"So, it's the boat captain," a voice said from behind her.

She turned to see Robbie standing behind her, watching Sully walk away. He took a long drink out of the water bottle in his hand.

"I don't know what you mean," she said. She turned back to the closet, feeling the heat of embarrassment warm her face.

"You have a thing for the boat captain," Robbie said. He followed her into the closet. "That's why you're so resistant to my charm."

Lindsey said nothing, but began to dig through the shelves for supplies. This did not deter Robbie, who kept talking as if their conversation was still going.

"I can't say that I blame you," he said. "He really is a handsome lunk, but he doesn't say very much, does he?"

"He doesn't have to," Lindsey said. She could have kicked herself. Now it sounded like she was agreeing with him.

"Oy, so I'm right!" Robbie said. "Still, he doesn't have my accent or my celebrity aura . . ."

"Or your wife," Lindsey added. She found a small roll of chicken wire and put it aside.

"Kitty?" he asked. "We haven't been husband and wife, except on paper, for years."

"Which would explain why your girlfriend is here, too," Lindsey said.

"You've been researching me," Robbie said. He grinned at her as if pleased. "That means you're interested."

"No, it doesn't," Lindsey said. "It means you have a lot of fans in town who want to know about you, and as the librarian, I get to do their research for them."

"Well, your research is out of date," Robbie said. "My girlfriend and I broke up ages ago."

"And yet she's playing Hermia, while your wife plays Helena. Given Shakespeare's love triangle between Hermia and Lysander and Demetrius, which is then complicated by Helena, wouldn't it make more sense for you to play Lysander or Demetrius?" she asked.

"But I'm such a Robin Goodfellow," he said.

"And you all get along while doing the show?" Lindsey asked.

"Of course; we're professionals," he said. He took another long sip off of his water bottle, and Lindsey noticed it was a special brand of coconut water. So Hollywood.

"Robbie!" Violet's voice called from the stage. "We need you!"

"Sorry, love," he said. "Duty calls, but we can finish this discussion later."

Lindsey shook her head. She loved how he didn't phrase it in the form of a question. Before she could call him on it, he was gone.

She continued searching the shelves and had put aside a good amount of materials for the donkey's head mask when she heard raised voices outside of the closet.

It did not sound as if it were a part of the play. In fact, it had all the intensity of an argument, and she hesitated to leave the storage room and walk into the middle of an awkward situation.

She cleared her throat, hoping that whoever was out there would hear her. No such luck. Their voices were even louder now, drowning out any attempt she made to be heard.

"You just couldn't keep your hands off of her, could you?" a voice hissed. It was a man's voice and Lindsey tried to place it-not that she was eavesdropping, she told herself. She was trapped in a closet. It wasn't her fault if they chose to argue beside it.

"I never touched your wife, you nutter."

Lindsey recognized this voice as belonging to Robbie. The accent sort of gave him away.

"Oh, really?" the voice asked. "Then why has she been coming home late from the Blue Anchor every night, reeking of a man's cologne?"

"I really couldn't say, Brian," Robbie said, sounding sympathetic. "Perhaps you should ask her."

Brian. Lindsey realized the man accusing Robbie of cheating with his wife was Brian Loeb, the man, ironically, cast as Nick Bottom, whom she was making the donkey's head for.

"I don't need to ask her," Brian said. "Ever since you arrived in town, all she ever talks about is Robbie Vine this and Robbie Vine that. She's obsessed with you."

Robbie chuckled, which Lindsey did not think was his best move at this juncture. And she was right.

"Don't you dare laugh at me!" Brian snapped. "I know you're having an affair with Brandy and when I can prove it, I am going to crush you like a little bug right under my shoe."

"Oh, are you now?" Robbie asked. Now he sounded mad.

If he was innocent of cheating, Lindsey couldn't really blame him. She tried to picture what Brian's wife looked like but could not place her. The Loebs weren't library users as a rule, so she'd only just met Brian when play rehearsals began. If his wife was hanging out at the Blue Anchor, however, Lindsey was sure Mary or Ian could describe her.

"Now, let me be clear," Robbie said. "When you realize it is not me who is frolicking in the daisies with your wife, I'm going to demand an apology."

"Pah!" Brian scoffed. "I'm not some stupid female who is going to fall for your charm. When I catch you with my wife, I'm going to-"

"What?" Robbie taunted him. "You're going to what?"

"Kill you," Brian hissed.

If he had shouted the words, it would have been less scary, but his quiet assuredness made the hair on Lindsey's neck stand up. She had no doubt he meant what he said.

7.

A crash sounded from backstage, and Lindsey jumped out of the closet to make sure Brian hadn't done anything so stupid as to harm Robbie.

She saw a door slam at the end of the stage and a curtain swirled nearby. The men appeared to have stormed off, for which she was grateful, given that she didn't want to face either of them.

Sully was standing near the closet, looking at a piece of set that appeared to have toppled over.

"Oops," he said.

"Breaking up some tension?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"So," he said.

"So," she replied.

They were both quiet. Sully looked like he wanted to say something, but naturally he didn't. Lindsey refused to be the one who breached the chasm between them. As far as she was concerned, he had done the breaking up, so it was his responsibility to do the making up.

"Did you find what you need?"

"I did." Awkward would be an understatement for the tension between them. Lindsey gestured to the piece of scenery, "Need a hand?"

"That would be great. Thanks," he said.

They moved so they were on opposite sides of the canvas framed on the wood. Together they hefted it up and propped it against the wall. Lindsey wiped her hands on her jeans.

"Lindsey, listen," Sully said.

She glanced at him and felt her chest tighten. Was he finally going to admit that breaking up was a bad idea? What should she do if he did? She wanted to throw herself at him, but figured it would be better to try to keep cool at least a little. It was really hard, though, with his brilliant-blue eyes looking at her as if . . . as if . . . hmm. As if he was about to say something she wasn't going to like.

"What is it?" she asked.

"You should probably steer clear of Robbie Vine," he said.

"And why's that?" she asked. Even to her own ears, her voice sounded so frosty she was surprised snowflakes didn't fly out of her mouth when she spoke.

"He's married, for starters," Sully said.

"I know."

"And he has a girlfriend," Sully continued.

"I know that, too."

"And you're okay with that?" He looked as outraged as if she'd just taken up spitting in public.

"I don't think it's any of my business," she said. "Or yours either, for that matter."

Sully clapped both of his hands to his head as if he was trying to keep his hair on. In all the time Lindsey had known him, she'd never seen him lose his cool. She realized it was sort of nice to see the Captain feeling an excess of emotion.

"Was that all?" she asked.

He goggled at her as if he couldn't believe his ears.

"Yes," he said.

"I'll see you around then." She turned and headed back into the closet to retrieve her materials.

"No, wait!" His voice was reluctant as if the words were being forced out of him at gunpoint.

"Yes?"

"I really think you shouldn't get involved with him, Lindsey," he said.

She wasn't sure what made her do it. Maybe it was just a frustrated need to get through his thick emotional skin. But she turned and stepped toward him until they were just inches apart.

She raised one eyebrow in what she hoped was a challenging expression and asked, "Why not?"

Sully seemed rendered speechless by her nearness, and she took a certain amount of comfort in knowing that he felt the attraction snapping between them just as strongly as she did.

Lindsey stared at the handsome face so close to hers. She loved that face. Not because it was handsome, although it was, but because it was such an honest face, so full of humor, intelligence and kindness. She had missed that face terribly over the past few months. And now, if his full lips could just form the words telling her how he felt then maybe, maybe, they would stand a chance.

He reached out and tucked a long strand of hair back behind her ear. The gesture was tender, and Lindsey felt her insides melt.

"Because he isn't good enough for you and you'll just get hurt," Sully said.

Lindsey blew out a breath and stepped back. She felt as if she'd been doused with a bucket of cold water. Was it really that hard for him to tell her how he felt? Maybe he didn't really feel the same way she felt. Maybe he was over their brief relationship and he was really just looking out for her as a friend. The thought was depressing.

"Don't worry about me," she said as she turned away. "I've been hurt before and I always bounce back."

Sully didn't come after her.

The donkey head was proving to be more difficult than Lindsey had anticipated. It did not help that she was not the craftiest person in the world. She had decided to make the donkey's head like a visor that Brian could wear on top of his head and then she would paint it gray and attach a matching cloth that could hang from the back of the mask as if it was the donkey's neck.

She was working at a table in the back of the theater while the actors rehearsed onstage. Mary and Nancy had brought two sewing machines, and they were zipping away at the costumes while Lindsey's fingers were covered in clumps of cold paste and soggy strips of newspaper. Bits of newspaper and paste coated the table and her clothes and, she suspected that there were clumps of it in her hair.

"Ah!" She tried to shake a particularly tenacious bit of newspaper off of her hand. It clung like a burr. She tried to use her other hand to pull it off, but all she managed to get were little bits of newsprint. It was maddening.

She muttered a few colorful curses under her breath and tried to wipe the paper off, but it just adhered to her other hand.

"Blech; I hate this stuff!" she said. She scraped her hands on the edge of the table, feeling at her wits' end.

"Are you all right, Ms. Norris?" Dylan asked as he stopped on his way past the table.

Lindsey noted he was standing a safe four feet away. Smart kid.

"Papier-mche does not like me," she said. "Which is fine, because I don't like it, either."

Dylan smiled and gestured to the woman beside him. "My mom is a whiz with that stuff; maybe she can help you."

Lindsey glanced at the woman beside him. "Hi, Joanie, how are you?"

"Fine," Joanie Peet said, barely sparing Lindsey a glance.

Lindsey thought Robbie Vine might have been onto something when he said if a woman says she's fine, she is anything but. Dylan gave his mother a concerned glance, and sent Lindsey an apologetic look.

"Can we go now, Dylan?" Joanie asked. She sounded irritated. "I am very disappointed that I had to go backstage to find you. You know you are only here to rehearse and then leave. There is to be no lingering or loitering."

Lindsey frowned. She'd gotten to know Joanie Peet when she hired Dylan as a page. Joanie was usually quick with a smile, a kind word or a helping hand. She was always first on the list for the newest Debbie Macomber books, and she doted on Dylan, who was her only child.