I considered a moment. “Yeah, pretty much. What can I do to help?”
He looked at me, wild-eyed and frazzled. “I don’t… I can’t…”
“Zale. Rule number one of surviving opening night: delegate. Now, what’s that?”
“It’s a list of all the props and costumes that are supposed to be in the bins that came over from the theater,” Zale said.
“Give it to me,” I said firmly. Zale held it out but didn’t let go of it.
“Where are the bins?” I asked.
He pointed to the left side of the stage, where I could see several large plastic storage bins peeking out from under the platform.
“I’ll go through and double-check everything, okay?”
Zale sighed and finally let go of the clipboard. “Okay. Yes. Thank you.”
“Breathe,” I instructed, watching as he took a slow, deliberate inhale and then went to check on the bins. I’d packed them myself, so I knew everything was in there, but this wasn’t really about the bins. It was about preserving Zale’s sanity.
Once the speakers were set up, the inventory complete, the microphones tested, and the set decorations hung, I told Zale I would stop over at the cafe to get us some lunch. It was hard to tell if he heard me; he was too busy pacing back and forth across the stage, mouthing the words from the book that had become our script. I left him to it, no longer able to ignore my rumbling stomach.
The cafe was bustling with people, queued up outside at a little food cart that had been set up on the sidewalk. Maricela stood at the cart, taking orders. She waved me past her and inside. “Eva was just about to go look for you,” she said.
I walked in to find even more customers lined up at the counter. Eva waved at me, indicating I needed to give her a minute to take care of the influx of orders. Over in the corner, Bea was sitting at an empty table, bent over her sketchbook.
“Hey Bea,” I called.
“Hi Wren,” she said, and I was rewarded with one of her elusive smiles.
“Oh, Wren! Hello!”
I turned back to the line of customers to see Veronica and Luca standing in it. Luca gave me a friendly wave, but it was Veronica who had spoken.
“Hi, Ms. M— sorry, Veronica,” I said. “Nice to see you.”
“I had to come down and see what all the fuss was about,” she said, gesturing vaguely back out to Main Street. “It’s a much bigger event than I realized!”
“Me, too,” I admitted. “But at least we’ll have a good-sized audience for the pageant later.”
“I asked where the best spot for lunch was and was told repeatedly to come here,” Veronica said. “I had no idea your family owned it, Eva.”
Eva smiled and took Veronica and Luca’s order. Veronica stepped away from the counter so the next customer could order, and spotted Bea over at her table.
“Bea! I almost didn’t recognize you without your mermaid hair,” Veronica teased. “How are you? Excited for the pageant?”
Bea looked startled at being addressed, and though she had met Veronica before, she seemed wary to talk to her. She snapped her sketchbook closed. “Not really,” she said, her voice little more than a mumble. “It’s always so loud and crowded. I like the quiet days better.”
“But surely you’ll enjoy seeing your creations up on the stage,” Veronica enthused. “Luca, did you know Bea designed the masks for the play?”
Luca’s face split into a grin. “No, I didn’t. I saw the cast rehearsing in them. They’re awesome, well done.”
Bea took compliments about as well as I did. “Thanks,” she muttered, retreating to her sketchbook again.
“What are you creating now? Can I take a look?” Veronica asked, and crossed the room to where Bea sat. Bea hesitated a moment, then opened her sketchbook again, allowing Veronica to gush over her artwork.
“Looks like it’s coming together out there,” Luca said to me, nodding his head toward the stage. “You guys need any help?”
“No, unless you’ve got some Valium we can borrow for Zale,” I said. “There’s a good chance his head might explode before showtime.”
