  It took a touch of May’s common sense to bring Peggy back to reality. “You don’t have the part yet,” she cautioned. “So don’t count on it.” “Oh, but, May,” Amy protested, “why else would they call her? I’m sure Peggy’s got it.” “Did he come right out and make you an offer?” May asked. “No,” Peggy admitted. “He said they were interviewing a number of girls tomorrow. That’s all.” “Well, then,” May said. “You see?” “I don’t care,” Amy declared stoutly. “This it still the biggest break either one of us has had in a year.” “I didn’t say it wasn’t,” May said. “I’m just trying to get Peggy to realize what she’s up against. Nobody’s going to hand her that part on a silver platter. She’s got to go in there tomorrow and earn it.” Peggy moved nervously to the window and pulled back the curtain. “If only I knew a little more about the play,” she murmured. “I don’t even know what kind of a part I’m supposed to try out for.” She walked over to her bed and sat down despairingly. “I should have asked when I had the chance, but I guess I was too excited. I didn’t even think!” “Now, now,” May said soothingly. “Don’t work yourself up into a fit. How much do you know about Innocent Laughter?” “Nothing,” Peggy said dispiritedly. “Absolutely nothing except that it’s the biggest hit of the season.” “What time is it?” Amy cried suddenly. “Maybe we could see it tonight!” “Not a chance,” May said emphatically. “You wouldn’t be able to get tickets.” “Standing room?” Amy suggested hopefully. May looked at her watch and shook her head. “Too late.” “Oh dear!” Peggy started to get up, but May pushed her firmly back down on the studio couch. “You sit down, young lady,” she ordered. “There’s no point in worrying about something you can’t help. Besides, I think I can give you some idea of the play.” “You can?” Peggy cried eagerly. “Oh, May, you’re an angel!” “Flattery will get you nowhere,” May said. “Just sit back and listen.” Peggy and Amy settled down obediently and waited. “First of all,” May began, “Innocent Laughter has only four parts for women.” She ticked them off one by one. “There’s the lead, a brilliantly successful career woman living in New York, who decides one day to try to recapture her youth. Then there’s a wonderful part—the woman’s mother, a shrewd old gal who’s made a fortune in real estate out West, and who hasn’t seen her daughter in years. The third big part is the career woman’s daughter. She’s a young girl who’s been sent to finishing school in Europe, and hasn’t seen her mother in years, except for brief vacations.” May looked around inquiringly. “All clear so far?” “You mean there are three generations—the grandmother, the mother, and the daughter?” Amy asked. May nodded. “You’ve got the picture.” “What happened to all the men?” Peggy asked. “Ah, now we’re getting to it,” May said. “The grandfather—that’s the old gal’s husband—disappeared years ago. He left home because he said he couldn’t stand his wife’s domineering ways. The mother’s husband is dead, and the daughter, of course, doesn’t have any husband yet.” “How about the story?” Amy demanded. “What’s that all about?” “The situation is simple,” May explained. “The three generations meet in New York. The grandmother wants a last fling. She’s after good times and plenty of them. The mother, as I’ve said, is trying to find romance again.” “And the young daughter?” Amy asked. May shrugged. “The daughter isn’t sure what she wants. She’s in a sort of experimental mood about life. Very young, very sweet, and full of vitality.” “What happens after they all get together?” Amy asked. “Oh, they make a mess of everything,” May said. “Things go from bad to worse until suddenly, out of the blue, who should turn up but the grandfather!” “The one who disappeared years ago!” Amy said. “Right,” said May. “What’s he been doing all those years?” “Oh, this and that,” May replied airily. “He’s been knocking around the world a good deal and making a lot of money. Anyway, he walks in on the three women and takes over. He straightens out the mother’s life, saves the young daughter from marrying a dull man, and makes his wife fall in love with him all over again.” “It sounds like a great part,” Peggy remarked. “Doesn’t it?” May agreed. “Anyway, that’s about all there is to it. Not a second Hamlet, I’ll admit, but a good, solid comedy.” “Wait a minute,” Amy interrupted. “You’ve only mentioned three women. Who’s the fourth?” “A tiny part,” May said. “A schoolgirl friend of the young daughter. She appears in one scene in the first act.” “And that’s Peggy?” Amy asked. May nodded. “Probably. That and understudying the daughter.” Amy sighed. “Oh my,” she said. “Wouldn’t you just love to play the daughter?” “Stop dreaming,” May counseled. “Oscar Stalkey couldn’t afford to take a chance with an unknown in a part like that.” May turned and walked over to Peggy. “Now look, Peggy,” she said in a quiet, reassuring voice, “when you walk into that office tomorrow, don’t try to pretend you’re an experienced actress. Oscar Stalkey’s been around a long time and he’d be able to see right through your pose.” The older woman sat down and folded her hand over Peggy’s. “Do you remember that time when Randy told you to be yourself and not try to act as if you were ten years older?” Peggy smiled and nodded. “It was the best advice you could get,” May went on. “If you follow it tomorrow, the rest will take care of itself. You’re a good actress, Peggy. You have a lot of promise. He’ll be able to see that.” May got up slowly and drifted over to the window. “I used to know Oscar Stalkey pretty well,” she said. “He’s a strange mixture of a hard-boiled Broadway producer and a sentimental little boy. He’s been in show business over thirty years, and he still thinks the theater is the most wonderful thing in the world.” “So do I!” Peggy breathed. May turned and smiled. “Good. Then you two ought to get along beautifully. Now,” she said, moving to the door in a brisk, businesslike manner, “have you had dinner yet?” “Oh, no, May!” Peggy pleaded. “I’m too excited. I couldn’t eat a bite.” May’s smile vanished. She pointed to the door commandingly. “Out you go,” she said. “We can’t have you meeting Oscar Stalkey looking pale and haggard. The program for the rest of the evening includes a good dinner, a long hot bath, and early to bed.” May paused and advanced a step toward Peggy. “And try not to worry too much.” Peggy smiled and nodded. “All right,” she said. “I’ll try.” “Good. When you push open the door of Oscar Stalkey’s office tomorrow, I want you to look like a million dollars—rested and confident you’re going to get the part.” At precisely ten o’clock the following morning, Peggy Lane stood before the plain frosted-glass door of Oscar Stalkey’s office, feeling rested, alert—but not at all sure of herself. In fact, what she felt was dread. It was exactly like the time when she was seven years old, and had to appear in the school Christmas pageant as one of the angels who led the shepherds to the manger. She still remembered her two lines: “This is the place. See how the roof is bathed by the light of yonder star.” Chattering with the cold, her throat all lumpy with fear, and lonelier than she had ever been in her life, she had waited in the wings for the words that would bring her out on the stage. She had been sure she would forget everything. Now she remembered what it had been like when at last she had stepped into the brilliant warmth of the stage, sensing the audience out front and the magic of the set behind her. She had read her lines beautifully, and only regretted that she didn’t have more of them. At that moment, Peggy had decided to become an actress. That was a long time ago. Smiling at the memory, she took a final breath and pushed against the door. She stopped on the threshold in numbed surprise. Dozens of eyes swiveled around at her entrance. On all sides, the tiny reception room was lined with young girls. There were tall, beautiful girls with sleek hairdos and shiny patent leather hatboxes by their sides. There were heavily made up girls whose eyes glittered coldly as they surveyed the newcomer. There were a few girls she recognized. Nobody was happy to see her. Peggy knew that this was the fierce competition of the theater. It was part of the price you had to pay if you wanted to come to New York. Tilting her chin defiantly, Peggy closed the door and went over to a peroxide blonde who sat listlessly behind a desk. The blonde reached out a hand for a sheet of paper. “Name?” she inquired in a bored voice. “Mr. Stalkey’s interviewing by appointment only.” “Lane,” Peggy replied in a clear voice. “Peggy Lane.” The blonde ran a bright red fingernail down a list of names and stopped about halfway. “Who sentcha?” she drawled with quick suspicion. Peggy frowned. “I don’t ... what do you mean?” she stammered. The blonde pursed her mouth in disapproval. “What I’m trying to find out, dearie,” she said in a voice edged with the patient annoyance of someone talking to a retarded child, “is how come you’re here. Who made the appointment for you?” Light dawned. “Oh! Mr. Grey. Mr. Peter Grey.” The answer seemed to satisfy. “Okay.” The receptionist dismissed Peggy with a wave. “Find a seat.” She returned to the magazine she had been reading. Still feeling ill at ease, Peggy backed away from the desk and looked around for a place to sit down. The chairs along one wall were all filled. Opposite them there was a bench with just enough room if one of the girls would move over. Nobody budged an inch. The silence was oppressive. Suddenly making up her mind she was not going to stand around awkwardly, Peggy moved over to the bench and planted herself in front of the small space. “Excuse me,” she said in her sweetest voice, “would you mind moving over?” The girl who filled the spot Peggy wanted drew herself up in an exaggerated shrug and slowly opened a space. “Thank you,” Peggy said as she sat down. Her neighbor didn’t even bother to glance in her direction. The silence continued. Suddenly from behind the closed door that led into what Peggy assumed was Stalkey’s private office, she could hear voices. There was a high-pitched burst, then a deeper rumbling answer. A woman and a man arguing, Peggy thought. A third voice cut in, a resonant baritone. Two men and a woman. There was a scream from the other room, followed by a crash, and the woman’s voice shouting, “No! No! No!” “None of that now,” thundered the first man’s voice. “I’m sick and tired of your childish temper tantrums.” “Temper tantrums!” came a screech. “How else can I act when you simply refuse to listen to reason?” “Oh, come off it, Katherine!” the second man said. “Act your age.” There was a stunned silence during which Peggy had a chance to look around. Every girl in the reception room had her eyes glued to the door. An air of excited expectancy hung over the office. Even the blond receptionist had put aside her magazine in favor of the real-life drama going on in the next room. Peggy heard the door bang open, and turning, saw before her one of the great figures of the American stage. Katherine Nelson, a portrait of elegance, stood framed in the doorway. Katherine Nelson had been world famous for many years. Katherine Nelson. Everyone knew of Katherine Nelson. She had been world-famous for many years, at the very top of her profession. But suddenly, about five years ago—nobody knew why—she had begun to slip. For some reason, she chose her plays badly, and where once she had known nothing but success, she had had to face the humiliation of failure. It had been a long time since she had been on a stage in New York, or anywhere else for that matter. She still had her great name, of course. Katherine Nelson would always be a magnet, but there was no denying that as a star she was fading. Other, younger actresses were moving up to take the roles that would automatically have been hers a few years ago. It was well known that Katherine Nelson did not wear her years gracefully. References to age sent her into towering rages that were the delight of all gossip columnists, and the despair of those who had to work with her. She stood now, not ten feet from Peggy, her magnificent eyes flashing daggers. At first, Peggy felt a thrill at being so near a famous person, but surprisingly that passed almost at once. Instead of staring at her face, Peggy caught herself looking at Katherine Nelson’s hands as they gripped the door. They were like claws, Peggy thought. They were the hands of an old woman. With a start, Peggy realized that despite her youthful figure and carefully made-up face, Katherine Nelson could no longer play romantic parts. All this passed through Peggy’s mind in a flash, before her train of thought was evaporated by a throaty voice that rolled out in accents of anger. “You’ll remember whom you’re talking to, Oscar Stalkey! There’s only one Katherine Nelson in the theater, and if you’re not aware of it, there are hundreds and thousands of people who are. People who are prepared to stand in line all night, if necessary, to get tickets to my plays. When you’ve thought that over and are willing to discuss matters more intelligently, you may call me!” Shrugging into a magnificent silk-and-fur coat, Katherine Nelson swept down between the two lines of awed young girls, exactly as if she were making a grand exit from a stage. As a matter of fact, this was just what she was doing. It would have been effective, too, except for one thing. Katherine Nelson had a toy poodle on a leash, and the little dog took a sudden playful liking to Peggy. As his mistress passed Peggy, the tiny poodle wagged his tail and trotted over. The unexpected shift in course forced Katherine Nelson to stop. Frowning with annoyance, she yanked at the dog’s leash. But instead of following obediently, the poodle gave a couple of shrill yips and scrambled up on Peggy’s lap. Blushing with embarrassment, Peggy tried to get up and dislodge the animal. “Down, boy,” Peggy commanded, making a wild grab for her purse which was slipping to the floor. The next instant, leash, purse, Peggy, and the poodle were hopelessly entangled. Peggy sensed a commanding figure hovering nearby. Katherine Nelson was staring down at her in blazing fury. Peggy attempted an apologetic laugh as she tried desperately to straighten out the mess at her feet. Finally she got everything sorted out and handed over the friendly poodle. “I’m sorry,” Peggy said with a smile, offering the dog. “We sort of got mixed up.” Katherine Nelson jerked the poodle out of Peggy’s hands rudely. “Clumsy idiot!” she muttered. Spots of dull red showed in her face. Peggy felt herself coloring too, but for a different reason. “I really didn’t—” she stammered. “I’m awfully—” “Will you get out of my way?” Katherine Nelson blazed. Peggy backed away hastily, catching her heel against the side of the bench as she moved. She flailed the air clumsily to keep from falling, then sat down heavily. Her purse slipped to the floor again. Katherine Nelson threw her a disdainful look, swept on through the reception room, and out the door. Peggy had never been so embarrassed in her life. She knew that every girl in the room was laughing at her predicament. She only hoped that Oscar Stalkey hadn’t noticed. But when she stole a quick, shy glance at the door, she saw a short, bald man staring at her owlishly through heavy, horn-rimmed glasses. A cold cigar was clenched between his teeth. Peggy recognized him at once from his pictures. It was Oscar Stalkey. With a sinking heart, she realized numbly that she was ruined before she even started. She had made a perfect fool of herself, and there wasn’t any point in staying. Staring straight ahead, Peggy got to her feet and headed for the door. The walk seemed endless. She was about halfway there when a deep voice growled out. “Hey! Where are you going?” Peggy stopped and turned slowly, her eyes widening in surprise. Oscar Stalkey was still standing in the doorway, but now he was pointing a finger in her direction. “Come in here,” he said. “I want to talk to you.” There were gasps of surprise from the other girls. Peggy swallowed once and pointed to herself. “Me?” she asked in a voice that cracked. “Well, who’d you think I meant?” came the gruff answer. “Come in. I haven’t got all day.” He stepped aside and motioned her to hurry. Still unable to believe what was happening, Peggy followed Oscar Stalkey blindly into his office. |
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