Make-Believe Beau. Keli Gwyn
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onto his platform and raised his baton. With a flick of his wrist, the first piece began, a soothing aria from Bach in which the orchestra accompanied a renowned alto from San Francisco, who sang in German. The selection was known in English as “Contented Peace.”
That was what she needed. The last week had been challenging. In the span of six days, she’d found a new place to live, survived a difficult interview process and acquired a make-believe beau. Flynt was a wonderful man, but figuring out how she was supposed to act around him had her on tenterhooks. She much preferred being in charge of a situation.
Well, she was here in a beautiful theater listening to a stellar performance. Reality would be waiting for her when it was over, but for now she’d forget about everything else and enjoy the respite. She shifted to a more comfortable position, closed her eyes and let the music whisk her away to another place where there were no harried managers, hostile colleagues or handsome engineers.
That number blended into the next in a soul-satisfying feast. Lord. I didn’t realize how I hungered for rest, but You knew and have provided just that. Thank You.
“Are you asleep?”
Flynt’s warm breath on her neck and whispered words startled her. Her eyes flew open. She’d been so far removed from the present that she’d forgotten where she was—and whom she was with. She jerked back, putting space between herself and Flynt.
Someone beside them tittered. Heat rushed to her cheeks, but with the lights dimmed, no one could witness her embarrassment. She’d failed once again to respond as expected.
God, if You could send someone to guide me, I’d be most appreciative.
Flynt moved away, and the tightness in her chest eased. She kept her eyes open throughout the following numbers.
Thunderous applause filled the room at the conclusion of the concerto that completed the first half of the performance. The gaslights flared back to life.
The conductor stepped to the front of the stage, and the curtains closed behind him. He waited until the enthusiastic clapping ceased before speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, there will be a fifteen-minute intermission. You’ll find a selection of delectable desserts out front provided by Gold Country Confections. Enjoy.”
Flynt patted his stomach. “I’ll have to sample some of those. Would you care to join me?”
“Certainly.” She joined the crowd en route to the lobby. Flynt followed on her heels.
Jessie reached the tables laden with a lavish display of baked goods. The tantalizing scents made her mouth water. She chose an éclair, a snickerdoodle and a lemon bar.
Flynt glanced at her plate and chuckled. “That’s quite an assortment—sweet, spicy and tart. I wouldn’t have expected a woman who prefers plain vanilla ice cream to be so adventurous.”
She produced an impish smile. “I’m full of surprises, Mr. Kavanaugh.”
He laughed. “That you are, Miss Sinclair.”
“Jessie? It is you. I wasn’t sure.”
She spun around to find a round-faced woman smiling at her. “Becky! It’s wonderful to see you.” Remembering her manners, she hurried to make the introductions. “Flynt, this is my dear friend Becky Martin. When her minister’s wife back in Chicago learned that Becky was also bound for Placerville back in ’71, she introduced us, and we traveled together, along with one other lady. The three of us became fast friends on that trip. I haven’t seen either of them since because I left town soon after we arrived. Becky, this is Flynt Kavanaugh. He’s the engineer at the El Dorado Water and Deep Gravel Mining Company. I work for him now.”
Becky and Flynt greeted each other.
He took two steps backward. “I’m sure you two ladies would like some time to catch up, so I’ll leave you to it.”
Before Flynt could make his exit, a throat cleared behind Jessie. She turned and found herself facing Corby, who looked none too pleased. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Jessie, but I’d like a word with you and Flynt. Now.”
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