Everyone but Diane nodded.
The blond woman knitted her fingers together on her lap. “I can sew hems and simple seams, but I volunteered because I may also be able to help you source existing items.”
Like from a costume company?
If that’s what she meant, her tenure on the committee could be short-lived.
Lauren held on to her smile. “I’m afraid we can’t afford to rent many costumes with the budget we have.”
“I assumed as much, but I volunteer with a charity resale shop in Coos Bay. The prices are reasonable, and given the volume of clothing on hand and the new donations that arrive every day, we may be able to buy some items cheaper than the cost of fabric and use them as is or adapt them for our purposes. I know one scene also calls for a wedding dress, and I think we could find one that will work. I talked to the manager, and for a more expensive item like that, he’s willing to let us borrow it for free as long as we have it cleaned after the show.”
Guilt nipped at Lauren’s conscience.
Devyn’s take on the woman appeared to be correct. She came across as low-key and agreeable, with no hint of pretentiousness.
“That sounds fabulous. Why don’t I walk all of you through the scene-by-scene list of costumes I put together, and then we can decide on next steps?”
After head nods all around, she gave them a detailed report on the material she’d compiled. Diane promised to check the inventory at the store. The other women divided up the chores of working with the men in the cast to see what they could use from their own wardrobes and trolling through patterns to find simpledesigns that could be modified without too much effort to provide a variety of looks on stage for the female cast members.
When they at last wound down, everyone took off except Diane.
“Aren’t you going home too?” Lauren closed her notebook.
“No. There’s a full cast rehearsal in fifteen minutes. I’m here for the duration.”
“So am I.” She tried without success to stifle a yawn. “Sorry. I get tired fast these days.”
“I heard about your accident. I don’t know much about brain injuries, but you seem to be making excellent progress.”
“I am. Although some days the road to recovery feels like it’s full of potholes.”
“I’m surprised you took on the costume chore after everything you’ve been through.”
“It beats sitting around the house. But to be honest, my sister had to push me into it.” Lauren shook her head. “She’s a force to be reckoned with.”
“I’ve picked that up. She seems like a dynamo.” Diane flicked a quick look toward the front of the room, where Devyn was working with the lead dancer on a turn, demonstrating the correct arm position. “If you’re tired, why don’t you go home?”
“I can’t drive yet, and your choreographer is my ride. Under normal circumstances I’d walk, but I doubt I’d make it halfway with how tired I am.”
“Why don’t you let me take you? If you live close enough to walk, I’m sure I could get there and back with time to spare.”
Diane Fisher was offering to be her chauffeur?
How surreal was that?
But with a major case of fatigue setting in, passing up her offer would be foolish.
“If you’re certain you don’t mind, I’d appreciate a ride. Otherwise, I might have to curl up on a couple of folding chairs here.”
“I’m happy to do it.”
“In that case, let me tell Devyn. I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”
Five minutes later, when she exited the building, Diane had pulled her car close to the door.
Very considerate.
Lauren slid onto the cushy leather seat, buckled her seat belt, and gave the other woman the simple directions.
