The War Against Miss Winter (27 page)

T
HE NEXT TWO DAYS PASSED
in a blur. Rehearsals started early and ran late. Peter was so consumed by the production that my only chance to talk to him was during those rare moments I was onstage, and then our interaction was limited to comments about my performance. Teasers crept into the papers about the show. Critics and gossip columnists alike printed items such as, “Rumor has it that the play no one will talk about is the play everyone’s been talking about and if you don’t know what I’m talking about, come anyway and join in the fun. I understand it will be a shocking good time.” Never one to stay in the shadows, Ruby made sure her name was uttered again and again in banal comments such as, “Wondering whatever became of up-and-comer Ruby Priest? Her whereabouts are as mysterious as the play she’s rumored to be starring in. She won’t take our calls, but we understand that on Thursday night at People’s Theatre she’ll be saying a mouthful about things plenty of people wish she’d keep quiet about.” I expected Ruby to be full of herself over the success of her “campaign,” but rather than rubbing my nose in it, she kept quiet about the effort. Apparently, she had other things on her mind.

“What’s the matter, Rube?” I asked her the evening of our final rehearsal. She’d been stomping about the theater since her arrival, causing everyone to back away from her lest they encounter her wrath.

“Nothing. Everything’s fine.” She continued to slam, smack, and push items that entered her path. At last I realized the source of her rage: I was witnessing the dance of a woman scorned. Tony must have stepped in and secured Jayne’s part.

I maintained a safe distance and whispered. “You sure?”

She looked at me, torn between whether to confide the enormous
disservice she’d been done or to swallow her agony until she’d set her stomach afire. She decided on the latter. “I said I was fine.”

It was a standard belief in the theater world that a bad last rehearsal meant a good opening night. You didn’t actively seek out a poor performance, since we believed that theatrical voodoo wouldn’t reward a conscious effort at failure. But when you managed to put on a rehearsal that made hand puppets appealing, you reassured yourself that the show wouldn’t be a complete disaster by remembering that suffering through this guaranteed success the next night. And the fact was that every show I’d been in had at least one outright disaster at the final dress rehearsal that left us all sleepless with anxiety only to redeem ourselves with an audience the next day. Fear could do a lot to improve a show. So could adrenaline.

So it was with a mix of glee and peculiar hope that all would go well on opening night that I watched Ruby give the worst performance of her career. Whatever had set her off took the heart out of every line until it seemed I’d stumbled upon some grade school Christmas pageant. Each scene she was in resulted in a gaggle of offstage tittering as the other actresses rushed to confirm they’d seen what they’d just seen. Peter remained stony throughout the display, hoping, I think, that it was retaliation for his method exercises. When no one yelled “surprise” as the final curtain went down, he put his head in his hands and made a noise that was a cross between a whimper and a moan.

Before the run-through had begun, he’d announced that it wasn’t his practice to give notes at the last rehearsal, and that we were all to gather our things and leave as soon as we were out of costume. As though they feared he would change his mind based on what he’d just seen, the cast rushed to the dressing rooms to disrobe and left the theater on mute tiptoes. I decided to stick around for a minute or two, since I suspected if I didn’t lend Peter my ear, the local gin mill would be given that honor.

“How bad was it?” Peter limped across the house and settled in the chair beside me.

“The technical stuff was great and I found the ending very moving.” I picked at my nails, then realized this gesture might be perceived as
evidence of my fibbing.

“You can be honest, Rosie. The critics will be.”

I sat on my hands to prevent their further destruction. “Ruby was a little off.”

Peter laughed with such enthusiasm that his head bounced off the back of his seat. “A little? I tell you, between this and the leaks to the press…I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“What leaks?”

Peter rolled his eyes and scowled. “Come on, Rosie—I’m not dumb. Haven’t you seen the items in the papers? Ruby made it clear to me she was upset the show wasn’t being publicized. This is her revenge.”

Guilt nibbled at my stomach. “At least she’s keeping up the air of mystery. I haven’t seen anything that revealed the title or author.” Did I wear my complicity like too much rouge? “Have people been calling?”

“Nonstop. The whole weekend’s sold.”

I punched him lightly on the shoulder. “See? That’s a good thing.”

His arm turned rigid at my touch. “It was already selling. And I find her tactics more than a little dishonest. In the first place, I forbade her to do any promotion. And in the second, the promotion she has done makes this sound like another play entirely. Surely you’ve caught that?”

“Is that really so bad? If it gets them here…”

He swatted at an imaginary fly. “If it gets them here, they’ll be disappointed that our play isn’t the one they were hoping for. After the first night, word will get out that this isn’t Raymond Fielding’s long-lost masterwork but something much less exciting. That will kill the production.”

I hadn’t thought about that. In fact, I hadn’t thought about anything beyond opening night. I hated to think my scheme would be responsible for
In the Dark
’s demise, especially since I wasn’t likely to step foot onstage until several weeks into the run. “You’ve created a great show, Peter, one that will stand on its merits. Maybe people will come expecting Fielding’s long-lost play, but I have a feeling that after they see what you’ve done with
this
show, they’re not going to care about the other one.”

“Don’t be so naive,” Peter snapped. His face changed and he set his hand on my arm. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I just feel like Ruby’s ruined something by doing this. I suppose you and I are in the same boat. We’ve both been working very hard for something we’ll benefit very little from.”

“At least the checks cash.” I pulled my belongings onto the seat on the other side of me and made sure I had everything I’d brought with me. “And if I’m being naive, I think you’re being melodramatic. It really is a good show. I’m not trying to soothe your wounded ego. I thought nothing of this play a month ago, and now I’d kill to be in it on opening night. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“Just that I made a casting mistake.” He reached out and gently touched my cheek. “I am sorry. You’re a good actress.”

My hand met his. “Thanks, but I wanted to be great.”

“You’re a great actress.” Then, just like that, he kissed me. It was the kind of kiss that made you take back things you didn’t steal. Twice I opened my eyes and twice I realized how odd it was to watch someone while their eyes were closed. At last we separated, and I was so dumbstruck that I could do nothing but touch my lips.

“I like you,” he said.

“You’d better. Some girls would take that as a proposal.”

He gave the room a furtive glance. “How about we get out of here?”

I was tired and knew I should head home, but the kiss had temporarily removed the word
no
from my vocabulary. “What did you have in mind?”

“A drink. Maybe two.”

He made a cursory sweep of the room, shutting off lights and bidding farewell to a few lingering crew members chatting in the lobby. I went to the windows and watched as a light snow began to fall. Outside, a young couple paused before the
In the Dark
poster. I could see the woman clearly—young and pretty, her long dark hair dusted white—but the only thing I could make out about the man was his navy uniform. As they read the sign, he wrapped his arms around her, put his chin atop her head, and pretended to snooze. She laughed at him and turned to meet
him face-to-face. The dimmed streetlight illuminated them and for one awful moment I thought it was Jack who held her, Jack who made her laugh, Jack who kept her warm.

Was it like this for him, too? Did he see me in places I couldn’t possibly be?

“Ready?” Peter asked.

My head ached, my stomach swirled. “I think I need to call it a night.”

Peter approached me and lightly set his hand atop my shoulder. “Why?”

A sob gripped my throat.
Keep it together, Rosie. You can cry all you want on the way home.
“I’m not feeling so good.”

His hand brushed my cheek. “Can I walk you home?”

I backed away from him as the first tears blurred my vision. “No, no. I think I’ll hail a hack and spend some of that money I’ve been working so hard for. Thank you, though.”

It took me forever to fall asleep. While Jayne lightly snored beside me, I put the radio on low and listened to the late-night news on WNEW. The Japanese had stepped up attacks near the Solomon Islands in an effort to get control of that area. Days before there had been rumors that they had sunk two Allied battleships and three cruisers, though now our navy was insisting that this was a gross exaggeration; we hadn’t lost nearly the number of men the Axis were claiming. Still, men were lost and I couldn’t help but wonder if Jack was among them.

If I loved him enough, could that save him? Or did the men who were loved die as easily as those nobody missed?

Eventually, my body gave up and let me doze. I slept as if I were in a Pullman upper during an overnight trip in the driving rain. My dreams played out the various scenarios that might happen on opening night, but I never got to see how each possibility ended. Instead, the scenes blurred one into the other until it seemed that there would never be resolution,
just moments that spurred on an infinite number of other events.

“Rosie? Rosie? Wake up.”

I blinked until a series of disconnected images formed an outline of my roommate. I rubbed my eyes until the shape filled in and Jayne’s face loomed large before me. “What?”

“Do you know where Ruby is?”

As it was not the question I would expect to hear first thing in the morning, I struggled to make the meaningless words form a coherent thought. “What?”

Jayne sighed and repeated the question at a rate reserved for the ancient and deaf. I sat up and struggled to make out the hands on my bedside clock. “Ruby? No. Why?”

Jayne slumped onto the edge of my bed and I realized she was fully dressed. That meant it had to be going on 11:00. “Peter Sherwood has been calling for her for the past hour. She was supposed to be at the theater and didn’t show.”

I sank back onto my pillows. “She’s probably on her way. Ruby wouldn’t just not show up.” I yawned and stretched my arms. “Is Peter still on the horn?” With distance between me and the night before, I felt sheepish about my quick exit. I’d been tired; that was all. He would understand.

“No, but he told me to have her call him the second I see her.” Jayne smacked my leg. “How can you be so calm?”

“To start with, I’m half asleep, though the pain now coursing down my leg is doing wonders toward waking me. Why are you so worried?”

Jayne put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you consider it a little strange that after getting out the word that Fielding’s missing play is going to be performed tonight, the one named cast member is missing?”

I shook the final remnants of sleep from my head and searched the floor for my shoes. “I forgot about that.”

“You forgot?!”

“Are you going to be repeating everything I say today?” I wasn’t irritated by her; I was mad at my own stupidity. “I’m sorry. Look, you’re right. This could mean something has happened to Ruby, but it could
also mean she’s throwing an ing-bing at Peter and decided she’s not showing up until she’s good and ready.” I crammed my dogs into my shoes, then realized they didn’t match. Off came one in exchange for the other’s mate.

“So you think she’s all right?”

“Stubborn and bitter, yes, but in danger? Absolutely not.” I changed the rest of my clothes and convinced Jayne to join me at Cora Dean’s for a late breakfast. I needed to chew and I was willing to bet that by the time we made it home the situation with Ruby would be resolved. I was a mess at breakfast, so clumsy with nerves that I managed to knock over my coffee. I wanted to take my mind off whatever was coming to pass that night, so I dragged Jayne to the Roxy and we took in an afternoon short.

By the time the final reel reminded us that we could buy war bonds and stamps in the lobby, it was 3:00. The minute we returned to the house, Belle assaulted us.

“You need to call Peter Sherwood. Immediately.”

Jayne and I exchanged panicked looks before I took the stairs two at a time and announced to Diane Lemus that if she didn’t hang up the blower, she’d be wearing it. The phone rang and rang at People’s Theatre. I decided to give it twenty jangles before heading over on foot. Peter picked up on number nineteen.

“Ruby?” he gasped.

“Rosie,” I said. “Are you dying or just out of breath?”

“Both, unless you have good news. Ruby was supposed to be here at nine this morning and has yet to show. Please tell me you know where she is.”

Jayne came to my side and tipped the receiver so she could eavesdrop. “Nope,” I told Peter. “She’s not here. Why were you meeting her so early?”

“After I left you last night, I ran into her. We had words and a rather ghastly falling out. After I apologized profusely, she conceded that maybe she hadn’t done her best job and that it might be useful to have one final
rehearsal.”

“So you left on good terms?”

“Absolutely,” said Peter. “I’m frantic, Rosie. I’ve called the police, the hospitals, everywhere I can think of. She’s just disappeared.”

“Did you try Lawrence Bentley?”

“Of course.”

I was sick to my stomach. Jayne didn’t help matters by gasping at each new revelation as to why we needed to be worried about Ruby’s disappearance. I sent her away from the phone with a sharp tilt of my head and put my back to her. “I don’t know what to tell you, Peter. If Ruby was mad at you, I could see her doing this, but if you left on good terms…well she still could’ve gotten distracted by something. You shouldn’t give up hope.”