Much Ado by Monica Knightley

Author:Monica Knightley [Knightley, Monica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-01-09T23:00:00+00:00

I somehow dispelled all unpleasant thoughts and was given the gift of nearly two hours of calm, unworried time.

Until two o’clock.

At which time a small group of Festival people came in for a table and full tea.

William Stewart, the Festival board president, Kristof Lewis, the lecherous producer, and Darius.

With Gina and Eric busy at tables, I greeted the group at the door, avoiding eye contact with Darius. Mr. Stewart, in his sixties and wearing a suit and tie, asked for the table.

“Of course,” I said with my proprietor smile. “Please follow me.”

I took them to a table by the fireplace. As they sat I allowed myself a moment of eye contact with Darius. One corner of his mouth twitched in a suppressed smile. I bit my lower lip.

As I handed him his menu, Mr. Stewart said, “I don’t normally have these meetings over tea. I prefer a good Scotch, but Darius convinced us this would be best. So I hope we aren’t disappointed.”

“I share that hope,” I said, through a fake grin, to the odious man.

Why did Darius want to bring these two men to my tea room?

After leaving them with their menus I snuck into the kitchen to catch my breath.

Once away from the trio I stopped to wonder at the odd combination of people. A board president. A producer. And an actor.

What was up?

I peeked out the kitchen door and saw that the table next to theirs was in need of a clear up, the customers having left.

I grabbed a tray and casually walked over to the table.

Being careful to make as little noise as possible as I cleared the tea things, I cocked an ear their way.

Stewart was speaking. “While I know you haven’t been happy with the new arrangements, Kristof, I don’t understand the rush to leave. You realize, of course, that you will be in breach of your contract and there will be a hefty monetary fine, don’t you?”

In his usual condescending tone, Kristof said, “Not a problem. Happy to pay it. But this lack of confidence in my work and the halving of my number of productions this season isn’t acceptable to me. So I’m outta here.”

When I’d finished picking up all the dishes I had to find something to keep me there. I made like I was removing crumbs from the tablecloth, even though it would soon be replaced with fresh linens. But they didn’t need to know that.

“I thought your original complaint was that money was the issue,” Stewart said.

“My wife has come into some money. Her aunt died, leaving her a nice chunk o’change. We’re fine until I find work in a theater company that values my talents.”

I knew it was time for me to return to their table for their orders, but I didn’t want to interrupt what was such a fascinating conversation. Kristof Lewis had been a pain in my side more than once during my year in Stratford, and I’d be quite happy to see him gone. As would most of the town’s females whom he’d hit on over the years.

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