“Oh no, we’re coming up on winter,” said Patty Spruill. “The projects are slowing down at Casa Spruill. I just wanted to pick up the parts to fix that leaky shower faucet in the guest bath before all the kids come home for the holidays.”
Tyler bagged up the O-ring cartridge replacement kit. “This will do it. And if you have any trouble, you give us a call. Or if you end up needing a plumber, I can recommend Ray Gentry or Leroy Dubois.”
“Ha, that’ll be the day,” said Patty. “Sheldon Spruill does not call repairmen for things he can most certainly do himself. But thanks for the recs. If he breaks something, it’ll be nice to have someone on reserve.” Patty picked something up from in front of the register. “What’s this?”
“Hm?” asked Tyler, offering the bag and shifting to see what she had in her hand.
Patty held up a manila envelope. Frowning, Tyler took it and opened the clasp, shaking out the contents. A flight itinerary with confirmation numbers lay on top of the stack. She skimmed the details. Memphis to Dallas to Portland. Departure on January 3rd. Brody Jensen.
What are you up to? she wondered, laying the papers aside. “Brody must’ve left it behind at lunch. I’ll get it to him later.”
“It’s good to see you two back together,” said Patty with a smile.
“It’s good to be back together,” Tyler admitted.
“Well, we’re all looking forward to your performance. I bought tickets for the whole family for opening night.”
“Should be a good show. I think you’ll enjoy it.” Tyler tamped town the twinge that it would be the last opening night she’d ever have at the Madrigal.
Once Patty was out the door, she picked up the papers again and began to shuffle through them. She hadn’t realized that she’d expected to see her name on an identical flight itinerary until she didn’t find it. Instead, she found lists of addresses and contractors and a letter addressed to Brody on Peyton Consolidated letterhead. Tyler’s eyes picked up isolated phrases.
…exemplary work…wrap up of Babylon project…exciting new opportunity…head up project from the beginning…expect you in Portland…
The papers fluttered down from Tyler’s suddenly limp fingers. She barely heard the jingle of the bell over the roaring in her ears as two more customers entered the store.
Brody’s leaving.
“Can you help us?”
She blinked at the young couple and struggled to pull her focus back. “Of course.”
Her heart was pounding, her chest cranking tight like a vice around her lungs. Somehow she managed to get through the next fifteen minutes, giving advice on paint finish and paint colors before mixing two gallons of eggshell in a shade called Sierra Mist. As soon as they were gone, Tyler grabbed her keys and did something she absolutely never did. She closed the store in the middle of the afternoon and walked out.
Brody would be at the hotel job site this time of day. Her body was trying to shake, but she wouldn’t let it. Ruthless, she fought back her growing panic and the tears that wanted to fall as the full impact of what she’d read began to sink in. This wasn’t the time to jump to conclusions. There might be a perfectly reasonable explanation for the fact that he hadn’t told her. Just because his boss wanted him to go to Portland for this job didn’t mean he was going. Did it?
It gave us us back. They hadn’t actually talked about this being more than a temporary thing, but when he kept saying things like that, didn’t it mean something?
A sick, roiling sensation settled in Tyler’s gut as she shoved through the plastic tarps hanging over the front of the building. The front desk had been installed, she noted. Furniture had been delivered to the bar area, still wrapped in plastic and foam. The swanky globes hung glittering over the long, glossy bar and looked every bit as gorgeous as she’d imagined. Everywhere around her were signs of the project drawing to a close. Brody had said Gerald intended to do a soft launch for New Year’s.
“You can’t be in here!” A harried man Tyler didn’t recognize rushed down the stairs. The clipboard under his arm and the wire rim glasses told her this had to be Gerald Peyton’s assistant.
“You must be Louis. I’m Tyler Edison. We’ve spoken on the phone.” There. Her voice was calm and even, without a glimmer of the fact she was falling apart on the inside. Still an actress after all. She offered her hand.
The man relaxed, giving her hand a perfunctory shake. “What can I do for you, Ms. Edison? Is there a problem with any of our orders?”
“No, no. Everything’s fine for the project. I’m looking for Brody Jensen.”
“He’s not here,” said Louis. “He and Gerald are looking at some new commercial property down the street.”
There was only one new commercial property down the street. The Madrigal. Tyler absorbed that blow, wondering that her legs didn’t just give out on her.
“Do you want me to let him know you were looking for him when he gets back?”
“No, I think I’ll just see if I can’t catch up with him later.”
Tyler wanted to run straight to the theater. But her feet felt like lead and her chest was clamping down even tighter, until she could hardly breathe. It couldn’t be true. There had to be some other alternative to what she was imagining. She couldn’t have gotten things with Brody so horribly wrong.
The Madrigal’s lobby door was unlocked. Tyler slipped inside with no more than a whisper of footsteps on the worn red carpet. Hearing the murmur of voices in the auditorium, she edged to the door and tugged it open just wide enough to slip inside. The aisle lights were on dim and the stage was lit up as if for production. Brody and Gerald stood in front of the set for the Ed Sullivan Show. The acoustics of the stage were such that she could hear their conversation all the way at the back where she stood in the shadows.