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Authors: Jeanell Bolton
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did you—?”
“Babes, you gotta understand. Everybody in Bosque Bend—and I mean everybody— is into everybody else’s business. It’s like a soap opera around here.” Her brows drew together as she regarded the list again. “A word of warning, though—Travis will drop you in a second if he gets a good gig—you can’t blame him—and also, he’s made some emergency visits to the hospital a couple of times lately—God only knows what he’s got. You should probably back him up with an understudy—I recommend the Benton kid, Sergio.”
Donna Sue examined the list again and stabbed the page so hard it rattled.
“Billie Joe Semple plays the milliner—that’s the second female lead. And then there’s Rafe. He’s the policeman—a London bobby complete with helmet, truncheon, and mustache. He begins and ends the show sort of like—you know—the Street Singer in Threepenny Opera .”
“Rafe’s in the cast?”
Donna Sue’s dimples deepened, and she patted Moira’s arm. “Babes, Rafe’s always in the cast. He’s sort of a good-luck charm. Plus he’s the only basso—at least the only real one—for miles around, and—wow—does he deliver! The audience loves him. Of course, half the town’s related to him.”
Donna Sue looked at another page.
“I’ve printed out a list of the kids too—complete with phone numbers and e-mail addresses.” She cocked an eyebrow. “A word to the wise, learn from my mistake and don’t rehearse them too often in the auditorium—they get used to it and run wild. Let Xandra and Fleurette—they’re a little weird, but you can trust them—handle everything in their studio for as long as you can.”
Donna Sue shuffled her pages and pulled out a final sheet of paper.
“This is the list of the crew. Rafe’s on it too, of course. Just tell him what you need—scenery, props—well, no, everyone in the cast pitches in on props—you’d be surprised what people have stowed away in their closets and back rooms.” She handed the folder to Moira. “And if Vashti and the Fontaine sisters have at it again like they did this summer, the best thing is to get Rafe—he’s a rock—to step in. All the women—it’s those sexy eyes of his—adore him.”
Moira stared at the page. “I didn’t realize he was so involved.”
“Babes, Rafe McAllister’s the one who put the Bosque Bend Theater Guild on the map. I got it up and running, but we weren’t going anywhere—I mean, nooowheeere—till he joined us. That was after Beth—she was his wife—died. I think he did it to honor her memory—she had the most beautiful soprano—really luscious—I’ve ever heard. Sang Marian in my Music Man .”
Donna Sue handed the folder over to Moira, then heaved herself up. “I’d better head off. My husband gets anxious—he’ll even call the police—if I run late. He’s says he’s afraid—and I think he really means it—the baby will drop out in the middle of the produce section at H-E-B.” Her dimples appeared again. “Get it—the produce section?”
Moira walked the drama teacher to the curb and watched as she maneuvered herself into a fire-engine red smart car.
Beth —so now she had a name for Rafe’s late wife. Probably tall, blond, busty, and beautiful—a Hollywood-beautiful woman for a Hollywood-handsome man.
* * *
Today was Beth’s birthday, and he’d almost forgotten. How could he do that when he missed her every minute of his life?
The Sunday morning strains of “God Be with You Till We Meet Again” drifted across the cemetery as Rafe knelt to place a bouquet of fragrant lilacs in Beth’s grave vase. Ever since he and Travis were kids, Mom had brought them here in season to decorate the family sites. So many McAllisters and Schulers were buried in this cemetery that the place looked like a flower garden by the time she’d hustled them back in the car. But the only grave he was visiting today was in the new section of the cemetery, the
“Babes, you gotta understand. Everybody in Bosque Bend—and I mean everybody— is into everybody else’s business. It’s like a soap opera around here.” Her brows drew together as she regarded the list again. “A word of warning, though—Travis will drop you in a second if he gets a good gig—you can’t blame him—and also, he’s made some emergency visits to the hospital a couple of times lately—God only knows what he’s got. You should probably back him up with an understudy—I recommend the Benton kid, Sergio.”
Donna Sue examined the list again and stabbed the page so hard it rattled.
“Billie Joe Semple plays the milliner—that’s the second female lead. And then there’s Rafe. He’s the policeman—a London bobby complete with helmet, truncheon, and mustache. He begins and ends the show sort of like—you know—the Street Singer in Threepenny Opera .”
“Rafe’s in the cast?”
Donna Sue’s dimples deepened, and she patted Moira’s arm. “Babes, Rafe’s always in the cast. He’s sort of a good-luck charm. Plus he’s the only basso—at least the only real one—for miles around, and—wow—does he deliver! The audience loves him. Of course, half the town’s related to him.”
Donna Sue looked at another page.
“I’ve printed out a list of the kids too—complete with phone numbers and e-mail addresses.” She cocked an eyebrow. “A word to the wise, learn from my mistake and don’t rehearse them too often in the auditorium—they get used to it and run wild. Let Xandra and Fleurette—they’re a little weird, but you can trust them—handle everything in their studio for as long as you can.”
Donna Sue shuffled her pages and pulled out a final sheet of paper.
“This is the list of the crew. Rafe’s on it too, of course. Just tell him what you need—scenery, props—well, no, everyone in the cast pitches in on props—you’d be surprised what people have stowed away in their closets and back rooms.” She handed the folder to Moira. “And if Vashti and the Fontaine sisters have at it again like they did this summer, the best thing is to get Rafe—he’s a rock—to step in. All the women—it’s those sexy eyes of his—adore him.”
Moira stared at the page. “I didn’t realize he was so involved.”
“Babes, Rafe McAllister’s the one who put the Bosque Bend Theater Guild on the map. I got it up and running, but we weren’t going anywhere—I mean, nooowheeere—till he joined us. That was after Beth—she was his wife—died. I think he did it to honor her memory—she had the most beautiful soprano—really luscious—I’ve ever heard. Sang Marian in my Music Man .”
Donna Sue handed the folder over to Moira, then heaved herself up. “I’d better head off. My husband gets anxious—he’ll even call the police—if I run late. He’s says he’s afraid—and I think he really means it—the baby will drop out in the middle of the produce section at H-E-B.” Her dimples appeared again. “Get it—the produce section?”
Moira walked the drama teacher to the curb and watched as she maneuvered herself into a fire-engine red smart car.
Beth —so now she had a name for Rafe’s late wife. Probably tall, blond, busty, and beautiful—a Hollywood-beautiful woman for a Hollywood-handsome man.
* * *
Today was Beth’s birthday, and he’d almost forgotten. How could he do that when he missed her every minute of his life?
The Sunday morning strains of “God Be with You Till We Meet Again” drifted across the cemetery as Rafe knelt to place a bouquet of fragrant lilacs in Beth’s grave vase. Ever since he and Travis were kids, Mom had brought them here in season to decorate the family sites. So many McAllisters and Schulers were buried in this cemetery that the place looked like a flower garden by the time she’d hustled them back in the car. But the only grave he was visiting today was in the new section of the cemetery, the
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