Tender Deception Read Online Free PDF Page A

Monte promised. “I’ll tell you everything after tonight’s show. Might as well”—he shrugged—“he’ll be here tomorrow.”
    “Just as you say, boss man, see you tonight!” Vickie swung her bag over her shoulder, grabbed her script, and kissed his weathered cheek.
    “I’m glad to hear you remember I’m the boss!” he chuckled gruffly.
    Wrinkling her nose at him, Vickie waved and walked out the doors, blinking beneath the glare of the blinding sunlight. It was going to be a hot summer. It wasn’t the first of June yet, and already they were hitting temperature readings in the nineties. But she was a Floridian, accustomed to the heat, and an avid fan of the endless white beaches of her native state—a happy, often barefoot waif on the sands.
    Settling into the driver’s seat of her sturdy old Volvo, she hummed a tune for the night’s show. Godspell was fun to do. She would be sorry when its run ended, although she truly loved to do Shakespeare, especially with a director like Monte. He brought so much to a play, listening to and respecting the opinions of his players. Of course, though, his word was final.
    Parking outside her son’s small nursery school, she waited only seconds before she saw Mark coming out with his teacher. Her heart took another unexpected lurch as he looked for her, found her, waved, and with his beautiful lopsided grin, ambled to the car. She had been lucky in a way. Mark was the spitting image of her. Except for two things—his eyes were brilliant blue like his father’s, and he had the same killer grin.
    “Mum!” he chortled happily as Vickie buckled him into his car seat and waved an okay sign to the wary teacher who made sure her charge was safely in his mother’s hands.
    “How was your day, my darling?” Vickie crooned, kissing his raven head. “What did you do?”
    “Play,” Mark said happily. “Play.”
    Vickie chuckled. He was only twenty-seven months old—not much of a conversationalist. But he grinned happily when she suggested ice cream.
    Over gooey fudge sundaes, they shared precious time together. Vickie’s only remorse over her chosen career was it took so much time away from Mark. Although Monte’s was “dark” on Sundays and Mondays, the rest of the week was hectic. Vickie’s daily schedule would cause a weaker person to wince; she dropped Mark off by eight at his school so that she could be at the theater by eight thirty, rehearsed the upcoming production until two, retrieved Mark by two thirty, and had to be back at the theater by seven to makeup and dress in costume for the current play. Those few hours in the afternoon she devoted to Mark.
    Tousling his silky hair, she marveled at what a wonderful child he was. Shaking her head slightly, she wryly thought that blessings did often come in disguise. Mark had been such a blessing. Discovering her pregnancy had been the greatest trauma of her life, but his birth had brought her the most profound joy. He was more than her child now; he was her companion, critic, and friend.
    “Finish your sundae,” she directed him. “We’ll scoot over to the beach for a bit.”
    “Beesh!” he repeated happily. “Beesh.”
    Sarasota, to Vickie, was the epitome of all that Florida should be. The city was quaint, clean, and bright beneath its year-round sun. Winters brought a mild snap of cold weather, never harsh, but just right for a subtle change of pace. Around November the population drastically increased as part-time residents, deserting the ice and snow of their northern habitats, ventured south. They helped to keep the city financially sound and also helped to fill the four hundred seats at Monte’s.
    Sitting on a patch of bleached sand while Mark played on the foam-flecked shore, Vickie luxuriated in the feel of the salt spray around her, her skin vibrantly attuned to its gentle caress, her toes tickled by the lapping touch of the encroaching tide. A fiddler crab sidled by her and disappeared into a small