Part 2
The cast paused for coffee, waiting for their leading man to arrive. Chris Hill, who was to play the part of Bill opposite Alison in _Dear Ruth_, was the only cast member Peggy hadn’t met. He had been held up in New York with a last-minute television show, and was due on the ten-thirty bus.
“What’s he like?” Peggy asked Rita as she broke off a piece of doughnut to share with her. The cast kept snacks in an old-fashioned icebox on the patio.
“Oh, he’s lovely!” Rita grinned mischievously. “He’s quite tall and very blond, tanned and terribly handsome, blue eyes, a great smile, romantic—”
“Really! He’s all that, hm?” Peggy teased back. “Well, all I want to know is, can he act?”
“He certainly can. I’ve worked with him before—” Rita looked at Peggy curiously. “It will be very interesting to see your reaction to Chris. It’s a shame that you didn’t have a chance to meet him before and more or less prepare yourself.”
“Oh, Rita!” Peggy exclaimed, shaking her head in protest. She didn’t know what a picture she was with the sunlight striking her dark hair and framing her pretty face. Rita watched her, noticing the fine, high cheekbones, straight nose, and soft, wide mouth.
“You really have a captivating quality, Peggy,” Rita said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Chris Hill is quite taken with you.”
“With me?” Peggy blurted in astonishment. “Oh, Rita, I haven’t even met him yet, and anyway,” she added, “I’m not really interested in anyone.” She was remembering Randy Brewster in New York, and all the fun they’d had together in dramatic school and in the off-Broadway production they’d been involved in. Kind, steady Randy, with the marvelous sense of humor. It would have to be somebody quite wonderful to share the special place that Randy occupied in Peggy’s thoughts. “Why, there’s no time for romance here, Rita,” she said. “We’re all too busy. And besides, I should think Alison would be more his type.”
“Um-hm. Maybe,” Rita interrupted rather mysteriously and nudged Peggy. “You’ll soon have a chance to find out.”
Following her glance, Peggy looked up the little path and saw Chris Hill, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, hurrying down with long, energetic strides. His appearance was certainly everything Rita had said and more. She glanced at Rita, her eyes wide, and Rita returned a bland “I-told-you-so” expression.
Chris ran the last few yards, dumped his bag carelessly on the patio, and with a wide, completely engaging smile, announced, “Reporting for duty—on the dot, I hope!” He shook Chuck’s hand. “Svengali, how are you? You picked a beautiful spot—it’s just great. Alison!” He leaned over her chair, planting an audible kiss on her cheek. Peggy’s eyes popped.
“Doesn’t mean a thing,” Rita whispered to Peggy. “Watch.”
“Darling!” Alison replied extravagantly. “What kept you so long? Did you come up by dogcart?”
Chris noticed Rita and ran over, swooping her up in a big bear hug and giving her a kiss, too. “My favorite actress!” he laughed, standing back and looking at her with delight. “And where’s her favorite husband? Don’t tell me—he’s up to his ears in flats! When do I see him? Don’t tell me—probably never!”
Rita laughed. “Such energy, Chris! How do you do it after all night on a bus? Chris, here’s someone you haven’t met—our ingénue, Peggy Lane. Star of Stage, Screen, Radio—”
“Television and Summer Stock!” Chris finished for her. “Don’t mind us, Peggy, it’s an old joke from another summer company. Well!”
He stopped and Peggy couldn’t tell whether he was pausing for breath or from the interest in her which his look seemed to indicate.
“Well!” he said again, and there was something in his voice that caused an unexpected flurry in Peggy’s emotions.
“Hello,” Peggy said tremulously. She would never know what his next words might have been, because just then Chuck interrupted with a call to resume the reading.
The company sat down again, and Peggy forgot Chris Hill, the young man, as she listened to Chris Hill, the actor. He read the part of Bill with so much energy and interest one would think he had just returned from a long vacation instead of a grueling bus trip. He _was_ a good actor, Peggy thought. He brought a special kind of magic to the play, and as they finished the first act, Peggy had a sudden feeling that _Dear Ruth_ would be a hit. Chuck couldn’t have chosen a better opening bill for the cast. It was perfect for their company, and she looked at him with renewed respect.
After lunch the furniture was rearranged on the patio as it would be on stage. Chuck wanted to block the first act. Pencils in hand, they busily scribbled on their sides, marking movements as Chuck directed them. He had blocked the play in advance, but it was still a long process, as, with the actors in front of him, he saw many necessary changes.
Mary Hopkins had to be told that Stage Right was her right, and not the right of the audience. She caught on quickly, though, and very soon Peggy noticed that she was lightly penciling in initials—C.U.L. and D.R., instead of writing out “Cross Up Left” and “Down Right.”
Danny Dunn was enjoying himself enormously. He had the part of Albert, a stuffy, amusing character who is engaged to Ruth before Bill captures her heart. Peggy was struck by this boy’s amazing versatility. She had read with him in New York and knew how well he did juvenile parts. Yet, here he was, playing a slightly older man and doing a perfectly wonderful job. Danny had a face almost like putty; he could do anything with it he wished, and Peggy realized that here was a true actor—who would never be typed, who could play anything he was given.
“Hello, Mother. Hello, Dad.” Danny made his entrance, and Peggy stifled a laugh. He was really very funny.
They finished the second scene of Act One and Chuck called, “Curtain!” There was a sound of hands clapping, and a voice said, “Bravo!” Peggy looked around. She had been so engrossed in her work that she hadn’t noticed Richard Wallace standing near the patio, looking on. Beside him stood a tall, white-haired woman with strong, craggy features, and sparkling blue eyes framed by a network of tiny lines.
“What a wonderful face!” Peggy exclaimed to herself, realizing that this must be the famous Aunt Hetty.
“Bravo!” Richard repeated in a deep voice. He was a large young man, mature for his age, with the same observant blue eyes as his aunt.
“It’s a pity to think that all this work may go to waste,” he said bitterly, coming on to their outdoor stage.
There was a stunned silence. Peggy didn’t know what to think—was this Richard’s way of kidding? Chuck got up to give Aunt Hetty a seat, and plunking herself down heavily, she stated matter-of-factly, “You’re all so good—so much better than I expected—I’ll hate to see you go!”
The cast looked blank. Chuck was struck dumb for a moment, and then he suddenly exploded. “What are you talking about? We’re having a rehearsal here and this is not the time for idiotic jokes!” He looked at Aunt Hetty and controlled himself. “Excuse me, but really, Richard knows better than to interrupt us like this.”
“It’s no joke, young man,” Aunt Hetty said bluntly. “Richard, tell them all about it.” She peered closely at Chuck. “And you ought to know better, Mr. Crosby, than to think we’d intrude for anything less than a very good reason!”
“My!” Peggy thought. “It certainly isn’t wise to cross Aunt Hetty. She’s a stubborn old girl. No wonder she got all that backing from the Chamber of Commerce—they could hardly say no.”
“I imagine you haven’t seen this,” Richard said, holding up a newspaper so the cast could see the front page.
The _Kenabeek Gazette_, Peggy read on the masthead, and right underneath was a headline: Theater In School Illegal.
“I hate to bring you bad news,” Richard said as the cast gathered around, “but the man who was responsible for this may be right.”
Peggy looked at the bottom of the column and saw that it was signed “Ford Birmingham.”
“No, that’s just the man who wrote it,” Richard said, noticing Peggy’s glance. “Ford Birmingham covers art, music, theater, and local features for the paper—he’s supposed to write our reviews, too. But the man behind this article is either Max Slade or his brother William—or both. The Slade brothers run the local movie house and they’ve opposed this theater from the beginning, thinking it will affect their business—”
“But it shouldn’t.” Peggy couldn’t help interrupting, and Richard agreed with her.
“No, of course, it shouldn’t. Our theater could even help their business by exposing more people to entertainment and thereby drawing them to the movies, too. However, the Slade brothers don’t see it that way.”
“The Slade brothers don’t see much of anything at all,” commented Aunt Hetty brusquely. “Not even their own movies, from what I gather. If they used better judgment in selecting films, they might have better business.”
“Why, I’ve known Max Slade for years,” said Howard Miller, coming over to Aunt Hetty. “I realized that he didn’t exactly approve of the summer theater, but what’s all this about our not being legal?” He ran a hand through his handsome, graying hair, frowning.
“Read it and weep, Howard,” Aunt Hetty responded. “Apparently they’ve found a loophole.”
“The article claims that a high school cannot legally be used by a profit-making organization such as a summer theater,” Richard explained.
“But we’re helping the school by paying rent to them,” Chuck protested.
“Sure, but the Slade brothers aren’t concerned about the school,” Richard continued. “They’re thinking of themselves and are willing to use any means to get us out of town. This article says that we will be taken to court if we don’t suspend our operation.”
“Can they?” asked Chris Hill. “I mean, wouldn’t the case be thrown out?”
“No,” Richard answered seriously, “I don’t think it would be thrown out, because there’s a chance—a good chance—that they’re right!”
“Marvelous!” Alison Lord exclaimed ironically. “Just wonderful! And I guess we’re just supposed to sit here and take it!”
“No, why should we?” Peggy rushed in with a sudden thought. “Why can’t we stop the case before it even gets to court?”
“Right!” Richard smiled at her. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Peggy. I’m flying up to Albany tonight to see the commissioner of education. But,” he said earnestly, “his decision may go against us, and you’ll all have to be prepared for that. That’s really why I’m here. If we can’t play in the school, we can’t play at all this year. I want to know if you’re willing to go on rehearsing on the slight chance that we’ll be able to open. I’ll probably be gone for several days, and you may be working for nothing. It’s up to you.”
A determined chorus of voices responded.
“Of course, we’ll work.”
“I want to go on.”
“We’ll open or else—”
“I’d like to meet this Max Slade—”
Mary Hopkins’ little voice trailed on after everyone else’s, “... and besides all the boxes of crackerjack, I see that the script calls for dozens of bunches of lilacs. I may be able to make them for you”—she faltered, a little embarrassed—“I—I’m kind of good with my hands.”
Everyone applauded, and Aunt Hetty came over to give her a hug. “Good girl, Mary. You sound like the other professionals.” She beamed at the cast, displaying an unexpected warmth, and then, as if remembering a role, barked gruffly, “Back to work, then!”
“Why, she’s really soft and sentimental under that brusque exterior,” Peggy thought, watching Aunt Hetty walk stiffly away. “She’s in love with this theater and it would break her heart to see it fold.”
Everyone wished Richard luck in the state capital as he walked away toward the interview that meant everything to this little group of actors.
Chuck Crosby turned to face them, and with a resolute look that reflected the feelings of all, he firmly called, “Places!”
III A Broadcast
The next few days were almost a mirage of feverish activity. Never had Peggy worked so hard! Rehearsals morning and afternoon, helping Gus with the scenery at night, and always, in back of everyone’s mind, the big question—would the theater open at all?
“What do you think, Rita?” Peggy asked late one night when the two exhausted girls returned to her room. They had stayed late at the theater helping Gus, for tomorrow with the set finally up, the cast would have its first rehearsal on stage.
“I think we’re going to open!” Rita answered hopefully. “At least I’m working with that idea. It is disturbing not to hear from Richard again, though.”
Richard had wired the company from Albany the disquieting news that the commissioner of education was off on a fishing trip and could not be reached. Now, on top of everything else, a new problem—would the commissioner return in time? And if he did, would Richard be able to persuade him to come to a favorable decision? It was already Sunday, and _Dear Ruth_ was scheduled to open Thursday.
Thinking of all this, Peggy sighed loudly, unconsciously repeating the heavy stage sigh she used in the play.
“All right, Miriam,” Rita laughed, “better be quiet or you’ll wake our leading lady!”
Alison had returned to the annex early after rehearsal, saying that it was about time she had some sleep.
“I do think she might have stayed to help, too,” Peggy whispered indignantly. “After all, we’re all in this together, and I’m sure we’re all equally tired. Gus needed the help—he’s still up there, for goodness sake!”
“Well,” Rita said, “that’s Alison. And maybe she didn’t realize how much was involved here.”
“Then why did she come?” Peggy persisted. “She must have known beforehand that she’d be asked to do other things besides act.”
“Oh, a good company to work with, I suppose, and a good director and parts that she wanted to play. Maybe she’s interested in the leading man!” Rita laughed softly. “If there’s another reason, I’m sure I don’t know it. Peggy,” she added eagerly, “while we’re here, why don’t I take a look at your wardrobe? Unless you’re ready for bed—”
“I couldn’t sleep right now on a bed of down!” Peggy agreed enthusiastically as she opened her trunk. “I’m too tired, and it always takes me awhile to wind down. Gosh! I wonder if I’ll really be using all these things!”
The trunk stood flat against the wall, rather like a second bureau, with drawers on one side and hangers on the other. “I tried to think of everything,” Peggy said. “If we don’t open, this certainly will be a monument to wasted effort!”
The girls worked quickly through Peggy’s wardrobe. She had tried to bring an average of three changes apiece for eight different plays, knowing that summer audiences don’t like to see actresses wearing the same thing twice. Besides appearing in a different costume each time, Peggy had to think of the seasons of the plays and be prepared to dress appropriately for spring, summer, fall, and winter.
Suits, dresses, jumpers, skirts, evening gowns, housecoats, sweaters, blouses, shoes, hats, coats, aprons, scarfs! Rita exclaimed, “My! If there’s anything you haven’t remembered, Peggy, I’d like to know what it is. You’re beautifully prepared. It looks as if I might be borrowing from you! And this would look lovely on Alison.” She lifted a silver-sequined jacket from a bed of tissue paper. “I can just see her in it, making a spectacular entrance!”
“Why, I’d be glad to lend it to her,” Peggy said. “I borrowed it myself. But is that done?” She was surprised. “I mean, we all do borrow from each other at the Gramercy Arms—my home in New York. In fact, that’s how I managed this wardrobe. I just couldn’t have done it without help. But somehow, well,” she confessed, “I didn’t think it would be very professional in stock.”
“Pooh,” Rita chuckled. “Nobody ever has all the things she needs in stock, Peggy. We all borrow from each other.”
“I doubt if Alison will want anything, anyway,” Peggy said, reflecting on the piles of luggage Alison had brought. “Oh, Rita, here we are, talking as if the theater will actually open, and for all we know, Thursday night may come and we’ll all be on the bus going back to New York!”
She sank dejectedly on her bed while Rita carefully folded the little jacket. “We might be,” Rita conceded cheerfully, “but I don’t think we will! You’re forgetting your trunk, Peggy. Remember? Your symbol of good luck!” She patted it with a smile as she left the room, leaving Peggy some of her contagious optimism.
On stage at last! Peggy could hardly believe it. She ran lightly up the steps from the auditorium floor, crossed the stage, tried each piece of furniture, moving back and forth—
“What on earth are you doing?” Alison called from the front row where she was seated, holding a coffee container while she waited for rehearsal to begin.
“Getting the feel of the set,” Peggy called happily as she ran to the stairs up left, crossed down right, and exited. “Where’s the prop phone?” she asked, reappearing from the wings.
“Michael’s out getting props,” Gus answered, coming on stage with a paintbrush to put the finishing touches on the banister.
Peggy ran down to the auditorium floor again, walked up the aisle, and stood looking at the stage. Gus had done a beautiful job, she realized with a thrill. For their opening show an effective set was important, and Gus had transformed the flats with a miracle of paint and imagination. The room was so realistic that Peggy felt she could touch the molding on the walls.
“You’d think you never saw a stage before in your life,” Alison commented lazily, getting up and stretching.
“I feel like this every time,” Peggy said. “There’s something absolutely magical about a good set—like moving into a brand-new home. I love it!”
“Well, let’s just hope it will be home for a week,” Alison remarked. “Personally, I have my doubts.”
“Act One,” Chuck called, and the cast scrambled for the wings. “Places.”
At noon, Aunt Hetty presented herself at the theater and asked for two people to do a radio interview at the station in Merion Falls about twenty miles away.
“Anybody,” she said briskly, “as long as they’re part of the resident company. John Hamilton wants people from New York—and we’ll be gone all afternoon, Chuck, so give me someone you don’t need.”
“I need everybody,” Chuck said with a laugh, “but advertising is important too, so—let’s see.” He looked around at the cast. “Peggy, you’ll go—I need the rest of the family and Albert, but there should be a man along, too—Chris! Your scenes with Ruth are going well—I won’t need you today. Go along with Peggy.”
“Have fun, you lucky people,” Danny called after them. “This may be your first and last day off!”
“And don’t let on that there’s any doubt about opening!” Chuck reminded Chris and Peggy. “Tell them we’re doing fine!”
“Just fine!” Alison echoed, smiling grimly. Looking back at her, Peggy realized with sudden surprise that Alison wanted to go too! Why? Peggy wondered. Surely she didn’t think a local radio show was that important to her career? And then Peggy recalled what Rita had said. She looked curiously at Chris as he walked along beside her to Aunt Hetty’s car. Maybe Rita was right and Alison _was_ interested in the leading man! Oh, well, it wasn’t any of her business, anyway, Peggy told herself as she got into the car.
“Sorry to take you off like this so suddenly,” Aunt Hetty was saying, “but it’s quite important. I promised Richard to get in as much advertising as I could while he’s gone, and John Hamilton requested this interview on the spur of the moment.”
“Will he ask us to play a scene?” Chris questioned.
“Oh, I don’t think so. I imagine he’ll just want you to talk about what you’ve done in the theater—personal stuff. Now you two hush and don’t bother me with questions. I like to keep my mind on the road!”
Peggy and Chris exchanged amused glances. Aunt Hetty drove as carefully and slowly as if she were on eggshells. Peggy could see why they would indeed be all day getting to Merion Falls and she sat back with resignation to enjoy the scenery. Chris winced as he watched Aunt Hetty at the wheel, holding it so tightly with both hands that her knuckles were actually white. He was itching to drive himself, and Peggy smiled as she watched his inner struggle—whether or not to ask. Aunt Hetty won. Looking at her determined shoulders from the back seat, he evidently decided that she would never relinquish the wheel. Chris sighed in defeat and slumped back. As he met Peggy’s twinkling eyes, they both had to cover their laughter.
A good while later, when they finally reached Merion Falls, there was barely time to find the radio station and John Hamilton’s studio. Aunt Hetty plumped herself down in the booth with the engineer, and Peggy and Chris took seats at a little table with Mr. Hamilton and a microphone.
Looking at the large clock over the booth, Mr. Hamilton shook his head. “Four minutes to go,” he said anxiously. “I wish we had more time to prepare, but this will have to do. I’ll just ask you both about your background, and then you can plug your theater all you like. We want to hear about your players and something about the plays if there’s time—”
“Can I hear some voices?” the engineer’s voice interrupted him from the booth.
Peggy and Chris spoke into the microphone while the engineer tested sound. “Okay. Fine,” he said. “One minute—” They watched his hand, held up in the air while the minute hand of the clock made a full circle, and then he brought his arm down sharply.
“Good afternoon. This is John Hamilton again, with another interview of interest for residents of the lake area—”
Peggy was impressed, listening to this suave young man and the competent way he handled himself at the microphone. She felt a beginning, just a twinge, of mike fright, but then Mr. Hamilton introduced her, and as she said a few words, Peggy felt easier. As the interview went on, she was fascinated to hear details of Chris Hill’s background that she hadn’t known.
“Then you’ve really been a professional actor for only two years or so?” Mr. Hamilton was asking Chris.
“Yes, since I was discharged from the Army—but before that, of course, I did a lot of work in college and little theaters—and in the Army I was attached to Special Services overseas.”
“Soldier shows?”
“Partly, but my main job was ferreting out good civilian actors to work with us—to bring about a better feeling between the local population and the Army.”
John Hamilton laughed. “Sounds as if you were doing shows in two languages—”
“Oh, no,” Chris said easily. “They had to be English-speaking, of course. It was a wonderful experience all around, but then I was in a skiing accident in Bavaria. Broke my leg. That finished both the job and the Army for me, and I came straight to New York.”
Mr. Hamilton handled the questions and conversation so skillfully that soon Peggy and Chris almost forgot this was a radio interview. They spoke about theater and sketched the plot of _Dear Ruth_, talking up Alison Lord as the star of the show.
“And the idea behind this theater, as I understand it,” Mr. Hamilton said, “is to attract more visitors to our area, isn’t that right?”
Peggy and Chris agreed enthusiastically.
“Then certainly it should be a good thing for Lake Kenabeek,” Mr. Hamilton went on, “and I want to wish you a lot of luck. But I’ve heard a rumor recently that you two might set straight while we have the opportunity here. People are saying that you are operating illegally in the high school—”
Peggy gasped, but Hamilton didn’t give them a chance to reply just then.
“—and that you may not be able to open at all!” he continued. “Now, what about this rumor? I’m sure our listening audience would like to hear.” He sat back and looked at them—“as if we were two fish on a hook,” Peggy thought, aghast at his question.