“Did you go in my room?” she asked.
“It was so long ago, Scarlett. It was back before I took my vow of celibacy. I can’t remember these things in my pure state.”
Scarlett shuddered and turned her attention to folding Mrs. Amberson’s yoga pants.
“Stephanie is really pretty,” Spencer said. “And really, really annoyingly professional.”
“Professional how?”
“She’s one of these serious types who believes you can’t date anyone you work with. It makes sense, but…”
This would have been the perfect time to ask the question about Eric, but just as she was working up the nerve, Spencer moved on.
“Oh, well,” he said. “Things can’t be perfect. Besides, this will all be over when we get caught tomorrow night.”
But they didn’t get caught.
Against all odds, this plan worked for two entire nights. Either the gods were smiling on them for once, or their basement was truly the place where no one could hear you scream. There were a few close calls when Scarlett had to throw herself at her dad trying to take down some recycling or when she and Spencer had run evasive maneuvers around Marlene. But for the most part, it went like a dream. They even stopped meeting in the park. Spencer just propped the side door open, and the cast let themselves in.
The whole time in the basement they only went over a handful of scenes, most of which didn’t involve Spencer or Eric. But the third night was different—they had just moved on to a major Rosencrantz and Guildenstern scene. Trevor was arranging the three actors. Eric and Spencer were doing something behind Hamlet where they had to keep passing an object back and forth very rapidly. It was obvious that the final effect was going to be entertaining, but Scarlett couldn’t see from where she was sitting. She got up and slipped against the wall to watch.
“Leroy, I think it’s going to be hard to hear you if you put your head in your hands like that,” Trevor was saying. “And, Eric, come around a little, upstage. There. I think that’s better. Frame him a little. Now we can hear you. Try it from there.”
“I can hear him fine.”
That voice came from the direction of the steps. The cast of Hamlet froze in their positions. Scarlett’s mother stood there, looking at the large group of actors who had assembled in her basement.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked.
This was obviously directed at just two of them. Scarlett and Spencer stepped forward. She at least had the decency to retreat to the steps and speak in a low voice.
“How long did you think this was going to remain a secret?” she asked calmly.
“Um…forever?” Spencer said.
“Isn’t it wonderful!” cried a voice from the opposite corner.
Mrs. Amberson, dressed entirely in black yogawear, stepped out of the shadowy anteroom where the hot water heater was. There was a faint, audible gasp from one of the girls over by that wall—which was totally understandable. Otherwise, absolutely everyone stood in shocked silence.
Mrs. Amberson walked into the middle of the group, as natural as day, dusting a bit of smudge from her sleeve. She was holding one of the small French notebooks and had been scrawling away.
“I think you’re right, Trevor,” she said, consulting the opened page. “That last line is hard to hear from a distance. We’ll need to do some vocal work.”
Trevor, who had never met Mrs. Amberson, nodded slowly. He did remarkably well by not going insane when the strange woman emerged from the wall to answer his question.
Mrs. Amberson walked up to Scarlett’s mother, who was receiving a double surprise. She flashed her biggest smile, which was longer and more insidious than a holiday traffic jam.
“We were just using the downstairs tonight as there was a little problem with our rehearsal space,” Mrs. Amberson said. “It’s not a problem, is it? I promise I’ll have them moved out as soon as possible. I would have asked…but I hated to bother you. Oh, I hope you’re not mad. Please, let’s have a talk. You come along, Scarlett. Take a break everyone. We’ll be back.”
“Um…sure,” Spencer said. “We’ll break.”
His look to Scarlett said: Please tell me you know what’s going on.
But, of course, she didn’t.
A SPY IN THE HOUSE OF DENMARK
Upstairs, in the dining room, Mrs. Amberson gratefully accepted the offer of a cup of hot water while Scarlett was sent upstairs to fetch one of her organic-ginger teabags and her box of pickled Japanese plums. She bypassed the elevator and took the stairs three at a time. When she got back, winded, Mrs. Amberson was in full conversational swing.
“…I’d been hearing a lot about that theater group, First National Bang, from friends of mine in the business. It’s a cuttingedge production, and it’s going to get a lot of attention in the industry. Color me amazed when I heard Spencer was part of the cast and that was the show he mentioned on the night I arrived!”