The Return of Ivy

Lake

The cab dropped her off at 7:56 p.m.

The wind was crisp, hinting at the kind of cold that required two sweaters and a heart full of courage. Ivy stood in front of a tiny brick theater nestled between a used bookstore and a candle shop, its rusted marquee flashing:

“One Night Only: The Love That Wasn’t Supposed to Happen — A Lake Hart Film”

Her fingers trembled as she pushed open the door.

Inside, it was dim and quiet, the kind of place where nostalgia clung to ...