The Old Deep and Dark Read Free

hoped the rumors would work in her favor by putting a little pressure on Kit to take the part. She was reasonably well known in the national theater community. Locally, however, she was nothing short of theatrical royalty. That and the fact she was married to country music singer Jordan Deere made her box office gold. “Have you heard from Kit or Jordan recently?”
    â€œI hear from them all the time.”
    Another one of Archibald’s more annoying traits was his tendency to collect people who fascinated him for one reason or another. On the other hand, since Cordelia was one of “the fascinating” he’d collected, she gave him points for taste. He’d started out his career as a Roman history scholar, but had realized in his midforties that there was more bang for his career buck if he switched his interests to Minnesota. He’d written the definitive volume on Minnesota theater history, devoting an entire chapter to Cordelia—and one to Kit.
    â€œI’ve also heard you want to hire Booker Deere as the head set designer,” said Archibald. “Any truth in that?”
    â€œMy lips are sealed,” said Cordelia, rising from her chair, hoping Archibald would get the message and do the same.
    â€œAm I being dismissed?”
    In high heels, at nearly six foot three, she towered over him, though she wasn’t interested in intimidation—at least, not this morning.
    â€œOne more question before I go,” he said, shuffling papers back into the folder. “You’re giving me full access to all areas of the building, right?”
    She saw no reason to deny the request. “Everything but our current office space.”
    He smiled, tucked the folder under his arm. “I’d like to continue our little meetings, just to keep you abreast of what I’m learning.”
    Cordelia walked him to the door. “Just so that we’re clear. You intend to write the text for the pamphlet that we’ll use for publicity purposes, yes?”
    â€œAs long or short as you’d like.”
    â€œYou’ll need to talk with our marketing director, Marcus Yeboah.”
    â€œI have a meeting scheduled with him later today.”
    â€œGood man. I owe you.”
    His smile broadened. “I’m easily bought off with comps.”
    â€œConsider that a given.”

 
    3
    The late autumn air was sweet with the smell of wood smoke as Booker made his way from the back veranda of his parents’ summerhouse on Frenchman’s Bay down to the flagstone patio closer to the beach. He’d arrived on a flight from New York shortly after seven, and had just finished stowing his bag in one of the upstairs bedrooms when he looked out the window and noticed his sister, Chloe, standing down by the fire pit. He hadn’t seen her in almost a year, though they texted and phoned occasionally. The next few days were supposed to be a family reunion of sorts. His father had been the instigator, writing in his e-mail that it had been too long since they’d all been together. Since Booker had another reason for visiting the Twin Cities, he’d e-mailed and said he would be able to make it.
    Nothing was ever simple when it came to his mom and dad, so he assumed that the stated reason was only a part of the story. He doubted his parents were getting a divorce. They were too content with their lives to shake up their worlds so radically. His mother was fifty-seven, which meant it wasn’t a baby announcement. Chloe could be pregnant, of course, though that would require nothing more than a text from someone in the family and maybe a phone call from Chloe. His mother was flying up from New Orleans tomorrow, where she’d been starring in a play for the last couple of months. His father had been staying at the Lake Minnetonka house all summer—Booker wasn’t sure why. That piece of information was what had heightened his sense that something was up. His