for some terrific staging. It also meant the scene was rapidly coming to a close. She needed to beat feet. Later, if all went well, she would have plenty of chances to watch.
Not fifteen minutes later she was back in the theater lobby, smelling and looking much more professional, even though the underarms of her blouse were still damp from being rinsed. Drawing a deep breath, she nervously smoothed her newly pinned hair, checking for stray ends. The recent dye job, hastily undertaken in Philly to further alter her appearance, had left her hair slicker and harder to style, if also closer to her natural deep sable color.
She would miss the attention that came with being blonde, of course, but moon-kissed locks were Lily Lamour’s trademark. And then there was that small tug of pleasure at seeing the old Vi reemerge in the mirror. It was like meeting an old friend after a long break.
She hurried back into the auditorium, and her heart nearly stopped when she realized the house lights were up. Frantically she ran her gaze over the small groups of people gathered in the aisles, chatting, the rehearsal clearly finished for the day. A stoop-shouldered, balding man was talking to the blonde actress, and the way the woman listened to him caught Vi’s attention.
One, that the actress was scowling meant she was likely receiving bad news. Two, that she also maintained steady eye contact with the fellow, despite her displeasure, suggested he was Gerald Stuart, the man Vi sought. Any actor or actress worth his or her salt would give the director his or her full attention when getting stage directions if they wanted to keep a part. Mistakes might be forgiven the first time, but not the second, and there was always another person waiting in the wings to grab your spot.
“Can I help you?”
Pressing a hand to her chest, Vi whirled to face two young women, one with wavy, light-brown hair and wide gray eyes, and the other a brunette whose green eyes were narrowed with suspicion. Mentally, Vi kicked herself for letting someone sneak up on her like that, let alone two people. If she had still been in Chicago, she would be in jail by now.
The gray-eyed girl studied her with a worried look. “Did I startle you? I’m sorry. It’s just that the theater is closed to visitors during rehearsal.”
“Oh, I’m not a visitor. I’m here to talk to Mr. Stuart,” Vi said, wondering if this was the rebellious Angelina Maggio. She considered asking but then decided against it. No need to tip anyone off that she was there to do anything but dance. She continued in a more confident tone, “He’s expecting me.”
The gray-eyed girl’s expression relaxed into a friendly smile. “In that case, I’ll walk you over.”
“Gertie,” the brunette hissed. “Are you nuts? What if she’s another snoop?”
Gertie’s eyes widened. “Oh gosh! You aren’t, are you?”
“No,” Vi said firmly, wanting to nip any concerns about her presence in the bud. While she now knew the gray-eyed girl wasn’t Angelina Maggio, there was still the brunette to consider. “But I don’t want to delay you two. Just point him out, and I’ll take it from here.”
“Are you sure?” Worry clouded Gertie’s pretty face. “It might help if someone goes with you; he’s been a perfect grouch all day.”
“A state not that uncommon in directors,” Vi said with a sympathetic laugh. “Thanks for the warning, though.”
The brunette grabbed Vi’s arm. “Not so fast. If you’re here to rat another one of us out, you can leave right now. The whole troupe is already steamed about losing Janet, including Mr. Stuart.”
“Ow! Do you mind?” Vi shook the girl’s hand off her arm. “I’m only here to talk to Mr. Stuart about joining his USO show.”
The brunette’s eyes narrowed. “Really? If you think you’re good enough for a Stuart production, how is it that I’ve never seen you before? I know most of the dancers in the area.”
“I’m not from around here. I was sent here from Ch—Iowa,” Vi corrected quickly, “as a favor.”
“Shy-owa?” the girl repeated suspiciously. Vi could’ve kicked herself for the slip.
“I was about to say Chariton, which is where I grew up, about two hours south of Des Moines, but then changed my mind since most people have never heard of it.” Vi worked to keep her expression open, innocent.
“Why would an Iowa farm girl be sent to our production? We’re not growing corn here.”
With an effort, Vi kept her