We were in the parlor set of Orchard House. Vicky sat in a chair, darning a sock as Meg. Annette, as Beth, sat at the piano. I had a fake mustache and a script in hand. In this scene, Jo had written a play and was trying in vain to get Amy’s character to act properly. Lydia, wearing a crown and a lace veil, was playing Amy to perfection. Her natural abilities shined through, and the camera loved her.
It was hot under the stage lights, and sweat was smearing my makeup. The brown wig I wore itched, and the corset made me feelbreathless and irritable. I felt like Louisa, who often complained about the confining feminine fashion. What would she think if she knew her book was being turned into a movie? She and her sisters loved acting and would have enjoyed the whole filming process.
Mama walked up to Papa and whispered in his ear. He glanced at me and then at the clock and said, “Fine. That’s a wrap for today, everyone. Call time tomorrow is seven, and we’ll begin shooting at eight sharp.”
Several people mumbled their complaints, but everyone had been warned we would work almost around the clock. Our producer, Cal, probably wouldn’t go home to sleep for the next few weeks, and the film editors, sound engineers, camera operators, production assistants, set builders, and lighting technicians would continue working long after the actors left. The fact that Papa was letting us go this early was probably because Mama had reminded him I had a date with Spencer at eight.
But where was Spencer?
Lydia fell dramatically onto the chaise lounge, her blond hair in ringlets. “This is so much harder than acting in a play.” She grinned. “But I love it. I want to be in movies for the rest of my life.”
“You’re doing a wonderful job,” I told her as I scanned the soundstage, looking for Spencer.
“He left an hour ago,” Vicky said as she stabbed her darning needle into the pincushion. “Papa was done with him, so he said he was going to take a nap in his dressing room.”
“You’re talking about Spencer?”
“Of course Spencer.” She studied me. “Is it true he’s taking you to the Hollywood Bowl tonight?”
I needed to wash my face and touch up my hair, which would be flat from being under a wig all day. I didn’t have much time, so I walked off the set toward my dressing room as I answered, “Yes.”
She followed me. “He’s a playboy, Ally. I wouldn’t think you’d want to be seen with someone like him, let alone spend time with him. It doesn’t even seem like you like him. How did he convince you to go on a date?”
I would need to work harder on pretending.
“I like him just fine,” I said, continuing through the soundstage and opening a side door.
“You could have fooled me. You hardly tolerate him.”
“Do you need something, Vicky?” I stopped on the sidewalk connecting the soundstage to the wardrobe and makeup department. Thunder rumbled in the distance as gray clouds covered the darkening sky.
“I need to know why you’ve agreed to go out with Spencer Hayes.”
“Why does it matter?”
She lifted her chin, blue eyes sparking. “Because he’s not the type of man you date.” Her shoulders were stiff as she crossed her arms. “He’s more my type.”
Vicky and I had never fought over men, because she was right. We weren’t attracted to the same kind. She liked bold, overly confident men with a chip on their shoulders. Someone exactly like Spencer. I liked confident men, as well, but I didn’t like ones with attitude or pride. A quiet, self-assured, intelligent man who could talk about deep subjects was more my preference.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I continued walking, hoping it didn’t rain. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“I’m just saying that it doesn’t make sense.” She pursued me. “I don’t know why you’re wasting your time on him.”
Vicky and I had never been chummy. I rarely confided in her, and I wouldn’t now. Even if she was trustworthy, I had signed a contract to keep the details of the relationship between Spencer and me private, and I would honor that agreement. The less people who knew, the better.
“I need to get ready.” I entered the dressing room we shared and walked to the sink to wash the thick makeup off my face.
Even though this wasn’t really a date, nerves bubbled in my stomach at the thought of being alone with Spencer and being seen in public with him. After tonight, the rumor mill would start spinning stories and speculations about our relationship, and thenthere was no going back. Not that I could go back after signing the contract, but it would be different when others knew. I was supposed to positively impact his reputation, but what if people looked at me the way Vicky did and Spencer’s negative public image wore off on mine?
The worry niggled at the back of my mind, but there was nothing to do about it now. I had to make sure things worked out as we hoped.
After washing my face and combing my hair, I put a little rouge and lipstick on and reshaped my marcel waves. The Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra was a fancy event, so I chose a blue silk and chiffon gown that matched my eyes. It had thin straps and a dropped waist, with a sheer cape of the same blue. I wore it in a movie, and it had been in the wardrobe storage room, along with a pair of black heels and a black clutch.
Vicky pretended not to watch me as the others entered the women’s dressing room and prepared for their evening jaunt to Santa Monica.
By the time I was ready to join Spencer, my stomach was in knots, and I had to force myself to breathe deeply.
I left the women’s dressing room and followed the sidewalk to the men’s dressing room, where I knocked on the door.
