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The molds were stored in pairs, their hard outer shells strapped together. Lower down, castings rested in shallow wooden trays. I drew out a head with an unfinished gray face, supporting it beneath the jaw so the thin edge of the neck wouldn’t fold. At the finishing bench, I set it on a paint-stained turntable to check that edge. It was still flexible, with none of the splits I’d half expected after so long in storage.

One eyelid sat lower than the other. I’d left the mouth slightly open, with enough unevenness around it to keep the face from looking like a mannequin. It needed paint, but under the light the planes of the cheeks were already clear.

“Do you have time to finish that?” Goldie asked as I set it beside the rail. “Or should I plan on keeping it mostly covered?”

“I can paint this one. The crew can finish the body and the trays from a sample.” I checked the fitting inside the neck, then reached into the drawer beneath the table for the right clamp. “I’ll handle the moving parts and show whoever’s operating it how far it can travel. Nobody needs to be improvising around a guest’s fingers.”

“I’ll keep the guest path outside the rail and give you one operator to train. The performers and the room timing stay with me.” Goldie turned the plan so we could both read it. “Once you’ve checked the frame tomorrow, tell me where you need access. I’ll have the scenic crew leave it open until you’re done, then they can dress it to match the rest.”

“And you decide where it belongs in the story,” I said. “I’m giving you the movement. You’re still running the Factory.”

She looked up from the page, close enough that I could see the brown of her eyes clearly beneath the lamp. “Then let’s see what it can do.”

I reached past her for the head. She stayed beside me, holding the light where I needed it while I secured the mount.

The first pass took the head along the rail, then turned it outward as the guide beneath the mount caught. The movement was smooth enough, but the face arrived already looking at us.

Goldie moved to the far side of the table to watch it from the angle a guest would see.

“Can it wait longer?” she asked. “They’ll be watching the performer fit an arm to a body farther down. I want this face blank until they’ve almost passed it.”

I ran it back and watched where the turn began, then crouched to examine the adjustment underneath. I fetched a wrench from the toolboard, felt for the fastener, and loosened it while Goldie brought the lamp closer.

Her sleeve grazed my shoulder as she leaned over to see. For several seconds she stood close enough that I could feel her warmth through my shirt. I took my time finding the new position for the guide, aware of her beside me while I worked the wrench in the narrow space.

When I straightened, Goldie stayed at the table. “There are other heads in that room already. If we put the still ones around this, nobody will know which one to watch.”

I pictured them lined up on trays, faces waiting to be fitted to bodies. A performer could fuss over the one at the end while this one passed behind him, apparently as lifeless as the rest.

I went back to the storage shelves and brought over two plain castings. Goldie helped arrange them clear of the moving carriage. She turned one slightly away, then used a folded section of the canvas cover beneath the other to bring it to the same height.

On the next pass, the head traveled between the castings and turned at the last moment. Goldie walked past the table with it, testing how long a guest would have before the face slipped out of view. At the end she stopped and looked back along the rail.

“The timing’s right. We’re seeing too much of the mechanism, though. I can hide the base with the trays, but that light’s making the neck obvious.”

I shifted the lamp lower and angled it across the faces until the joint disappeared into shadow. The light caught the cheek, the uneven mouth, and a narrow glint along the lower eyelid.

Goldie came around beside me to study it, resting her hands on the edge of the table.

“That’s where I’d put the room light,” she said. “Can we see it without the overheads?”

I switched off the row above us. Light from the front of the shop still reached the floor, leaving the table in a dimmer pocket beneath the high windows. Outside, a branch scraped softly against the siding.

Goldie took the guest’s position again. I stood behind the track, where the operator would be, and turned the crank.

The head slid past the two still faces with its lowered eyelid in shadow. As Goldie passed, it turned into the light, slowly enough to seem deliberate, and its lopsided gaze caught her from between the other castings.

She stopped with a sharp breath, then laughed, coming back around the table toward me.

“That’s our centerpiece,” she said. “We build the room around that.”

I released the crank, leaving the head turned toward the empty space where she’d been standing. Goldie leaned beside me to look along the row again. She rested her hand on my forearm, warm against the skin below my pushed-up sleeve.

Up close, her perfume was faint beneath the workshop’s smell of wood and rubber. I turned toward Goldie, drawing a slower breath as she looked up at me without taking her hand away.

I slid my hand around her waist and drew her toward me. Goldie tipped her face up, her fingers curling in the front of my henley, and I bent to kiss her.

She pressed closer and slipped her other hand behind my neck. I cupped her cheek, taking my time as she kissed me back. When I finally eased away, she stayed against me.