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Cecily Monahan was a retired school teacher and now a full-time seamstress hired to stitch up everything from newborn outfits to wedding gowns to curtains and sails for sailboats. Since her retirement from the same high school where Cora had worked as both a theater director and English teacher, Cecily offered her services to the community theater troupe, throwing herself completely into creating all costumes for every character.
It was Monday, February 22 and Cecily and her eldest daughter had just arrived backstage with a number of costumes, all wrapped up in protective plastic. They bustled to the clothing stand and latched each of the hangers upon the iron, with Cecily muttering how best to organize them. When Lola released them from the final minutes of their rigorous rehearsal, the actors within the musical itself scattered off the stage to find them. Several of the little girls who’d played in other productions squealed excitedly at Cecily’s arrival. Costumes were far more fun than wearing your everyday garb on-stage. Costumes meant that your character was finally coming to life.
Cecily greeted Cora warmly with a delicate kiss on the cheek, something she’d picked up when she’d taken a costume designing course in Paris during the summer after her retirement. Cora wasn’t sure if she resented the kiss more or the fact that Cecily had spent all that time in Paris alone. Unlike Cora, Cecily had divorced her husband years ago and decided to live out a life of single-dom, creeping through her fifties and now early sixties without a care in the world. How wretched for Cora that she’d actually wanted a happily ever after with Victor. If only she could be like Cecily— alive, confident, and free from sorrow.
“Such a sad thing to walk through those doors and know Victor’s not here,” Cecily said to Cora as Cora settled into the chair alongside the clothing rack.
Cora made a soft, strange sound in her throat. It sounded like an animal. When she lifted her eyes, she was surprised to find Hank, Daddy Warbucks, stationed a little bit away. He had his hands in his pockets, and his eyes were soulful, connecting with hers. Had he heard what Cecily had said to her? Was this an offering of pity? Did Cora even want to accept that?
“But I really did go all-out on your costumes, you beautiful thing,” Cecily told Cora as she pulled out several items of clothing. “Miss Hannigan has some of the best clothing of the entire production. Of course, I did have a blast making a little red dress for Miss Annie.” Cecily turned to find Jenny, the lead seated on a high stool eating a granola bar and humming to herself nervously. “It must be stressful, being so young with so much responsibility. But anyway, darling.” Cecily’s eyes returned to Cora’s in preparation to deliver more soul-crushing words about Victor.
“Hello.” Hank stepped forward to greet Cecily, interrupting her.
“Oh, hello.” Cecily’s eyes widened with surprise. “You must be new!”
“I am.” Hank slid a hand across the thick, luscious hair at the top of his head. “I was a teenager on the island, but I moved off when I was eighteen or nineteen. I’ve just returned and thought to myself, community theater? Back in New Jersey, I hadn’t done it for years, but here I am, back at it again.”
“How long did you take off since your last performance?” Cora was genuinely shocked. The fact that he’d taken on a role as big as Daddy Warbucks after not using his acting chops for so long was mesmerizing to her.
Hank shrugged. “I was quite busy for a few decades— my children, my job, chores and all the things that add up in life. And now, it’s just me. My ex-wife always said I had a flair for the dramatic.”
Cecily laughed good-naturedly and then flashed Cora a knowing smile. What was this smile meant to convey? Did Cecily like Hank? Was she on the verge of flirtation? Was Hank flirting with Cecily?
“I think my ex-husband said the same thing about me,” Cecily told him. “But I prefer to keep my work backstage.”
“And such fine work it is,” Hank complimented, watching as Cora removed her first outfit from the hanger.
Cecily blushed like a teenage girl. Cora wanted to scold her, but she wasn’t entirely sure where this instinct came from. She genuinely liked Cecily, or always had before.
“I’ll just give this a try,” Cora told her.
“Just like every other time before,” Cecily said in singsong. “And Hank? I have the perfect Daddy Warbucks outfit for you.”
Cora stepped into the small dressing room area, where three little girls from the musical’s orphanage sputtered around, giggling in their garments. Cora stood in the corner and changed timidly, feeling like an old maid compared to these confident little girls with their soft cheeks and long luscious hair. When Cora left the dressing room, she found Hank already in his Daddy Warbucks tuxedo as Cecily circled him, ensuring that the fit was appropriate.
“There you are.”
Cora spun on her heel to find Lola Sheridan, her large folder of notes and scripts pressed against her chest and her eyes catching the soft lights of backstage.
“You look fantastic,” Lola told her, eyeing her Miss Hannigan outfit. “I couldn’t have imagined it better.”
“Cecily’s the best,” Cora replied, in a tone of voice that didn’t convince her at all.
“She must be.” Lola eyed Cecily and Hank once more, then leaned against the nearest wall as her knees smacked together beneath her. “Pardon me, Cora. I’m so exhausted and overwhelmed by the week ahead. I have three performances, a little birthday party for my grandson, and then the wedding to the love of my life.”
“That makes my head spin,” Cora breathed.
“Come on. You? You’re just about as cool as a cucumber,” Lola teased.
“I don’t know about that.”
Lola shrugged and lifted herself back up slowly so that her neck creaked. “I’m not sure I could ever thank you enough for all the help you’ve given me over the past six weeks. It’s been such a prosperous time with you as the unofficial director of this musical.”
“Nonsense,” Cora told her. “You’ve been the director.”
“And you’ve been my guiding light,” Lola said.
Cora smiled inwardly and then glanced nervously back toward Hank. On cue, Cecily bustled toward her, her voice overly bright as she began to assess Cora’s wardrobe and any additional fixes that needed to be done prior to Wednesday’s dress rehearsal. Jenny jumped toward Lola to ask her about one of the musical numbers later in the show, while Hank again disappeared through the dark shadows backstage.
After Cora had finalized each of her stage outfits for the show, she dressed once more in her jeans and her black turtleneck and shoved her feet into her size six tennis shoes. Victor had always teased her about her tiny ballerina feet. As she grew older, Cora worried that they wouldn’t be strong enough to keep her going. The bones creaked oddly beneath her sometimes; it felt like a threat.
“See you tomorrow, everyone!” Lola called from where she sat alongside Audrey and Amanda. Audrey ate a large chocolate chip cookie while Amanda scribbled additional notes. “And remember to be costume-ready on Wednesday! Dress rehearsal means we do everything exactly like opening night. It’s a big deal, people.”
Cora gathered her things and headed out toward the hallway behind the auditorium, where the door opened out toward the parking lot and the further downtown street, which she normally took to walk home. Just before she pressed open the glass door to retreat, she heard her name.
“Cora!”
She froze. A creeping sensation rose up her spine and along her shoulders and neck. When she turned around to find Hank all but running toward her, she couldn’t help but give him a confused smile. He ran toward her like a teenager, joyful and excited about the life he still had to live.
“Hi, there.” She couldn’t help but feel a smidgeon of his happiness. There was something about the rush leading up to the first performance. The people who’d worked hard alongside you were more than friends. Their passions aligned with yours; their hearts beat in time to the same song.
“I thought I’d never get away from that Cecily woman,” Hank stated as they stepped through the door side-by-side.
Cora let out a surprised laugh. Her tennis shoes slipped slightly across the icy sidewalk, and in the strange moment that followed, Hank grabbed her elbow to steady her. The feel of his touch, even through her thick winter coat, made her heart jump into her throat. She’d experienced touch in various ways— through other actors in the musical, through the annoying kiss of Cecily, the costume manager. But this felt different. This was meant for Cora and Cora alone— not Miss Hannigan.
“Gosh, thank you. I don’t know what got into me,” she said.
“Nothing got into you. They just haven’t taken care of this sidewalk very well this winter,” Hank returned.
“We’ve had a lot of very cold days,” Cora tried. “I’m sure it’s difficult to keep up with.”
Hank’s smile was crooked. Perhaps some might have called it handsome.
“Are you always so empathetic?” Hank asked her.
“I don’t suppose empathy’s such a bad thing.”
“No. I think it might be the most important thing there is,” Hank said.
“Especially if you’re an actor,” Cora stated.
“As I said, I’m pretty new at this.”
“It’s difficult to believe,” Cora told him. “You and Lola are both newbies, yet both of you are arguably fantastic at what you’ve chosen to do.”
“Don’t compliment me so soon before the show,” Hank warned her playfully. “I might get big-headed and mess up my lines.”
“Good point,” Cora noted. “Silly of me not to think of theater rhetoric.”
Hank laughed as they continued to walk along the sidewalk, headed straight into town. Cora wondered if he lived near to her place.
“You mentioned that you were a teenager on the island?” Cora asked.
“That’s right,” he said. He then lowered his voice to add, “I went to school with Lola’s mother, Anna, and her sister, Willa. I was closer in age to Willa, but Willa left when we were kids. I imagine she doesn’t remember me.”
Cora’s heartbeat quickened. “Goodness. You knew Anna Sheridan before she...”
“Before she was Anna Sheridan. Yep,” Hank affirmed. “She had quite a violent family. When you walked past her place, you could always hear one of the parents screaming. Nobody was surprised when she hooked up with Wes so quickly after graduation. She had to get out of that house.”
Cora nodded, sorrowful for a long-ago past that still cast its shadow over the present.
“It’s pretty wild to me, just how similar Lola is to Anna,” Hank continued. “From what I remember, they have similar mannerisms. They say the same sorts of things. They wear their hair the same.”
Cora blinked back tears. She hated when anyone wept for her personal sorrows, as they didn’t belong to them.
“I believe Anna died when Lola was eleven,” Cora breathed. “I suppose that means she never really knew her.”
“Such a tragedy.” Hank shook his head as he continued alongside Cora.
The streetlamp light sparkled across the newly-fallen snow. Cora lifted her eyes toward the impenetrably black sky, which reflected back no stars. Sometimes, it was very apparent to her that they lived on a rock floating in the center of the Atlantic.
“You’ve already taught me a great deal about the theater, Cora,” Hank told her softly as they neared her door. “I’ve watched your mannerisms, the way you hold yourself on stage, and the way you say your lines. You’re a real professional. And one afternoon, you mentioned an acting book that you read when you were just starting out. I immediately purchased it and read it all the way through on a random Sunday in January. It made me think about acting so differently. It gave me a real voice.”
They’d suddenly arrived before Cora’s house. Her heart quickened at the beautiful glow of his eyes, which seemed to take in the vision of her. It was as though he never needed to see another woman.
Invite him in for tea, she told herself.
But imaginary stones thudded in her stomach. She shook her head against the strange thoughts that simmered in the back of her mind. She couldn’t. No man had entered her house since Victor’s death.
“This is me,” she told him firmly. “Thank you for walking me home. And thank you for saying that about the acting. It means a lot to me to work alongside other actors who uphold the art the way you seem to.”
Hank bowed his head gently, maintaining eye contact. “It’s my pleasure. Have a beautiful night, Cora. I’ll see you tomorrow.”