“You would,” Angie muttered.
Poor Angie had my sympathy. Randolph was in his thirties, tall and classically handsome, with dark blond hair worn in a casual, wind-tossed style. His vivid blue eyes were mesmerizing. He had a great smile and perfect teeth, and it didn’t hurt that his voice could melt butter. Best of all, he had a charming sense of humor.
Angie yelled, “Civil War’s up in ten minutes, people!”
I turned down Randolph’s generous offer to buy me a free cup of coffee and headed off to the tiny dressing room I’d been assigned earlier that day. The schedule gave me two hours to research the next book I’d be appraising and I would need every minute to do my job well.
On the way backstage, I wasted a few long seconds worrying about my Secret Garden segment. Had I blathered? Had I laughed too loud? Had I sounded smart? Silly? Had my shoulders slumped? Had I droned on with details nobody else in the world would care about unless they were a devout book lover? Probably yes to that last one, and maybe to all of the above.
I wondered if my on-camera self-consciousness would ever wear off. Did it matter? I would be here for only three weeks and the most important thing was to have fun and give accurate appraisals and make the book owners happy. I thought I had accomplished all of that with Vera.
And with that conclusion, I shoved my angst aside. I didn’t expect it to stay where I’d shoved it, but for now, I gave myself permission to ignore it.
As I crossed the massive studio, I glanced around and marveled that despite the large space, it had an air of intimacy. This was probably because of the twenty-five-foot-high wall of curtains that was hung from a curved ceiling beam that ran all the way around the room. The curtains were weighted and anchored to the studio floor, creating a wall between the main staging area and the backstage. The stage manager referred to the curtains as the backdrop.
The main staging area was further divided into six small sets where the different experts sat and appraised their items. Like my cozy space, the others were filled with antique furniture and interesting set pieces that corresponded to their field of interest. For instance, on my set, the cabinets and shelves were filled with old books. Sitting on the dressers were framed illustrations and frayed botanical prints taken from old books.
Since I would be sharing my space with a map expert and a historian who specialized in vintage correspondence and documents, my book illustrations would be switched out with framed drawings of maps or old letters and tattered certificates.
In the Civil War expert’s area, an old rifle was displayed in a large glass cabinet. On one of the dressers were two elegant portraits of soldiers from that era. Apparently, the rifle could be replaced by a musket or a bow and arrow or another weapon, depending on which particular war was being discussed.
Another area featured shelves of vintage kitchenware, old toys, and folk sculpture. A child’s painted rocking horse filled one corner of the space, and on the top shelf was an intriguing display of covered woven baskets.
The largest staging area was located at one end of the studio and would be used to feature larger pieces of furniture, grandfather clocks, and other big items, such as the old canoe one visitor had brought in for appraisal.
Even the largest area had the same rich, warm feeling as my smaller set. If I ignored the studio cameras and the technical contraptions and the burly crew members, it was almost like being inside a beautiful home.
“Watch your step, young lady,” one of the crew guys said.
I stopped abruptly and glanced down. I was close to tripping over the two-inch-thick cable that snaked down from the boom microphone pedestal, slithered across the shiny floor, and disappeared under the backdrop.
“Thanks,” I said, flashing him a grateful smile. I really didn’t want to break an ankle on my first day. Around me was a tangle of equipment. There were four television cameras along with two boom microphones that looked like heavy-duty fishing poles attached to rolling pedestals. These could all be wheeled from set to set, depending on which segment was being taped.
Besides all the hardware, dozens of people bustled about in a state of organized chaos. The lighting crew stood on ladders or used long poles to adjust the studio lights hanging on the grid high above our heads. Camera operators discussed the shooting schedules with the director and her team. A woman touched up Randolph’s makeup and hair with brushes and sponges she had stashed in a tool belt around her waist.