Throughout his career, actor John Paravati has stuck with what he told the gossip rags -- he's been in like, in lust, even in respect once or twice, but never love. All he's ever cared about is performing. If he's stuck now doing commercials for cruise lines, at least it's better than shilling adult diapers.<br><br>But Hollywood pretends, and John is a master. Because once upon a time, he loved two things more than anything -- his best friend Frank and the movie palace he used as sanctuary.<br><br>Over fifty years ago, John ran away from his hometown. Now, someone has restored the theater he left behind, and they want John at its relaunch. The memories still sting, but he agrees to attend, even though it means dealing with heartache. At seventy-seven, he's too old to hold onto the hurt. The question is, however, is he too old to start over once it's gone?

The Hearts of Yesteryear

He couldn’t bring himself to put the folder back in Corrine’s purse, but he couldn’t look at it, either, so it sat on his lap for the duration of the trip. By the time they passed the town’s welcome sign, the orange edge was soft from his constant rubbing up and down its length. His nerves, however, weren’t nearly so relaxed.


The view from his window might’ve been anywhere. Though they passed the occasional house that sparked a memory, most of them were newer, the trees different or in new places, fresh paint whitewashing memories until he wasn’t sure where they even were. Even when they passed Delancey, the street Frank had lived on, he barely recognized the corner. He twisted around as they passed for a better glimpse down its length, but it was gone before he could catch anything.


“Did you want me to turn around?” Corrine asked when he settled back into his seat with a heavy sigh. Her foot eased off the accelerator in anticipation of his saying yes.


Chapter 12