Fortunately, Meredith stepped back in time to avoid the other woman’s slap.
Excellent reflexes, I thought as a low voice said, “Uh-oh, looks like they’re at it again.”
I turned to the woman at my side. “Hi there,” I whispered. “What’s going on? I don’t know the dark-haired lady.”
Samantha Green, one of the part-time assistants at my library, raised her black eyebrows. “That’s Janelle DeFranzo. She’s the mother of Quinn, who’s in the same dance studio as Shay. They’ve become friends, so I’ve gotten to know Jan pretty well.”
“What’s the issue between her and Meredith Fox?” I asked, as the auburn-haired dancer executed a perfect pirouette and flounced off. She hurled a rude statement over her shoulder before taking the stairs to the lower level of the building, which housed several dressing rooms and two rehearsal studios.
Janelle DeFranzo threw up her hands and exited the lobby, shoving open one of the marble-column-flanked doors that led into the auditorium.
Samantha waited until both women disappeared, before she spoke again. “Quinn’s autistic and easily overwhelmed by new experiences. Apparently Meredith Fox finds her presence distracting.”
I widened my eyes, realizing the ramifications of this issue. Karla, who ran a local dance studio, often worked with students with physical or mental differences. In fact, part of her mission was to normalize using dancers of all types in productions. “Karla told me she was going to include a few of her disabled students as part of the corps, which I think is great.”
“Glad you think so,” Samantha said, her tone darkening. “Obviously, not everyone does.”
I made a dismissive sound. “Meredith always finds something to complain about. But she does appear to be overstepping the boundaries in this case.” I shifted the cooler to my other hand. “I’ll have a word with Richard and Karla. I’m sure they’ll order Meredith to behave. Since you’re friends, maybe you should tell Ms. DeFranzo to simply avoid her in the future.”
Samantha nodded. “I’ll do that.” Looking me over, her dark-eyed gaze rested on the cooler. “I should let you go. It appears you have food to deliver.”
“It’s dinner for Richard and Karla,” I said. “They only have a short break between rehearsals today, so I said I’d bring them something to eat.”
“I’ll let you get to that, then. I need to go and round up Shay anyway. Her scheduled rehearsals are over. For today, at any rate. See you soon,” Samantha said, heading for a door that led to a side hall.
I decided to take a shortcut through the auditorium to reach the backstage area and adjacent green room. As I made my way down the center aisle, I admired the newly renovated stage, which had been expanded from its original size to cover a small orchestra pit. It could now accommodate the demands of live theater and dance performances, especially since the original movie screen had been replaced by a retractable version that could disappear into the fly space when not in use. New midnight-blue velvet drapes flanked the deeper stage, but the elaborate pseudo-Roman frieze had been restored rather than removed. Its plaster decorations gleamed with a new coat of paint and touches of gilt.
Passing by Janelle DeFranzo, who was slumped in one of the reupholstered sapphire velvet theater seats, I debated saying something to her about ignoring Meredith. But one glance at her face kept me walking. The anger tightening her lips told me my advice would probably not be welcomed, especially since we’d never officially met.
Pushing my way through the exit door, I made a quick left to access the steps leading backstage. Reaching the edge of the black curtains hung to shield the audience’s view of the wings, I waited while Richard conferred with someone seated at an upright piano. The man, who had a slight build, was dressed in the customary theater “blacks”—a dark, long-sleeved T-shirt and black slacks. Despite his receding hairline, he looked to be no older than thirty-five. He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses before playing a short passage from the musical score propped open on the piano.
In the center of the stage, a slender older teen with a shock of wheat-colored hair continued to practice a complicated move that involved a turn into a leap. Richard looked up at the sound of footfalls.
“Conner,” Richard called out as he stepped around the piano. “Hold up. You need to center yourself or you’re going to fall.”
As Richard strode over to give the young man individual instruction, I moved closer to the accompanist. “Hi,” I said, extending my free hand. “I’m Amy Muir, Richard’s wife.”
“Riley Irwin. Nice to finally meet you. Here, set that cooler on the piano bench.” After I followed this advice, Riley clasped my hand briefly, his light-brown eyes searching my face. “You’re the library director in Taylorsford, right?”
“Yes. Have you visited? I don’t remember seeing you, but I don’t work at the library every day.”
“Not yet. I actually live close enough to the university to use the library there.” Riley shoved his drooping glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “I teach piano and do some accompanying for the dance and theater departments at Clarion.”
“That’s right. Richard told me he’d hired an accompanist he’d worked with at school.” Looking into Riley’s pleasant but rather undistinguished face, I noted a shyness that made me offer him a warm smile. “Are you enjoying the experience so far?”
“Pretty much. Working with your husband and Karla is great, and I actually enjoy the younger dancers too.”
“But not all of the professionals? I know that can be problematic in some cases,” said a male voice behind me.
I turned, coming face-to-face with a tall, well-built man in his late twenties. With his head shaved to display his gleaming dark scalp and the chiseled features of a runway model, he was unequivocally striking.
“Hey there, Dav,” Riley said, scooting back the piano bench and rising to his feet. “Are you and Tamara ready to run through that pas de deux?”
“Yeah, but I should introduce myself first.” The younger man bobbed his head at me. “I’m Davonte Julian. You must be Richard’s wife.”
I offered him a smile. “Yes, I’m Amy. How did you guess?”
Davonte grinned. “Oh, Richard has a photo of you as the screensaver on his phone. I got nosy one day when we working on Return at Jacob’s Pillow and asked him who it was.” Davonte’s grin broadened. “Which turned into him positively gushing about you. How amazing you are in every way, among other things.”
“Really? That’s nice, although I think he’s a little biased,” I said as heat rose in my cheeks. “I mean, he’s the real talent in the family.”
“Not according to him,” said the elegant young woman who stepped out from behind Davonte. Also tall, she was equally lean and well-toned, although her black hair was braided into tiny, bead-decorated, plaits that hugged her scalp. “I’m Tamara Hardy. One of those professional dancers Dav mentioned.”
“Nice to meet you both,” I said, focusing on Davonte’s handsome face. “I suppose the problem person you referred to is Meredith?”
“Correct.” Davonte shared a cryptic look with Tamara.
“We’ve all had a few run-ins with her in the past,” Tamara said. “But trust me, that’s not something we’d allow to affect our dancing.”
“That’s because you are professionals.” Riley moved closer to the two dancers. “Shall we?” he asked, gesturing toward the steps leading offstage. “Richard and Karla said they won’t need me at the start of the next rehearsal since they’re doing some specialized work with the university dancers. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to go ahead and run your pas de deux. That way I’ll have time to grab something to eat before I’m needed again.”
“Sure thing,” Davonte said, giving me a nod. “Nice to meet you, Amy.”
“Yes, it was good to finally put a face to the name.” Tamara smiled. “Richard does talk about you a lot.”
“I guess that’s better than pretending I don’t exist,” I said with an answering smile. “I’m glad I got a chance to meet you all. We’ll have to arrange a dinner at the house sometime.”
“As long as you leave Meredith Fox off the guest list, I’m in,” Davonte said as the three headed off the stage.
“Ditto,” Tamara said with a wave over her shoulder.
Riley’s expression remained pleasant, although I noticed a definite tautness to his lips. He wished me a good day, then followed the two dancers.
I stared at their retreating backs, wondering what Meredith had done to elicit such dislike from Davonte and Tamara. As I mused over this question, the object of their disdain appeared in the wings on the other side of the stage, with Karla right behind her.
“Do you think you can stay for the later rehearsals?” Richard asked Conner.
The young man nodded. “Sure. I’ll just have to call my mom and ask her to pick me up at a different time.” He swept the fall of cornsilk hair away from his broad forehead. “Do I have time to run out and grab something to eat?”
“That’ll be fine. We have a break now, and then Ms. Tansen and I are going to be working on another scene before we’d need you.” Richard laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Just be back by seven, okay?”
At these words, Meredith stormed onto the stage. “Are you seriously thinking about bringing this boy in to dance the Will o’ the Wisp variation with me, Richard? You said you’d be dancing that part.”
Karla strode up beside Meredith. Tall, big-boned, and gorgeous, Karla always reminded me of a Greek goddess come to life. She towered over Meredith, glowering with displeasure. “Richard wants to use younger dancers whenever possible. The performances are meant to benefit youth dance programs, after all.”
“Maybe so, but I’m not going to entrust my safety to someone so inexperienced.” Meredith jabbed a finger toward Conner. “I was one of the judges at that competition where you dropped your partner.”
“I know. You were the one who marked me down, even though it was clear that my partner was the one who made the error.” As Conner stepped back, fury reddened his face. He shot a quick glance at Richard. “Even Brittany said it was her fault, but one of the judges gave me such a low score, I lost out on a scholarship that would’ve really helped jumpstart my career.” Shifting his gaze back onto Meredith, with his eyes narrowed into slits, he added, “I always assumed that was you.”
Meredith squared her shoulders and met Conner’s stare with a sneer. “It was. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. You weren’t ready to properly partner anyone then, and you aren’t now. If I’m honest, I suspect you may never be.”
Conner, appearing stricken, swallowed back some retort and fled the stage, almost running into me. He stepped to the side and cast me a questioning look.
“I’m Richard’s wife, Amy,” I whispered, hoping to put him at ease. It seemed to work. He stayed close to me, watching the rest of the scene play out.
Karla placed her hands on her hips and looked Meredith up and down. “You’re not in charge here, whatever you may think,” she said with a toss of her sienna-brown bob. “Richard and I will make the decisions as to who dances what, and you’ll either like it or leave.”
“Hah!” Meredith spat out. “As if you have the professional experience to back that up. Everyone knows you’re just a local dance instructor who’s never performed with any major companies. You don’t have the clout to talk to me like an equal.”
Richard took two strides forward. Although he was only slightly above average height, when he stood toe-to-toe with Meredith, he appeared to loom over her. “What you need to understand,” he said, his voice vibrating with anger, “is that this is Karla’s project as much as it is mine. Which also means her word is as good as mine.” He snapped his fingers in Meredith’s face. “Don’t forget—I hired you. I can fire you.”
As Meredith raised her chin to look him in the eyes, I had to admire the picture they made. With their finely honed bodies, perfect postures, and Richard’s dark hair contrasting beautifully with Meredith’s copper-penny locks, they made a striking couple. They’re the perfect dance partners. On the surface anyway. But looks can be deceiving. I knew my husband, and although he wasn’t easily roused to anger, he also wasn’t one to put up with any nonsense.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Meredith took a step back, sweeping one hand gracefully through the air. “A lot of sound and fury over nothing. And let’s be honest, Richard—you’re bluffing. You’d never find anyone who could learn and perform my role on such short notice. Now, excuse me. I need to head downstairs to rehearse my solo.” She blew him a kiss, then strolled toward my side of the stage.
As she sauntered past, she flicked her hand through the air again. “Sorry, Amy. Guess it’s up to you to calm him down. Good luck with that.” She cast Conner a dismissive look as she brushed by him.
I made a face. “Someone’s going to slap that woman silly someday. Maybe even me.”
“Get in line,” Conner said.