Chapter Two

TUESDAY NIGHT, BENNIE SAT alone in the darkened theater at Mary Bradford School for Girls, slumped with her feet on the back of the seat in front of her. If Mother Berry, the school’s headmistress, were to see her now, she’d frown on the unladylike pose.

“Not a good role model for the girls,” Bennie could almost hear her saying.

Bennie wouldn’t have been able to sit up straight if Mary Bradford herself stepped out of 1845 and walked into the theater. Bennie was bone tired. Two days of dress rehearsals for the annual school Revel were behind her. The run-throughs had been chaos, full of missed cues and costume problems. Since that was the purpose of a dress rehearsal, Bennie hoped the girls had worked out all the mistakes and that everyone’s nerves would settle once the curtain rose on the performance.

The stage in front of her was lit only by orange exit signs, yet Bennie could make out the details of the set since she had lived with it day and night for weeks. At the back of the stage, raised on a platform, was a long banquet table and ornate chairs, the middle one larger than the rest. Potted shrubs trimmed in shapes of balls, corkscrews, and pyramids lined the sides of the set, and scarlet and gold satin drapes hid the stage lights and softened the edges of the stage.

Directing the Revel was a big responsibility, and it was important that Bennie get it right. The production was a highlight of every school year. Since the founding of the school, except for a few years during the Civil War, students wrote the dialogue, costumed the actors, built the sets and performed in an original stage production. The stories were always fantastical mixes of fairy tales, Shakespeare, and whatever movie was popular that year. This year’s extravaganza would have duels, dragons, witches, belly dancers, and diabolical plots. There were over a hundred girls in the cast, a third of the school, and another thirty in the orchestra.

The double doors at the back of the theater banged open. Bennie turned to see a figure silhouetted against the lights of the lobby.

“Mrs. Grant, is that you? It’s black as pitch in here,” Miss Dodie, the Latin teacher, said.

“Right here, Miss Dodie.” Bennie sat up straighter as Miss Dodie hurried down the aisle, feeling her way in the dark, and dropped into the seat next to her.

“Thank goodness I found you. Mother Berry is looking for you. When you weren’t at dinner, I figured you’d be here.” Miss Dodie looked around the auditorium and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her cleavage. “Want one? I know this is strictly forbidden, but I’m so nervous. Are you?” She offered Bennie a cigarette and when Bennie declined she lit her own. I can’t wait to get this damned, sorry, thing over with. Again, let me thank you for the hundredth time for taking the Revel off my shoulders in the middle of things.”

“Thank you for agreeing to stay on as assistant director. I couldn’t have done it without your help.”

Miss Dodie took a deep drag from her cigarette and blew out the smoke, fanning the air and looking around again.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to be helping you with it, but let’s face it, it’s not my cup of tea. Mother Berry assigned it to me before you came to teach drama because almost no one takes my Latin classes any more. Only three girls have signed up for next term. I’m hanging on to this teaching position by a thread. Sometimes I think I should face the inevitable and get a job as a salesgirl somewhere. Maybe Bloomingdale’s.”

“What does Mother Berry want to see me about?” Bennie smoothed her skirt and straightened the seams of her hose.

“She didn’t give me any details. Please let me know after you talk to her. I wonder if it’s about the belly dance. If we have to change that at the last minute, I don’t know what we’ll do.” Miss Dodie put her head in her hands.

Bennie patted Miss Dodie’s arm.

“Don’t worry. If it’s the belly dance, we’ll cover up the girls’ midriffs. It’s going to go well. I’ll go see what Mother Berry wants and let you know if you need to get fitted for your blue Bloomingdale’s smock.” She stepped around Miss Dodie and hurried up the aisle.

“Don’t joke about this, Mrs. Grant. It’s serious,” Miss Dodie called after her.

“We’ll just have to manage whatever Mother Berry’s concerned about.”

Bennie pushed through the doors, crossed the lobby and took a deep breath before stepping into the cold wind blowing across campus.

Bennie climbed the wide stone steps of Old Main, the school’s original building. Deep grooves were worn into the steps from generations of girls’ hurrying feet. When Bennie attended school here, classes were still held in the old building, but it had since been restored to house administrative offices and the Board meeting room. Mother Berry’s apartment was on the top floor.

Bennie took the stairs, avoiding the unreliable, creaky old elevator. At the door of the headmistress’ apartment, Bennie hesitated, marshalling her arguments for leaving the belly dance in as planned. As she raised her hand to knock, the door jerked open, startling both Bennie and Mother Berry.

“Mrs. Grant, what are you doing out here? I was about to go and see if Miss Dodie had found you. Come in, this is urgent.” Mother Berry pulled Bennie into the small living room and guided her to an overstuffed chair.

Entering the apartment was like stepping into a time warp. Bennie suspected that nothing had been updated since 1925 when Mother Berry came to Mary Bradford’s as a young widow and took the school on as her life’s preoccupation. She didn’t spend money on herself and, to the consternation of the faculty, she was unwilling to pay them what they considered they were worth. Mother Berry often preached that the opportunity of teaching at Mary Bradford should be compensation enough. Bennie never joined the other teachers in grousing about their pay. She was grateful to Mother Berry for taking her on in the middle of the term.

“Mrs. Grant, the members of the Board of Trustees are coming to the Revel. We invite them every year, but it’s perfunctory and they’ve never shown up. I suspect our new board member is behind it. She says she wants to be much more involved, which is fine with me if she means being generous with her husband’s considerable fortune, and, of course, her own, too. She’s a successful interior designer in New York, you know.”

Bennie looked around the parlor and smiled to herself, wondering what a successful designer would think of Mother Berry’s apartment.

“And her husband is a Broadway producer. You’ll have that in common, given your interest in the stage. Anyway, she’s the first woman Board member, and the first alumna, of course. You and I both know that the school attracts simply the best and brightest girls from everywhere. Mary Bradford’s is the best, the best, the best, and some of our girls need financial help. Mrs. Clayborn can afford scholarships for hundreds of girls who otherwise would have no means for coming here."

"Plus,” Mother Berry leaned toward Bennie, “we might get her interested in the improvements in the drama program that I know you’d love to see.” Mother Berry took off her glasses and tapped her lips with her finger. “Let me think.”

Bennie could almost hear the flipping of index cards inside Mother Berry’s head where she stored information on potential donors.

“She graduated from Mary Bradford’s several years before you were a student here. She would have been…” Mother Berry’s eyes lit up as she discovered the correct mental index card. “Class of ’32. And you were class of ’41.”

“Exactly right, Mother Berry. You’re amazing. How can I help?” Bennie asked.

“We’ll have a reception for the Board after the performance so they can meet you and Miss Dodie and the leading characters. I need the performance to go well.”

“I understand how important this is, Mother Berry, and we won’t let you down. The girls are ready. Miss Dodie and I guarantee a success.”

“I’m counting on you to make this year’s Revel the best, the best, the best.” Mother Berry rose and walked Bennie to the door.

As Bennie hurried down the stairs of Old Main, she began planning how she and Helen, the student in charge of costumes, could cover the belly dancers’ midriffs in time for the performance.