“Oh, thank God you’re here,” the man said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “I told her you probably couldn’t close up the shop in the middle of the afternoon.”
“Some things are more important than ice cream,” Charlotte said, silently hoping that Tag and the others would agree. She hadn’t exactly stopped for permission before rushing here.
They headed backstage and he tapped on a door.
“Olivia,” the man said in a friendly, sing-song way. “Charlotte is here.”
There was no answer, so he opened the door a crack and gestured for her to go in.
The walls were lined with mirrors, with a low counter and stools in front. Each stool seemed to belong to a certain performer. There were stickers and postcards stuck to the mirrors, and boxes and bags of make-up at each station.
Olivia sat in front of the only empty space. Her head was down on her arms, and she reminded Charlotte of her father so much that she almost forgot why she was here.
“Olivia, I’m so sorry you’re having a hard time,” she said softly, moving to the stool beside Olivia’s. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I just can’t do it,” Olivia said, raising her head and wiping tears from her eyes. “I’m so nervous that I feel like I’m going to faint. There’s no way I can do this in front of actual people.”
Charlotte bit her lip, hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake that would end up upsetting Olivia even more.
“Do you remember how you asked me to get the candleholder out of that trunk?” she asked carefully.
“Thanks for that,” Olivia said.
“You’re welcome,” Charlotte said. “But when I opened the trunk, there was also a big quilt, and some books and photos. I only opened the box that saidTheatre Stuff, but a photo slipped out of the box. And when I picked it up…”
She opened her bag and pulled the picture out of her paperback, figuring it would speak louder than anything she could say herself.
“Mom,” Olivia said, smiling tenderly as she looked down at the picture. “I haven’t seen this one in a while. She’s like my age here.”
“She was a sophomore in high school, so a year or two older than you,” Charlotte said. “But I thought the same thing the minute I picked it up. Read the back.”
“Titania - A Midsummer Night’s Dream - 10thgrade,”Olivia read out loud.“I was so scared beforehand that I almost threw up. Jessie had to grab my hands and talk me down. I’m so glad he got me out there though. The whole thing rocked—people were laughing and cheering. I love acting!”
Charlotte waited, wondering how Olivia was going to respond.
“Wow,” Olivia breathed, turning the photo over again. “She felt the same way I do. And she did it anyway. And she loved it.”
Charlotte nodded, watching the girl she adored drink in the sight of her mother.
“Oh, holy cow,” Olivia said after a moment. “That’s Mr. Dansen, the director.”
“Really?” Charlotte asked, leaning in to look.
“That’s who my mom was talking about. Jessie is his first name,” Olivia said. “Well, I think he goes by Jess now, but same thing.”
The boy in the photo was right next to Iris, laughing as hard as she was. Now that Charlotte looked, he did bear a resemblance to the man in the vest who’d escorted her in.
“We have to show this to him,” Olivia said excitedly, hopping off her stool, the photo still clutched in her hand.
“Okay,” Charlotte said, following her out. She wasn’t sure if what they were doing was helpful or not, but at least Olivia’s mind was on something else besides the performance for a minute.
They trailed past the crew onstage and down into the house, where the director was sitting and watching everything, noting things down on his clipboard.
“Mr. Dansen,” Olivia said, waving the photo. “Look at this. It’s you and my mom. Charlotte found it.”
Jess Dansen smiled the biggest, warmest smile as he got up to meet them halfway down the row of seats to look.
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” he said fondly. “The fairy queen was her first big role. She got so scared before she went on that we thought she was going to throw up all over Oberon. But she was brilliant.”