The question had been worrying her all morning.
Mrs. Wittman pursed her lips thoughtfully while Vi stood and collected her dishes. She didn’t want to burden the woman any more than she already had.
“Can’t say that I do. But I bet Wyatt would. I’m always amazed at how much that man knows about everything. I tease him that someday his head is going to explode with all that knowledge.”
Vi weighed the idea as she sprinted to the bathroom to brush her teeth. He had helped her enough already. If she asked another favor, would it be the one that would push their relationship into a sexual one? Turning men down, particularly ones who held power over whether she got a part or not, was tricky.
On the other hand, she wouldn’t need a passport if she missed her train. Deciding to worry about it later, Vi gathered her things, thanked Mrs. Wittman profusely—yes, she would take the crackers if that would make her feel better—and then bolted for the nearest subway stop.
It was a near thing. With only two minutes to spare, Vi slid into the vast central plaza of Grand Central Terminal, her lungs burning with exertion. Please, please let the troupe be here somewhere.
A brief parting in the crowd exposed a large group of well-dressed people drifting toward where the regional trains boarded. Among all the wool coats and brightly colored ladies’ hats, Vi caught a glimpse of a tall, lanky man who looked a lot like Wyatt chatting with a stoop-shouldered gentleman who could easily be Mr. Stuart, the director. But what sealed the deal was when a smartly dressed blonde turned to speak to someone behind her, the comment punctuated with a dramatic flourish of a gloved hand. Bingo.
The tightness in her shoulders dissipated. She waved to get the group’s attention. “Mr. Miller, Mr. Stuart. Hello!”
Mr. Miller glanced her way and then pulled Mr. Stuart to a stop. “Miss Heart, you made it. And in the nick of time.”
“Mr. Miller, I’m so glad I found you all!” Smiling brightly as she hurried over, she held out her hand. “Mr. Stuart, hello again. I’m Virginia Heart. We met yesterday at the rehearsal.”
Mr. Stuart ignored her outstretched fingers. “I remember. You’re replacing that irresponsible child that ran afoul of the USO, the one in the chorus . . .” He turned to the fortyish blonde woman next to him expectantly.
“You mean Janet,” the woman said. “Janet Robinson.” Intelligent, pale-blue eyes set in an attractive face examined Vi from head to toe. After a beat, the woman extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss Heart. I’m Sue Daldakis, the stage manager.”
Ah. So more than just an elusive assistant. Vi turned up the wattage on her smile, as stage managers were often the real power behind the throne. “I’m so excited to meet you. I can’t even believe my luck. I’ve always dreamed of being in a Gerald Stuart show. And to be in the USO, too!”
That last part might have been pouring it on a bit thick, since Sue’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, well, you’re not officially in until I see how you perform. Remind me again of your theater experience?”
Vi tucked a stray hair behind her ear as she quickly curated the list of her performances into something Virginia might have done. “Um, a few community productions. I know how to tap-dance, have taken ballet. Worked in a few musicals.” The most thrilling being a starring role in the Des Moines stage production of Broadway Melody of 1936. The Des Moines Register had called her an “up-and-coming talent,” a “girl protégé,” and “absolutely stunning in the role of Irene Foster.”
It had been her last big role before the disaster with Robert.
“Do you sing?”
“No,” Vi said as the warm bubble of remembered past successes popped.
The answer clearly disappointed the stage manager, but it was an issue on which Vi wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t that she couldn’t sing, because she could. Quite well, in fact, or she never would’ve landed the role of Irene. The truth was she wouldn’t sing, because she could no longer bear the awe she saw in people’s faces when they heard her. The same awe she had seen in Robert’s face when her singing had first captured his attention. The awe that had fueled her youthful desires and then torn her family apart.
“Well, I suppose you could just mouth the words,” Sue said with a frown. Then she turned to the gaggle of young women behind her. “Miss May? Come and meet your new travel partner.”
Sue turned back to Vi. “I’ve created a buddy system for all the girls, to ensure safety and morality. You and Miss May will be traveling and rooming together for the duration of the tour, except when the army has alternate accommodations for the performers. Marcie can also teach you the dances so you can get up to speed as soon as possible.”
Before Vi could respond, a young, slightly plump brunette joined them. Her dark-brown eyes reminded Vi of a cocker spaniel’s—large and lovely, but without a lot of thought going on behind them.
“Hiya,” the girl said, holding out her hand. “I’m Marcie May.”
Marcie’s smile was so sweet and genuine, the cocker spaniel comparison seemed even more apt. Vi decided right then and there that she liked the girl.
“Virginia Heart,” she said, shaking the girl’s hand with enthusiasm. “But call me Vi.”
“Lovely,” Sue said, her attention already sliding away. “If you’ll take over the introductions, Marcie, I’ve got to make sure Mr. Stuart’s luggage and all the props make it onto the train.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Marcie said obediently, but Sue was already off.
“She seems nice,” Vi observed.
“She is. I sometimes think this production would fall apart if not for her. Well, and for Wyatt, too. He’s the tech director.”
“I met him yesterday.” Vi eyed the tall man, who was listening attentively to Mr. Stuart. “He seems very nice. A real gentleman.”
Marcie laughed. “Got your weather eye out already, do you? Well, don’t get your hopes up. Love entanglements of any kind—that’s what our USO recruiter called them—are right out. We girls are supposed to represent all that’s good and wholesome. So no canoodling with the soldiers, officers, other actors, or even stagehands.” Marcie ticked off the prohibited items on her fingers as she listed them.
“Is that all?” Vi said with a lift of her eyebrows. Apparently there were going to be a lot of rules on this tour, and she personally disliked rules. “Seems with five fingers, the USO could have picked one more category of verboten.”
“Oh, there’s a fifth one.” Marcie rolled her eyes. “No canoodling with foreigners, either. Though honestly, I can’t imagine why anyone would. Everyone knows American men are the finest in the world.”
Vi wasn’t sure she entirely agreed, having met some pretty rotten examples of American manhood. Still, Virginia Heart wouldn’t have had the same experiences as Lily Lamour, so she let it go.
“What about the rest of the troupe? Anything I need to know? Professional jealousies, tensions . . . forbidden love entanglements?” In her experience, every production had its fair share of backstage dramas. Better to find out about them up front than accidentally have one blow up on her later.
Forewarned was forearmed.
To her surprise, Marcie’s smile dropped. Almost furtively, the girl looked around and then leaned toward Vi. “You didn’t hear this from me, but I think something funny is going on between Mr. Miller and Luciana. They’re always huddling up backstage, whispering.” She straightened, her eyes rounding with concern. “But don’t get me wrong. I’m not going to turn them in or anything. Luciana can associate with whomever she likes. And Mr. Miller, well, he’s well respected and almost universally liked. Mr. Stuart says he’s an absolute genius backstage! There’s nothing he can’t make or fix.”
“Don’t worry,” Vi reassured her new travel buddy, even as she stored the tidbit away for later. “It won’t change my good opinion of either one. I’ve been in theater long enough to know those kinds of things happen.”
His being involved with someone might also explain why he hadn’t bothered to
ask for any favors in return for helping her last night.
Marcie’s expression smoothed. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything. Loose lips sink ships and all that, but”—she giggled—“that’s so me. My mother always did say I couldn’t keep a secret to save my soul.”
Good to know, Vi thought. She would have to be that much more careful around her travel buddy, lest the whole unit find out her secrets.
Marcie continued. “I don’t know if you got to meet anyone else yesterday, but the three fellas over there ahead of Wyatt—Charles, Matt, and Victor—are the male leads. And the two women with them are Ann and Luciana, the female leads.”
Vi’s ears perked up at “Ann,” which could be a shortened, more anglicized version of Angelina. Her gaze immediately sought out the actress with the darker complexion. The woman certainly looked the part of a Mob princess with her slashing black eyebrows; glossy, dark hair; and full, sensual lips. Perhaps her nose was too bold to be strictly beautiful, but the woman was still striking. Traffic-stoppingly so.
Or was that Luciana? Vi frowned. The name was more typically Italian, which would match her appearance. But if so, that would make the blonde Ann, and she didn’t look Italian in the least.
“Don’t count on becoming friends with them, though.” Marcie cast a disparaging look at the actors and actresses. “They ignore us chorus girls as much as possible. They treat us as if we’re bringing the quality of the production down, but I disagree. They should be danged happy to have us. I mean, let’s be honest, soldiers like dancing girls!”
“Professional snobbery isn’t uncommon,” Vi said mildly, her attention on the two actresses as she wondered if she should press Marcie for more information. She would likely find out on her own soon enough, so why risk making her travel buddy suspicious?
Marcie sighed. “You’re probably right, and I try not to let it get to me. But it seems so . . . unfair.”
Vi worked to keep her expression sympathetic, but honestly, had the girl never worked in theater before? “What about the rest of the cast?” She flicked a glance toward Gertie and the rude brunette, her stomach filling with dread. Please don’t be Angelina.
“Those are the other two dancers.” Marcie’s voice dropped to a whisper again. “Gertie, the one on the right, is a real sweetheart. You’ll like her. But Frances . . .” Marcie let her voice trail off, leaving Vi to supply her own ending.
Vi nearly sighed with relief that the girl who had accosted her in the theater yesterday wasn’t going to be her responsibility. At least fate wasn’t that cruel. “Is there anyone else in the show? Anyone who isn’t here today?”
Marcie looked puzzled for a moment. Then her expression cleared. “Oh, you mean Janet?”
“Sure,” Vi said, recognizing the name from yesterday, though the chances of that being Miss Maggio were slim to none. “Frances said she was ratted out?”
“Well, no one knows for sure, but a representative from the USO showed up at rehearsal on Monday, pulled Janet aside, told her she was out and that she needed to leave immediately. So she did.”
“And no one protested?” Vi asked, momentarily distracted from the problem of the missing Mob princess.
Marcie shrugged. “Everyone knows that the USO is a stickler for moral values, and Janet was a little on the loose side. The bigger problem was that it left us with only three dancers and that we’d have to change all the choreography.”
“Well, I’m here now,” Vi reassured her as Sue started handing out train tickets to the assembled cast. “So your worries are over.”
“And I am so glad,” Marcie said fervently as the troupe started heading toward the platform. Vi smiled, though in truth she was feeling a bit ill. While she might have solved all her travel buddy’s problems, her travel buddy had not solved hers.
Had Sal misheard the daughter’s name or gotten the show wrong? At this point it seemed likely, but with the conductor calling all aboard, she didn’t have time to call him and check. All she could hope was that if there had indeed been some kind of mistake, she would find out in time to fix things. Her future pretty much depended on it.
Chapter 6
US Army Camp Kilmer turned out to be nothing like what Hollywood matinees had led Vi to expect. It was more of a small city than a rustic Boy Scout camp. And while there were indeed white-painted wooden barracks and American flags flying proudly in the breeze, there was also a score of very large, very permanent buildings that wouldn’t look out of place in her hometown, including what appeared to be a multistoried modern hospital.
The traffic was very urban-like as well, with a steady stream of cars, trucks, motorcycles, and jeeps buzzing by. And there were the signs, which were posted everywhere. Besides the expected ones indicating street names or pointing the way to “ORDNANCE” or “ARTILLERY” or the “PX,” there were more surprising ones, like “SOFTBALL DIAMONDS”—plural, she noted—“CINEMA,” “THEATER,” and even “BILLIARDS.” Everything a GI could want while he waited for the orders that might possibly mean his death.
Unsettled by that thought, Vi turned her gaze to the other thing Hollywood had gotten wrong. The young men, the proud fighting men of the United States Army, weren’t all uniformly good looking with aw-shucks smiles, either. As far as she could tell, the whole gamut of American male society was represented in the crowded streets, from the scrawny to the roughneck, the truly handsome to the downright homely, from the palest white to the darkest brown. It was a bit overwhelming to be around so much testosterone. Even for her.
Marcie gave a low whistle of astonishment as she joined Vi on the sidewalk. Overhead, a low growling lifted Vi’s gaze to the blue, blue sky. A quartet of fighter planes passed off in the distance, perhaps on their way to Europe. Vi shivered. All too soon, she might be joining them on that trek.
As the rest of the cast spilled out of the bus to claim their luggage from the driver, Vi self-consciously wiped her damp palms on her travel-worn skirt. While the drab brown of an army uniform would never be her first choice of colors, she was really looking forward to having a clean change of clothes. Maybe she could even get permission to add a few sequins here and there to liven up the khaki.
“Mr. Stuart, sir?” A clipboard-carrying soldier not much older than her strode up to Wyatt.
“I’m just the lowly tech director.” Wyatt pointed good-naturedly to where Mr. Stuart stood talking to Sue. “That’s the gentleman you’re looking for.”
Without missing a beat, the soldier headed over to the older man. “Mr. Stuart, sir, as soon as your group has its things, I’ve been assigned to get you all kitted out. After that, you’ll be given your bunk assignments, and then the captain has a welcome ceremony all planned out for you.”
“Sounds wonderful.” A thin smile momentarily lightened Mr. Stuart’s stern countenance. Then he turned and looked at Sue, who immediately sprang into action.
Sue clapped her hands to catch everyone’s attention. “All right, cast, grab your bags, and fall in by this gentleman here.”
The pandemonium that followed was no less than Vi expected given the characters she had met so far. As one, the troupe surged forward with no attempt at forming a line, all while throwing out a thousand questions at the soldier. Not wanting to be trampled, Vi hung back with Mr. Miller and Mr. Stuart, where it seemed safer.
The soldier held up his clipboard like a shield and took a nervous step back. “Ladies and gentlemen, please. If you will follow me, I’ll take you to the quartermaster. So if you’ll save your concerns for him.”
“Quartermaster?” Frances echoed sarcastically and just loud enough to be overheard. “You hear that, Gertie? Wonder what you gotta do around here to rate a full one.”
Sue shushed Frances with a scowl and then profusely apologized to the soldier, who turned out to be a corporal, not a sergeant like Vi had first guessed. One would think she would be better at identifying ranks given her line of business—well, her old line—but she had never cared who had bought
her drinks. It wasn’t like she was going to marry them, so what would be the point of her knowing a captain from a major from a lowly private?
His composure restored, Corporal Somebody-or-other glanced at his clipboard again. “Also, is there a Miss Virginia Heart present?”
Vi hesitated and then raised her hand. “Here.”
He rechecked the clipboard. “It looks like we’re missing your induction papers, so if you’ll come with me after I drop off the rest of the troupe with the quartermaster? And bring your passport.”
“Pardon?” A cold sweat beaded on her skin. She had known this moment was coming, but she hadn’t planned on it being so soon. She’d hoped for a few more days to figure things out.
“Don’t worry,” Marcie said with a little laugh as she came to stand beside Vi. “I know ‘induction’ sounds scary, but the army isn’t drafting you. It’s mostly so they’ll have next of kin information if something happens to us. We all had to fill them out.”
Vi forced herself to laugh, too. “Well, that’s all right, then. I was starting to wonder what I’d gotten myself into.”
As she followed the others toward a low wooden building, she tried to distract herself with this new question of who she should name as next of kin. It actually wasn’t all that obvious. One choice would be her parents, given they would likely be the ones tasked with burying her, should the occasion arise. She hoped not, though. Returning to Iowa in a box was not the kind of homecoming celebration her parents deserved. Though maybe they would prefer it that way; who knew?
She hadn’t talked to them in five years, too afraid of what they might say. She had never actually said goodbye, either, taking the cowardly route of leaving a note instead. That both acts had hurt her parents was a given. Nor had it likely helped that she had blamed her running away on wanting to be a star and on her growing impatience with all their rules.
She had no doubt they’d believed her note, because some of it was true. All the best lies contained grains of truth. She had been tired of all the restrictions, and she really had wanted to spend more time in the spotlight, not merely exist in the shadow of her older sister.
The Long Path Home Page 6