“Maybe she knows where Snow White is,” Sophie offered helpfully.
“No!” Grace yelled, a scowl on her face. “I'm going to be Snow White!”
“I think you might be a little young to play Snow White,” I reminded her.
“Why does it matter? I know all her lines!”
“Because you’re nine, honey.” I pressed my lips together to hide my smile. “And I'm sure Snow White will return soon with a good excuse.”
If any of the kids had a proclivity for the dramatic, it was definitely Grace. She was expressive, effusive and loud. She also had an uncanny knack for turning the tiniest things into monumental victories... or tragedies, depending on the circumstances. The previous week, she'd lost a shoe and had run around the house, crying and screaming about how she was never going to find the shoe, and it was her favorite shoe, and she'd never wear another pair of shoes again out of deference to the lost shoe.
Sophie found it five minutes later, shoved behind the couch.
Still, I didn't think the youngest kid in the play would be able to step into Snow White's shoes if needed.
Grace folded her arms across her little chest and frowned. “Stupid Snow White.”
“Come on, Grace,” Sophie said, tugging on her shoulder. “Let's go work on our songs.”
“I already know them!” Grace said. She popped a piece of popcorn in her mouth and grudgingly followed her sister. “And I know all of Snow White's lines, too!”
They scampered up the stairs to their bedroom, singing the first lines of “Heigh Ho.”
I looked at Jake and reached for my own handful of popcorn. “Wild night at the theater?”
He rolled his eyes. “That Bandersand woman is three kinds of insane. She spent twenty minutes trying to find Snow White, then totally melted down when she called the kid's house and no one answered. Yelled and screamed like a lunatic.”
“And no one knew where she was?” I asked.
Jake shrugged. “I don't know. I put my earbuds in after that so I wouldn't have to listen to that woman screaming her head off.”
“Kind of weird that the girl doesn't show up for rehearsal, isn't it?” I asked.
He shrugged again, then yawned. “I don't know. Maybe she was sick, like you said. Maybe they got stuck in traffic and their phones were dead. Who knows? She didn't need to freak out about it. The kid'll show up.”
I nodded. We'd already witnessed a little of Eleanor Bandersand's act and it wasn't always pretty. Lots of screaming and yelling and making herself the center of attention. Her credentials listed a pretty good number of productions that she'd overseen, so we were fairly certain she knew what she was doing. But after the first full week of rehearsals, both Jake and I had already decided that we were a little tired of her… dramatics.
“Grace really could play Snow White,” Jake said, lowering his voice. “She was saying all of the lines on the way home. I think she does have them memorized.”
“Isn't the girl in the role, like, seventeen?”
“I'm just saying,” Jake said. “And if she's decided to abandon the role and it's up for grabs...”
“Oh, stop,” I said to him, shaking my head. “Just stop. Grace isn't going to be Snow White.”
He chuckled to himself. “I know. Just the thought of it is amusing, though.”
It was amusing, thinking of Grace, the tiniest person in the cast, playing out the biggest role. She would've been smaller than all of the dwarfs. But I was fairly certain it was all a misunderstanding and there was nothing to worry about.
Someone would find Snow White.
TWO
“The show will go on,” Eleanor Bandersand announced from her perch on the stage. “The show must go on.”
It was the next night and I'd drawn rehearsal duty, as Jake was doing some work from home. I'd gotten the girls to the high school and they'd disappeared backstage while I found a seat in the semi-dark theater, prepared to read while the girls did their thing.
Except Eleanor had appeared, screaming for the kids to move to the hallway and that the adults needed to stay in the room so she could speak with us.
Eleanor Bandersand was quite the sight. Early sixties, with curly brown hair and bulging gray eyes, she wore her black stretch pants pulled up nearly to her breasts, which, combined with her bloated stomach, made her look an awful lot like an overgrown Oompa Loompa. She pranced around the theater and stage with her chin lifted in the air, as if she was literally looking down her nose at everyone in the room. Her voice never dropped below the decibel level of a jet engine, and even when it was nearly silent in the auditorium, she would scream “QUIET!” – perhaps just to make sure we were all awake.
And now she was standing before us on the stage, telling us that the show would go on. Which was odd, because I didn't know that it hadn't ever not been going on.
“As you may have heard,” Eleanor began, striding slowly back and forth across the stage, “Amanda Pendleton was not at rehearsal last evening, nor is she here this evening. While I am not entirely privy to the reasons for this, I have made the determination to remove her from the lead role of Snow White.”
Whispers floated around the dark theater.
“QUIET!” she screamed, her eyes bulging beneath the stage lights.
The whispers died.
When she was sure she had our attention, she began pacing again. “Now, as you can imagine, this is an immense burden for the director of this production, which just happens to be me.” She paused for effect. “But I assure you, I am up for the task and I will make certain this production does not fail. I am well-versed in rehearsal chaos and I am able to handle it.”
If she did say so herself.
“Beginning this evening, I will be reopening the auditions for Snow White,” she continued. “I have spoken privately with several of our cast members and there is, of course, some interest in filling the role. But I wanted you, our parents, to be aware of the situation and also to remind you that this is a commitment that should not be taken lightly. Opening night is getting close and whoever fills this role will need to learn their lines quickly. Also, remember that we expect your children to be here for all rehearsals. Each and every night. If you are unable to commit to that, then perhaps the theater is not for you.”
Her shrill voice was wearing on me and I wished I'd brought along Jake's ear buds.
“Now, before I bring the children back in, are there any questions?” she asked, squinting out into the darkened seats.
I hesitated, then raised my hand.
Her eyes finally landed on me. “Yes. You there. Mrs....?”
“Savage,” I said. “Grace and Sophie are my girls.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” she said, nodding. “What is your question?”
“The girl who was playing Snow White?” I asked. “Amanda, I think you said her name was? Did she quit or did she—”
“Mrs. Savage, I am unable to share that information with you at this time,” she said, cutting me off, her voice booming across the room. She definitely had vocal projection down, no problem. “I have not heard from her or her family and this production cannot be held up any longer. The theater waits for no one! So we will press forward and this will be but a small obstacle on our way to opening night!”
I sank down in my chair, thoroughly chastised.
There were no more questions and Eleanor Bandersand turned her attention away from us, summoning one of her cronies to fetch the children.
“I wanted to ask the same question,” Annabelle Kingston whispered to me. She was seated in the row in front of me. “But I knew she'd go off.”
Annabelle was a fellow homeschool mom and a member of our 4-H group. Her eldest son, Josiah, had been cast as Bashful.
“I just can't believe she's changing the role this late,” I whispered back. “I mean, maybe Amanda is sick, or there was a death in her family or something?”