16

The street outside the Montagu Opera House teemed with shiny black limousines and town cars, all dropping off their passengers in front of the arched and beveled glass doors. Huge searchlights scoured the night sky, beaming their special welcome for opening night.

Theodosia paused just inside the front door, her feet sinking into the plush red carpet. She turned slightly to enjoy the scene, watching tuxedo-clad men and women in designer gowns greet each other amid a flurry of genteel hugs and spirited air kisses. Then she and Drayton swept up the grand circular staircase, passing under a glittering chandelier, in true Hollywood fashion.

“La Bohème is one of my favorites,” Theodosia said as they sailed up, up, and up. “In fact, it’s the first opera I ever saw.”

“Ah,” Drayton said. “Your first opera so often becomes your most favorite.”

“From the moment the curtain went up, I was captivated. I knew I’d discovered my new passion.” Theodosia inhaled deeply as they breezed along the mezzanine balcony. Ripples of excitement coursed through her and she was feeling what surely had to be a contact high from the crowd that swarmed through the theater. She tossed her head. “But I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the grandeur of this building.”

“I hope you never do,” Drayton said. “I hope there’s always a little thrill to be had.”

Theodosia was feeling very elegant and haute couture in her cashmere and silk. And Drayton certainly looked magnificent in a tuxedo that he’d had custom tailored in England a few years ago. His antique amber-and-gold cuff links flashed each time his wrists moved.

“I’ve always had a place in my heart for the character Rodolfo,” Drayton said as he led Theodosia along, nodding to the occasional acquaintance. “There’s something true and lasting in him. He pursues his dream with such fervor.”

She smiled. “You mean he pursues Mimi.”

Drayton turned toward Theodosia with a twinkle in his eye. “I meant that he was looking for true love.” He hesitated, seemed to realize just where he was, and said, “My goodness, here we are at our seats already. Welcome to the rarefied world of the opera buff.” He pulled open an ornately carved wooden door with a polished brass handle and stood aside for Theodosia to ease her way past him.

Which brought her into a dimly lit private box complete with four plush seats.

“These are our seats?” Theodosia asked. She was stunned. The box seats were basically a private and amazingly elegant perch situated high above the entire theater, with an unobstructed view of the stage.

“Two of the seats are ours, anyway,” Drayton said. “I share this box with Edith and Howard Pinckney.”

Theodosia took in the purple velvet seats, gold velvet draperies, and gilded walls. “I feel like we just time-traveled back a hundred years or so. To Belle Époque Paris or Emperor Franz Joseph’s Vienna.”

Drayton nodded. “Yes, well, do sit down and enjoy it.” He sat down as well, only to spring up a few moments later when the Pinckneys arrived.

A flurry of introductions ensued, and then Theodosia had the distinct pleasure of leaning out over the brass railing to survey the crowd below. Everyone looked fabulous, of course, from the dazzling couples still streaming in, to the tie-and-tailed orchestra up front. And the buzz of conversation, mingled with occasional laughter and the low sound of musical instruments being tuned, ratcheted up her anticipation even more.

“This place is just remarkable,” Theodosia whispered. She crossed her ankles and tried to settle in for the show, but her nerves were getting the best of her. Opening-night jitters? Yes! She couldn’t wait for the opera to start.

“These seats are well worth the investment,” Drayton whispered back. “What’s life without a little splurge here and there?”

As the orchestra finished their warm-up, a zip of anticipation filled the air and a hush fell over the audience. Everyone could feel the pulse of energy in the theater.

Drayton set his Playbill aside and leaned forward expectantly.

The house lights dimmed until there was almost complete darkness.

Wonderful, Theodosia thought. Magical.

Then the stage lights flashed on, the curtain rose, and the orchestra’s first vibrant notes shimmered high and sweet in the air. With that, Theodosia’s heart took wing and she was swept back almost two hundred years to the Latin Quarter of Paris.

The arias, the music, the sets, all proved to be dazzling. The opera singers who played Mimi and Rodolfo fairly mesmerized the audience. They danced across the stage, laughing, cajoling, singing their hearts out, and positively owning it.

This is it, Theodosia thought. This is what makes people’s hearts leap and quickens their spirit. This is what makes the arts so very special!

•   •   •

Amazingly, the first act flew by. When the curtain was dropped and the applause thundered out, Theodosia let herself relax against her seat back for the first time that night.

“That was just magnificent,” she said to Drayton. She was grinning from ear to ear.

Drayton was nodding and clapping with delight. “Absolutely transporting,” he said. “Possibly the best I’ve seen.”

Theodosia reached over and patted his arm. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so much for inviting me tonight.”

“It’s not over yet,” Drayton said. He rose to his feet and smiled. “Since we’ve reached intermission, would you care to indulge in a glass of sherry? Or, I suppose in this case they’ll be serving wine or champagne.”

They were indeed serving wine and champagne. Theodosia and Drayton braved their way to a temporary bar that had been set up on the second floor and ordered glasses of white wine. Then, as the glittering crowd surged around them, they stepped out of the way and sipped their wine gingerly.

“This wine is actually good,” Theodosia said. “I was expecting something awful and puckery.”

“Right,” Drayton laughed. “Wine from a box. But this isn’t half-bad, is it?” He took another sip. “See anybody you know? It’s opening night, after all. The crème de la crème should be swanning about.”

Theodosia peered over the crowd. “I don’t know about the crème, but here comes Delaine.”

“Who’s she with?”

Theodosia shook her head. She didn’t recognize the man who was escorting her friend. “Her boyfriend du jour?”

“Theodosia?” Delaine’s sharp voice sawed through the low-key burble of the crowd.

Theodosia and Drayton both braced themselves. Delaine could be a little overpowering.

“Isn’t this just amazing?” Delaine exclaimed. She hustled up to them, all wiggling pink shoulders and swishing skirts. “Aren’t you thoroughly enchanted with this production!” When Delaine was excited, she loved to talk in exclamation points.

Delaine was not only over the top in her manner of speech, tonight she was dressed like a Greek goddess. Her cream-colored, one-shouldered long gown was strewn with gold accents, and matching gold and turquoise snake bracelets coiled about each wrist.

Versace? Theodosia wondered. Has to be. Wow.

Not surprisingly, Delaine was hanging on the arm of a very good-looking forty-something man. His dark, curly hair and architectural nose reminded Theodosia of a cross between a gigolo and an Italian count. Although, she giggled to herself, maybe they were one and the same. But Delaine was making introductions now, so she had to pay attention.

“Nice to meet you,” Theodosia said politely to Delaine’s date. He’d been introduced as Renaldo Gilles, an import-export agent.

But Delaine had gossip on her mind. She dropped her voice low and said, “You remember, Theo, you were asking me the other day about Sabrina and Luke Andros?”

“Yes?” Theodosia said. She’d been having such a wonderful time, she’d almost forgotten about them. Now, with just those few words, Delaine had spread a dark cloud over Theodosia’s evening. Still, she leaned forward to listen. Maybe this was something important she should know about.

“I found out a few things about Sabrina and Luke from Tookie Carmichael,” Delaine said. “You know her, she comes into Cotton Duck all the time and is on the Spoleto committee this year?”

“Okay.”

“Anyway,” Delaine said, “Tookie told me that the Androses used to live in Miami. Or at least that’s where their yacht business was originally based.”

“I wonder why they moved to Charleston?” Theodosia said. “Or is their move permanent? Maybe they still have an office in Miami, too?”

But Delaine was shaking her head. “No, no. Apparently they felt there was just too much competition in Miami. Just too many yacht brokers and wannabe’s trying to elbow them out of the way.”

“But there’s so much money in Miami,” Theodosia said. “International money, too. You’d think they could make a go of it.” If they’re good, anyway. If they can figure out how to market themselves.

Delaine rolled her eyes. “Goodness’ sake, there’s lots of money here, too.” She looked around, seemed to notice Gilles, and snuggled close to him. “Hello, sweetie,” she purred.

“Are you enjoying the opera?” Theodosia asked Gilles. She felt like she should say something to him.

“I’m a huge fan,” Gilles said, waving an arm enthusiastically, almost clobbering a woman with an overdone Throwback Thursday beehive hairdo. “I’ve actually had the pleasure of seeing this particular opera performed in Paris.”

“And how does it compare?” Drayton asked politely.

Gilles gave them all a slightly haughty look and shook his head. “There is no comparison.”

Theodosia smiled broadly and turned toward Drayton. “Well then, we should probably be heading back to our seats.”

“So soon?” Delaine looked disappointed.

“It was lovely to see you both,” Drayton said, hastily backing away. “I hope you enjoy the rest of the opera. Or at least try to,” he muttered under his breath.

Theodosia gave a little wave. “Nice meeting you . . .”

•   •   •

A few minutes later, the froth of the second act once again swept Theodosia up in its embrace. Her eyes fluttered shut as the music carried her from scene to scene. How could these singers simply open their mouths and fill this hall with such glorious mind-boggling sound? she wondered. She smiled as the music gained in intensity. She was devouring each note with her ears, anticipating the next.

And then, just as the mezzo-soprano was hitting her highest note, just as the chorus was really pumping out the backup chords, a scream suddenly rose up from somewhere in the audience. It mingled with the soprano’s voice for a long moment, and then climbed to an even higher screech. Like steel wheels braking on rusted rails, it rose and fell and rose and fell until . . .

The soprano suddenly fell silent, a look of absolute shock on her face.

The orchestra faltered.

And still the scream continued, rising so high it ended in a horrible, guttural shriek.

Somewhere, a door slammed loudly, the noise reverberating throughout the entire hall, rattling everyone’s sensibilities.

Now everyone on stage had stopped singing . . . the principal players, the chorus. Everyone glanced about nervously, unsure of what to do.

A few murmurs rose up from the audience. And then a hundred more people joined in.

The orchestra’s frizzy-haired conductor turned around and stared at the audience with disapproval.

“What happened?” a woman cried.

“What’s going on?” a man demanded.

Several members of the audience jumped to their feet.

Then, from the box seat next to them, Theodosia heard a plaintive voice call out.

“Help!” the woman cried. “Something terrible has happened to Abigail and Harold. Won’t somebody please help them?”

As the screams continued, the house lights flashed on in a sudden blaze. Due, no doubt, to the quick thinking and fast action of a nervous usher.

It suddenly became very obvious that the screaming was coming from the private box that was closest to the stage. In fact, as Theodosia leaned forward, she could see a woman standing there, a look of utter terror on her face as she screamed bloody blue murder.

“Help!” the woman continued to scream, her voice drawing out the word in an awful, wrenching shriek. “Somebody please help me!”

Theodosia stood up. “Something’s horribly wrong,” she cried out to Drayton. Then, without thinking, without hesitating, she dashed into the hallway and sprinted down the row of box seats. If nobody else would help this poor woman, then she would do it!

She passed one, two, three doors that led to box seats. Ran past a curving stairway that led downstairs. For one brief instant it felt like she’d just missed seeing someone. That she’d caught a faint, ghostly image out of the corner of her eye. Then she was sliding to a stop in front of the last set of box seats where the screams were pouring out.

The door stood open.

Theodosia drew a deep breath and plunged inside.

Her eyes quickly took in the bizarre tableau. An elderly man in a tuxedo lay sprawled on the carpet, gasping for air. Blood poured from a cut on his forehead and had trickled down to soak through the front of his white shirt. An older woman—the screaming woman she’d seen before—was now bent over him and racked with sobs. A grim-looking theater manager crouched next to the man and barked sharp orders into his cell phone.

When the theater manager glanced up and saw Theodosia, he waved a dismissive hand at her. “Go away!” he cried.

“What’s wrong?” Theodosia asked urgently. “What happened?”

The crying woman stumbled toward Theodosia, almost tripping on the hem of her long lilac-colored dress. “Help me,” she gasped. Her shoulders shook and her body heaved with erratic sobs. “Somebody snu-snu-snuck into our box,” the woman babbled. “They hit my husband over the head and then they . . .” Her right hand clutched at her bare neckline as her lower lip quivered wildly. “They stole the necklace right from around my neck.”

Theodosia bent down to look at the elderly gentleman on the floor.

“Sir, are you all right? Sir, can you hear me?”

His eyes fluttered open. “I can hear you,” he moaned.

“Stay down,” she told him. “You’ve got a bad cut on your right temple and you might have a concussion.” Why was she getting a terrible sense of déjà vu? Why did this suddenly feel like a replay of Sunday night at Heart’s Desire?

“Did you call an ambulance?” Theodosia asked the theater manager.

He bobbed his head. “They’re on their way. I’m talking to the police right now.”

“Ma’am?” Theodosia reached a hand out to the crying woman. “You’re white as a sheet. Come here and sit down. An ambulance is on its way. Help will be here in a matter of minutes.” She was aware that a large crowd had gathered outside the door, that there was a high, insistent buzz, like the sound of a thousand cicadas.

The woman stumbled toward Theodosia.

Theodosia guided the distraught woman into a theater seat. “Here you go.” The woman’s legs buckled beneath her as she sat down heavily.

“Harold?” the woman sobbed.

“I’m here,” the old man croaked.

“He’s right here,” Theodosia said, reaching down to pat the man’s shoulder. “We’re just going to keep him lying flat until the ambulance arrives.”

The old woman nodded sadly. Then her fingers clawed helplessly at her neck again. “My emerald necklace.” Tears streamed down her face. “I took it out of the safe just so I could wear it tonight.” Her voice caught. “It was an heirloom.”

Well, Theodosia thought. Of course it was.