“The one with the complete set of earthenware dishes, as bought in a New York design shop,” I whispered to Vicky. She gave me a confused look. “Catherine,” I explained, “appears to be somewhat inconsistent in her approach to set and costume.”

  “If I may say—” Desmond tried to get a word in edgewise.

  “You may not,” Catherine said. “I have bought the velvet for the purpose I told Irene. We need not discuss it any further. Dave, dear, before you and Ian run through those lines, one more time, I’m wondering if perhaps you can exchange roles. Give Scrooge a try. You know his lines, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. I sure do.”

  “What!” Ian said, shocked at the very idea. “I’m not taking Marley.”

  “We have to be adaptable.” Catherine smiled sweetly at him. As sweetly as a cat might smile at a mouse before pouncing. “Isn’t that the byword of community theater? Adaptable. I thought it might be nice to see how it works that way. If I … I mean if we like it, Ian you can do some work with Aline on Marley’s song.”

  Ian did not return the smile. Instead a vein pulsed in his neck and his eyes bulged. I remembered he’d suffered a heart attack last year, and hoped he wasn’t heading for a recurrence. “Scrooge is the main character.” He struggled mightily to keep his voice under some sort of control. “Let me remind you, Catherine, Marley’s a bit part. He has one, count ’em, one scene. Besides, Marley’s a tenor. I am not a tenor.”

  “Adaptability!” Catherine repeated.

  Dave grinned. Ian fumed. Desmond sputtered. Everyone else watched, no one saying a word. Vicky wagged her eyebrows at me.

  “I’m the director here.” Desmond finally managed to get the words out. “I want them to act the scene as I have cast it.”

  “The way Mrs. Renshaw and I see it,” Dave said, “is that Scrooge is always portrayed as an old guy. We’re thinking someone younger, sorry Ian, would appeal to younger people in the audience. Tell them they need to change their ways because you never know when it’ll be too late. Not wait until you’re old. Like Ian here is.”

  “That’s the way you and Mrs. Renshaw see it, is it?” Ian bit off the words.

  Dave flashed a row of brilliant white teeth. “Yup.”

  “Anything else you two see which you think we need to be informed about?” Ian glared at Catherine. “Or is this a private matter?”

  Dave smirked. Catherine touched her hair. Eddie continued kicking the seat in front of him.

  “I will not be ambushed like this,” Desmond said. “Catherine, you and I discussed giving the main part to Dave, and I told you straight out he isn’t suitable.”

  “You did? When was this and why was I not told?” Ian’s face was turning a highly unattractive shade of red.

  “I don’t discuss casting decisions with the actors,” Catherine said.

  “You obviously did with Dave.”

  “I needed to know if he was interested.”

  Vicky leaned over and whispered in my ear. “They could make a play out of this. I’d pay good money to see it.”

  My mom came on stage, wondering what was going on. Paula trailed after her.

  “We’re wasting time here,” Desmond said. “Ian and Dave, carry on with the scene as I have instructed.”

  “I’d like to see how Dave handles Scrooge’s lines,” Catherine said. While Desmond was sputtering, Ian changing color, Dave preening, and everyone else looking confused, she’d remained comfortably in her seat, her hands folded neatly on her lap, her smile serene. The very picture of elegance, she wore a winter-white outfit of loose-fitting jacket, silk V-neck T-shirt, and wide white pants secured by a brown belt. A rope of pearls was around her neck and more pearls in her ears. A brown pump with two-inch heels dangled casually from the foot of a crossed leg. Despite the heat in this room, she hadn’t broken a sweat or removed her jacket. Her makeup remained fresh yet subdued, her nails painted a soft pink matching her lipstick.

  “I have been with this company since its inaugural season,” Ian said. “I was a founding member, in fact.”

  “I respect that so much, truly I do,” Catherine said. “Remind me of when that was? Was it during this century?”

  Beside me, Vicky said, “Wow!” My mother’s eyes opened wide at the sheer cattiness of the remark.

  “Catherine, perhaps a word in private,” Desmond said.

  “Why don’t we see how the scene plays out, as I suggest, and then we can chat?”

  Mom stepped forward. “Irrelevant. Ian cannot play Marley. Marley’s song is an important one, and Ian does not have the vocal range.”

  “He can fake it,” Dave said.

  “He cannot,” Mom said. “Not if I am coaching him. Also, Dave’s voice is too deep for Scrooge.”

  “I can raise my voice,” Dave squeaked.

  “Ironically, this time I have to disagree with you, Aline, dear,” Catherine said. “I know I keep saying we want to put on a performance worthy of the Metropolitan Opera, of which you were so recently a shining light, but this is amateur theater. We can’t get all we require. Much as we might want to. Particularly as regards a complicated musical production such as the one we’re attempting.”

  For perhaps once in her life, my mother was struck speechless.

  “If I have to take Marley, I quit,” Ian said.

  “That would be unfortunate,” Catherine said. “But it is your decision.”

  I glanced between them. Ian was furious, Catherine calmly dismissive. Something else was going on here, I suspected, apart from a squabble over an unpaid role in a small-town musical production.

  “I’ve an idea,” said Paula, who had not been asked for her input. “If the part of Marley’s ghost is up for grabs, I’ll take it. Why does Marley have to be a man anyway and have a man’s voice? There are too many male parts in this play. I can play both Marley and Mrs. C. They don’t have any scenes together, right?”

  My mother groaned.

  Jackie leapt forward. “If both those parts are too much for you to handle, Paula, I’ll step in as Mrs. Cratchit. I’m the understudy. I’ve learned all the lines, and I’ve been practicing at home. Kyle, that’s my boyfriend, Kyle Lambert who takes pictures for the Gazette, he says I’d be great in the part.”

  “They would not be too much,” Paula said. “I have no idea where you got that idea. As for Dave playing Scrooge, I have to say I’m with Desmond on this. Dave thinks he can get by on his fake aw-shucks charm.” She rolled her eyes so dramatically that if it was an indication of her acting talent, she did need to be replaced. “He might be able to manage, barely, the part of the romantic lead in a Regency production, but as Scrooge, he is totally and complexly unsuitable.”

  Dave’s entire body stiffened. He took a step toward her. “That’s uncalled for. I am an actor. An actor acts.”

  Paula dismissed him with a wave. “If you’re going to recast the parts, Desmond, then do it dramatically. Make a complete break from the past. Make a statement.”

  “I am not recasting the parts!” Desmond yelled.

  “I’ve an idea. Even better than casting a woman as Marley,” Paula said, “how about a female Scrooge?”

  “I’m not going to remake those costumes,” Irene said.

  “You?” Dave said to Paula. “You think you can carry an entire play?” He let out a snort of dismissive laughter.

  Paula bristled. “I don’t see why not. Tell me again, Dave, why you left your oh-so-promising acting career behind. I had a look at your bio. Not many big parts, were there?”

  “Enough of this!” Desmond roared. “Every one of you is out of line. Catherine, you started this mess. I will not continue to discuss this in front of everyone. Let’s go outside. People, take a break.”

  Catherine rose from her seat in a smooth river of winter white. Desmond took a step backward. Even without the heels she would have towered over him. “I’m dreadfully sorry.” She plucked her wool and cashmere coat off the chair next to her and slipped it on. “The time has totally gotten away from me. Bruce and I have late dinner reservations tonight. I’ll see everyone tomorrow. Six o’clock on the dot. Remember, we need everyone to be here to go through the entirety of the Fezziwig party. Don’t be late.” She gave the watching cast and crew a radiant smile.

  “Merry, Vicky,” she said as she passed us, me still clutching the unwanted cape. “How nice to see you both. If either of you is interested in joining our little group, please talk to me. Vicky, with that height you would have a marvelous stage presence.”

  No one said a word as she walked up the aisle pulling on her gloves, her heels silent on the thickly carpeted floor. The door closed behind her. Still, no one still said a word.

  “Okay.” Vicky broke the silence. “I’m thinking maybe two drinks at the Holly and a ten o’clock bedtime tonight.”

  Desmond broke out of his stunned silence. “We’re finished here! Everyone go home! We’ll do no more work today. I’ve had enough!”

  “What did we decide about my role?” Dave said.

  Desmond’s expression indicated what he thought about that.

  “Okay,” Dave said. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  “If you don’t want to talk about my idea right now, that’s up to you, but what about my private singing lesson?” Paula said.

  “Didn’t you hear the man?” Mom snapped. “We’re done for the day. And not a moment too soon.”

  “Tomorrow then. Eddie, let’s go. Where’d Eddie get to? Has anyone seen Eddie?”

  “Probably raiding the snacks table,” Ian said. “His usual hangout.”

  The cast and crew began to disperse. Some went backstage to get their things, some filed out of the auditorium. Every one of them was talking in low tones or listening to what was being said in low tones. No one, I thought, sounded happy. About anything.

  “Disaster,” a man said as he passed us.

  “Doomed,” his companion replied.

  “Why don’t we ask your mom if she wants to come for a drink with us?” Vicky said. “She looks like she could use one.”

  “Good idea.” I waved. “Mom!”

  She descended the steps from the stage. “Please remind me why I agreed to participate in this production.” She ran her fingers across the cape in my arms. “That’s a lovely garment, dear, beautiful soft tweed, but isn’t it too warm for indoors?”

  “I’m glad you like it,” I said. “It’s yours.”

  She blinked. “Mine? Nice as it is, I never wear brown, you know that. And I don’t care for the length. It’s too short. A cape must be longer, to allow for dramatic impact.”

  “Nevertheless, it’s yours. As I told Dad, and I believe you on another occasion, I don’t rent items, I sell them. It doesn’t matter that you haven’t tried it on. I carried it all this way, so I consider it used.”

  Mom looked at Vicky.

  “Never mind,” my friend said. “Just go along with it. Make her happy.”

  “That will mean there will be one happy person in this theater,” Mom said. “I have no idea what’s going to happen. Ian’s not bluffing. Catherine and Ian seemed to be getting along fine when she first joined the group and rehearsals started, but all of a sudden, at the last minute, she wants to replace him. He’ll quit if he loses the part of Scrooge, and Desmond might well follow. Dave will be a catastrophe in the main role; Paula’s voice gets worse every time I work with her. Her son’s a spoiled brat who won’t take instruction; most of the extras have two left feet and keep crashing into each other in the dance numbers; Jackie’s continually asking me …”

  “Drink?” Vicky said. “Merry and I are going to the Holly. Would you like to join us?”

  “Thank you, dear. It’s nice of you to invite me, but I think not. I feel a headache coming on, and an early night will be welcome.” She leaned over and brushed her lips across my cheek. I caught the familiar wave of Chanel No. 5. “I’ll get my bag and be on my way.” She headed backstage.

  Vicky and I exchanged glances and then we broke into laughter. “Love how after overhearing all of that, Catherine thought we might want to get involved,” Vicky said. “No thanks, I have more than enough drama at the bakery.”

  Desmond and Irene were huddled together in the hallway outside the doors to the auditorium when we came out.

  “In the scheme of things, our little production is quite meaningless, Desmond,” she said, “but I take my part as wardrobe mistress seriously. I don’t know if I can continue. Nothing I do is ever good enough for Catherine.”

  “I hear you, Irene. I’ve been with this company for twelve years. In that time I’ve received more than a small amount of well-meant advice and not-so-well-meant criticism, but never before on this level. The blasted woman simply does not understand that this is not Broadway. I don’t have professionals to work with. I have people who don’t mind spending most of their evenings and weekends in a theater, some of whom have nothing better to do with their time. If Catherine insists on replacing Ian with Dave, I’m walking.”

  Vicky raised her eyebrows at me, and we scurried away before we could be caught eavesdropping.

  Chapter Four

  “Did you enjoy watching a bit of rehearsal last night, Merry?” Jackie asked me.

  I stared at her. I realized I was staring and snapped my mouth shut. “Enjoy? Not quite the word I’d use. Didn’t you notice some … shall we say tension in the group? Not to mention that rehearsal abruptly ended when the artistic director and the director almost came to blows.”

  She waved a hand in the air. “That’s all perfectly normal. We theater people call it rehearsal jitters,” she said as though she’d been center stage on Broadway most of her life. “Everyone’s on edge because they care so much. Without that edge to provide the spark, the play would be boring.”

  “If you say so.”

  She fussed with a glass bowl containing an arrangement of colorful ornaments. “Do you happen to know what your mom’s up to today?”

  “No idea.”

  It was shortly after noon. Jackie had arrived for her shift, bubbling over with excitement as she stood on the verge of stardom (in her mind, if no one else’s). Business had been quiet this morning, and I’d taken advantage of the time to rearrange the window display. Inspired by A Christmas Carol, I’d attempted to recreate a Victorian Christmas morning, with a small, but real, tree harvested from Alan’s property, fully decorated with fake candles and colorful glass balls. Beneath the tree, I’d placed piles of empty boxes, wrapped in brown paper tied with string, overseen by a collection of porcelain Santa and Mrs. Claus dolls, complete with glasses perched on noses, caps on heads; her in a dress and apron and him in trousers with suspenders. They were accompanied by a couple of stuffed reindeer with bright bows tied around their necks.

  Jackie picked up a red ball. She put it back. She picked up a gold one. She pointedly avoided eye contact with me.

  “Is there something you want to ask me, Jackie?” I eventually said.

  “Now that you mention it, Merry.” She cleared her throat. “If you don’t mind. I thought maybe you could tell your mom I’m free tomorrow morning. I don’t start work until ten, so I have nothing on first thing.”

  “Why –? Oh, you’d like some vocal coaching?”

  She grinned at me. “That’s right. As part of the chorus, naturally I have songs to sing and I’ve been practicing like crazy, but I’ve also been working on Mrs. Cratchit’s song. In case I’m called upon to step in. Kyle says I’ve got it down pat—”

  As he would, if he knows what’s good for him.

  “A little extra coaching might help. Not that I have the part, I know that. But, I am the understudy, and looks like there might be some changes made in the cast, so I’d like to be ready.”

  “I’ll mention it to her,” I said.

  “Thanks, Merry.”

  The chimes over the door tinkled and a group of women came in, wrapped warmly against the cold. No snow was in the forecast, but clouds were gathering and temperatures dropping steadily.

  “Good afternoon,” Jackie said. “Welcome to Mrs. Claus’s Treasures. Let me know if you need any help.”

  “Thank you,” they chorused.

  “Susan! Look at that train. My Madison would simply love that for the new baby, don’t you think?”

  The women spread out around the shop, oohing and aahing over everything and calling to each other to come see what they’d found.

  That’s what I like to hear.

  “Excuse me,” one of them said, “Can I have a closer look at these earrings?” I ran to help her.

  These women were decisive shoppers—I like that too. They piled an eclectic selection of items high on the sales counter and went back for more.

  “Are you vacationing in town?” Jackie asked as she rang things up.

  “We are. We’re a bridge group, and we’ve come all the way from Iowa to visit America’s Christmas Town.”

  That would make the town mothers and fathers happy. Rudolph had fought long and hard to be so recognized. It wasn’t easy with competition from the likes of North Pole, Alaska and Snowflake, Arizona.

  “We would have preferred to come over Christmas week, of course, but we can’t leave the kids and grandchildren at that time of year, can we?”

  “Much as we might want to,” one added to gales of laughter from her friends.

  “We’re staying at the Carolers’ Motel. Such a nice place. We’ll be playing bridge and shopping and seeing the sights.”

  “Followed by more shopping and more bridge,” another woman added. “One whole blissful week without those pesky husbands.”

  More laughter. I liked these women. They seemed to know how to have a good time.

  “Will you still be here next Friday?” I asked. “A Christmas Carol opens for its seasonal run. It’s going to be a great show.”

  “Oh, yes. I wouldn’t miss that. We already have tickets for opening night! I’m so excited. When I heard that Aline Steiner, of all people, is in the production I insisted we add an extra day onto our holiday in order to see it.”

  “For years and years,” another woman said, “Ruth tried to drag us to New York to go to the Met. Can’t think of anything I’d like less than sitting through an opera.” She shrugged theatrically, and Ruth gave her a good-natured poke in the ribs. “Imagine, six hours of Gotterdammerung. Spare me. I don’t care for opera, but I enjoy musical theater. So—Ruth’s idol’s going to be in a play we can all enjoy. I call that a win-win!”