage had fallen apart in front of the entire town. But she had no desire to share them. It wasn’t fear of public speaking or of being seen and talked about. It was simply that she had experienced so many emotional highs and lows over the past two years, especially in the past three months; now she was at peace and content to observe without interacting. She knew in her heart that Simon—and Victor, wherever he was—would understand.

After the speeches, there was an on-stage potluck. Mourners went out to their cars and returned with casseroles, cakes and salads. Rob and Luke set up the same tables that had been used for the silent auction, and in just minutes, they were groaning with the weight of dishes and drinks.

It was a little like a cast party, Joy thought, glancing around at the assembled mourners as they collected their lunch and stood and sat in small groups recounting stories about Victor, referencing in-jokes about plays they’d been in with him, and catching up with mutual friends they hadn’t seen in months or years.

She wandered through the throng, greeting familiar faces, shaking hands, hugging and kissing, but never staying in one place for more than a minute or two. Finally, after reaching the table full of food, she filled a plastic cup with sparkling water, and turned to look for Chris, who was talking to Brice and Simon. She caught his eye and again they exchanged brief smiles. Not ready to face him in front of a crowd, she slipped into the wings, through the green room, and out the back door.

Behind her, the door swung shut and locked. She should have found something to prop it open, but it wouldn’t be a big deal to go around to the front of the building or one of the side doors.

It wasn’t raining, but the cool air was damp and the skies were low and grey, and there were few people around. She took in a deep breath of the cool air and leaned against the railing, appreciating the quiet campus.

Behind her, the door opened and Chris stepped out.

“Thought I might find you out here,” he said. He was dressed in a somber tailored suit, looking just as handsome but more serious and mature than usual.

She gave him a small smile. “Hi. I wasn’t feeling all that social,” she said.

“Oh. I’ll leave you alone, if you like—” He gestured at the door, but she shook her head.

“No, you’re fine. It’s locked now anyway. I enjoyed the speech you gave.”

“Thanks.” He put his hands in his pockets and shivered. “Hard to believe it was summer just a couple weeks ago.”

“Fall comes quickly in Oregon,” she observed, taking a sip of her water.

“What have you been up to?” he asked. His tone was nonchalant, but she could sense the hesitation in it, as if he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to hear what she had to say.

“Got Charlotte off to college. Of course, she came right back for this. I’ve been cleaning out the house—we have an accepted offer,” she said, looking out at the stretch of grass at the foot of the steps where fallen leaves had collected. “And I handed in my resignation a couple of days ago. I’m still working there part-time until they replace me, but the search is going well. I think they’ll find someone soon.”

“What are you going to do?”

She looked out onto the damp green lawn. She was in a holding pattern at the moment, hoping to find work that felt meaningful but willing to take her time about it. “Don’t know yet. I took a three-month lease on Professor Estrada’s house. I move in next week as soon as your lease is up. I figured it would give me time to think a bit.”

“No kidding?” His face lit up. “It’s a nice house. You got to watch out for the window in the bathroom, though. The latch is loose.”

She laughed softly. “I’ll be careful.” There was a pause. “How are things going for you?”

“Good.” He nodded. “Looks like we might have backing for Vanessa’s movie, the art film about the porn star.”

“That’s wonderful,” she said, sincerely happy for both him and Vanessa. “You’ll be in it?”

“Yeah. It’s a good role. I’m excited about it. And we’ll be starting shooting for Galactic Crusaders 2 in November. Won’t actually be out until the summer after next, though.”

She smiled warmly at him, pleased that things were going well.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, each of them looking out at the grey day.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking more about establishing that foundation we talked about.”

“Really?” She felt a spark of interest light up in her.

He nodded and turned slightly to stare up at the theater building. He put a hand on the old stone exterior. “Yeah, Sherri, my publicist, has been after me to do some good in the world anyway. I was thinking I’d like to name the foundation after my dad. I think he’d have liked the idea of helping out other artists.” Joy nodded her approval. “And I’d like to start here.” He slapped the damp brick wall. “Either renovate this old beast or knock it down and build a new one.” He looked at her, and she could see the seriousness in his eyes along with that hint of uncertainty. “Do you think that’s something your university would be interested in?”

She looked up at the theater towering above them, and the little spark he’d ignited grew into a small flame. She nodded slowly. “It hasn’t been a priority for them, but I don’t think they’d say no. It would probably be a couple million dollars at least, though, depending on whether we renovate or start from scratch.”

“I wonder if it would be possible to do a little of both,” he said, stepping back from the building to stand beside her. They both looked up at it. “I love the classic way it looks on the outside. You think we could just gut it and start fresh inside, bring the interior up to date, but leave most of the outside alone?”

She contemplated the old building. “We’d have to talk to some architects, but we did something similar a few years ago with the library. Of course, we’d have to make sure it was all up to code and the board would have to approve it, but …” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Would you like me to set up a meeting with Harvey Carmichael, my boss?” A sense of excitement that she hadn’t felt since the play ended was growing in her. She loved the idea of renovating the old theater, which had been home to so much laughter, tears, memories, and well, drama.

“I’d need your help, though,” Chris was saying. “I don’t know anything about running a foundation or even about making a donation. I mean, I don’t want to just write a check; I want to be involved. Not to like, run the show or anything,” he added quickly “Just to … you know, make sure it’s as good as it should be.”

“Yes, of course, of course,” she murmured, her mind racing ahead to the various possibilities, who they should consult, how to present it to Harvey, to the Board … Her face blossomed into a smile. “Victor would have loved this idea. How long will you be in town? We could meet Harvey on Monday.”

“I could totally stay through Monday,” he assured her. “Maybe if you’re free this afternoon or tomorrow, we could get together to talk about it more?”

He was no longer looking at the theater but at her, and she turned to meet his gaze. “Charlotte’s staying with me,” she said, “… but I think she’ll probably be spending time with her friends this evening.”

He grinned at her, turning on the world-famous charm. “Dinner, then?”

* * *

He’d been watching her, of course, waiting for a moment when he could approach her. He’d seen her slip quietly through the crowded theater, smiling politely but not really engaging with anyone. He’d trailed her through the green room, pausing just long enough to relish the memories that the shabby room held for him, before stepping outside into the fresh air, letting the door close behind him.

Now, at his suggestion of dinner, she dropped her eyes to the ground, but he could see the faintest hints of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Is this business or pleasure?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t see why it can’t be both,” he answered. “I mean, we should probably get used to mixing them. If you’re going to run my foundation for me, we’ll probably end up at a lot of events together. In fact, I was thinking it might even be a good idea for you to come to Indonesia with me. That way, we can work out all the details in person.”

She raised her eyes to his, suspicious but amused, and her eyebrows arched skeptically.

“But we’ll start with dinner,” he conceded. They looked at one another. “I’ve missed you, Joy,” he said quietly.

To his relief, she nodded. “I missed you too.”

He stepped closer. She didn’t back away but looked steadily up at him. Tentatively, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, pleased that she didn’t balk at the intimacy. She stepped into his arms and he instinctively wrapped them around her, happy to feel her relax against him, her cheek on his shoulder.

It wasn’t the time or the place to say all the things he wanted to say, to make all the promises that he wanted to make, but it was, perhaps, the time for them to take the first tentative steps toward starting again.