“But it’s too late to give her the part,” Peggy said dully, “so she can’t be after that. Alison’s never been like this before. I’ve always liked her, really. What is she trying to do?”
“Make you give a dreadful performance!” Rita insisted strongly. “I know Alison Lord like a book. She’s a fine, nice girl as long as she’s in the limelight, but her career comes first, and she’ll walk roughshod over anyone who interferes with it!”
“But this is only a summer stock company—” Peggy protested.
“Yes, and people go back to New York saying, ‘Gosh, have you seen Peggy Lane inGuest in the House? She was great!’ These things do get around, Peggy. Alison came up here to be the big cheese, and she wants it to stay that way. If she can’t play the part at least she figures that people can say, ‘They really should have given that part to Alison Lord; Peggy Lane was awful!’”
Rita spelled it out in no uncertain terms, leaving Peggy feeling bleaker than ever. She knew that Rita was trying to prod her, make her angry enough to forget Alison and come through with a good performance. But Peggy didn’t work that way. She couldn’t act out of spite or anger. She was aware, too, that other people in the company were disappointed in her. Danny Dunn couldn’t conceal his surprise or Chris Hill his impatience. The fine rapport that Peggy and Chris had had inFor Love or Moneywas a thing of the past.
Dress rehearsal forGuest in the Housetook place Tuesday afternoon. The company had to be out of the theater by fiveP.M.for the group of folk singers who had the auditorium for the evening. It was a benefit affair and the Summer Theater was glad to donate its stage for the night. Peggy didn’t know if it was the strangeness of working in the afternoon or if it would have happened in any case, but her performance was the worst one she had ever given. Not only was she unable to get into the role at all, but she forgot her lines on several occasions—something that hadn’t happened all season. Chuck was so unhappy with the show that he didn’t even criticize her. It was obvious that he thought it too late.
Miserably, Peggy took off her make-up and started to leave the theater, wishing that she had never been given the part at all. Perhaps she would never attempt to play a dramatic role again. “And I was feeling so self-satisfied, thinking it was easy!” she thought as she walked out the stage door.
“Peggy, how’s it going?” Michael Miller rounded the corner of the building, coming from the little shack the boys used for a scene shop.
“Awful.” Peggy tried an unsuccessful smile.
“What you need is a little relaxation—a change of scenery.” Michael smiled. “What are you going to do with your first free evening of the summer?”
“Tonight?” Peggy shook her head. “Going to work on my part again, I guess—see if I can come up with something—”
“Why don’t you forget it for a while?” Michael asked. “I’m going to take Mary Hopkins over to the other side of the lake for dinner; we’d love to have you come along.”
“In your boat?” Peggy asked, feeling a faint stirring of interest.
“What else?” Michael laughed. “We’re not going to swim, that’s for sure! Come on, Peggy, it’ll do you good.”
It would at that, Peggy thought, suddenly feeling a sense of freedom at the prospect of being far away from the theater for a while, if even just for dinner. Maybe she could regain her perspective out on the water; there was nothing like putting a little distance between one’s self and one’s problem.
“I will, Michael,” she accepted gratefully. “I’d love to. Goodness, it’ll be the first boat ride I’ve had all summer!”
“And long overdue. I promised you a ride once, remember?”
Peggy felt better than she had all week when they arrived at Michael’s house and walked down to his dock where Mary Hopkins was already waiting.
“Peggy—how nice!” she cried. “Are you coming with us?”
“I certainly am—if I’m not intruding,” Peggy said, suddenly wondering if she was interrupting a date.
“Oh, heavens, no!” Mary laughed. “I’ve been pestering Michael to take me out in the boat for weeks. This is the first time he’s been free!”
“I’ll just go and tell Dad we’re off,” Michael said. “That’s a rule around here when I take out the boat.”
He was back in a minute and they all got into the trim little craft, Peggy feeling almost carefree as Michael started the motor and they zipped away.
“We call her theMerry Mac,” Michael shouted over the noise of the motor to the two girls. “She’s Dad’s pride and joy—and mine.”
“I can see why,” Peggy laughed, loving the feel of the water underneath as they skimmed along. It had been a beautiful day. The lake was sky-blue and frosted with little points of white whipped up by the wind.
“Dad’s pride and joy—and mine.”
“It’s a little choppy,” Michael called.
“Fun!” Peggy cried as the spray blew over the windshield and splashed her face.
“You’re going to get wet,” Mary warned as Michael passed over the wake of another boat, theMerry Macslapping across, the spray leaping to drench Peggy’s face.
“I love it!” Peggy cried happily. “The wetter the better! Where are we going, Michael?”
“Straight across.” Michael cut his speed a little so he could hear. “See that cluster of buildings? The Golden Hound is the last one on the left. Good food and music—very rustic.”
They were in the middle of the lake now, and Peggy realized that it was much larger than she had thought. There were islands dotted all around, some so tiny that there was only room for one or two houses.
“Private islands,” Michael informed her. “How would you like one of those, Peggy?”
“Oh, would I! It would be sheer heaven!” Peggy took a deep breath of the wonderful fresh air. “No wonder you love this place, Michael. I wouldn’t ever want to leave if I’d been raised here!”
“The winters arecold, though.” Mary laughed. “How do you feel now, Peggy? Better?”
“Marvelous! I’ve almost forgotten about the theater entirely. This is just what the doctor ordered!”
Michael slowed theMerry Macand carefully turned her into the dock in front of the restaurant. Peggy was impressed by his expert handling of the boat.
“Dad would never forgive me if anything happened to our little friend here, and I’d never forgive myself!” he said as he stepped out and helped the girls up from the boat.
They had a wonderful dinner at a lovely candlelit table by a picture window that afforded a sweeping view of the lake.
“What a beautiful spot,” Peggy said dreamily as twilight fell, and lights in the little cottages dotting the shore twinkled on like a fringe of decoration. “Why haven’t we been here before?”
“We can come again during the last week of the season,” Michael said. “I’ll bring everybody over sometime.”
“Michael, isn’t it getting awfully dark?” Mary interrupted, watching the sky that had changed from sunset violet to a deep, heavy gray.
Michael looked at the sky and smiled. “Sure, it’ll be dark before we get back. You’re not worried about going back at night, are you?”
“Well,”—Mary hesitated—“do you know how to find your way back at night?”
Michael laughed. “Mary Hopkins! And you’ve lived at Lake Kenabeek for sixteen years!”
“How do you find your way back?” Peggy asked.
“By my landing light.” Michael was still laughing at Mary. “I take a straight course from here, across the lake, home. It’s impossible to miss it. Where have you been all these years, Mary?”
“Well,” she said with a shy smile, “I guess I just never thought of it before.”
They finished dinner in a leisurely fashion, enjoying the music and the peaceful atmosphere of this beautiful spot.
“This really has been lovely, Michael,” Peggy thanked him as they left the restaurant. “I feel so relaxed and different—not half as worried as I was this afternoon.”
“You’ll probably knock ’em in the aisles tomorrow night,” Michael said cheerfully as they got into theMerry Macagain.
And Peggy thought he might be right, at that. Somehow, getting away from the part had done her a world of good. She found that she was actually looking forward to trying it again, and sure that she could improve her performance.
“My, it really is rough!” Mary said nervously as they started back. A high wind had come up and the choppy water was blowing in all directions, making the boat rock furiously.
Michael was quite unconcerned. “See—there’s the light, Mary.” He pointed it out to her dead ahead across the black lake. “We just take a bead on that, and home we go without obstacles—in the rain, it seems.”
A freak summer storm had suddenly come up, and the rain pelted down heavily, mixing with the spray that rose over the sides of the little boat.
“This is nothing,” Michael reassured Mary. “I’ve been out in storms much worse than this. As long as we can see the landing light there’s nothing to worry about, and it doesn’t look—”
But Michael had spoken too soon. The rain suddenly poured down in such force that it was impossible to see. In an instant it descended in driving torrents and Michael lost the landing light! In a second he had cut the motor. “I don’t think,” he began—but then it happened. There was a grinding crash that threw Peggy and Mary forward, their heads hitting the windshield, while theMerry Macreared up and came to a shuddering stop.
There was dead silence for a moment. Then, “Is anybody hurt?” Michael asked tightly.
“No, I don’t think so....” Peggy moved a bit. “Mary, are you all right?”
“My head,” she said shakily. “No—it’s all right—I just bumped it.”
“Thank heaven!” Peggy breathed. “And thank goodness you cut the motor so fast, Michael. If you hadn’t been so quick....” They were all silent, realizing that it was only Michael’s alert action that had saved them from a much more serious accident.
“Where are we?” Peggy finally asked.
“I don’t know,” Michael said, “but we’d better get out and see. I hope we’re not on a rock somewhere.”
The rain was so thick and the night so black that they couldn’t see a foot in front of them. Michael climbed out first, feeling his way. “It’s rock, all right,” he said nervously. “No—then it goes on into sand. Maybe we’re on a small island. Peggy, throw out the cushions from the seats, will you? I don’t know if the boat is lodged too tightly to sink or not, but we might as well have them to sit on.”
Groping in the dark, Peggy withdrew the cushions and handed them to Michael. Her hands touched something slick and cold. “What’s in the back seat, Michael?” she asked.
“Oh, good girl! Oilskin raincoats. I would have forgotten all about them. We keep them there—for emergencies.” Michael’s voice was hollow and Peggy knew that he was beginning to feel the situation. Michael had wrecked his precious boat. Well, there was no time now to think about that. Peggy took out the coats and wrapped one around Mary, who was still shivering slightly from shock.
They climbed up on their hands and knees, feeling their way precariously from the rocks on which the boat had crashed to the sandy beach. Peggy bumped into something and shrieked, then she realized it was a tree trunk. “Michael, we’re in some woods! Come on, Mary, get under cover and out of the rain!”
“Why doesn’t somebody light a match?” Mary asked plaintively. “Let’s make a fire or something.”
At this, Peggy dropped down on the boat cushion and began to laugh helplessly.
“What do you find so funny, may I ask?” Michael questioned sourly from the gloom beside her.
“A fire!” Peggy giggled. “A fire in all this rain! I’m sorry, Michael—it’s just nerves!”
“Very funny,” Michael said. “Well, I suggest we just sit here until the storm stops. Then we’ll be able to see where we are.”
But the storm continued in full fury for hours while the three, drenched and shivering, waited. Mary lay down on a cushion and, unbelievably, in a few minutes, was fast asleep. Michael too began to yawn as the hours passed, and Peggy offered him her cushion to doze on. She couldn’t possibly have slept. She curled up at the base of a tree, wrapped in her oilskin, and waited for the rain to stop. By the time the storm had subsided a little, dawn was breaking in a gray haze that filtered through the rain and trees and gave Peggy a view of the surroundings. She judged that they must be on an island, and getting up to look through the woods, saw a little path. Looking back at her sleeping comrades, Peggy decided to explore a little before awakening them. She hadn’t followed the path more than a few yards when she came to a clearing and a cottage among the trees. All night, a refuge had been this close! Seeing the house, Peggy realized how cold and exhausted she was. She raced back to the others and woke them up.
“I feel like the three bears,” Mary said sleepily. “I hope they have three beds and a stove; I’m chilled through.”
“It’s a lucky break we had your raincoats,” Peggy told Michael. “Do you realize we might all have caught pneumonia?”
Peggy knocked timidly at the door, hating to rouse anyone at this hour. It must be close to five in the morning, she guessed. There was no answer and Michael knocked again, louder this time.
A sleepy, startled voice called out, “Who is it?” and Peggy knew that the voice was familiar. Before she could place it, the door opened a crack and then was flung wide. There stood Mrs. Cook, wide awake now with the shock of seeing the three young people—wet and bedraggled as lost kittens.
“Oh, come in, come in!” she cried. “What on earth happened?”
If Mrs. Cook was astonished to see them, it was nothing to Peggy’s surprise at finding her here. “Mrs. Cook!” she exclaimed. “I thought you were staying at one of the hotels—”
“Oh, no, we’ve had this house for years, only one on the island.”
Now the little group knew that they had crashed on one of the little private islands in the middle of the lake. Within minutes the story was told and Mrs. Cook had given them all warm bathrobes and hot drinks, fussing over them as if they were her own children.
“Now, all of you get some real rest,” she commanded, showing Peggy and Mary into her own room and giving Michael the couch. “We’ll talk about everything later after you’ve had some sleep!”
As she gratefully snuggled down under the warm covers on the comfortable bed, Peggy sleepily wondered why they hadn’t seen Mr. Cook. But she was too tired to think for more than a moment. Almost immediately she dropped off into a deep, dreamless sleep, utterly exhausted.
Hours later Peggy awoke to the sound of rain beating on the windows and a whining wind that lashed the tree tops mercilessly. It was a bleak world, dark as evening, and it was only noon. Mary and Michael had been up for some time, and Peggy found them in the living room, chatting with Mrs. Cook, who had prepared a hearty breakfast for everybody.
“Peggy—good!” Mrs. Cook said as she saw her emerging from the bedroom. “I was going to wake you any minute. You must be ravenous.”
“I am,” Peggy admitted, sitting down at the table Mrs. Cook had set in front of the fireplace. “A fire in the summertime! It doesn’t seem possible.”
“Well, when these storms come up it can get good and chilly here. The dampness goes right through you.” Mrs. Cook smiled.
“Have you called to notify your father that we’re all right?” Peggy asked Michael. “It just occurred to me that everyone must be terribly worried about us.”
“Can’t call,” Michael replied, frowning. “The phone’s out. Wire’s blown down, I guess. But I’m not too worried. I’m pretty sure Dad will assume we stayed on the other side of the lake because of the storm. It’s happened before. He’ll have called Mrs. Hopkins, and the theater for you, Peggy.”
Peggy noticed the worry in Michael’s eyes. There was something he wasn’t telling her, she felt sure. Mrs. Cook came to the rescue, gently putting her hand on Peggy’s shoulder as she said, “I’m afraid you may have to stay here all day, dear. My husband took the boat to town and couldn’t get back last night in the storm. He called to tell me before the phone went out. None of the boats are out today. We’ll just have to wait until it clears before you can be picked up.”
“But the show!” Peggy cried. “I have to get back for the opening.”
“Well, maybe you can,” Mrs. Cook placated her. “It should clear by evening, and my husband is sure to return as soon as he can.”
But as the hours progressed, the storm showed no sign of relenting. The wind whistled angrily, blowing the rain in blinding sheets. No boat could dare the lake in weather like this.
“A fine idea I had!” Michael accused himself grimly. “A little fun, a little relaxation—and what happens? I not only wreck theMerry Mac, but I’m responsible for your missing the show!”
“Oh, Michael, it isn’t your fault,” Peggy comforted him. But she was sick at heart. She had felt so optimistic about her new approach to the part, ready to play Evelyn tonight as if she had never played it before. Now she might not even be there. She had no doubt as to what Chuck would do; he would have Alison play the part and get somebody to read the model for this one performance. It had been done before in stock. And there went Peggy’s chance to prove herself, not only to the company, but to a deep part of her that said, “If I fail this, the opportunity may never come again.” She wandered over to the window and stood there, looking out, trying to hold back the tears of disappointment. “Maybe it’s better this way,” she told herself. “Perhaps I wouldn’t do any better than I have all week.” But she remembered Randy’s words as he left her that day on the bus—“You’re a fine actress and I have faith in you!” Randy must have foreseen both the part and the trouble with Alison. What he could never have imagined was the possibility of Peggy’s not being there to play it at all.
By six o’clock the storm finally showed signs of subsiding. Peggy anxiously watched the sky, wondering if it would be possible after all to get back in time for the curtain. At seven-thirty the rain had stopped and the wind was reduced to a murmur. Mrs. Cook took the group down to the dock to watch for her husband’s boat. “He’s sure to come soon,” she said. “I think you’ll make it, Peggy.”
Peggy strained to see across the lake. The sky was still gray, but in the distance they could hear a motor.
“Somebody’s out, Peggy,” Mary cried happily. “I think we will get back!”
But the boat appeared and it wasn’t Mr. Cook after all. They waved and shouted frantically, but the owner didn’t see them and he veered off in the opposite direction. A few minutes later another boat came into view and Mrs. Cook gave Peggy an impulsive hug. “There he is, dear.” She laughed. “Get ready to dash!”
Mr. Cook didn’t have a chance to say hello as he pulled into the landing. The three young people practically fell into the boat with Mrs. Cook shouting hasty directions and waving him off as if to a fire.
“Hurry,” she called as he turned around and sped off. “And good luck, Peggy—” Her voice trailed away and Peggy gripped the sides of the boat, her heart in her mouth as the possibility of making the curtain became a reality.
“This little runabout isn’t too fast,” Mr. Cook warned, “but I’ll make her do her best!” He pushed the little boat to her limit and in about twenty minutes they pulled up at Michael’s landing. “This is the closest one to the theater, Peggy,” Mr. Cook said. “Run! Don’t say thanks—just make that curtain!”
But Peggy was already out and running up the stairs. With a hasty wave she sprinted up the walk beside Michael’s house and started to run to the theater.
The parking lot was jammed with cars, but Peggy didn’t see anyone going into the theater. Panting, she started to run back to the stage door, but then realized that Chuck might be out front. She’d better let him know she was here. She dashed back to the entrance and tore through the large doors by the box office. Richard was just coming out of the little room and, seeing her, he grabbed her arm with a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness, Peggy! We were beginning to think you’d drowned!”
“Where is everybody?” Peggy gasped. “I’m here—tell Chuck—”
“Wait a minute,” Richard held on to her with concern. “The show’s started, Peggy....”
Breathlessly, Peggy stopped short while it sank in. Of course! Nobody in the lounge, the doors to the auditorium closed— The audience were in their seats and the curtain had opened! Still trying to get her breath, she looked at Richard helplessly while tears came to her eyes.
“Oh, come on, Peggy.” Richard patted her shoulder kindly. “It isn’t that important. If you only knew how worried we were about you! I’m so glad you’re safe and sound I don’t give a hoot about the show!”
“Thank you,” Peggy managed to say. “I couldn’t help it—I tried to get back.”
“I know. You can tell me all about it later. Why don’t you go home now and get some rest?”
“No! Oh, no.” Peggy collected herself and took a deep breath. “As long as I’m here, I’m going to watch!” It was a difficult decision. “Who’s doing the model?”
“That girl, June Tilson; she’s winging it.”
“Well, come on, then.” Peggy smiled bravely. “Aren’t you going to give me a seat?”
Richard grinned at her admiringly. “You’re quite a girl, Peggy. I’ll give you the best seat in the house!”
But Peggy preferred to watch from the rear of the auditorium, so she and Richard quietly found places together. It was almost unbearable to see someone else doing her part, but Peggy grimly watched, determined to be as objective as possible. It was doubly difficult to admit that Alison was quite marvelous as Evelyn. She was obviously working on emotion and excitement, but it didn’t matter. She established herself as the star of the play, projecting her self-assurance and technique so that the audience had eyes for no one else on stage. June Tilson did a remarkable job as the model on such short notice. No one but Peggy or another actor could have known that she was reading the part in bits and pieces before she made an entrance, improvising, and finding her lines on the back of furniture where they had been carefully pasted before the show.
“She’s good!” Peggy whispered. “My, she’s good! Winging a part like that takes a lot of courage. I thought she probably would read it.”
“Chuck said she could, but she wanted to do it this way. She’s a fast study, too!” Richard nodded in agreement.
WatchingGuest in the Housewas one of the most painful experiences of Peggy’s life. By the time the play was over she felt as though she’d been drawn through a wringer. Wearily, she left her seat, as the actors were taking curtain calls, and bravos for Alison’s performance were filling the air. She walked outside and back to the stage door. Alison deserved her congratulations, and she sincerely wanted to tell June Tilson how good she had been.
Alison was still in make-up on stage, flushed with excitement and satisfaction. Everyone was milling around with words of praise for her wonderful job. No one would ever know what courage it took for Peggy to join the group and add her congratulations. Alison was too much in a whirl with her own triumph to take any special satisfaction from Peggy’s praise, and Peggy realized how right Rita had been. Alison had no personal spite; it was only her career that concerned her.
Everyone was glad to see Peggy back unharmed, but it was impossible to miss the undercurrent backstage. The company also was relieved that Alison had played Evelyn and “saved the show.”
A middle-aged man from the audience drew Alison away from her group of admirers and took her aside for a private discussion. In a few minutes, Alison rushed back excitedly, looking for Chuck. “I’ve got a screen test!” she exulted. “I have to leave tomorrow!”
“Leave!” The entire company was stunned. Actresses just didn’t walk out on a theater in the middle of the season. But Alison was blithely unconcerned.
“That was Sidney Mitchell, the talent scout from Lion Studios! He said he’d never been so impressed with a performance in summer stock! He thinks I’m great, said he couldn’t believe anybody could do a job like that at the last minute!”
“But you told him you’d played the part before, didn’t you?” Chris Hill demanded incredulously.
“Of course not!” Alison hotly defended herself. “Why should I? Let him think whatever he likes. The important thing is that he wants to test me for a part immediately. They’re looking for an unknown, and the part is of a girl very like Evelyn. Oh,” Alison glowed, looking more beautiful than ever with her taste of success, “just think, I might actually get to Hollywood!”
“Well, of course we can’t ask you to stay,” Chuck said. “I suppose June won’t mind continuing in your part—”
“I’d love to,” June agreed, “and by tomorrow I’ll know the lines.”
“Good.” Chuck smiled. “And Peggy will resume Evelyn tomorrow night.”
Everyone turned to look thoughtfully at Peggy, only now realizing that if she hadn’t missed the show, the talent scout would have seen her, maybe “discovered” her, instead of Alison. Their expressions were easy to read. Curiosity, pity, and a slight feeling of guilt at their obvious approval of Alison’s performance. Peggy bravely accepted their glances and smiled back at Alison. “I hope you do get the part, Alison,” she said gravely. “Be sure to let us know.”
Peggy couldn’t wait to get back to the annex and be by herself for a while. The reaction was just beginning to set in. If she had to stay another minute, she felt, she would break into tears. Hastily excusing herself with a promise to recount her adventure the next day, she started to leave.
But Rita stopped her at the stage door. “Don’t let it bother you too much, Peggy,” she said gently. “These things happen all the time. It’s just rotten luck for you. The only time we’ve had a talent scout all summer, and you had to have an accident!”
“It doesn’t matter, Rita,” Peggy said with difficulty. She didn’t want to talk another minute.
“But it does—I mean Alison’s lying like that....”
“But she wasn’t lying,” Peggy protested.
“Well, it amounts to the same thing, withholding the fact that she’d played the part before—that wasn’t very honest. I just thought you ought to know that everyone feels the same way about that. It wasn’t very ethical.”
“Let’s talk about it tomorrow,” Peggy pleaded, and Rita, understanding that she wanted to be alone, gave her a comforting pat and let her go.
Once in the privacy of her tiny bedroom, Peggy finally broke down and wept. Itwasrotten luck, she admitted to herself. The one chance she’d had all summer, and she’d missed it. Why did Mr. Mitchell have to pick this particular night to come?
“It isn’t that I don’t wish Alison good luck,” she cried softly, “but at least he could have seen both of us in the play. He would probably have picked Alison anyway, because she’s good movie material. But if he had only seen my work—it would have been something to take back to New York with me.”
And on top of that she had missed the opportunity to play Evelyn at the peak of her feeling about the part. Would she be able to do it at all tomorrow night? She buried her face in the pillow and sobbed until she was too exhausted to cry any more. Then, blessedly, sleep came.
Alison was gone by the time Peggy awoke the next morning. It seemed unbelievable that she had managed to assemble her things and pack in such a short time, but her little room was as stark and bare as if no one had been in it all summer.
The cast didn’t attempt to disguise their disapproval of Alison’s hasty exit. “That’s typical of anybody so career-minded,” sniffed Danny Dunn. “No gratitude. Alison doesn’t have the least conception of anyone’s problems except her own.”
“Thank goodness we have June Tilson to take her place,” Rita echoed. “I don’t know what Chuck and Richard would have done.”
By evening Peggy was so exhausted that she almost didn’t care how the play went. She was tired of questioning looks and concern. Tired of thinking about Evelyn. She put on her make-up and dressed for her entrance, as unconcerned as if she were simply going out to dinner. She watched the other actors begin the play and waited for her cue with such a lack of emotion that she wondered for a moment if she could possibly be coming down with a cold or a fever. She simply didn’t care. Her cue came up, and marshaling as much energy as possible under the circumstances, Peggy walked on stage.
For the two hours that she played Evelyn, Peggy worked with a most peculiar sensation. She felt as though she were standing beside herself, looking on. She watched Evelyn, heard Evelyn, moved her around like a puppet, with an objective, detached viewpoint completely new to her. She felt nothing whatsoever inside.
After the play Peggy took her solo curtain call and received the most tremendous ovation she had ever heard in the theater. She bowed and smiled, wondering what all the shouting was about, and was utterly astonished to see Chuck come to her with real tears in his eyes.
“That was one of the most beautiful performances I have ever seen in my life,” he said, looking at her with something like awe. “I won’t even ask you what happened. It was too wonderful to spoil by trying to analyze it!”
Ford Birmingham came back to congratulate her, too. “I haven’t yet written my review, Peggy, because I heard what happened last night. I saw both of you play it. Alison was awfully good, but I haven’t seen a job like yours in years! I’m truly grateful for having had the opportunity to see you!”
The entire cast looked at Peggy with a respect so new and surprising that Peggy didn’t know what to think. “You’re not fooling me, are you, Chuck?” she whispered. “I didn’t feel a thing out there. Was I really that good?”
“Oho!” Chuck grinned at her mysteriously. “So our little ingénue has discovered another secret—and all by accident! Listen, Peggy, sometimes it happens that way. Just when you feel dead inside you’ll give a performance so electrifying that everybody wonders what happened. It doesn’t always work, you can’t always be so objective. But I guess that’s what happened to you tonight. Tomorrow it’ll be different, but you’ll never have trouble with Evelyn again!”
And Peggy never did. Whether it was because Alison was no longer in the wings, watching and criticizing, or just because Peggy had finally “caught” it, she finished the week giving a glorious performance that brought more and more people to the theater, and sent them away knowing that they’d had a rare experience.
“This is what really counts,” Peggy thought gratefully. “Not a screen test or my ‘career,’ but the knowledge that I can really contribute something to the theater. Play a part with the author’s intention, not from my personal viewpoint.” Peggy felt immensely gratified to know that she was beginning to return a little of what the theater had already given to her.
The season closed with a rollicking farce that drew a full house every night. Enough money poured into the box office to pay back the investors and the Chamber of Commerce and even leave something over for the new science lab. On the last night ofSee How They Run, a tremendous party was held backstage after the show. Everybody was there. Aunt Hetty was hostess, beaming and brusque as ever, with lavish promises of what the theater would do with her barn next summer. For it was certainly established now that the Kenabeek Summer Theater was here to stay!
The directors of the Chamber of Commerce and the members of the School Board were there; all the apprentices and their families came; Mr. Bladen read a special poem of praise for the theater; Mr. and Mrs. Cook and Mrs. Hopkins and all their friends joined the celebration. Mr. Miller and Michael were happy to report that theMerry Machad not been damaged beyond repair after all, and that next summer she would be back, ready to take the cast across the lake to the Golden Hound for dinner.
“Are you game, Peggy?” Michael asked with a twinkle.
“Any time,” Peggy laughed. “Tonight if you like!”
“Well! That certainly speaks well for my son’s seamanship,” Mr. Miller declared.
“If it weren’t for him, we’d all be at the bottom of Lake Kenabeek,” Mary Hopkins said. “Wreck or no wreck, Michael’s a mighty good sailor!”
“And theMerry Macwas a smart boat to pick the Cooks’ island out of all the islands in the lake!” Peggy said. “I’d trust her again any time.”
“And the Cooks have practically put Bladen’s Antiques out of business,” Mr. Bladen added, winking at Peggy. “After your boys cleaned up my shop, the Cooks couldn’t seem to take things away fast enough. Then their friends started to come! Pretty soon, I’ll have to start buying more antiques or just stick to poetry!”
Bill Slade dashed into the theater, breathlessly waving an envelope and calling for everyone to be quiet. “I know this is going to be a huge shock,” he cried excitedly, “but you all know how much our business has improved since the Kenabeek Summer Theater came to town—for many reasons.” He grinned at Peggy. “Well! Although my brother Max is too shy, and to be honest, still too stiff-necked to come here personally and admit a mistake, he’s tried to redeem himself in a mighty concrete way!” With a huge smile of satisfaction, Bill dramatically opened the envelope. “Here’s a check to match whatever the Summer Theater is donating to the high school—from Maximilian W. Slade! You just fill in the amount!”
Amid cheers and hurrahs, the School Board gratefully accepted the check.
“Oh, Bill, that’s just about the nicest thing that’s happened all summer!” Peggy cried.
“It makes me very happy!” Bill said, grinning from ear to ear. “Next summer, Max might even put in an appearance at a play!”
Richard Wallace made a short, funny speech, thanking everyone for their cooperation, and at the end giving a word of special praise to the actors who “worked together without undue friction, without too many complaints, and with only a minimum of backstage feuds, which is probably a ‘first’ for any Adirondack stock company! Or any other, for that matter!”
There were toasts to the actors, toasts to Gus and the apprentices, toasts to everyone, including theMerry Mac, the annex, Lake Manor, the audiences, and Mrs. Brady’s food. The party lasted long, with all the actors talking about the possible jobs that awaited them in New York.
“What do you think you’ll do when you get back to New York, Peggy?” Chris Hill asked. “Do you suppose we’ll have a chance to work together again?”
“I hope so,” Peggy replied, glad to know that she could now talk to Chris naturally and calmly, as actor to actor. “I’m going home for a visit first, but after that anything can happen!”
“And next time we won’t let personal feelings interfere with our work, right?” Chris beamed at her, his handsome face teasing a little, but now Peggy understood.
“Right!” Peggy smiled.
“And give Randy my regards,” Chris added seriously. “He’s a great guy, and I really hope to see him again sometime.”
The party finally broke up, with everyone going back to the annex to start packing. Chuck and Richard had to stay after the close of the season to wind things up, but almost everybody else was leaving Lake Kenabeek on tomorrow’s bus. Peggy remained quietly in the theater after everyone had gone. She wanted to be alone for a little in this theater that she might never see again.
The flats had been stacked away for the party, and now only the worklight was left, its circle casting a small pool of light on the empty stage. Peggy stood there alone, looking out at the silent auditorium and thinking of everything that had happened this summer. She remembered the first time Rita and Gus had brought her up to the theater—the stage had looked just like this. That night she had had her first taste of the hectic backstage activity of painting flats. She had learned so much this summer, Peggy thought gratefully. She had learned about the theater and about working with people—even about summer romance and handsome leading men! Peggy smiled wistfully, wishing that Randy could be here with her now. He was the only person she knew who could share her feelings about a dark theater like this—the smell and the memories and the ghosts.
For it seemed to her that the house was filled with echoes from all the plays they had done that summer, that all the parts and the plays and the authors were still alive here somehow. This emotion was the magic that had brought Peggy to the theater in the first place—this sense of life, of living literature, of a communication that was nowhere else so special as between actor and audience.
Peggy remembered the first time she had walked out on this stage inDear Ruth. How nervous she had been! And then as the weeks progressed, her sureness had developed, her professionalism had increased. She had learned from Rita and Gus and Chuck, from Richard and Danny and Alison. Yes, perhaps most of all from Alison Lord, who had shown her the contrast between career and dedication.
“I hope I will come back here sometime,” Peggy said aloud in farewell. She was sentimental enough to wish to say a private good-by to her summer. “And thank you,” she whispered, “thank you for everything.”
As she finally walked out the stage door for the last time, her make-up kit tucked under her arm, she could already hear the questions her parents would ask when she arrived home for her visit.
“Well! What did you do this summer, Peggy?” they would say. “What happened? Tell us all about it.”
“My goodness,” Peggy wondered, smiling at the stars, “how can I possibly tell them?”
Endpapers
Back cover
Peggy Lane’s education in the theater and in life is “accelerated,” the summer she takes to the Straw Hat Circuit. Signed with the newly organized Kenabeek Summer Theater, Peggy is thinking only of her work when she arrives at the Adirondack resort. But acting turns out to be only one of her problems.
Immediately, she learns that the Summer Theater is opposed by Max Slade, the local movie theater owner, who is exerting every effort to force the “competition” to leave town. And she meets Chris Hill, blond, exciting, romantic leading man of the company—who can make any girl feel she’s his One and Only, and not realize himself that he’s insincere. Finally, there’s the back-breaking, bone-wearying, nerve-jangling job of mounting a new play a week—never knowing if it will open!
The maneuvering—legal and personal—as the actors fight to save their theater is as dramatic as their nightly shows. But in the end it is Peggy’s own warmth, charm, and intelligence which precipitate the surprising climax to their efforts to make the theater an accepted part of the community!
Peggy Finds the TheaterPeggy Plays Off-BroadwayPeggy Goes Straw HatPeggy on the Road