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Sandra stepped out into the auditorium and saw a small group gathered in the front few rows. The director waved them over. Peter headed toward him, and Sandra headed for the back row to lay low.
“Would you come too, please?” Frank asked her in a formal tone. He was such a professional.
She changed course and went to sit beside Peter. Several years ago, the ancient theater had gotten a grant to get new chairs, and she was grateful for their comfort. She settled in and scanned the room to see who was there and was surprised to see that Ethel had indeed ventured out. That woman was fearless. Their eyes met, and Ethel gave her a springlike smile that clashed with their current circumstances. Sandra tried to return the smile, but knew hers didn’t match Ethel’s good cheer.
“I owe you all the most heartfelt apology,” Frank began. “I’ve been here all day, and I’ve only just looked out the windows. I had no idea it was supposed to get this bad. As soon as I realized, I called as many people as I could and told them to stay home, but some of you were out of cell phone range.” Sandra wasn’t surprised. Thanks to the mountains, the theater had absolutely zero cell service. “Please accept my apologies. I hate that you’ve wasted a trip, but please do leave right now, in case it gets worse.”
At first, no one said anything, and then Otis, who played a too-thin and not nearly jolly enough Grandpa Spencer, said, “But we’re all here. We should rehearse!”
Frank shook his head. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I don’t think that is wise. Your safety is my primary concern.”
Tell that to the hammer and drill.
“We’re Mainers!” Otis cried. “We know how to drive in the snow. We’re already here. We might as well take advantage—”
“A true Mainer knows when to stay off the roads,” Billy offered.
Billy was starting to grow on Sandra. At first, his in-your-face friendliness had frightened her New England disposition, but the more she was around him, the more she appreciated him. Like now, for instance.
Otis folded his arms across his chest. “Well, I think we should stay.” His tone suggested that he was now going to punish them all with the silent treatment.
“Maybe it could be optional?” Gloria offered. She wasn’t an actress, but a chauffeur to her two thespian children, Corban and Corina. “We live nearby, so we could stay—”
“We could run Corban’s and my scene!” Otis said, the silent treatment abruptly abandoned.
“It’s up to you,” Gloria said to Frank, her voice sounding meek and gentle compared to Otis’s. “If you want to lock up and go home, then we should.”
“Honestly, I’ve got so much work to do, I was just going to sleep here.”
Otis slapped the arms of his chair. “It’s settled then. If you want to go, go. If not, let’s rehearse!”
“I’ve got a shovel!” Gloria said with too much excitement.
Sandra wasn’t sure anything was settled, and she didn’t like being forced into the decision-making hot seat. If she chose to go home, Peter would be mad, and they wouldn’t be real Mainers. She didn’t want to be the bad guy, but she really wanted to go home. But then she looked into Peter’s giant doe eyes, which were pleading with her to stay. She nodded. “Fine. But you owe me.”
His face lit up and he hurried to the stage, leaving her to reflect. Had she just agreed to stay to make Peter happy or because she feared the judgment of the others? Or both? She decided it didn’t matter and picked up her knitting, which had gotten wet on the way into the theater. She wasn’t much of a knitter, but she’d been spending so much time at the theater, everyone was getting a scarf for Christmas.
Jan, the stage manager, stood staring at the almost empty stage with her hands on her hips. “We’ve rehearsed in worse weather than this and lived to tell the tale,” she said to no one. Jan had also been at Mountain View Theater for eons, and reminded people of this as often as possible.
The college student strolled in then, looking as though he’d just rolled out of bed. He brushed the snow off his gelled-solid hair and straightened his glasses. “It’s snowing out. Why are we having rehearsal?”
No one acknowledged his existence, so he repeated his question with even more accusation in his tone. Treasure tossed him a look. “If you’d ever show up on time, you’d know. Now get in your place. You’re in this scene.”
“I’m in every scene,” he mumbled as if that were a great oppression he was enduring, as if he’d never auditioned for such a role. He didn’t go to his place. He crossed the stage to stand too closely to Treasure, who backed up a foot. Sandra couldn’t blame her. Matthew’s lips moved, but Sandra couldn’t hear what he said. She had no problem, however, hearing Treasure’s answer.
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I will never, ever, ever go out with you. So stop asking, you creep!” She stormed off the stage, and everyone watched her go. Sandra was certain that this was the way she wanted it. Sandra had never seen such an attention-seeking person in her life. Treasure wanted all eyes on her all the time, which made her a good actress. In a private conversation with Sandra, Billy had once called Treasure a “theater tramp,” and Sandra had failed to bite back the laugh. The phrase fit. The single, twenty-something-year-old woman traveled all over the state to act in amateur plays. Sandra had no idea how she paid her bills, and had wondered why such a passionate actress hadn’t moved to a place that offered paying roles. But Sandra didn’t want to know badly enough to ask, so Treasure’s motivation would have to remain a mystery.
Deciding she needed some caffeine, Sandra headed for the concession booth in the back of the theater. It wasn’t open, but the cast and crew could help themselves and then drop their money into a can, on the honor system. Sandra had already stuck a twenty dollar bill in there, hoping that would cover all the Coke she could drink. As she passed the sound booth, she heard Otis say to Treasure, “Don’t pretend to be such a victim. If you don’t want him to like you, stop flirting with him.”
“I don’t flirt with him!” Treasure cried, as if Otis had accused her of drinking pond scum.
“You disgust me,” Otis said and brushed by her, physically knocking her aside. As he did so, his eyes met Sandra’s, and she quickly looked down to pretend she hadn’t seen or heard anything.
Her cheeks got hot and she hurried to the fridge. Had that not been a bit aggressive? Treasure was obnoxious, sure, but she didn’t deserve that! The more time Sandra spent with Otis, the less she liked him. However, she’d met his wife at other rehearsals, and she’d been lovely, so surely Otis must have some redeeming qualities?