“You won’t be awful.” Vi gave Gertie a hug. “Either of you. Sue won’t let it happen, and you’ll have Charles, Matt, and Victor helping you every step of the way.”
Marcie put her spoon down and turned troubled eyes toward Vi, her oatmeal forgotten. “You’re not upset that you didn’t get the part, are you?”
Vi smiled reassuringly at her. “You’ve been in the show since the beginning. It’s only fair you get first shot at being a star.”
Gertie’s forehead furrowed. “I still don’t know why we can’t wait another day. I don’t like leaving Luciana behind.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Frances said, sounding slightly exasperated. “The lucky girl is probably getting breakfast in bed as we speak, with over a dozen fellas at her beck and call.”
Gertie’s expression lightened. “Do you think so?”
“Not only that,” Vi said more seriously. “She’s likely safer here than going up in another airplane with the rest of us.”
Marcie shivered. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. Think Sue will let me walk to Rome?”
“Congratulations on your promotion, Miss May,” Ann said, sauntering up with a cup of coffee in her hand and a cool smile on her lips.
Despite the sentiment’s kind delivery, the actress’s gaze held no warmth.
Marcie shot to her feet. “Thank you. Though to be honest, I’d trade it all for Luciana to be hale and hearty again.”
Some of the ice melted in the older woman’s eyes. “That’s kind of you to say so. If you need help with your lines, let me know. I have notes from early rehearsals that might prove useful.”
“I would love—” Marcie began, when a commotion at the door of the mess hall cut her off. A harried-looking corporal—Vi was getting better at identifying rank—glanced around impatiently as if seeking someone in particular and then strode over to where the directors sat.
A hush fell over the hall. As one, the whole company strained to listen in without being overly obvious about it. Holding her breath with the rest, Vi watched as Mr. Stuart nodded, asked a question while Wyatt and Sue paid close attention, and then nodded again at the answer. Her nerves jittered as she waited for some kind of sign whether the news was good or bad.
Mr. Stuart stood. “I’ve just been informed that we will have a transport plane at our disposal at eleven o’clock. Please plan accordingly. Anyone not packed and ready to go by ten thirty will be left to the tender mercies of the MPs. Is that clear?” Mr. Stuart met everyone’s eyes one by one. “Excellent. That is all.”
After he sat, conversations sprang up around Vi like daisies. If any were meant to include her, she didn’t notice. Instead her attention was on Ann, who stood to the side, alone. The hard set to her jaw was meant to warn people off, but the slight tightening around her eyes and mouth spoke of a different emotion. Sadness. Vi felt a deep tug of empathy as she watched the actress. She utilized that same expression herself whenever she felt alone and vulnerable but would have been damned first before admitting it.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Vi picked up her tray and carried it over to where the dishes were being collected. On the way back, she didn’t return to the table with the dancers but stopped in front of the blonde actress.
Ann pretended not to see her, but Vi wasn’t about to let her off that easy.
She touched the actress’s arm to catch her attention. “I wanted to thank you for supporting me last night. With Luciana injured, it seems more important than ever that we pull together to keep the show running smoothly.”
Ann looked startled. “Of course. And you’re welcome.”
“I know it’ll be hard for all of us,” Vi rushed on. “Especially given some of our experiences in past productions.”
Ann stilled. “How so?”
Vi screwed up her courage and went for broke. “Luciana told me about your fiancé and how he fell for a chorus girl. I can only guess how much that stung. And if I could apologize on behalf of all dancers for the awful behavior demonstrated by that one, I would.”
“I see.” Ann’s expression hovered between amusement and annoyance.
“Since it looks like Luciana will be remaining here for a couple of days while we move on,” Vi continued, though she was starting to wonder why she was even bothering, “you won’t have a travel buddy, and so . . . I was