“I will!” Lorna waved and pushed her way out the front door of the shop with a jingle.
Piper hopped up on the counter and swung her legs. “Did you hear what I said?” she demanded.
With a bland stare, Tyler passed right by her and continued to stock the new selection of cabinet hardware. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who remembers I ever wore dancing shoes.”
“Not the truth and so not the point,” insisted Piper.
“And what is the point? You know I don’t dance anymore.” In public, anyway.
“You will for this. The Madrigal is in danger.”
Tyler paused, a drawer pull
in her hand as her heart twisted. The historic Madrigal Theater was an institution in downtown Wishful. It was a central feature of the best memories from her past. Though “past” was the operative term. “That’s terrible! But what does it have to do with me?”
“They’ve agreed to let us make one last effort to raise the money to save it. To prove that it can be a sound investment. Nate is directing a production of White Christmas. And you’re going to unearth your dancing shoes from whatever graveyard you left them in to audition for it with me.”
“You used to dance?” asked Norah with interest.
“I haven’t danced or sung since college.”
Piper hopped down from the counter and pointed an accusatory finger. “You lie. You’ve sung and danced with me as recently as last month.”
“What we do in the privacy of my living room under the influence of a pitcher of margaritas is between you and me and no one else. And wipe that considering smirk off your face, Norah.”
“What smirk?”
“The one that says you’re trying to figure out how you can use that in your next community development scheme.” She shoved plastic wrapped hardware into the Plexiglas bins with more force than necessary.
“Oh, come on, Tyler,” said Piper. “It’s not like you’ve lost your chops. You’d be a shoe-in for Judy. And I would make the perfect Betty.”
“Give me one good reason why I should come out of retirement,” said Tyler.
“Let’s just say, we’re doing it for a pal in the Army.”
Tyler fisted a hand on her hip and leveled a Look at Piper.
“What? It was appropriate,” said Piper, unabashed. “We’re doing it in the name of the good old days. Think of how many great memories we have of the Madrigal. Our first show. Our first lead roles. My first kiss, with Robert Hudson in Meet Me In St. Louis. Where you first fell in love with—” Piper cut herself off. “Okay, so maybe that one’s not good to remind you about, but you can’t hold his asshatishness against the Madrigal.”
“Whose asshatishness?” inquired Norah.
“He who will not be named,” Piper informed her, in a tone that suggested she’d be happy to name and tell Norah all at the first opportunity. As long as it was away from Tyler. Fine. It would save Tyler the trouble.
“I’m not holding anything against the Madrigal,” she said. As soon as it was out of her mouth, she knew she’d have to put her dance shoes where her mouth was. She sighed. “When are auditions?”
“Tonight at six.”
“Tonight! Piper, I’ve got to close. I’ve got nothing to wear here and no time to go home and get my shoes, not to mention I’ve got nothing prepared for an audition.”
“So tell me where your shoes are and what you want, and I’ll go by and pick everything up for you.”
“I still don’t have anything prepared.”
“Oh come on. As if you can’t sing every single number from the show in your sleep.”
Given that the two of them had been having sing-a-long viewings of the movie for the last twenty years, this was not deniable.
“It’s not the singing part that has me worried.”