Gretchen managed a nod to indicate her agreement with the cast.
Nina rolled her eyes.
Bonnie, who played the role of Craig Bitters in the production, flipped off the cheap male wig, exposing a tight wig cap underneath. Beneath the cap, crushed against her scalp, was Bonnie’s own red wig, which she wore every day to conceal the large bald spot on her crown.
“I’m proud of our stage setting,” Gretchen said to distract them from further dissent. The play, which had been written by her mother, Caroline, took place inside a doll collector’s home, in a room devoted entirely to Barbie dolls and teddy bears. They had found a damaged pink Barbie house and had converted it into display cases, filling it with dolls and bears. The six-foot Barbie had been donated by one of the club members. The overall effect was perfect. At times, Gretchen could suspend belief and actually imagine that she was in one of the club member’s homes.
“When that gun went off, I almost peed in my pants,” Bonnie said.
Julie giggled. Cast as Craig’s long-suffering wife, Doris, Julie came to rehearsal each day dressed for her part. Although Gretchen had insisted that she was perfect already, Julie had dyed her brown hair black and styled it in a messy updo. Heavy makeup and a red cotton sweater with embroidered teddy bears completed the package.
Gretchen felt the tension break as the group of doll collectors took turns stepping down from the stage of the banquet hall, all talking at once. She watched them head for the break area in the next room.
Gretchen went over the play notes her mother had left for her. Without them, she’d be lost. Her spirit brightened as she read. The play was a modern farce with great lines for all the characters. Doris, played by Julie, would accidentally shoot her husband, and the women of the doll club would form a conspiratorial bond in a humorous attempt to cover up the murder.
After working with Bonnie in Craig’s role, Gretchen felt that the end for her, or rather for him, couldn’t come soon enough.
“Oh, no!” Nina rushed toward the stage, where her pampered schnoodle Tutu chomped down on a prop, one of Bonnie’s beloved teddy bears, which she had reluctantly contributed to the stage setting after extracting a solemn promise from all the members that her treasures would return to her private collection without so much as a smudge or wrinkle.
Not a chance of fulfilling that promise with Her Highness running wild.
Tutu leapt off the stage with the bear firmly planted between her canine incisors and circled the large banquet room with Nina in hot pursuit. She finally trapped the pooch in a corner and coaxed her into releasing the stuffed animal.
“Tutu just demonstrated one of the main reasons why we decided to ban pets from rehearsals,” Gretchen reminded her aunt.
“I wasn’t part of that decision,” Nina said, wiping Bonnie’s teddy bear on the hem of her red and white polka-dot sundress. Tutu, always accessorized to complement Nina’s flamboyant attire, had large red and white bows attached to each ear.
“You aren’t a voting member of the club,” Gretchen said. “If you’d ante up and pay your dues like the rest of us, you’d have more say.”
Aunt Nina didn’t “do” dolls, but her unique personality had made her a welcome addition to the club. That was, until recently when her tyrannical behavior indicated that she was on borrowed club time.
Aside from her New Age endeavors, Nina owned a specialty business that catered to those club members who had furry little pets. She’d talked many of them into adopting what she called purse dogs, three- to five-pound miniature dogs. Then she offered training courses to teach the little things to stay put inside their travel purses-and to hide whenever their owners entered no-pet zones like restaurants or supermarkets.
Nina had succeeded in her mission to place pups with as many club members as possible, and she was very good at training them-both the canines and their humans. What she hadn’t done well was train her own dog, Tutu, a miniature diva she had rescued from the animal control center when no one came forward to claim her. Tutu was self-absorbed and completely unteachable. Gretchen didn’t know what Nina saw in the critter.
Nina had even convinced Gretchen herself to adopt Nimrod, a curly coated black teacup poodle.
“Nimrod’s at doggie day care,” Gretchen said, reflecting on her tiny companion, always surprised at how much she missed him when he wasn’t at her side. “That’s where Tutu should be right now.”
The schnoodle stared at Gretchen as though she understood English perfectly. They were at war, the beady eyes told her, and Tutu planned on winning every battle.
“We have important issues to discuss,” Nina said, waving a ring-studded hand. “The luncheon is coming up fast, only two weeks away and so much to do. We still have to meet with the caterer, pick up table arrangements, prepare the silent auction, and whip this bunch into shape. The entire event is turning into a disaster.”
“It’ll be fine.” Gretchen sat down on the edge of the stage, not believing her own words. They hadn’t anticipated the amount of work involved in presenting a play with a cast completely devoid of talent or any innate ability to follow simple directions or remember lines. “Everything will come together.”
And all the time away from the repair shop had Gretchen worried. She loved the partnership with her mother, the finely tuned team they had become. But dolls in need of attention were piling up daily, especially now that they finally had access to the marvelous Spanish Colonial Revival with its complex blend of Mexican and Spanish influences. The house was structurally sound, but needed a thorough cleaning after years of standing empty. And cataloging and organizing the displays would take more time than they originally had thought. Her mother had been working long hours at the new museum for the last few days. No one was in the workshop.
Two weeks and life will return to normal, she reminded herself.
“We have several hundred guests registered for the luncheon and the theater presentation.” Nina sat down beside her. “And more ticket requests coming in every day.”
“Good work. Our dream is coming true.”
Nina gave her a doubtful look. “At first I thought it was wonderful that the club had been offered the opportunity to renovate the house and open it as a doll museum, but my radar is telling me that something is wrong. Your last tarot reading isn’t reassuring me either.”
The cast began wandering back into the banquet hall dressed in their street clothes, their purses slung over their shoulders. “We had a meeting in the break room,” Bonnie said. “We’re on strike.”
“I didn’t get a vote,” Nina said.
“You’re the reason we’re striking,” Bonnie said to Nina.
“It’s been stressful,” Julie said, lagging behind the rebellion. “We’ve been working hard. Let’s take the rest of the day off to rejuvenate and try again tomorrow.”
The other members of the play didn’t look as though they agreed with Julie.
As the cast filed out, all Gretchen could do was hope they’d come back.
Nina came out of the break room with two cups of coffee. “After what you went through last night, you should be the one taking the day off. How awful for that poor woman.”
They sat down in upholstered chairs on the stage.
“Right now I’m extremely worried about Nacho and Daisy,” Gretchen said. “Why didn’t Daisy signal to me when I was at the cemetery?”