  The season closed with a rollicking farce that drew a full house every night. Enough money poured into the box office to pay back the investors and the Chamber of Commerce and even leave something over for the new science lab. On the last night of See How They Run, a tremendous party was held backstage after the show. Everybody was there. Aunt Hetty was hostess, beaming and brusque as ever, with lavish promises of what the theater would do with her barn next summer. For it was certainly established now that the Kenabeek Summer Theater was here to stay! The directors of the Chamber of Commerce and the members of the School Board were there; all the apprentices and their families came; Mr. Bladen read a special poem of praise for the theater; Mr. and Mrs. Cook and Mrs. Hopkins and all their friends joined the celebration. Mr. Miller and Michael were happy to report that the Merry Mac had not been damaged beyond repair after all, and that next summer she would be back, ready to take the cast across the lake to the Golden Hound for dinner. “Are you game, Peggy?” Michael asked with a twinkle. “Any time,” Peggy laughed. “Tonight if you like!” “Well! That certainly speaks well for my son’s seamanship,” Mr. Miller declared. “If it weren’t for him, we’d all be at the bottom of Lake Kenabeek,” Mary Hopkins said. “Wreck or no wreck, Michael’s a mighty good sailor!” “And the Merry Mac was a smart boat to pick the Cooks’ island out of all the islands in the lake!” Peggy said. “I’d trust her again any time.” “And the Cooks have practically put Bladen’s Antiques out of business,” Mr. Bladen added, winking at Peggy. “After your boys cleaned up my shop, the Cooks couldn’t seem to take things away fast enough. Then their friends started to come! Pretty soon, I’ll have to start buying more antiques or just stick to poetry!” Bill Slade dashed into the theater, breathlessly waving an envelope and calling for everyone to be quiet. “I know this is going to be a huge shock,” he cried excitedly, “but you all know how much our business has improved since the Kenabeek Summer Theater came to town—for many reasons.” He grinned at Peggy. “Well! Although my brother Max is too shy, and to be honest, still too stiff-necked to come here personally and admit a mistake, he’s tried to redeem himself in a mighty concrete way!” With a huge smile of satisfaction, Bill dramatically opened the envelope. “Here’s a check to match whatever the Summer Theater is donating to the high school—from Maximilian W. Slade! You just fill in the amount!” Amid cheers and hurrahs, the School Board gratefully accepted the check. “Oh, Bill, that’s just about the nicest thing that’s happened all summer!” Peggy cried. “It makes me very happy!” Bill said, grinning from ear to ear. “Next summer, Max might even put in an appearance at a play!” Richard Wallace made a short, funny speech, thanking everyone for their cooperation, and at the end giving a word of special praise to the actors who “worked together without undue friction, without too many complaints, and with only a minimum of backstage feuds, which is probably a ‘first’ for any Adirondack stock company! Or any other, for that matter!” There were toasts to the actors, toasts to Gus and the apprentices, toasts to everyone, including the Merry Mac, the annex, Lake Manor, the audiences, and Mrs. Brady’s food. The party lasted long, with all the actors talking about the possible jobs that awaited them in New York. “What do you think you’ll do when you get back to New York, Peggy?” Chris Hill asked. “Do you suppose we’ll have a chance to work together again?” “I hope so,” Peggy replied, glad to know that she could now talk to Chris naturally and calmly, as actor to actor. “I’m going home for a visit first, but after that anything can happen!” “And next time we won’t let personal feelings interfere with our work, right?” Chris beamed at her, his handsome face teasing a little, but now Peggy understood. “Right!” Peggy smiled. “And give Randy my regards,” Chris added seriously. “He’s a great guy, and I really hope to see him again sometime.” The party finally broke up, with everyone going back to the annex to start packing. Chuck and Richard had to stay after the close of the season to wind things up, but almost everybody else was leaving Lake Kenabeek on tomorrow’s bus. Peggy remained quietly in the theater after everyone had gone. She wanted to be alone for a little in this theater that she might never see again. The flats had been stacked away for the party, and now only the worklight was left, its circle casting a small pool of light on the empty stage. Peggy stood there alone, looking out at the silent auditorium and thinking of everything that had happened this summer. She remembered the first time Rita and Gus had brought her up to the theater—the stage had looked just like this. That night she had had her first taste of the hectic backstage activity of painting flats. She had learned so much this summer, Peggy thought gratefully. She had learned about the theater and about working with people—even about summer romance and handsome leading men! Peggy smiled wistfully, wishing that Randy could be here with her now. He was the only person she knew who could share her feelings about a dark theater like this—the smell and the memories and the ghosts. For it seemed to her that the house was filled with echoes from all the plays they had done that summer, that all the parts and the plays and the authors were still alive here somehow. This emotion was the magic that had brought Peggy to the theater in the first place—this sense of life, of living literature, of a communication that was nowhere else so special as between actor and audience. Peggy remembered the first time she had walked out on this stage in Dear Ruth. How nervous she had been! And then as the weeks progressed, her sureness had developed, her professionalism had increased. She had learned from Rita and Gus and Chuck, from Richard and Danny and Alison. Yes, perhaps most of all from Alison Lord, who had shown her the contrast between career and dedication. “I hope I will come back here sometime,” Peggy said aloud in farewell. She was sentimental enough to wish to say a private good-by to her summer. “And thank you,” she whispered, “thank you for everything.” As she finally walked out the stage door for the last time, her make-up kit tucked under her arm, she could already hear the questions her parents would ask when she arrived home for her visit. “Well! What did you do this summer, Peggy?” they would say. “What happened? Tell us all about it.” “My goodness,” Peggy wondered, smiling at the stars, “how can I possibly tell them?” Endpapers Back cover
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