• • •
Where was she? The cave-like canopied bed in which she awoke was unfamiliar to her, but exquisitely comfortable. In a few seconds, it all came back to her. She was in Mrs. Rutherford’s house. As a guest, apparently. And Mary—?
The cradle next to her bed was empty. Where was her baby?
As if on cue, someone knocked lightly on the door. The two maids she recognized from the day before swept into the room in a gray, crisply starched whirl of activity. One carried a wide-awake Mary, the other, a silver tray bearing breakfast.
“You’re awake, then, Miss. Thought you might sleep the whole day away.” Lila cheerfully handed Mary to Tara. “This little one is a joy, but she’s an early riser.”
“Where are her things?” Tara stammered, feeling slightly foolish. “I need to—”
“Oh, she’s all taken care of, Miss. Diapered and fed. We even took her out for a morning stroll in the garden, it’s such a nice day. I hope you don’t mind, Miss. Mrs. Rutherford had us dash out and buy the baby buggy yesterday, along with the cradle and all manner of baby things. Would have been a shame not to use it on a fine morning like this.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Tara said. “Mary loves her outings.” She still didn’t know exactly what was expected of her. Why were baby things purchased? Did that mean she was spending more than one night here?
The second maid—Evie was her name—placed the breakfast tray over Tara’s outstretched legs and plumped the pillows up firmly behind her back. Breakfast in bed? Sure, and this must be a dream. Evie lifted the sterling silver cover off the dish with a practiced flourish, unleashing the tantalizing aroma of boiled eggs, buttered toast and rashers of bacon. The tray also held a small pot of coffee, orange juice, orange marmalade for the toast and berries and cream for dessert.
“Will this be all right, Miss? Mrs. Rutherford wasn’t sure what you’d want for breakfast.”
“This is…just fine, Evie,” Tara said, a little stunned. If she ate everything on this tray she wouldn’t be able to move! “And please. Call me Tara.” She refrained from telling Evie and Lila that, until yesterday, she’d been a maid herself. She’d changed out of her uniform when she left the Millinder mansion, so they had no way of knowing.
“Yes, Miss. I’ll just put the baby back in her cradle so you can eat.”
Lila pulled back the forest green velvet drapes trimmed with silk tassels that covered the windows. Tara gazed at the strong sunlight in surprise. She had slept late! She and Mrs. Rutherford had talked late into the night.
Lila laid an exquisite sapphire blue dress at the foot of Tara’s bed. “Mrs. Rutherford thought you might like to wear this today.”
“Where on earth did she get it? It looks just my size.”
“Oh, she’s been up since early this morning, calling on the dressmaker and making all sorts of arrangements. When you’re finished eating, she’d like you to come to the music salon. It’s on the main floor, next to the library.”
Lila and Evie departed, leaving Tara to chew on a piece of toast thoughtfully. What would she be doing in the music salon? What kinds of arrangements had Mrs. Rutherford made?
• • •
The rich, resonant sound of a piano guided her down the hallway to the music salon as if a genie were transporting her there on a magic carpet. Someone was playing, and playing well. The fingers that were moving over the keyboard, striking crisp chords and raising perfect melodies, were confident and masterful. The music stopped abruptly when she entered the salon.
The grand piano was the centerpiece of what appeared to be a performance area, along with antique French chairs in front of carved cherry wood music racks.
Mrs. Rutherford introduced Tara to the man who was seated at the piano, a Mr. Hawkins. Mrs. Rutherford described him as a “music master.” Hawkins wasted no time on polite chitchat. He handed a piece of sheet music to Tara and expertly played a few bars of the song.
“Can you follow along?”
“I can sight read.”
He quickly taught her the first verse. Then, his fingers never leaving the keys, he commanded: “Now you do it alone!”
Tara complied, not even minding the way he barked the order at her. It felt so grand to sing again, especially to the splendid music produced by this magnificent piano.
When she finished, Mrs. Rutherford said to Hawkins: “Did I exaggerate?”
“No,” he answered calmly. “You certainly did not.”
“Can she be ready in a week?”
He considered it, frowning in fierce concentration. “There’s a tremendous amount of music to learn. She has a great natural gift, but there’s not enough technique there.”
Tara bit her tongue. Not enough technique! After all of those lessons with Mrs. O’Shaughnessy? It sounded very much like an insult against her former teacher! Still, he had said that Tara had a “natural gift.” It was all very confusing.
Hawkins was still talking. “If she’s really willing to put in the effort, I think that we can do it.” He glared at Tara. “We must practice night and day from this moment on. I don’t care if you get tired or hoarse or are out of sorts. Are you prepared to work hard, young lady? Harder than you’ve ever worked before in your whole life?”
Tara couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure and you must not know much about growin’ up on a farm, Mr. Hawkins. I’ve worked hard me whole life. But what is it that we’re talkin’ about, exactly?”
Mrs. Rutherford seated herself on an elegant divan. “I’ve engaged Mr. Hawkins to work intensively with you on vocal instruction. I have certain…connections among Broadway producers. I’ve provided financial backing for a number of shows, you see. I’ve arranged for you to audition for a top Broadway director next week.”
Tara gasped. “So soon? But I need more time to get ready!” This was all happening too fast. She felt nauseated with excitement, yet thrilled at the same time. If only Reece were here! If only she could share this with him and be steadied by his calm assurance.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” said Mrs. Rutherford. “Casting for the show is already in progress. You’re up against stiff competition; the director has two actresses in mind for the leading lady part. I called in a favor, but I can’t ask him to delay his entire production. And keep in mind that my influence may be able to get you an audition, but it cannot get you the role. That you must do on your own. The show is called, ‘Rain or Shine,’ by the way.”
She rose. “I’ll leave you two to work. I’m expecting a visit from a Lieutenant Brady of the New York City Police Department. We’re going to discuss Mr. Muldoon. And don’t worry about Mary. She’s being well taken care of.”
“Mrs. Rutherford, I hardly know what to say.”
“You needn’t say anything. I never properly thanked you for saving my life that night. It pleases me to tie up loose ends. All these years I wondered what became of you. Now it so happens that it’s in my power to give you the opportunity you should have had long ago. It was almost criminal,” she added disapprovingly, “for you to have wasted your talent working as a maid.”
“But I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Get the part. Or they’ll think I’m an old fool.”
When she was gone, Tara shook her head in wonderment. “An amazing woman.”
“Yes,” Mr. Hawkins said, without interest. “Now, let’s take it from the top…”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Two months later, theatrical critics trumpeted the arrival of a hit Broadway musical and its enchanting young star, Tara McLaughlin.
‘RAIN OR SHINE’ A MUST SEE IN ANY WEATHER
DIRECTOR RISKS UNKNOWN IN LEAD ROLE
One gets the impression that Miss Tara McLaughlin, a winsome Irish lass with a big, big voice, would be a show-stopper dressed in a potato sack and singing, “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” Fortunately, director Ted Lattimer’s latest discovery doesn’t have to labor under those disadvantages in “Rain or Shine,” a witty,
well-paced musical extravaganza which opened last night at the Ardmore Theater. The score and lyrics by Kip Lang showcase Miss McLaughlin’s extraordinary vocal talents, just as imaginative costuming by the renowned Mrs. Marta likewise enhances Miss McLaughlin’s considerable physical gifts…
‘RAIN OR SHINE’ REVIVES LACKLUSTER BROADWAY SEASON
Amid tired revivals and a patriotic profusion of military-themed revues, one new musical stands out. “Rain or Shine,” which opened Friday night, delivers some of the best numbers heard so far this year. The lead role of “Addie” is taken by Miss Tara McLaughlin, a vaudeville-trained performer making her first appearance in the legitimate theater.
Director Ted Lattimer daringly (this reviewer believes) closes the show on a melancholy note, “Other Fish in the Sea,” delivered by Miss McLaughlin with such range and emotion that there were few dry eyes left in the house when she finished singing. Perhaps the audience felt moved by that astronomical phenomenon seen only on Broadway: the birth of a new star…
SURPRISING STORY BEHIND ‘RAIN OR SHINE’
Director Ted Lattimer says Miss Tara McLaughlin was not his first choice for the lead role of Addie in his latest hit, “Rain or Shine.”
“She was recommended to me by a friend so I auditioned her, thinking she might be suitable for some small role or other. As soon as I heard her sing, I realized that she was Addie…”
Was this really her life? Things were happening so quickly that Tara felt swept along on a current of giddy excitement. Weeks of rehearsals, costume fittings, scene studies and fleeting attacks of paralyzing nervousness culminated in one night that changed her life forever. Opening night.
The best part of the evening came when a telegram was delivered to her as she stood in the wings, waiting to go on.
THRILLED ABOUT YOUR SHOW. STOP. BREAK A LEG. STOP. EXPECT A FRONT ROW TICKET TO EVERY PERFORMANCE WHEN I COME HOME. STOP. ALL MY LOVE, DARLING. STOP. REECE. STOP.
There were celebratory parties and champagne toasts in all the best restaurants in New York. “You were pretty terrific in ‘Raine or Shine,’ Miss McLaughlin,” said a short, youthful-looking blonde man. “Come see me when the show ends its run. I might have something for you.”
She smiled and nodded politely as he returned to his own table.
“Who was that?” she asked.
Her question provoked guffaws of disbelief from the others at her table, mainly members of the cast, along with Ted Lattimer and Celia Rutherford.
“You mean to say you don’t know?” Rita, a clever character actress with a bawdy manner and a husky voice, was frankly disbelieving. “You really don’t know?”
“That, my dear, was Mr. George M. Cohan.” Celia patted her on the arm, looking pleased. “And he thinks you’re pretty terrific.”
George M. Cohan—the great man of American musical theater—thought she was good! He caught her looking at him and raised a glass of champagne to her, a bemused, quizzical expression on his face. She smiled back at him.
Mrs. Rutherford remained a calm, steadying influence in her life. Though Tara could afford her own place now, she insisted that Tara and Mary continue to live at her home.
“Evie and Lila would never forgive me if I let you take Mary away right now. They love having a baby to care for! And you’ll be leaving soon enough anyway, when Reece comes home.”
When Reece comes home…
She desperately wished he were here now, to savor this triumph with her. No matter how many curtain calls and accolades she received onstage, there was an empty space in her heart that would only be filled when Reece came home to her. Sometimes it seemed as if their wedding had been but a dream.
At least her friends were back in her life. She sent tickets to ‘Rain or Shine’ to everyone she knew. Hap and Delores came backstage to her dressing room after the show to compliment her, with Hap fiddling with the celluloid collar of his new blue suit.
“Say, who’s that man standing outside your door there? He didn’t want to let me and Delores in to see you. Checked to see if our names were on some list first.”
Hap’s indignation faded when he learned that Celia Rutherford had arranged for the “doorman.”
“Mrs. Rutherford believes in taking no chances. She has a man drive me to and from the theater every night as well.”
Tara took Hap and Delores out to a swanky restaurant for a late supper, though it took more than a little persuading before they agreed to her picking up the tab. It was grand to be able to repay them, if only a little, for the kindness they’d shown her.
The Schoeners came to see the show, too.
“Look,” Mr. Schoener proclaimed proudly. “Look at our friend Tara, the star.”
Tara found an opportunity to speak to Lotte about an idea she had.
Lotte looked confused at first. “A job? I don’t understand. You want me to…work for you?”
“I need someone to help me with things. Answerin’ all this mail, for instance.” She showed Lotte a pile of envelopes lying unopened on her dressing-room table. “All sorts of people are writin’ to me. People I don’t even know. Some just to tell me they liked the show. Some want me to give to charity, or be interviewed for a magazine. I’ve even gotten several proposals of marriage! I can’t keep track of it all. You could write back to them for me. And there’s more. Me schedule is not simple, like it used to be. There are costume fittins’, matinees, rehearsals. D’ya think you could help me, Lotte? I’d pay you more than you’re makin’ now. Unless, of course, you’d feel funny about it. Us bein’ friends and all.”
Lotte couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “Not at all!”
“But Lotte, I don’t know…how much security there’d be for you. Things are grand for me now, but the next show might be a flop. And I shouldn’t even assume there’ll be a next show. It’s bad luck to think that way in the theater. Anything at all can happen, and if it all ends for me tomorrow, I’m afraid I’ll be goin’ back to the dress factory myself.”
“You’re so silly, Tara. I read all your reviews and know how good you are. There will be another show after this. And another. And I will come and work for you, my famous friend Tara.” So it was settled.
The first time someone stopped her on the street and asked for her autograph, Tara thought there must be some mistake. Then it began happening with some regularity. She tried to be gracious even though she usually felt a little foolish. Once someone asked her how it felt to be an “overnight success.” Tara thought of her start in vaudeville and all the trials and disappointments since and laughed to herself. Overnight? Hardly. Nonetheless, she answered “Grand.” It was easier than explaining.
Mary was a delight, although she could be a tiny terror when she wanted to. No longer content with being held and fussed over, Mary usually struggled mightily and charmingly for her freedom. Set down on one of Celia’s richly-carpeted floors, she scooted and squirmed with amazing speed, usually in the direction of Celia’s golden retriever, Lady. She often used Lady as a sort of leaning-post, gripping the poor animal while she tried to pull herself up and stand on her sturdy little legs. Lady patiently suffered the baby’s attentions, even rewarding them by licking Mary’s face—to Mary’s delight and Mrs. Rutherford’s horror.
“The germs!” she exclaimed, more than once.
Tara was unperturbed. “Didn’t I grow up on a farm me own self, with animals all around and me runnin’ through the fields barefoot most of the time? If a little dirt was harmful to a child, I’d have been dead long ago.”
Lotte was a tremendous help to Tara. She spoke to the wardrobe mistress about missing buttons on a costume, handled the mail and found vases for the heaps of bouquets that arrived backstage for Tara. She politely fended off the hordes of well-wishers—many of them male—who tried to see Tara. She brought order and serenity to Tara’s chaotic new existence.
Tara was surprised and alarmed one day to find Lotte in tears in the dressing room.
“What is it, Lott
e? What’s wrong?”
“My brother. Conrad. He…” She tried to compose herself. “We got a telegram. He gets shot. He is wounded, Tara. It’s very bad.”
“What do the doctors say, Lotte? Is he expected to…recover?”
“I don’t know. Nobody knows. He’s in a hospital in France, so far away. The telegram said he was a very brave soldier. Oh, Tara. I don’t care if he’s brave! Conrad is too young to die.”
“Lotte you must not think the worst. Conrad is strong.”
Lotte’s predicament, unfortunately, was quite common these days. The names of sons, brothers and fathers who’d gone jauntily off to war not so many months ago were daily added to the growing list of the dead and injured. Families all across the country were grieving, forced to absorb the unthinkable loss of a loved one.
Although Reece was not in the Army, he was in a dangerous place, and far from her side. Sometimes she felt as if she were holding her breath until he came home.
• • •
Rafferty almost passed the Ardmore Theater without noticing. He usually paid little attention to Broadway shows, not being terribly interested in popular culture. That nonsense was for the swells. “Rain or Shine,” appearing in large black letters on the marquis, meant nothing to him, but the name above it, in smaller script, stirred something black and irritable in his memory.
She had some cheek, she did! Turning up again like this! Appearing in a Broadway show as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She was asking for trouble, she was.
He hurried off to find his boss. Muldoon would reward him handsomely for news like this. After all, hadn’t Rafferty made a pretty penny just for teaching a lesson to that cripple who ran the boarding house?
• • •
A Song Across the Sea Page 31