She collected her thoughts once and for all. He was just a guy. A gorgeous, famous guy, but still just a guy—and surely a more mature, better behaved guy than the one who’d tried to get her to buy beer for him and the other underage players and embarrassed her in front of the entire cast.

And who was currently standing next to her, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

“There’s a new café down by the river. It’s very nice.” She was surprised to hear how calm her voice sounded. Yeah, I go out for coffee with movie stars who once had a crush on me all the time.

“Let’s go there, then,” he agreed. “Can I give you a ride?”

“Oh ... sure. I left my car downtown and just walked up from the market.”

“Perfect!”

Like a gentleman he opened the passenger side door and she slipped in, her heart pounding unreasonably as he slid in beside her a moment later and started the engine.

“The café’s on Main between Ash and Birch, but the farmer’s market is on, so there’s not much parking. There are probably some spots near campus.”

“Sure.” He shifted into the next gear.

“Oh, and I won’t be able to stay all that long. It’s Charlotte’s prom tonight, so we’re doing things like getting her hair and her nails done.”

“Charlotte, your daughter?” Chris frowned. “She can’t go to the prom, she’s four!”

Joy laughed. “Tell me about it. But no, she’d old enough to date, and drive and join the army ... madness, I tell you.”

Chris made a face. “Geez, I’m not sure if I like to think of her doing any of those things. Victor said she’s into acting, though?”

Joy smiled with pride. “Yes, she’s been in some high school productions. She had one of the lead roles in Hedda Gabler fall semester. She was really good.”

“Like mother, like daughter,” he said graciously. “How about you, still acting?”

“Oh ... not for a while. I had a couple roles after Much Ado, but ...” But it was never the same, she almost said. But she didn’t. “I guess you’re acting, though!” she said brightly, glad to deflect the conversation away from herself. “Congratulations. It’s really exciting to see you making it big.”

He gave a modest laugh. “Yeah, well. I’ve had some lucky breaks.”

She turned to look at him. He was keeping his eyes firmly on the road and didn’t look at her. If she’d been prepared to see him at all, she would have expected a cockier version of the cocky kid he’d been. But now that he was legitimately successful, he seemed almost humble. Maybe the tabloids exaggerated his rowdy trouble-maker reputation ... or flat-out lied.

She could hope.

“It’s more than just luck,” she said quietly. “You’re really talented.”

He took his eyes off the road long enough to give her a grateful smile.

“Thanks,” he said, pulling into a parking space alongside the campus quad and looking more serious. “Victor was a good teacher. I’ve had a bunch of acting coaches since then, but he was one of the best. If it hadn’t been for him, I never would have even considered acting professionally.” He took the key out of the ignition and looked at her. “I really want to pull this off for him.”

She nodded. “Victor and Simon have been really good friends to me too. Especially over the past year or so. So, yeah, let’s make this happen.”

“Let’s do it.”

They were both silent for a moment, the weight of Victor’s illness hanging over them.

Abruptly, Chris opened his door. “Stay there,” he ordered. The solemn moment was gone.

He got out of the car and jogged around to the passenger side to open her door.

“It seems your manners have improved, though I wouldn’t have known it from the tabloids,” she said smartly as she got out of the car.

“Oh, Joy, don’t tell me a smart girl like you reads the tabloids?” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “I expected better.”

“Cafe’s this way,” she said, turning him down the street. “We all have to stand in supermarket lines once in a while. Every time you get in a punch up, I can’t avoid you.”

“I’ll have to get in punch ups more often, then, if it brings me into the warmth of your bright orbit.”

Lifting his elbow ostentatiously, he offered her his arm. She ignored him for several steps, but he kept his arm held out, smiling slyly at her. If she took it, she’d have to walk through the farmer’s market, past dozens of people she knew, leaving them all to gossip about what she was doing with Chris McPherson. If she didn’t take it, he was quite capable of holding his elbow out at a goofy angle all the way to the cafe just to make her look silly ... which would attract even more stares and gossip.

She took it. Without wanting to, her mind registered the soft fabric of his jacket and the firm muscle beneath it. He pulled his arm down, tucking her hand against his side. It felt surprisingly natural.

“I hope you didn’t pay for that bit of dialogue,” she said drily.

“All mine, I’m afraid. Can’t help it. You bring out the hack writer in me.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied absently. She caught a glimpse of Bunny Doyle, one of her tennis partners, turning away from a plate of raw cheese samples to stare. And there was Karen Pennyworth, who’d taught Charlotte in fifth grade; she gave them a faint, curious smile.

It was no secret that Chris McPherson had grown up in the area and had gone to college at Falls State. The more famous he’d gotten, the more people remembered him as a young man. The sitcom he’d starred in, Campground, about a park ranger who smoked a lot of dope, was wildly popular with the current crop of students. So maybe it wasn’t a complete surprise that he’d be strolling through the farmer’s market on a random Saturday in May.

But for Joy Albright to be strolling along arm in arm with him through the farmer’s market on a random Saturday in May ... that would be a complete surprise ... and it would have people talking about her all over again.

She suppressed a sigh and tried to keep a casual smile on her face. Hoping she didn’t look as self-conscious as she felt, she steered Chris to the Riverfront Café, letting out a breath of relief as they stepped over the threshold to the chime of the little bells over the door.

The café was crowded, but a couple of the smaller tables toward the back were empty.

“I’ll grab us a drink, you grab us a table,” Chris suggested. “Iced espresso?”

Against her will, she was impressed. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

She took a seat at a small table by the window that overlooked the river that flowed through the middle of town. A few minutes later he joined her, putting a frosty glass down on the table in front of her.

“I’m amazed you remembered,” she said.

“You were the first person I ever met who liked ice cubes in her coffee. It was the weirdest thing I’d ever encountered,” he said, sliding into the seat across from her. “It’s like how you never forget the first girl who asks you to do something really kinky.” He flashed her the cheeky smile that had helped make him famous.

There was the cockiness.

So this was how it was going to be. They were falling back into the flirty one-upmanship that had been the hallmark of their friendship thirteen years ago, him the comedian, her the straight man. It was fun, it was sweet, it was ... safe.

He wasn’t about to bring up their awkward last encounter—possibly he’d been so drunk he didn’t really remember it. And she wasn’t going to bring it up because, after all ... awkward.

A relationship based on friendly banter—she could do that.

She met his remark with a condescending lift of her eyebrows. “You think regular ice cubes are weird?” She tapped her glass. “Here, the ice cubes are made out of coffee. Gives it an extra kick.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively and pushed her straw toward him. “Try it.”

“Whoa, mama.” He lifted his hands up in mock surrender. “Pretty sure that’s banned in at least thirty states.” He nodded knowingly at her. “You may look all straight-laced, but I always knew you had a freaky side just waiting to come out.”

She allowed herself a smile but decided a little business was in order. “All right, hotshot, tell me about what you and Victor and Simon talked about,” she said.

“Yeah, Victor ...” Some of the humor faded from his face, and he filled her in quickly on what the three of them had discussed. “How bad are things? Financially, I mean,” he added quickly.

Good. She didn’t want to talk about Victor’s health, but he must have figured out already that there wasn’t any hope.

She shrugged. “Not ... great. Not if we want to put on a play this summer, anyway. The biggest expense is stipends for the actors. Victor’s always insisted that everyone get paid, even if it isn’t a lot.”

Chris smiled reminiscently. “First money I ever made as an actor. $500. Seemed like a lot at the time.”

“We’re still paying each actor a $500 stipend, regardless of how big a role they play. It’s mostly symbolic, when you consider the amount of time everyone puts in, but it adds up. Any idea how many parts there are in Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

Chris looked thoughtful and silently counted on his fingers for a moment. “Close to twenty, I think.”

“I bet that was Simon,” she grumbled. “He loves big, splashy plays. Well, that’s about 10K right there.”

She began to go through the expense categories. “We also need money for advertising—newspaper and radio. Ideally, let’s say, $2000 for ads. We usually pay someone to design an image for us, and then we have to pay for posters, flyers and programs. Between one and three thousand there, probably. Costumes ... Simon always wants to spend more than we should, but I have to say, it may be worth it—his designs really get attention. We’ve got a bunch of old costumes stored at their house, but whether they’re right for this production or not—we’ll have to see what Simon wants to do. I’m not sure what you want to do with the set or props. But there’s still a ton of stuff that’s perfectly useable. Falls State always let us rehearse on their stage and do a couple of performances there. Since Victor’s a professor and there isn’t too much else going on there over the summer, they don’t charge us, and it’s never been a problem to use the space.” She hesitated. “But I’m not sure how much longer that’s going to be the case.”

She was referring to what might happen after Victor died. Chris frowned, and she went on quickly. “But I think we’re covered for this year. We can’t perform at Laughing Vine Vineyard anymore. There’s a new owner and she wants to keep the property available for weddings and paying events. We can’t afford it. So it’s the park and the theater, now.”

He nodded. “Well, it doesn’t sound like the money will be a problem. I can donate whatever you need.”

She dropped her eyes back to her coffee. “Thank you, but ...”

“But what?” he probed. “I can afford it.

“We’ll take your money, rich boy, don’t worry about that. But the thing is,” she paused, looking for the right words, “what we really need is community support. We need people to feel invested in the Players. The last three years, Victor and Simon haven’t been able to do nearly as much outreach as they have in the past. Donations went down, but even worse, attendance went down. We could get it up again with enough advertising, but ...” Joy paused and gazed out at the river for a moment. “Victor’s always wanted this to be a community theater, he really wants it to be a local, grassroots kind of thing, where everyone has a chance to be involved if they want. If you want to make a donation to kick us into gear for this season, that would be great, but I really want to focus on getting the community to support it.”

Chris nodded earnestly. “Buy-in. I get it. Well, whatever money you need for now, just ask. And you’ll help me out, right? ’Cause I’ve never actually done anything like this.”

She studied his expression. He really did look a little worried. Was he really insecure about taking this on or was he just reeling her in with those phenomenal acting skills?

Did it matter? Wild horses couldn’t drive her away from this project.

She gave him a wry smile and thought of Harv’s suggestion that she take some time off. “Lucky for you I’ve got time on my hands. Plus I’d do anything for Vic and Simon.”

“To Victor and Simon,” he said, and he clinked his hot coffee to her cold one.

“To Victor and Simon,” she agreed, her smile softening. “Okay, boss. Where do we start?”

“Your first job, Gal Friday, is to help me find a place to stay for the summer.”

In a brief moment of insanity, she’d been tempted to offer him a room at her house. She had plenty of space, after all. She’d argued in the divorce to keep the house until Charlotte graduated from college, the logic being that Charlotte could attend Falls State tuition-free, thanks to Joy’s job, and live at home, so they wouldn’t have to pay room and board.

Charlotte, being Charlotte, of course, had made other plans. She’d gotten into Pomona College in California and had applied for enough scholarships that she had a virtually free ride.

At first, Joy had taken a grim satisfaction in forcing Scott to continue paying their mortgage and delay him getting his half of the house’s equity.

But now it was just one more thing that kept her tied to Scott and reminded her, daily, of how empty her life was. It had been too big and ostentatious even when Scott had lived with them. Now he was gone, and Charlotte was rarely home, preferring to be out with her friends if she wasn’t at school or at work. Joy had been left with a house with too much space and too much upkeep.

Perhaps, after Charlotte started college, she could look into getting a roommate, she thought, but offering a room to Chris now would have been a bad idea on several levels.

Instead, after they’d finished their coffee and engaged in some chit chat, she’d set him up with Eva Campbell, a friend she’d known for years. Like most real estate agents, Eva worked weekends. After a quick call, Joy had walked Chris over to Eva’s office and introduced the two of them. She’d left him in Eva’s capable hands, and he’d promised to be in touch soon about the Players.

It wasn’t unusual for Charlotte to sleep until noon on weekends—Charlotte’s sleeping habits were the source of many an argument—so Joy let herself into the house not expecting to see her. When her daughter rounded the corner and almost walked into her, she gave a little scream.

Equally startled, Charlotte gave a scream back and the two of them looked at each other accusingly.

“You scared me!” Joy grumbled. She pushed past Charlotte and put a reusable grocery bag of produce on the kitchen counter. “Since when are you up before lunchtime on a Saturday?”

Charlotte was still in her pajamas, her long red hair a tangle of curls, and her face still puffy from sleep. She bounced behind Joy and seated herself at the counter with an energy she rarely showed before noon.

“Since when do you complain if I’m up before lunch on a Saturday? Okay, Mom, this is serious. I need to know—were you just at the Farmer’s Market with Chris McPherson?” she asked, her voice low with barely contained excitement.

Joy huffed a sigh and began pulling vegetables out of the bag. “I swear to God, the gossip in this town—”

“Cat says her mom swears she saw you walking past Hartmann’s ice cream stand holding Chris McPherson’s hand.”

“For heaven’s sake, I was not holding his hand—”

Charlotte almost fell off her chair. “But you were with him? Oh my God, Mom! What’s going on?”

Joy laughed. Her almost-high-school graduate looked like a little kid again, staring at her eagerly from beneath her messy red hair. “Victor and Simon asked him to come back over the summer to direct the summer Shakespeare play. They figured he might help get them some attention.”

“I’ll say, but that doesn’t explain why you were making out with him at the Farmer’s Market.”

“I was not—”

“Kidding, Mom.” Charlotte grinned at her. “You didn’t bring me any of that amazing iced coffee from Riverfront, did you?” She batted her sleepy eyes appealing at Joy.

Joy rolled her eyes. “You want coffee from Riverfront, you could get up at a reasonable hour and come with me.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes back. “But then I’d have to go to your spin class and your yoga class, and your vegetable shopping, and I would have been a bit of a damper on your make-out session with the movie star, wouldn’t I?”

Joy opened the fridge, pulled out the crisper drawer and began shoveling tomatoes into it. “There was no make-out session. We met up at Victor’s house, then walked through the farmer’s market to Riverfront. We had coffee and talked about the Players. That was about it. He asked after you.”

Charlotte clutched her chest dramatically. “Oh my God, Chris McPherson asked after me!”

Joy narrowed her eyes at Charlotte, unable to tell how serious she was being.

“I hope you told him I’m totally hot and available.”

Joy put the eggplant into the crisper for good measure. “Good Lord, Charlotte. You’re half his age.”

“I’m just kidding, Mom. He’s all yours. It’s beneath my dignity to get into a cat fight with my own mother. OH MY GOD, MOM!”

“What?” Joy stepped back in alarm.

“Were you wearing Muffy hair when you had coffee with him? Mom, please, no more Muffy hair!” Charlotte reached over and pulled Joy’s headband out of her hair in one swift motion.

Joy sighed in relief and exasperation. “Muffy hair”—wearing her hair back in a hairband—was an ongoing source of horror to Charlotte. “Charlotte, for heaven’s sake, you frightened me! Give me back the headband.”

“No. You can’t be trusted with it. Do you realize you just put all the tomatoes and an eggplant in the fridge?”

Joy pressed her lips together in annoyance. She was ordinarily very particular about where things went. “Quit changing the subject. Give me my headband.”

Charlotte snorted. “You’ve got it bad, Mom. And no more headbands for you.” She yawned. “It’s so early. I may have to go back to bed. When do I get to meet Chris?”

Joy shrugged helplessly. She couldn’t deny Charlotte the chance to meet Chris again. Whatever his faults, he’d been quite sweet with her when she was four and had tagged along at rehearsals. “You can’t go back to bed. You have a prom to get ready for, remember? Anyway, we’ll be holding auditions in a couple of weeks. You could try out.”

Joy kept her voice casual because Charlotte had a funny habit of doing the opposite of anything that she suggested. But she had been brilliant in Hedda Gabler, and Joy hoped she’d give the stage another shot.

“Mm ...” Charlotte was noncommittal. “I was thinking more like we could have him over for dinner.”

Joy gave her a sidelong glance. “A dinner in which several of your friends just happen to show up?”

Charlotte rolled her eyes at the obviousness of this statement. “Well, yeah. This is a major street cred op. Help me out here, Mom.”

“There’s another bag of groceries in the car. Why don’t you go get it?” Joy suggested.

Charlotte yawned again. “Oh fine, work me like a slave and dangle Chris McPherson in front of me like a carrot. I see what you’re doing there, Mom.” She slid off her stool and made for the garage.

Joy opened the refrigerator again and began taking out the tomatoes. Chris McPherson momentarily slipped from her mind as she contemplated the fact that Charlotte would be away at college in just a few months and Joy would be an official empty nester. It was an unbearably sad thought that seemed to mock her efforts at staying in shape, keeping a beautiful house, and pursuing her career.

None of those things were as important as Charlotte, and once she was gone, ready to pursue a life of her own, what was left for Joy?