“Honey,” his arms tightened around her. “I had no idea! I saw none of this before, when we were first together.”
“No, of course not. It was three weeks after the opening. By that time all the New York reviews were written and we knew we had a hit. The tickets were sold out for months and everyone was on high.” She shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry to sound like such a baby. I suppose people in other lines of work have their own terrors. It’s just that this is, well, so intensely personal.”
“Well, yes. I can see where it would be.” He lifted her chin and looked into her troubled eyes. “I’m sure it will go well. And I’ll be right there with you.”
She slid her arms around him and held on tight. “Do you have any idea how much that means to me?”
He kissed the top of her head and laid his cheek against her hair. “Yes, I do. It must mean as much as it means to me to be needed. I love you, Ashley. I’ll be there for you. I’ll be there if it’s a loser. And I’ll be there if it’s a winner.”
Ashley relaxed in his embrace. She knew the importance of his words. In some ways, she was sure, it would be easier for him to help her through a flop than it would be to stand by her with a hit. “I’ll need you just as much either way. Strange as it may seem, a smash isn’t entirely easy either. Everyone gathers around when you come a cropper, but a hit leaves you very exposed.”
“A little lonely on the top of the hill. Is that it?”
She tipped her head up to look at him and was warmed through by his expression of understanding and sympathy. “That’s it exactly. I am so lucky to have you, Zach. So very lucky.” His lips came to hers, and their sweet touch went a long way toward calming her fears.
Chapter Eight
Matt and Ashley stood in the side aisle of the Colonial, staring at the stage in stunned silence. Matt shook his head in despair. “It looks like an explosion in a junkyard.”
Although she knew Matt was caught in his own preopening angst, Ashley could find no cheering words to say. He’d put his finger right on it; that was exactly what it looked like. “Dear merciful heaven,” she moaned, “it looks hopeless. I think we’d better get out of here.”
“Yeah. Let’s go get drunk.”
“Oh, sure, that’ll help. All I need at this point is a hangover.”
Craig was standing at the edge of the stage, gesturing toward a backdrop that was hanging upside down at a precarious angle. When he spotted them, he jumped down off the stage and strode in their direction. “Hi there. Did you see Hans? He was looking for you.”
Matt nodded gloomily. “Yeah. We saw him.”
Craig grinned, enhancing his expression of sunny contentment. “Good. He’s very pleased with the orchestra. One thing about Boston, there’re some awfully good musicians here.” He waved toward the stage. “Everything’s coming along fine.”
Ashley and Matt followed the hand gesture with wide-eyed disbelief. “You’re kidding!” The retort was a perfectly timed duet.
Craig’s eyebrows went up. “No, I’m not. It’s all coming together.” He took a closer look at them and shook his head. “You two, you’re too much. Bad enough that Matt gets suicidal, but you, Ashley?”
She frowned, becoming a bit defensive. “I’m being perfectly rational. How can you possibly say it’s all coming together? Look at that mess! In case you hadn’t noticed, the drop is wrong side up, that ‘Cronin’s Market’ flat is listing to one side, the scenery’s lying all over the place — and just look at the lights!” She made a wide, encompassing sweep of her hand. “They’re hanging every which way! How can this place possibly be ready for rehearsal by tomorrow?”
Craig patted her on the arm. “Relax, my dear. Gregory and Joe have it all under control.” He looped one arm through Ashley’s and one through Matt’s, and led them to the foyer. “I suggest you both avoid this place today. It’s obvious that neither of you can stand much more stress.” His voice had the subdued tone of a doctor counseling a paranoid patient.
Matt nodded as he let himself be ushered from the scene. Just as they were going through the door, there was a loud crash, followed by an enraged bellow: “Damn it all to hell!”
Craig said firmly, “Don’t even turn around.” They both obeyed. Once they were safely cut off from the bedlam of the auditorium, Craig faced them squarely. “Now. Is something specific bothering either of you, or is this a simple case of preopening jitters?” He glanced from one to the other. “Or, rather, two cases of preopening jitters?”
Ashley and Matt looked at each other and shrugged, then looked at Craig and nodded.
“Well, today’s Monday. Maybe that’s part of the problem right there. Like Garfield, I don’t much believe in Mondays.”
Ashley tried to force the expression of distress from her face. Craig had been working just as hard as they, and look how optimistic he was. She and Matt were professionals, they shouldn’t allow themselves to get completely undone this way. She pulled in her tummy and took a deep breath, willing calmness into her mind. Just as she opened her mouth to say something pleasantly sanguine, the theater manager sighted them through the glass door and came rushing in, his face alight. “Good news! It’s close to a sellout for the preview on Saturday night!” He clapped Matt on the back and smiled at Ashley. “Better hope it doesn’t lay an egg!” Chuckling at his own pun, he swung back through the door.
“Oh, God.” Matt sank into a straight-backed chair, managing to sag into its unyielding frame. “We’re through, finished. The shortest run of any two playwrights in Broadway history.”
Ashley gave him a consoling tap on the shoulder. “Buck up, Matthew. Look at the bright side. Most people never even have a brief shot at fame.”
Craig let out a snort of disgust. “Will you guys knock it off? You’re going to get me in the pits, and that’s not easy. Listen, you’d better buck up, because by Wednesday afternoon all the principals will be frayed from spending two days dashing back and forth between Hans and me. They need to see confidence on our faces. One look at you and they’ll all refuse to go on! And I think poor Kelly is developing a grand case of advance stage fright. This is her first big role. Why don’t the two of you take her to a piano somewhere and let her run all her songs till she could sing them through a paralytic seizure, just in case she has one?”
Ashley frowned, “We thought we ought to rewrite the second verse of the ‘Forever’ song. We’re worried about it dragging.”
“Honey, do me a favor. No more rewriting until after Saturday. Let it play once as it is. None of us really knows how things will go over until their first exposure to an audience. You know damn well what’ll happen. There’ll be at least one total surprise and a few minor shocks.”
“Yeah,” Matt groaned. “Like a Tuesday-morning closing.”
Craig chuckled jovially. “Can’t happen, Matt, tickets sales are high through the whole three-week run. That’s not to say it’ll necessarily open on Broadway, but . . .”
“Craig!” Ashley hit him on the arm. “Don’t say things like that!”
“I have to get to work and so do you. Will you give some time to Kelly? If you can pull your chins off the floor, you’re very reassuring people to work with. I’m sure it’d do her a lot of good.”
Matt looked at Ashley and raised his eyebrows. She nodded. “Okay,” he said. “And we’ll promise to leave the music alone until after the run-through with the orchestra. Sometimes a few glitches show up there.”
“Fair enough. Now, I have to go talk to Claire about the costumes that got lost. . . .”
“What!”
Craig ignored the double-voiced cry of anguish and walked back into the auditorium.
Matt and Ashley, chins still drooping, got their coats on and headed down the street for the hall where the principals were rehearsing with the conductor. When they stepped onto the crosswalk, Ashley drew her scarf closer about
her ears. “Brrr.”
“I second that.” Matt was hunched forward into the icy February wind. Several feet of snow had dropped on the Boston area during December and January, and a deep freeze had kept it from melting, so great ridges of dirty slush rimmed the side streets, waiting for the road crews to find time to remove it. It made walking a bit hazardous. “Who needs winter, anyway? I think I’ll move to California.”
Ashley let out a hoot. “What happened to your spiel about New York being the hub of the world?”
“Me? I said that? I don’t believe it. New York’s a foul place. Muggings and degenerates and crummy air. I want to head for the wide open spaces.”
“You mean like L.A.?”
He gave her a reproachful glance. “Like Palm Springs. We wouldn’t be freezing our tails off in Palm Springs!”
“We also wouldn’t be waiting for the opening night of our very own musical.”
“Yeah. Think how relaxed we’d be.”
Ashley had to smile, picturing how radically his mood would swing at the first sound of applause. She’d only seen Matt like this twice — before the openings of their other two musicals. Of course she had to admit, she’d been this way twice, too. “Matt, is Amy coming for the opening?”
He stopped, turning his full attention on her. “Oh, God.”
“Oh, God, what?”
“I forgot to invite her.”
“Oh, Matthew, you didn’t! Why that lovely woman doesn’t feed you to the crows is a mystery to me.”
His arms flailed out in woeful appeal. “What the hell’s the matter with me? My bloody mind has stopped functioning!”
She laid a restraining hand on his arm. “Calm down, friend. You’ll be back to normal by late Saturday night.” She hesitated a second, as she faced the ever-present possibility that their show really could lay an egg. She swallowed hard, lighting waves of apprehension she didn’t dare mention. “I suggest you get to the nearest phone and rectify your omission.”
“Is that a fancy way of telling me to eat the crow before it gets a shot at me?”
“Exactly.”
When they reached the rehearsal hall, Matt headed for the telephone while Ashley went in search of Kelly. She found the girl hidden behind a stack of empty crates. She was sitting on a small stool, hunched over, her shoulders shaking with muffled sobs. Ashley hurried to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder. Kelly jumped as though she’d been stabbed. “Oh!”
“Kelly, for goodness sake! What’s the matter?”
Kelly looked up at her with great round eyes flooded with tears. “Nothing.” A wail followed the word and the sobbing recommenced.
“Hey, come on. Nobody cries that hard over nothing. You can tell me, I’m a perfect clam. Nothing you say will go beyond this spot.”
Kelly had a terrible time getting herself under enough control to talk. “It — I — he — “ The staccato recitation was cut off by a loud hiccup.
Ashley glanced around. “Is there a water fountain or anything around here?”
Kelly gave a weak wave in the direction of a nearby door. Ashley managed to find a sink with some paper cups. She filled one and brought it back to Kelly. “Now. Drink this and take a few deep breaths. You shouldn’t cry that hard. It’s bad for your vocal chords.”
Kelly managed a very meager smile as she took the cup and, in a few gulps, downed its contents. “I don’t know if I can go on. I’m so scared!”
Ashley pulled up a crate and sat beside her, thinking of the other night when she’d made the same lament while Zachary held her in his arms. “That’s perfectly natural, Kelly. It’s a pretty scary prospect. But that passes. You know when?”
The girl wiped the tears from her face and looked at Ashley with reddened eyes: “When?”
“The first time you hear the audience laugh or applaud. All of a sudden the fear just vanishes.”
“But what if they don’t applaud? What if they sit there with their hands clasped in their laps?”
“Kelly, you’ve heard how the cast responds to your singing. Why would other people be so different?”
“Well, Sammy told me that the cast was just being kind. He keeps advising me to pull my volume back because my voice shatters when it gets loud, and he says — ” she choked.
“Go on.”
“That . . . that I’m playing in the big time now and I can’t get away with amateurish performances.”
Ashley was pushed upright by the strength of her outrage. Sammy Kirk. Why that little jerk! He was trying to cripple Kelly so she wouldn’t steal the show from him! It took great effort to keep the anger out of her voice. “Kelly, haven’t you noticed something about Sammy?” She saw the puzzled frown on the girl’s face and kept going. She’d have to temper her words. She couldn’t afford to say what she was really thinking about the leading man; but she intended to come very close to doing so. “Haven’t you noticed that Sammy tends to be rather . . . egotistical?” Kelly gave a very brief nod. Obviously she, too, was exercising caution. “Well, some performers are so afraid someone else will take too large a cut of the glory that they try to undermine the competition’s confidence.” She leaned forward, bringing her face closer to Kelly’s. “Are you getting my message?”
Kelly’s large blue eyes were filled with a combination of hope, uneasiness and the faintest trace of dawning resentment. “You mean someone would really do that on purpose?”
Ashley was always saddened by the spectacle of dying innocence, but in this case, it had to be slain. “I hate to say it, but yes, someone might do just that. Let me assure you that no one in this or any other cast would cheer the delivery of a song just to be kind. Actors might do that sort of thing at a testimonial dinner for some old coot on his way out, but never at an ordinary rehearsal for some youngster on her way up.”
“Really?”
“Trust me. Now, I have a suggestion for you. Matthew and I would like to work through all your songs with you, so you feel absolutely sure of them. Personally, I think you’ve got them all knocked already, but you have to be confident. Then, I’d like you to ask Lyle Baker for his honest opinion of how you’re doing.”
“Lyle Baker? But he’s . . . he’s almost a legend in the theater! I’d be so afraid . . .” Her eyes, once again, held real terror.
“I’ll tell you what he is. He’s absolutely honest and absolutely reliable. He’ll tell you just how he feels, and if he sees any problem, he’ll offer to give you all the time you need. And Craig will, too — I hope you know that.”
“I was going to ask him, but Sammy said . . .” she stopped.
“That you shouldn’t bother him, maybe?”
She nodded.
“Uh-huh. You, my dear, have been bushwhacked. Here comes Matt. Let’s go up to the practice room and get to work.” She held out a hand and helped Kelly up. “And when you go back into rehearsal, don’t be shy about letting that voice of yours punch holes in Sammy Kirk.”
It was the first real smile Ashley had seen on Kelly’s face for some time.
That night, while Ashley was describing the hysterics of the day to Zach, she told him about the problem with Kelly. “I told her I’d keep it to myself, but of course telling you is almost the same thing.” They were cuddled on the sofa in front of the roaring fire, a scene that Ashley had begun to equate with hominess.
Zach frowned. “That’s a rotten thing for Sammy to do. Why don’t you can the little slime?”
“Zach, one thing you don’t do, unless you have suicidal instincts, is fire your biggest star five days before opening night. It does make for an interesting dichotomy, however. For the show’s sake, I hope he wows the audience. From a personal standpoint, I’d like to see him fall on his face.”
“I know what you mean. We had a guy in our firm a couple of years ago who brought on the same opposing reactions. He was positively br
illiant in the courtroom, but such an insufferable pain in the gizzard that even the large fees he brought in didn’t keep us all from wishing he’d take a dive.”
“What happened to him?”
Zach’s smile was definitely smug. “He became progressively more arrogant. One day, during a partner’s meeting, I flipped. In extremely graphic terms, I told him what he could do with himself.” Zach’s smile broadened. “He resigned.”
“Didn’t your partners get mad at you? I mean, if he was that good . . .”
“As a matter of fact, when I returned from a late afternoon appointment that day, there was a bottle of iced Dom Perignon on my desk, with tulip glasses. They all came in and we drank a toast of thanksgiving.” He lay his head back against the piled-up cushions. “You know, as the years accumulate, and I become old and sage . . .” Ashley hooted. “I’m more and more convinced that life’s too short to deal with the jerks of the world. Unless you have no choice at all.”
Ashley leaned her head against his shoulder. “Um-hmm. I shall try to remind myself of that next time we’re casting a play.”
“Shall I tell the members of my family to boo when he comes onstage?”
She sat up. “What? When are they coming?”
“Saturday night. I got a large block of tickets for them.”
“A large block? How many are there?”
“Well, let’s see. Mom and Dad and Emily . . .”
“Oh, gosh. Emily! It’ll be so good to see her!”
“Yes, she says the same about you. And of course Jared and Diane.”
“That’s his wife, I trust.”
“Yep. And Aunt Julie and Uncle Roy. And Diane’s parents. And my great-aunt, Sarah, and Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Seth, and . . .”
“Zach, you’re scaring me to death! What’s the grand total?”
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