“You—You—!” Lindsey was so mad she couldn’t even think of anything bad enough to say. There was no help for it, she was going to have to turn to the bard for assistance, “‘You peasant swain! You whoreson malt-horse drudge!’”

“Oh! The Taming of the Shrew,” Robbie said. “Well done.”

“Argh!” Lindsey growled.

“Now in all fairness,” Robbie said, “there was no way I could have known you’d come out to Charlene’s island. And I was so happy to see you that I couldn’t tear myself away from the window.”

“The open window, which means you heard everything!” Lindsey shouted.

“Yes,” he said. Then he gave her his most brilliant smile. “And just so you know, I feel the exact same way about you, which is why I called you the night you were almost killed. I just had to hear your voice and know you were okay.”

“That was you?” Lindsey asked. “I thought you were a reporter.”

“No, it was just me. I hated that I wasn’t there to protect you,” Robbie said.

He went to pull her into his arms, but Lindsey was having none of it. She shrugged him off and stepped back. She leveled her best glare at him.

“You would do well to remember that when I said those things to Charlene, I thought you were dead!”

She turned on her heel and stomped toward the door.

“Lindsey!” Robbie called after her.

The door swung open and Sully had time enough to step back before Lindsey smacked right into him.

He glanced between the two of them, looked irritated, and then looked more closely at Lindsey. “Problem here?” he asked.

Lindsey glared back at him. “Don’t you start.”

“What?” He raised his hands. “Nancy sent me to find you. Are you all right?”

“I’m—” She paused, turned back to Robbie and snapped, “I’m fine!”

She pushed past Sully and stomped down the hall to the door that led to the stage. Men! Stupid, stupid men! She was so over them! All of them!

30

Lindsey watched the rest of the play, huddled in the wings with Nancy and Mary. Dylan was amazing. He owned the stage just as surely as his father had.

The applause of the crowd was thunderous, and when Dylan came in from his last monologue, his face shone with triumph. He had nailed it.

The cast went out for their bows; Robbie joined them for the last one, and the audience, which had already seemed to be whipped into a frenzy, went even nuttier. Lindsey couldn’t help but be pleased at the success of the show.

“I am exhausted,” Nancy said. “I am going home and putting my feet up with a nice cup of tea and a book.”

“No, you can’t,” Mary said. “We’re all going over to the Anchor to toast the success of the show.”

“Raise a glass for me,” Nancy said. “I’m going home.”