Breaking Ties (11 page)

“He’s been quiet,” she said. “We talked a little over lunch. I told him we got Mom set up at the Hyatt in Desden. He’s going to give her a call sometime this week and set up some kind of dinner or something for all of us. He thinks it’s a good idea to take a few days, let it sink in, and then give her what she came here for.”

“Yeah, that’s what we decided,” I said. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“I think … it is what it is, Mandy,” she said. “She’s here.”

I nodded. And with that nod, a small smile started to creep up my lip.

“What?”

“Did he say anything else over lunch?”

“Only that he’s going to wring your neck if you ever sneak out of the house again,” she said, smiling. “And he couldn’t even say that with a straight face. I almost think he wanted you to defy him.”

“No,” I promised. “Dad doesn’t play games. He wasn’t testing me.”

“He’s rooting for you, though. You know that right?” she said. “You and Gabe both. He loves that guy. I think you just caught him at a bad time.”

“All thanks to you.”

“So did you have a good time or not?”

“I did,” I said. “He picked me up. We had a quick breakfast at Maurine’s and then went off to the park to watch the sunrise.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“He kissed you, right?”

“No.”

“What do you mean
no
?”

“What else could I possibly mean?” I asked. “His lips didn’t touch mine. No kiss. None.”

“Yikes,” she said. “That can’t be good.”

“It’s moving slowly,” I assured her as I rolled off the bed. I made my way for the door. “And slow is okay. I’m okay with it.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Hey,” I said, stopping as I reached the threshold. “Things with Gabe are perfect. And no, it’s not moving as quickly as one would expect, and that’s
okay
.
”

“But—”

“Not everyone, dear sister, has to hide a boy in her closet just to keep the romance alive,” I smiled, and she turned to look at the closed door. “Good night.”

“Good night,” she said.

“And don’t forget to call Fletcher.”

“I won’t.”

“And good night to you, too, Jones,” I called playfully in the direction of the closet. I shut the door, hearing the lock click back in place almost immediately.

And then I smiled again.

She thought she was so clever.

Chapter Eleven

“And this,” Fletcher said, pointing to the large brick building at the edge of the student square, “is the William C. Dunham Performance Hall.”

“This is where Fletcher will probably spend most of his time here on campus,” I said, looking to his parents.

Mr. and Mrs. Wilson looked around the campus, their eyes darting from one majestic building to the next. Fletcher wasn’t kidding when he said they were nervous. His dad hadn’t said a word all morning, and with every landmark or building we pointed out, his mother kept wringing her hands and mumbling under her breath. I sensed little more than intimidation from his mother, while I felt that Mr. Wilson would become the biggest challenge of all. He didn’t seem to want, for his son, anything that Desden University could offer.

I put on my biggest smile and walked alongside my friend and his mother, and all the while his dad trailed a few feet behind us.

“The performance hall houses the largest and most prestigious college theater in the state, and there,” I stopped, nodding to the set of dormitories across the way, “those are the housing units for all the performing arts majors.”

“Does he have to live on campus?” Mrs. Wilson asked, looking to me. And then she looked straight at her son. “Do you? You know you can stay home. We’re only a half hour from the school.”

“Mom, you know I want to live here,” he said. “It’s time for me—”

“Mrs. Wilson,” I said, trying to save Fletcher from an argument with his mother. From the sound of things, this was a conversation they had already had one too many times. They didn’t need to have it again. “The performance majors have a lot of responsibilities. Once the season kicks off, the rehearsal schedules are rumored to last long into the night.”

I didn’t know that for sure, but it sounded likely. I remembered hearing Dad go on and on about actors and their craft, but most importantly how creativity doesn’t answer to a clock.
We don’t stop until the job is done
. I’d heard him preach that fact many times over the years, and if it were true for film actors, why wouldn’t it hold true for the ones onstage?

“But even with his responsibilities, he could still commute, right?”

She was coming around to the idea of Fletcher attending DU. She probably knew, at this point, there’d be no stopping him. But she was going to hold on as tightly as she could, and if that meant keeping him home a little longer, she was going to try.

But I knew that’s not what he wanted. So I tried again.

“Rumor has it that once dress rehearsal begins, the actors have been known to stay onstage until one, sometimes two in the morning.”

“Oh,” she said, her eyes widening. She wrung her hands even harder as her eyes darted around the campus.

Okay. So that was a flat-out lie, but it was for good. I didn’t dwell on it too much.

“And since he’s planning to major in performance, it’s probably safest for him to live on campus,” I said, throwing out the one word I knew any mother wanted to hear.
Safe
.
If I could convince her that Fletcher was safe here, then there was no telling how quickly we could get her on board with his plan. “He’s going to be tired. He’ll have late nights, early classes. The last thing any of us wants is to have him out on the roads, exhausted and unfocused.”

“She makes a good point, Bev,” Mr. Wilson said, making his voice heard for the first time since we’d said our introductions earlier that morning. “We have to think about his safety.”

Fletcher turned to me with wide eyes that were silently singing my praises. Somehow, though neither of us could figure out how, I was getting through to them. I was helping Fletcher get one step closer to his dream. Holy crap,
it was working
!

“And this over here,” I said, refusing to stop while I was ahead, “this statue was erected in honor of the late William C. Dunham, a former dean of the Desden University performance division.” I turned my arm with an open hand to show off the life-sized statue as if it were a prize on an afternoon TV game show.

It felt like something worth showing off.

I’d become far too familiar with that statue in recent weeks. From my first trip to DU with Gabe to the last time I’d come to campus—a middle of the night wake-up call, one that I’d needed very desperately to take.

And as I looked back to the statue, I vividly remembered the
aha
moment I’d had when I last sat there talking to that statue.
Dunham—
a relative of Lashell’s.

“Interesting fact,” I said, turning back to look at the three Wilsons
.
Fletcher perked up, eager to hear what I would come up with next. “Fletcher already has some pretty interesting ties here at Desden University.”

“I do?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “When William C. Dunham passed away, he didn’t leave behind a performance program and a legacy. He’s still survived by his widow and godson.” Fletcher looked at me with a furrowed brow. “And if all goes to plan, that widow will be the very woman handing you the scholarship check at the end of the RI program on Saturday.”

It was only then that it hit him, and he turned back and looked at the statue again for himself.

William wasn’t just the random guy in the middle of the student square. He wasn’t someone to gawk at, to pose with for goofy pictures (although Gabe might argue that very fact), or even admire as the greatest dean to lead the DU performance program. He was a true hero. He’d offered Gabe the opportunity to learn and grow. He’d given him a world of support when his own family couldn’t. It took a very special kind of person to step up and help a child who wasn’t his own, and William had done that. He was Gabe’s savior.

“I didn’t know,” Fletcher said quietly, looking to me. “Lashell and Gabe?” I nodded. “Wow. Surreal.”

“Destiny,” I winked at him. “I’m telling you, Fletch, it’s meant to be.”

And then we continued our walk, showing his parents the ins and outs of the campus. We ate in the dining hall that afternoon, and then we ended our afternoon tour at the bookstore.

“Thank you,” Fletcher said at the end of the day. We were headed to the parking garage, his parents walking a few feet in front of us as we hung back to exchange a few quiet words. “Do you think it went well?”

“Do
you
think it went well?” I asked.

“I think you won Mom over with the whole safety speech,” he said.

“And your dad?”

“Will have to get over it,” he said, glancing around the campus. “I mean … I belong here, Mandy. I do. I can’t explain it, but there’s a feeling. I know this is where I belong.” He didn’t have to explain it to me. I’m sure he already knew that. For many reasons, I think that’s why he’d asked me to join him today, anyway. He knew how much I truly understood. “Do you ever get this weird feeling, and know something is meant to be?”

Yes. Every day. Every time I saw Gabe, every time I went home to my dad and sister. I felt it every single time I walked onto the Desden University campus. With Jones, with Georgia, with Fletcher … I knew. It was a rush of emotion, an overwhelming warmth of safety and satisfaction. Happiness. And I understood better than anyone why he couldn’t put those feelings into words. It felt impossible to try. When something felt right, it felt right.

“Yes,” I answered, giving him the short version. “I know exactly what you mean, Fletcher
.
It’s great, isn’t it?”

###

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson,” I said, waving to them from my car.

Fletcher and his parents climbed into the cab of their red and white pickup truck, and I turned back to my car and stuck the key inside the lock as they started to drive away.

“Ah, there you are,” a familiar voice said behind me, and I turned at once to find Gabe strutting along the center of the parking garage, headed straight for me. “I was hoping I’d find you here. I’ve been trying to call all day. Is your phone off?”

“Oh,” I said, feeling around my pockets. “I must’ve left it in the car.”

I peeked through the glass to confirm; I’d left it sitting on the passenger’s seat, probably collecting calls and texts from the long morning and afternoon that I’d spent with Fletcher and his family.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, turning back to him.

“No,” he reached me. He took a quick step forward and planted a small kiss on my cheek before standing tall again. “I’ve been worried about you. I didn’t hear anything from you yesterday after I left the house. I wanted to make sure you were okay?”

“Yeah,” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my new DU hoodie. I’d meant to leave him a message; I’d even told Lashell I would. But the day had gotten away from me, and I’d gotten so distracted. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called. Yes. I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“It’s a lot to register, you know?” I said, looking up. I glanced around the parking lot for a few seconds, and then back to him with a questionable stare. “How did you know I was here?”

“Bailey,” he said, and I nodded. “It took a while to hear from her, but she finally messaged and said you were showing Fletcher’s parents around the campus. I thought I’d try to catch you while you were still in town.”

“Well, here I am.”

“You know the school offers guided tours for prospective students,” he said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Right, I know,” I said, but then I shrugged. “But he’s already been here. He knows the campus. He wanted to show his parents, and he wanted a trusted ally at his side the whole time. They’re not too crazy about the idea of him fleeing to college at the end of next year. Plus, I remembered a kind soul once whisked me off for a personal, guided tour of campus, and it meant a lot to me. Sometimes it’s nice to have that personal touch, ya know?”

He smiled at the memory of our trip to DU. It was the first time I’d ever taken a chance on Gabe, the first time I’d allowed myself to break a rule for him ... for anyone.

“That’s very sweet of you to help him, Mandy.”

“It was the least I could do,” I said, holding my hand out. Gabe looked down at it, turned his hand into mine, and threaded our fingers together. “You want to walk?”

“You’re not tired of it?”

“Of walking DU?” I asked, almost laughing. “That’s a joke, right?”

“Then let’s go,” he said, and we headed out of the parking garage.

“Okay, so you have to tell me,” I said as we crossed University Boulevard and turned into the student square. His gaze lingered on the life-sized statue for a moment before he looked back to me. “That’s him?”

“One of the greatest men I’ve ever known,” he nodded. “And Shelly, she will go to her grave swearing that she never deserved a husband as loving, giving, and caring as Will.” He smirked as we rounded the corner, putting the Arts Center behind us. We weaved through the paved walkways of the university. “I wish you could’ve met him. He would’ve adored you.”

“And what was his exact title?”

“He was the Dean of Theater and Dance,” he said. “His mother was a dancer, his father an actor. He grew up on the stage: William Dunham, Broadway Legend.”

“Whoa, impressive.”

“You should’ve seen him,” he said, gazing off as if to cherish a memory of the man on stage. “We used to fly out to New York every summer to watch him. Lashell loved Mom’s company, and Dad and I always enjoyed Will’s. He was undoubtedly the most talented person I’d ever met, and he had more kindness than he had talent. The man had it all.”

“What happened?”

“He gave it all up for love,” he said, smiling.

“No, I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t buy that. I live with two actors. I’m telling you now, no one gives up a successful acting career for love.”

“Your Dad did, didn’t he?”

“No,” I said. “Dad was basically fired. They wrote him off the show.”

“And you’re telling me he couldn’t have landed another job?” he asked.

“I mean, he could’ve, but he—”

“Chose to focus on his family,” Gabe finished my sentence. “Dedicated everything he had to giving his daughters the best life he could? That’s love, too.”

“Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants,” I said. “What about William, then? Gave it all up for Lashell?”

“She centered her whole life around him,” Gabe said. “They left for New York before they were ever married, and she never left his side. She left her family, her friends, everything back home, and she followed him anywhere his dreams took him. And one day he woke up and thought
why
? He knew she deserved what she wanted as much as deserved his dream, and city-life wasn’t her thing. He had his time in the limelight. He’d done his share. So he gave up his acting shoes, brought his bride home, and he focused all of his time and attention on being the best husband he could. Lashell was elated to be home but felt guilty that he’d given up so much for her, so she begged him to take a job here on campus. He started off teaching a few introductory courses in acting, and before too long…well, he was running the whole program. And he loved every second of it.”

“Wow. That’s incredible,” I said, and then I turned and studied his smile. “Okay, now, don’t take offense to this, because it’s going to sound a lot harsher than it’s intended.”

“Okay?

“Why him? What was it about him?” I asked. “Obviously the program has seen more than one or two special leaders over the years. Why the memorial for William?”

“He started and funded the university’s scholarship program for performance students,” he said. “Under his program, dozens of students have graduated and gone on to do amazing things—students who might not have had the opportunity without the financial assistance. He inspired me to do the same. I modeled my vision for RI over years of studying him.”

“Wow.”

“He dedicated the last years of his life to this place,” he said. “He loved it here, and everyone here loved him just as much. He deserved the recognition.”

He smiled, and the longer I watched him, the wider the smile became. There was something on his mind, something else he wasn’t saying … something that humored him.

“What?”

“Lashell hates it,” he said, almost laughing.