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In the greenroom underneath the stage, Rachael Quigly watched the Oscar preshow on a monitor, along with other low-ranking members of the crew. She could have watched at home, but it was a thrill just being in the theater, even if she couldn’t see the live show, even if she was just watching it on TV.

And she was nervous, had been ever since she had handled the electrical inspector. In the back of her mind was the nagging doubt: What if something goes wrong and it was her fault? Not that she had done anything, but was there anything she didn’t do? Should she have double-checked the inspection, got someone else’s stamp of approval on the job? Of course not. Her boss was already harried and would have been irritated with her, an assistant who couldn’t even hold a clipboard without instructions.

On the TV screen, Viveca Rothschild was being interviewed.

For some reason she didn’t seem happy.