A Holiday Fling Read Online Free PDF Page B

"Hello!"
    A gaggle of prepubescent children were skipping into the barn, cheeks rosy from the cold air. A dark-haired young woman followed the children at a more sedate pace. Her interested gaze went to Greg as she approached. "Is this Mr. Marino, Jenny?"
    "It is indeed. Greg, meet my sister, Patricia Holmes, teacher and director of our children’s choir. Patricia, here’s our miracle worker." Jenny managed to introduce Greg without looking at him, confirming his suspicion that he’d embarrassed her.
    Telling his libido to cool it, Greg studied Jenny’s sister. He hadn’t seen any teachers like Patricia Holmes when he was in grade school. Since she looked very like Jenny, she was a knockout. He guessed that she was two or three years older, and surely one of the little girl singers was hers—good looks ran in the family.
    After they exchanged greetings, Greg gestured at the children ricocheting around the barn. "Your kids are photogenic, but will they stand still long enough to be filmed?"
    Patricia put two fingers into her mouth and gave an ear-shattering whistle. The children instantly converged in lines in front of her, as demure as the angels they would be playing. "Sing your first song for Mr. Marino." She hummed a starting note.
    "Oh, come, oh, come, Emaaa-a-an-uel..."
    The children’s pure, joyous voices carried Greg back to his boyhood. Children often sang, adults seldom. At what age did the singing stop? Except for the national anthem at sports events, Greg couldn’t remember the last time he’d sung.
    Quietly he began humming along with the choir as his gaze drifted from face to face. He’d have to get plenty of close-ups—these kids were real crowd pleasers.
    Patricia gave an order, and the children turned and marched up the steps onto the stage two by two, their voices ringing through the barn like a choir of bells. He turned on his video camera and shadowed them, thinking how he would handle this on film.
    More people began to arrive, some carrying what looked like moose antlers, assuming that the things moose wore on their heads were called antlers. Most of the performers were local, Greg guessed, but he blinked at the sight of several famous faces. Jenny had obviously used her powers of persuasion on some of her London friends.
    He returned to his camera, and mentally calculated the best way to light moose.
    * * *
    The rehearsal was chaotic in the grand tradition. Since Jenny was performing as well as directing, she was run ragged putting the pieces together. Still, she was pleased with the results. The Ad Hoc Upper Bassett Players would not disgrace themselves.
    Dusk was approaching and the dinner hour with it, so Jenny dismissed her troops and went in search of Greg. Though he had a talent for being unobtrusive, she’d been very aware of him moving quietly among the players, zooming in on faces, pulling back to catch a group of dancers. Very, very aware. A pity the children had arrived when they did. She had been quite in the mood for a kiss.
    She found her quarry up among the catwalks, where he was examining the lights. "What do you think of our show, Greg?"
    "You’ve done some interesting things with the material—the songs and dancing are really integral to the story. The filmed version will look great."
    "You think so? I’m a little worried."
    "No need. You have good performers, the barn and set have loads of atmosphere, and the costumes I spotted backstage will add plenty of color and excitement. Tomorrow I’ll call a London camera house to borrow a camera package and some lights. We should be able to start shooting the next day."
    One of the advantages of having an Oscar-winning cinematographer was that Greg could borrow any equipment he needed in exchange for a film credit. Persuading him to come was the cleverest thing she’d done on this project.
    After they descended the narrow staircase to the stage, she checked to see that they were the only ones left, then locked the barn behind