  “Chuck, are you up yet?” Peggy knocked cautiously on the door of his combination office-living quarters on the lower floor of the annex. It was eleven o’clock and the tired company hadn’t turned in until three-thirty in the morning. “Come in, Peggy.” Chuck opened the door and motioned her in. His desk was covered with work, and crumpled wads of paper littered the floor. “Been up for hours,” he said. “I was just going over the budget.” His eyes were hollow and ringed from lack of sleep. “The answer is, what budget?” He tore up the piece of paper he was holding and dropped it in the waste-basket. “It doesn’t look good, Peggy.” “Oh, Chuck, I’m sorry!” Peggy felt dreadful, realizing the enormous amount of work that he had put into the theater, and the possible futility of it all. But she couldn’t reveal her plan, much as she would like to, even to offer him some hope. It might not work out after all, and Chuck was so depressed that he would probably try to dissuade her from seeing Bill Slade. She had determined to try, at any cost, and she must do it very quietly and all alone. “Could I possibly be excused from the reading today?” Peggy asked. “There are so many things I need from town, and I haven’t had a chance yet to catch up on shopping—” “Go ahead,” Chuck answered dully. “There isn’t going to be a reading, anyway. I don’t know if we’ll even be open after this week, so I’m not going to work you any harder than I have to. Today everyone gets a rest; tomorrow we’ll begin again.” “Thank you,” Peggy said, wishing she could wave a magic wand and set everything right. “Is there anything I can get for you while I’m in town?” “No, thanks, Peggy. By the way, we will have a line rehearsal before the show tonight. Five o’clock here.” Five o’clock. Peggy calculated. Yes, that would work out. She could be about her business and get back in plenty of time. She left quietly, hoping that nobody noticed her as she walked up the little path around the side of the inn and down the hill to the highway. The weather was changing, Peggy noticed, as she walked along. When she had arrived a hint of spring had still been in the air, but now it was hot and beginning to feel like real summer. Wouldn’t it be fun to enjoy some of the pleasures of the resort, she thought, looking at the beautiful blue of the lake dotted with sails and speedboats. Michael had promised to take her out in his boat someday. Someday! Everyone had been so busy that even Michael hadn’t had an opportunity to be out on the water that he so dearly loved. “When we get settled into a routine,” the company had dreamed optimistically. “In a few weeks, after things are going smoothly, well, then we’ll have time to swim once in a while and go boating!” Peggy sighed, taking off the little jacket that topped her gaily flowered summer dress. It could still work out, she thought, things could run smoothly if everyone knew that the theater would stay open. This uncertainty, though, was terrible for everyone’s morale and left no time for play. Actors needed relaxation, too, she mused. The theater was fun, but it was hard work as well. “And today I’m free for a while!” She smiled with a sudden sharp enjoyment at being outdoors and away from the theater. As Peggy passed the offices of the Kenabeek Gazette, she paused for a moment. She needed a newspaper and wondered if she should go in. But no, she decided, somebody might recognize her, so she hastened on and walked into the drugstore. There were several copies of the paper left and Peggy bought one along with some cosmetics she needed. Outside again, she flipped through the paper, seeking the information she wanted. There it was—the first showing of the movie today would be at noon. She had just enough time. Hurriedly, she walked on, nodding back at several people who smiled at her, apparently part of their grateful, if small, audience. “Oh, Miss Lane—” A middle-aged woman, smartly attired in sports clothes, stopped her on the sidewalk. “I just want to tell you how much my husband and I enjoyed you in Dear Ruth. We saw it on Broadway years ago and I must say we were surprised at the professional excellence of your cast. Tell me, who did that lovely set?” “Oh, thank you.” Peggy smiled. “Our set designer is Gus Stevens. He’s the husband of the girl you saw playing the part of the mother. And she was awfully good, wasn’t she?” “Wonderful,” the woman agreed warmly. “Just wonderful. You know, we’ve been coming up here to Lake Kenabeek for years—our son goes to a camp nearby. This is the first summer that we’ve had any real entertainment! You tell your director that we wish him a lot of luck—and the whole cast. We hope you’ll be here every year from now on!” Peggy left her thoughtfully, realizing that if the theater should have to close, it would affect more than just the company and the Chamber of Commerce. People here really wanted entertainment. Surely there was room for a summer theater and the movies to exist side by side! She bought her ticket for the film, hoping that the woman in the booth didn’t recognize her. Probably not, Peggy thought. It might be a sin for anyone employed at the movies to go to the Summer Theater! She shook her head impatiently and went into the dark interior. Now that she was here, Peggy wondered if her plan had been so ingenious after all. Perhaps Bill Slade wouldn’t even be here today. Perhaps instead of finding him, she would run smack into his brother Max! And that was a prospect she didn’t particularly want to face. Peggy took a seat in the first row at the side of the balcony. Here she was close enough to the mezzanine to get up frequently and look around the lounge where a sign on a door announced, Office of the Manager. Looking at it doubtfully as she left her seat for what must have been the tenth time, Peggy wondered if anyone was inside. She might have to stay here all day, seeing the film several times as she waited for someone to emerge. Two ushers walked by and Peggy heard one of the girls say, “No, Mr. Slade isn’t here yet. He said he’d be in around five-thirty. But you’re off duty then, aren’t you?” They went on, leaving Peggy feeling that her brilliant idea hadn’t been so brilliant after all! She was just about to go back and watch the end of the movie, when the door opened and Bill Slade walked out! Peggy was in luck! It must be Max who was expected later on. Bill Slade saw her standing there, and an incredulous expression suffused his face. “Why—why, it’s you!” he blurted, in utter astonishment. “Oh, Mr. Slade! How nice to run into you again!” Peggy’s acting experience came in handy right now. She hoped she seemed genuinely surprised. “And you know my name now, it seems,” he said, reddening slightly as he came over to her. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t dare introduce myself that day, not knowing how you’d feel about it.” Something tugged at Peggy’s heart. She felt she had never met anyone so basically nice or so unhappy with a situation. “What on earth are you doing here?” he asked, frowning a little as if he had only just realized where they were. Peggy had planned the answer. “Why, I was having a little difficulty with my part this week,” she said easily, “and I thought I’d take a look at the movie to see how it was done.” From the balcony, the sound of the closing music of the film swelled around them, followed by the martial strains of music for the news-reel. “You missed the end,” Bill Slade observed, looking at her closely. “Oh, that doesn’t matter.” Peggy was slightly flustered. “I’m not in the end, anyway. I’m just playing the maid.” She hoped it sounded logical. Bill laughed. “No wonder you were having trouble,” he said. “That’s miscasting if I ever heard of it!” “Oh, no, it isn’t.” Peggy smiled back. “You just come to see the play and you’ll see what a good character actress I can be!” Again she noticed that sad expression come into his eyes, but then he brightened and said, “Miss Peggy Lane, why don’t we do something utterly insane and go out for some lemonade or something together? Do you have time?” Peggy glowed. This invitation was exactly what she had hoped for! “I’d love to,” she agreed happily. Bill Slade walked with her back to the drugstore and they took one of the little booths in the rear, well away from curious eyes. In the middle of the afternoon there were few people in the store, and they could speak freely without being overheard. “I wish you would come up to the theater just once,” Peggy implored. “I think you’d enjoy seeing a play for a change.” “I know I would,” Bill said slowly. “I love the theater, Miss Lane—” “Peggy, please!” she twinkled. “Peggy!” he agreed. “All right. But we might as well not beat about the bush. You know how my brother feels about the theater! I’ve talked to him, Peggy, believe it or not.” He looked at her pleadingly, and she wondered how an attractive, intelligent young man like this could bear to remain so entirely under his brother’s influence. Bill Slade looked as though he should have a more independent role. “But what does your brother have to do with it?” Peggy asked, hoping to jolt him a little. “Surely, if you would like to be on our side—and I gathered from the way you spoke that day that you would—?” Bill answered her implied question with an emphatic nod. “Well, then,” Peggy urged, “why not take a stand? Come up to the theater and let your brother know exactly how you feel.” “He does know,” Bill said softly. “I don’t see why we have to be in competition,” Peggy went on earnestly. “Don’t you think the two forms of entertainment could complement each other? For instance, we’re doing a melodrama this week, and if instead of choosing the same story, you had run a comedy film, both our businesses would have benefited. Or don’t you agree?” She looked at him anxiously over her glass of lemonade, her large eyes serious and her pretty dress making a splash of color against the dull gray of the seat. Bill Slade smiled, saying, “You make an incongruous picture, Peggy! You’re much too young and pretty to be carrying the weight of rival businesses on your shoulders. Tell me—” he leaned forward intently—“did anyone ask you to come and see me about this? I can’t quite believe your story about the movie!” Peggy decided to be completely honest with him. “No, no one asked me to come—but I did hope to see you. I came with that intention. I thought perhaps if we talked together, you might see our point of view and persuade your brother to put an end to this silly feud!” “I have tried to persuade him, Peggy,” Bill said uneasily. “I’ve argued about it from the beginning. Then when he decided to run this particular movie this week—well, it was almost the last straw!” “Well, then,” Peggy cried, “why not let it be the last straw? Why don’t you choose a picture for once instead of your brother? He doesn’t have everything to say about your business, does he?” Bill looked at her unhappily. “There’s a lot you don’t know, Peggy,” he said. “We are partners, yes, but partners in name only. You see, when we bought that theater, Max was the one who put up the money. He was older, and had been in a very successful public relations business in New York. His dream had always been to come back here to live, with a business of his own. I had just come out of the Army and didn’t have any money to invest.” “And your brother bought the theater all on his own?” Peggy asked. “My! He must have saved a lot!” “No, not entirely on his own,” Bill said. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, Peggy—” he smiled as her wistfully—“I guess it’s because I want you to like me, and I want to clear myself. But please promise me that anything I say will be a confidential matter between us.” “Of course,” Peggy agreed warmly. She was glad to know that Bill Slade trusted her, and thought that it was probably a very good thing for him to talk to somebody. She had an impression that he was very lonely. “Max couldn’t have done it all on his own,” Bill confided. “He had another investor—a silent partner whom almost nobody knows about. Not that there’s anything wrong about it, but—” “Ford Birmingham!” Peggy guessed excitedly as the pieces began to fall into place. “That’s right. Ford put up the rest of the money. He keeps his partnership silent because of his job on the paper. He loves the newspaper business and writing, and manages to carry both jobs very well. However, if people knew he was a partner, they might think his movie reviews were prejudiced!” Bill laughed. “They’re not, of course. Ford is a painfully honest critic!” “And he goes right along with your brother’s attitude about us?” Peggy asked incredulously. “Well, you see, I’m afraid that Max has said some pretty awful things about your theater to Ford.” Bill seemed almost ashamed. “Not about the people personally,” he added hastily, “but professionally. Max honestly thinks you’re all amateurs and he’s persuaded Ford of that.” He shook his head ruefully. “And Max resents a little company of newcomers coming into the town and possibly drawing away his business. He—he’s not a very happy man, Peggy, and he is my brother. I have to understand how he feels.” “Of course,” Peggy said sympathetically. “I know some people like that in my home town. They’re terrified of anything new and become completely unreasonable about it.” Bill nodded. “If Max would just let me choose some of the films, as you said, I think our own business would pick up. It’s been terrible lately, but I know why. It isn’t the Summer Theater, as Max thinks. It’s his choice of old, dull movies that nobody wants to see. This is the first good one we’ve shown in a long time!” He sighed ironically. “And it took your theater to make him choose it—for all the wrong reasons!” They were silent, each thinking of the seemingly impossible situation. Now that she saw the design more clearly, Peggy couldn’t think of a way out. Apparently, neither could Bill. He frowned and shook his head again. “I’m sorry, Peggy, but there just doesn’t seem to be anything I can do. I wish I could. Believe me, I wish I could!” Peggy walked back to the annex for the line rehearsal, feeling disconsolate and subdued. It was really almost hopeless, she thought, mulling over all the problems. Without any real authority in the business, Bill couldn’t be of much help. But she had been right about one thing. Bill Slade was certainly not the weak, spineless creature that people imagined! He had good reason for his actions, and actually, it was wonderfully loyal and brave of him to stick by his brother in the face of a lot of criticism. Peggy didn’t doubt that more persons than those concerned with the Summer Theater regarded Bill as his brother’s younger shadow—possibly even Ford Birmingham! Peggy thought of the little paragraph Mr. Birmingham had written on Dear Ruth toward the end of the week—just as Chuck had predicted. Chris had been right, too. It had said almost less than nothing—a mere notice, in fact! Well, it was all a shame, Peggy thought sadly, a terrible and unnecessary shame! |
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