The pre-show music started, the lights dimmed, and the audience went quiet. The curtain rose. The lights hit the stage. And when Leo scampered out in his little mouse costume, I felt something in me crack open.
“That’s him,” I whispered, voice tight.
Mel patted my knee like a proud uncle. Belle openly sobbed. “He’s BEAUTIFUL.”
“He’s a mouse,” Mel corrected.
“A BEAUTIFUL mouse,” Belle insisted.
Leo delivered his first lines with perfect clarity, and then he spotted me in the audience and waved so enthusiastically he nearly fell over.
I waved back, heart full.
And on the opposite side of the stage, I could see Eleanor backstage through the wings, just barely, watching the kids with a soft, proud smile that made something warm unfurl behind my ribs.
Intermission hit like a tidal wave of excited chatter. Parents poured into the lobby with the line for refreshments wrapped halfway to the front doors.
Mel, Belle, and I joined the end of the line, still riding the high of the first act.
“That little scamper was Oscar-worthy,” Mel said, bumping me lightly with her shoulder.
“My baby is astar,” Belle sniffed, wiping another happy tear. “I need someone to hold me during Act II.”
“Absolutely not,” Mel said flatly. “You need to get yourself under control.”
I was laughing when Belle elbowed me sharply. “Heads up.”
I followed her gaze.
And there they were.
Mrs. Tremaine, standing impeccably straight, dressed like she was attending a charity gala rather than a kids’ show. Stacey was beside her, wearing a warm but tight smile. Both were turning toward our group.
Belle straightened, smoothing her shirt automatically. “Oh. Um. Hello, Mrs. Tremaine.”
Mrs. Tremaine’s mouth curved the tiniest bit. “Belle. Good to see you.”
The way she said it made it sound like Belle was a barista who got her order wrong three months ago and she hadn’t forgotten about it.
Mel stepped forward with a friendly smile. “Hi, I’m Mel. Your granddaughter is wonderful, by the way. She and Leo had a great time together the other night.”
Mrs. Tremaine’s expression chilled several degrees.
“Did they?” Not really a question. More like an accusation flavored as politeness.
Mel blinked, picking up the frost immediately. “Yes . . . they played and watched a movie.” A pause. “It was sweet.”
Stacey stepped in with a smoother tone. “Ava mentioned the playdate. She seemed to enjoy it.”
“Oh,” Belle said cheerfully—too cheerfully—“and you should’ve seen Eleanor and Alex the other night, getting all friendly before rehearsal started?—”
My stomach dropped. Belle realized what she’d said exactly one second too late.
Mrs. Tremaine turned her gaze on me, cool and assessing. Stacey’s eyebrows shot up in interest.
Mel made a small, strangled sound beside me.
“I—uh—” Belle stammered, eyes huge. “I mean friendly like . . . friendly-friendly. Notfriendly. Just friends! Because we’re all . . . friends. In . . . theater. Tech week is very bonding?”
