Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set by Gigi Blume (ebook reader with highlighter txt) 📕

Woods immediately. She was so effervescent. The man from the photo kissed Stella on the hand. Such a gentleman. I did a quick glance at the caption under the internet article on my phone. Apparently, he was a big-time director. Jaxson Knightly. The name sounded familiar. I was so out of touch, it was ridiculous.

“I’d like you to meet my friend Beth,” Stella announced as I approached the trio. “She’s the best Edith I’ve ever seen on stage.”

I was officially going to lose it. Dame Stella Gardiner tooted my horn in front of Hollywood’s sweetheart and her A-list director boyfriend. Great. I wanted to laugh like a valley girl and say, “I’m so totally sure,” but I held in my fangirl glee and said dismissively, “I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.”

“My aunt is a great exaggerator,” said Emma, shaking my hand. “But never about theatre, and never about talent. I’m Emma.”

“Yes, I know.” Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, I was shaking hands with Emma Woods!

Keep it together, Beth.

Her charming companion then took my hand and gave it a little squeeze. “A pleasure,” he said with a slight nod.

Good Heavens, he was Australian. I was so out of my element, but here were these people, just people doing people things, shaking hands with new acquaintances. No biggie.

Like an idiot, I held up my phone, showing the search results that led us to them.

“Beth has been helping me find our guests on the twit-box,” remarked Stella. “What did Emma say to you that was so amusing, Jaxson?”

Emma peeked at the screen and winced.

“I just followed the hashtag gardinerartscharity,” I squeaked in my mousy voice. “I swear I’m not a stalker.”

That was probably the kind of statement stalkers would make. But Emma smiled warmly and said something about her mom. I didn’t quite hear everything because my ears were still ringing from the shock of being at Will’s house. There were hordes of people. It was probable I might not even cross paths with him. He was probably busy sharpening his quill and smoking a pipe. Stella was going on about Bing going MIA.

“I need you two to sing something from your new musical,” she demanded.

“What?” Mr. Dreamypants and Emma exclaimed in unison.

“We haven’t started rehearsals,” said Jaxson. “We don’t even have the finished score.”

“Surely you can sing something,” groaned Stella, then quickly added, “Do you know anything from Pirates of Penzance? We need someone to sing Frederic’s part.”

She wagged her brows at him.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” he said.

“Besides,” added Emma, “we’re not planning on staying for the dinner.”

“Oh, my dear Emma,” returned Stella. “I was quite prepared for that. You lot never stay for dinner, although heaven knows why. I invited Beth and the other actor to fill your seats, but now that he had to cancel, I have to give away Jaxson’s place at the table again. Oh Lord! This messes up my seating chart completely.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” replied Emma.

They were so much alike. I imagined Stella much the same way when she was in her twenties. I watched Jaxson cross his arms and smile, shaking his head while the two British women squabbled back and forth. I surmised it was a regular occurrence. Stella said something that must have displeased the younger woman because she blurted, “You’re going to give Jaxson’s seat away to Clay Tilney? A fifty-thousand-dollar dinner?”

“Fifty thousand dollars?” I cried then quickly covered my mouth.

Whoa. What kind of barbecue was this?

Stella huffed. “Well, you didn’t want it. It’s kind of you to donate to the fundraiser, but I can’t very well have empty seats at my table.”

“But Clay?” Emma protested.

“What difference does it make to you, Emma?” Jaxson interceded. “We gave up our seats, so leave it be.”

Did she seriously say fifty thousand dollars? Maybe they were talking about another dinner.

“In any case,” said Stella, “I’ve got to take care of this quandary. Come now, Beth. Let’s find Will.”

Will? Fifty-thousand-dollar dinner? Oh, heck no. I tried to protest as we left Emma and Jaxson behind. We didn’t even say a proper goodbye. I didn’t have a chance to fit in a thanks for giving me your dinner seat. I made a mental reminder to write her a letter of appreciation. I could borrow Will’s quill.

“Where are we going?” I tried to slow Stella’s pace, but she was a determined woman. It didn’t help that I had to pee. I eyeballed the port-a-potty in the distance with repugnance. I was sensitive to smells.

“I need to speak with William,” she said. “Can you find him on the tweet box?”

“Uh…”

Finding Will on the tweet box or by any other means wasn’t on my top one hundred wish list. I didn’t know what I would say to him once we came face to face. We hadn’t exactly parted on friendly terms. I said some pretty horrible things. I was probably on his famous Burnt List.

“Aha!” Stella stopped in her tracks. “I know where to look.”

She reached into the deep pockets of her baggy sailing pants and pulled out something plastic wrapped in a slender chain.

“I almost forgot to give this to you,” she said as she placed it in my hand. It was a hard, plastic card with gilded lettering that spelled out my name under a bold VIP stamp. A lanyard. For me. I officially belonged.

“This will give you access to the house if you need it and other backstage areas,” she explained. “And if you’re hungry, there’s seventy-five dollars loaded on the card. Just swipe at any food booth. Not alcohol—just food.”

I stared at the lanyard in my hands, marveling at it like it was a glowing key to the TARDIS.

“Thank you,” I marveled at the wonder bestowed on me. Such a dork.

Stella narrowed her eyes over me with an amused grin.

“You don’t mind if I leave you for a time,” she stated rather than asked. “Try the artichoke hearts. I hear they’re heavenly.”

Then she happily bounded off, leaving me in the midst of laughing families, balloon-bearing children, and clouds