“No running today?” Mom asked when I came downstairs the next morning. She was sitting at the table with a pile of lesson plans for the new school year. Everything was coming to an end.
I’m sure I looked blank for a second before I caught on. Oh. Right. Running. What I supposedly did in the mornings.
“No,” I said. “I didn’t hear my alarm.”
“Well, you’ve been every other day.” Mom put her hand on my head as she set a bowl on the table in front of me and reached for the cereal. “What would you like? Cheerios with bananas?”
I nodded. The sun shone through the window. I couldn’t believe how long I’d slept in.
“I’m so proud of you this summer, Cedar,” Mom said. “Running in the mornings. Working so hard at the Summerlost Festival. Volunteering at the Summerlost Festival.” She brought over a plate of sliced bananas and the milk and cereal and sat down across from me. “And taking care of Miles for me too. Except for that slipup with the soap opera, you’ve been amazing with him. I really appreciate it.”
I picked up the plate and started to slide the bananas into my cereal. I felt guilty. I’d lied to her about the tour, and Miles and I hadn’t actually stopped watching Times of Our Seasons.
My mother beamed.
I ate my cereal.
With all the guilt, and with everything going on with Leo and Cory and the tour, you wouldn’t think that I would care that the milk was perfectly cold and the bananas not too ripe, but I did. It felt nice to have something be exactly right.
31.
When I got to the costume shop, Meg was having a meeting. All of the employees stood gathered around her worktable. Emily and a nice guy whose name was Nate moved over so I could see Meg, since I was shorter than everyone else.
“Today’s a big day,” Meg said. “We’re starting to dress the mannequins up in the Costume Hall.”
“Some of us are,” said Emily, sounding grumpy. “Some of us have to stay down here and mend the costumes for tonight’s show.”
Meg caught sight of me. “Cedar, you can carry the pieces of the costumes up and down,” she said. “You’ve got the youngest legs.”
The first thing Meg gave me to carry upstairs was a black-and-gold-embroidered doublet. It was heavy. When we got up to the Costume Hall, she showed me the display cases. Each one contained a plaque (saying who wore the costume in which play), and a faceless male or female mannequin waiting to be dressed.
It was disturbing.
“Here’s where we are,” Meg said. “Eric Potter, Henry VIII.”
“He was short,” I said, looking at the outfit.
“And a terrible actor, by all reports,” Meg said. “They didn’t have a lot of options in those first years when they were getting started. But the real Henry VIII was also fat so that, at least, was authentic.” She gave the mannequin a pat on the back. “Old Eric Potter did his best for the festival.”
She hung the doublet on the portable clothes rack next to her. It had a bunch of items with ERIC POTTER: HENRY VIII tags on them. “You can head downstairs now for more pieces,” Meg said. “Unless you’d like to help me dress Henry.”
“No thank you,” I told her.
All day long I ferried up the clothes and accessories to Meg and the others and gathered the things they needed. The last thing I brought up was a Titania robe from a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It shimmered green and purple and blue and gold. I couldn’t stop touching the fabric, even though I knew they’d just cleaned it.
Meg draped the robe over the mannequin and stood back to look it over. “I’ve always loved this one,” she said. “I helped make it during my first year at the festival.”
I looked at the plaque. The actress who’d worn the dress was named Philippa Page. Not Lisette Chamberlain. But I was still curious. “Did you know her?”
“Yes,” Meg said. “She was a fine actor. Very reserved when she wasn’t onstage, though, so I didn’t know her well. I always felt a bit sorry for her because she came along at the same time Lisette did.”
“And everyone loved Lisette,” I said. “Right? Because she was a great actress, and she was from Iron Creek.” I felt reckless talking about Lisette with Meg, especially because of the tour situation, but what did I have to lose? And what if I could find out something amazing, something that even Leo didn’t know, and then I could tell it to him? Would that make him feel better? Or worse?
“Not everyone loved Lisette,” Meg said. “But most people did. I did. She was one of my best friends.”
I had so many questions. So who didn’t love Lisette? What was she like? How well did you know her? Did she tell you secrets? Did you see her the night she died?