CWMBR 145

Chapter 145

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Beside the Penningtons' grave, a coffin without a body was buried deep in the dug earth.

Bridget wrote a name inside the empty coffin. That name, never shown to anyone, was carefully placed inside the box and buried in the ground. The freshly covered soil clearly revealed this small grave had just been made.

"It's done."

Bridget, who had been staring at the three graves standing side by side, suddenly murmured.

"I need to plant flowers."

"Huh?"

Jane, her eyes red from mourning the Penningtons, turned to look at Bridget.

"Flowers."

Bridget bent down. Gently smoothing the cold, rough earth, she whispered as if making a vow.

"I must make a flower garden. One that blooms in every season's colors, gathering only the most beautiful things in the world."

She would come every day to water and tend to them. She would pull weeds and care for them so their lovely petals wouldn't wither. Bridget smiled faintly.

Three graves were encircled by a round flower bed. The fresh blossoms never wilted for a single day.

So much effort went into it that before she knew it, three years had passed.

***

As deep darkness settled over the riverbank, the light spilling from the building shone brilliantly.

The building wasn't large, yet it bustled with many people. The crowd in the lobby gradually thinned out.

Just as the once-noisy building began to feel more spacious, Mrs. Callaway, who had been waiting for the crowd to disperse, slowly made her way out. With the coat she'd received from Etrin loosely slung over her shoulder, she glanced at the few people still lingering in the lobby and spoke.

"At this rate, won't there be no place left for me to sit later?"

"Not at all. Your box seat will always be empty."

The voice answering with a hint of laughter belonged to Bridget, who had come to see Mrs. Callaway off. Mrs. Callaway glanced briefly at Bridget.

Her subtle makeup glowed softly under the chandelier illuminating the lobby. Her outfit—a blouse with white lace frills over a richly colored skirt—looked dignified, yet the slightly puffed shoulders and the lustrous fabric gave an impression that wasn't entirely plain. Moreover, her hair was neatly pulled back, revealing a smooth nape extending to her waist. Her upright posture made her appear remarkably confident.

It was hard to believe this was the same woman who had been so pitifully thin and desolate just three years ago.

"Thank you for gracing us with your presence again today. Everyone in the troupe will remember this day forever."

But what had changed most was her smooth way with words. Now, with the unabashedly flattering manner of a theater owner who wouldn't be embarrassed anywhere, she carried herself with natural grace.

Mrs. Callaway gave a slightly haughty snort toward Bridget, who was sweetly stringing together pleasantries. It had been three whole years since she'd frequented the Glynford Grand Theater. She had visited this place quite often to hear such embarrassing nonsense.

Moreover, Mrs. Callaway was not just a soft, forgiving audience member. She had seen countless productions in her lifetime and possessed a correspondingly high level of discernment.

"It wasn't exactly box-office material."

"But it would be a shame to let it go completely unnoticed. The sense of writing the dialogue is quite good. The subject matter this time was a bit conventional, but with more training, she'll gain experience. She'll shine by the next play, perhaps?"

Despite Mrs. Callaway's cold assessment, Bridget replied without wavering.

"If that happens, I won't forget the kindness of giving an unknown playwright a stage."

Mrs. Callaway let out a hollow laugh at Bridget's words, which implied that today's stage wasn't simply offered out of pity.

"You sound quite the theater owner."

Though it could easily have been taken as a provocation, Bridget remained serene, smiling calmly.

"Shall we go up now?"

"Ah, Glynford's hotel is renowned throughout the region for its excellence. There's no need to refuse such an offer."

Was it two years ago? Glynford's finest hotel had been sold to someone. After that, it seemed the entire building, inside and out, was torn down and rebuilt. Soon, it rapidly rose to become one of the finest lodgings in the country, renowned for its superb facilities.

The problem was that there weren't many guests in Glynford who could afford such a splendid hotel. Yet, it stubbornly kept operating. It was obvious that, unless Glynford became a tourist town, there wouldn't be many visitors from outside either.

Anyway, their persistence paid off. Word of the hotel's excellence slowly spread beyond the town. Thanks to that, surprisingly, outsiders began visiting Glynford specifically to stay at the hotel.

"It's a relief for such a place with nothing to see. I suppose everyone settles for visiting the Grand Theater, at least."

"The theater isn't just for us, you know."

"But the theater I visit is the Glynford Grand Theater."

Mrs. Callaway's visit to the Glynford Grand Theater wasn't an official engagement, but everyone in the know understood. Given her immense influence as a patron, her periodic visits alone were enough to draw significant attention to the Glynford Grand Theater.

Bridget sighed dramatically at Mrs. Callaway’s words.

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence today. Oh, did I say that already?”

Mrs. Callaway shook her head at the remark delivered with wide eyes.

“You’re getting more and more sly by the day, aren’t you?”

Muttering something akin to an exclamation, she waved her hand as if to say don't follow.

"Goodbye, ma'am."

Standing at the entrance to see Mrs. Callaway off, Bridget let out a shallow sigh and turned away.

Even after three years, Mrs. Callaway's visits still put her on edge. She had to arrange police cooperation in advance to secure the area around the Grand Theater and manage the audience list carefully to prevent any unexpected incidents. Since Mrs. Callaway was a patron artists desperately wanted to reach, she had to be thoroughly prepared when welcoming her.

Bridget pressed her temples as she climbed the stairs. Just as she turned toward the representative's office, a cheerful call came from across the hall.

"Boss!"

"Ah, yes. Mr. Richard."

"Thank you so much today. For Mrs. Callaway to see my work... I'll never forget this day for the rest of my life!"

The young, aspiring playwright was utterly elated simply because Mrs. Callaway had seen his play. Bridget offered him a gentle smile as she calmly said to the flushed young man.

"It's an opportunity not easily gained. I hope today's memory inspires your next work."

"Yes!"

Bridget chuckled softly at his eager expression, gave a light nod, and started toward her office. But Richard lingered, hesitating before speaking.

"And, um... I was thinking of having a simple gathering with the cast afterward. If you happen to be free..."

His voice trailed off so faintly it was barely audible. His face was stiff with awkwardness as he tried to appear nonchalant, but his neck and ears were flushed bright red.

Bridget, who had been quietly observing him, answered with a gentle smile.

"What should I do? I have some work left to handle, so I'm afraid I can't attend. But I'll tell Brika separately, so please enjoy yourself today."

Brika was the newly hired accounting staff member for the Grand Theater. So, this meant Bridget would cover today's dinner. Yet, instead of looking pleased, Richard seemed disappointed. Licking his lips, Richard opened his mouth again with a determined expression.

"Then I'll treat you to a meal next time!"

"Director."

His bold attempt to speak was immediately cut off by the interruption of a new arrival. Bridget recognized the face of the person who had naturally slipped in and greeted them warmly.

"Oh, Mr.Gilum. When did you arrive?"

"I entered a bit late and was sitting in the back. It was dark, so you probably didn't see me."

Richard's eyes darted around. Recognizing the royal crest embroidered on the uniform coat, he fell silent, looking somewhat intimidated.

"You seem busy, so I'll take my leave now…."

"Yes, Mr. Richard. You worked hard today."

Richard, shoulders slumped, passed Gilum and walked away. Gilum strode toward Bridget as if he hadn't seen him.

"But Mr. Gilum, didn't you say you'd come tomorrow?"

"My work finished a bit early."

Bridget's eyes widened at his refreshingly blunt reply.

"Mrs. Callaway just left. She might still be out front."

"…I don't have any particular connection with her."

Bridget had seen them together over the past three years. But Gilum quickly changed the subject, as if he didn't want to hear any more about Mrs. Callaway.

"By the way, that man looks unfamiliar."

"He's the author who submitted today's piece."

"Ah."

Gilum stared blankly at Richard's receding back, then let out a strange exclamation. Bridget asked him in her usual tone.

"Shall I introduce you?"

"No, that wasn't what I meant."

Gilum shook his head sternly, withdrawing his gaze from Richard.

"Have you finished your work?"

"Mm."

Before Bridget could reply, Gilum smoothly continued.

"I was told about a decent restaurant in town. I thought I'd let you know."

For Gilum, an outsider, to offer to recommend a restaurant to Bridget, a resident of Glynford—could there be a more ridiculous excuse?

Bridget looked at Gilum, smiling as if amused.

"Oh my, you're going to recommend a restaurant in Glynford town to me?"

"Well, it's a new place, so you probably haven't heard of it."

Bridget nodded as if she understood. With a faint smile, she replied in a gentle voice.

"I'm sorry. I'll be swamped for a while with the play we're screening right now."

"...okay. I suppose it can’t be helped."