ISOBEL STOOD ROOTED to the spot, distracted from her silent run-through of the lyrics by Chris and Arden’s unrehearsed choreography. It wasn’t until the curtain hit the floor and all hell broke loose around her that she realized Arden had passed out.
Heather, white-faced, rushed onstage screaming into her headset, “Call 911!”
Chris crawled backward away from Arden and pulled himself to his feet. He glanced around helplessly. “She was dead weight. One minute she was fine, and then she just dropped.”
“That’s what happens when you faint,” snapped Marissa.
“Arden? Arden!” Heather shook her gently. When there was no response, she put her ear to Arden’s mouth. “Her breathing is faint. I don’t know what to do!” There was an edge of hysteria to her voice.
Felicity burst into the wings, followed by Jethro and Ezra.
“What’s going on?” Felicity demanded.
“She passed out. Kelly is calling 911,” Heather said in a trembling voice.
Ezra pushed forward and knelt by Arden. “Everybody back,” he cried and immediately began chest compressions.
Cast and crew alike huddled in groups, spilling from the wings onto the stage behind the curtain, but nobody dared speak. The confused murmuring of the audience filtered over the backstage monitors until someone thought to turn them down. But as Ezra’s compressions became more frantic, the company too began to whisper, and Isobel heard muffled sobbing from somewhere behind her.
Ezra was just starting to tire when the paramedics arrived, and he stood aside gratefully to let them take over. His body was shaking, and he sank into Heather’s chair. Kelly and Heather hovered nearby, clutching each other guiltily like babysitters whose child has fallen off the jungle gym on their watch. Jethro and Felicity retreated to the rigging, their concerned voices rising and falling. Isobel sidled over to Marissa.
“Do you know if Arden had some condition that might make her pass out? Did she take any medications?”
Marissa shook her head. “No idea.”
“I thought you guys were good friends.”
Marissa gasped. “Oh my God, you talk about her like she’s dead!”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I—” Isobel flailed.
Marissa stalked over to Talia and whispered something to her. They turned cold stares on Isobel.
Sunil joined Isobel. “What was that about?”
“Came out wrong,” Isobel mumbled.
Felicity was speaking to one of the paramedics. Her voice rose. “But is she going to be all right?”
“We have to get her to the hospital. Someone needs to come with her.”
“Heather, you go,” Kelly instructed.
“Stand back, please.”
The company parted, and the paramedics rolled Arden through on a stretcher with Heather trailing them, looking terrified. Felicity jumped aside as they cut past her.
A hush fell, and Felicity turned, her lips set in a thin line. “I’ll go out front and make an announcement. Isobel!”
She started. “Yes?”
“Can you finish the show for Arden? Even if you have to hold the script.”
Isobel felt every eye on her. She swallowed. “I can do it without the script.”
Immediately, everyone started murmuring. Felicity quieted them. “How long do you need?”
“Not much. Maybe five or ten minutes, just to get my head together.” She glanced down. “I’ll have to wear my own costume.”
“That’s fine,” Kelly said. “I’ll need someone on headset back here.”
“I’ll do it,” Ezra said.
“What do you do in act two?” Felicity asked Isobel.
“Only the maid.”
“I can cover it,” Marissa volunteered. “Once I’m done as Mrs. Blakely, I’m ensemble.”
“Thank you, everyone, for being flexible, and thank you, Isobel, for being prepared.”
With that, Felicity pushed through the break in the curtains, and the chattering in the house trailed into silence at her appearance. Suddenly, Isobel found herself shaking uncontrollably. Sunil and Hugh rushed to her side.
“What is it?”
“What’s the matter?”
“How can I go out there? I mean, I think I know it, but I’ve never had an understudy rehearsal. Maybe I should bring my script. I don’t know what any of the movements feel like!”
Before either of them could respond, Chris came up behind her.
“There’s not much left in act one. Let’s walk through the rest of ‘The Washington Post,’ and I can rough you through the finale. Then we can talk through act two during intermission. You’ll be great. Everyone knows you’ve been preparing your ass off.”
Isobel searched his eyes for any hint of accusation, but his expression was sincere. He leaned in closer. “Even with no rehearsal, you’re going to be better than Arden.” He took her arm and led her onstage to the gazebo. She glanced over her shoulder at Sunil and Hugh, who nodded encouragingly.
Ten minutes flew past, and Isobel found that putting her body through the motions with Chris calmed her. When the curtain rose again, Isobel and Chris were greeted by loud cheering and applause. They began at the top of the scene and got another big hand after the duet. Isobel glanced down at the pit, where Hugh was beaming at her. He blew her a kiss, which she acknowledged with a flutter of her eyelids. Before she knew it, they were up to the act one finale, and when the curtain came down for intermission, the cast flocked to congratulate her, any residual suspicion eclipsed by relief that the show was going on.
Isobel returned to her dressing room and found her phone buzzing with a string of text messages from Delphi. She picked it up, scrolled through, and shrieked.
“What is it?” Talia asked, alarmed.
“My best friend is here! She came up from the city to surprise me.”
Talia eyed her curiously. “You really didn’t know she was coming?”
“What?” Isobel looked up. “No! I had no idea. She told me she couldn’t get off work, but now she says it’s a long story.” She scrolled further and gasped. “She’s sitting next to that theater columnist from the New York Post. The obnoxious one, you know who I mean.”
“No, I don’t,” said Talia coolly. “I’m an opera singer.”
“Yes, you do. Roman Fried.” Isobel stared at the ceiling. “I wonder what brought him up here?”
“Hmmm.”
“What?”
“I just think it’s funny, that’s all.”
A warning bell went off in Isobel’s brain. “What’s funny?”
Talia looked squarely at her. “Arden gets sick, you’re totally ready to jump in, and your best friend and some theater critic from New York are here. Oh, and the Donnelly Group. With all the stuff that’s been going on, it starts to look a little fishy, you know?”
“No, I don’t know.” Isobel felt her neck burn with anger. “I can’t believe you would suggest that I hurt Arden so I could, what…play a slightly less shitty part in a shitty show?”
There was a knock on the door, and Thomas poked his head in, holding Arden’s second-act costume, an emerald green off-the-shoulder evening gown.
“It’s going to be big on you, but I took it up a few inches so at least you won’t trip.” He looked from Isobel to Talia. “Did I interrupt something?”
Isobel found her voice first. “No, it’s all right. Come in.”
She started to unbutton her bodice but found her fingers were trembling.
“Here, let me do that. You must be a bundle of nerves.”
Talia let out a disgusted snort and pushed past Thomas out of the dressing room.
“What’s up her ass?” Thomas asked.
Isobel held out her arms and let Thomas’s quick fingers fly over the restricting buttons.
“She thinks I engineered Arden fainting so I could go on for her.”
Thomas pulled back and locked eyes with Isobel. “Did you?”
“Why does everyone think I’m responsible for what happened to Arden, just because I’m doing the job I was hired for?”
“You pulled the masking down on her,” Thomas reminded her.
“It was an accident! Besides, I’m scared of heights. No way could I ever go up to the flies to mess with it, if I even knew how.”
“And I heard someone put Ex-Lax in the coffee.”
“Which Arden didn’t drink. And the problem with the orchestra parts didn’t affect her any more than the rest of us.”
“If you didn’t do anything, then you have nothing to worry about,” Thomas placated her.
She wriggled out of her bodice and turned so Thomas could undo her skirt. “I can’t believe anyone would think I would hurt Arden.”
“Girls are jealous bitches. You don’t need me to tell you that.”
“I hope Arden is going to be okay. Honestly,” Isobel said.
He patted her shoulder. “Of course you do, honey.”
Isobel stepped into the gown. Thomas pulled it up and fastened it.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Nothing but the best for the leading lady. Whoever she may be. Ready for act two?”
Isobel exhaled. “Bring it.”
Thomas pulled open the door, startling Felicity and Kelly, who were standing there about to knock, faces ashen.
Isobel’s stomach dropped. “I was nervous! I promise it’ll get better the more I do it.”
“You’ll have plenty of chances,” Felicity said in a tight voice. “Heather called from the hospital. Arden is dead.”