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 tilted his head, following the architecture of the walls to the vaulted ceiling and the massive chandelier that overlooked the room. Tears sprang to his eyes. It shouldn’t have felt like coming home. He’d left this place behind more than five times as many years as he’d spent within its walls.


Except…it did. It felt like home. And for a brief, brilliant moment, nothing had ever felt so good.


When he realized the others were watching him, John cleared his throat and nodded toward the door that led to the balcony. “Can I just head on up?” he asked without looking at them.


“Sure, Mr. Paravati,” Devon rushed. “It’s unlocked. Mrs. Eaker said you have permission to go wherever you want.”


Chapter 13