A Big Sky Christmas by William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone Page A

woman’s voice said, “Terence? Who is it?”
    He half turned, so Gillian could see past him into the hotel room. A woman with tousled blond hair was sitting up in the bed, holding the sheet around what was apparently her nude body.
    â€œLook who’s here, darling,” Terence said to her. “That young ingénue I was telling you about. Come on in, Gillian, and I’ll introduce you to our leading lady. I’m sure the two of you will enjoy getting to know each other.”
    Gillian was too shocked and stunned to move. It was like her feet were nailed to the floor. What had happened to Terence? All his charm and sophistication had disappeared, leaving only crudeness behind. She couldn’t believe she had left her home and come all this way, only to find that he . . . he . . .
    â€œCome on, Gillian,” Terence said, sounding a little impatient. “It’ll be all right. We’ll take good care of you.”
    Gillian turned and ran down the dingy hotel corridor, her bag bumping against her leg. Terence stepped into the hall and called out behind her, but she ignored him. The blond woman said something else, and he went back into the room and closed the door.
    If the trip from Savannah had been a blur, the next few minutes were even worse. Gillian wasn’t sure how she made it back downstairs and out of the hotel. She had no idea what she was going to do. She could go home, of course, but if she did she would have to listen to her father browbeat her about her foolishness for the rest of his life. She knew he would never let her forget it.
    But what else could she do? She was hundreds of miles from home, in a city where she didn’t know anyone, and she was scared and desperate. . . .
    She didn’t see the well-dressed older man until she bumped right into him on the sidewalk outside the hotel. She might have fallen if he hadn’t reached out and caught hold of her arm to steady her.
    The elegant-looking woman with the man said worriedly, “Are you all right, dearie? You look like you’ve had quite a fright.”
    â€œNo, I just . . . I was going to join an acting troupe . . .”
    The man wrinkled his nose. “Not Flanagan’s Players, I hope. They’re a sorry lot, if I do say so myself. Den of iniquity and all that. Not the least bit professional, like O’Hanlon’s Traveling Company.”
    Gillian shook her head. “I . . . I’m afraid I’m not familiar with them.”
    â€œAre you an actress?”
    â€œWell . . . I want to be.”
    The man was wearing a top hat, which he swept off and held in front of him as he performed a half-bow. “Cyrus O’Hanlon, at your service, miss.”
    The woman with him laughed.
    â€œThis is my wife, Dollie. If you’d care to discuss joining our troupe, we’d be glad to talk to you. We can always use another player. If you’re truly devoted to your craft, that is.”
    â€œI hope I would be. I think it would be wonderful to be an actress.”
    â€œWell, you’ve got a lot to learn,” Dollie O’Hanlon said. “But if you throw in with us, at least you’d be learning around decent folks. Not like that lecher Flanagan.”
    Gillian swallowed hard. Her father was right about one thing. She really did believe in destiny and other romantic notions like that. “I think I might like that.”
    â€œWhat’s your name, dear?”
    Gillian had thought about that. When her father found out that she was gone, he might hire detectives to look for her. She didn’t want to be found, didn’t want to return home until it was on her own terms. She had decided that she ought to use a different name to make it harder to find her. But she hadn’t settled on a name.
    She had no time to ponder the question further. She glanced across the street at McCoy’s Hardware Store, thought about her hometown, and put a smile on her face as she told