“It was good fun for me, too.”
Tom and Walter approached and I asked, “Have you met Edward Strathmore?”
“Not officially,” Tom said. “It’s an honor.”
Edward shook hands with both men. “What a delight. I’ve been watching This Old Attic for years. Thank you so much for inviting me on the show.”
“We’re the grateful ones,” Walter insisted. “I’ve heard rumors that we’re going to be treated to many wise and witty stories.”
“I hope I don’t disappoint,” he said, bowing his head ever so slightly.
“You won’t,” I said loyally, and earned myself a wink in return.
In every town the show visited, they always featured several of the local antiques collectors. The experts would come on to talk about their personal collections and the different antiques favored by the show’s audience. Sometimes they brought odd or interesting items and would share stories of their adventures in the antiques world.
“Ten minutes, people,” Angie shouted. She listened on her headset, as usual, but this time she grimaced in disgust. She seemed edgier today than usual, so I caught her as she was walking over to the side of the stage.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m pissed off.”
“Why?”
“Where the hell is Randy?”
“I thought you knew. He’s in the hospital.”
“Really? Because I just tried to call and they said he wasn’t there.”
I frowned. “Maybe the switchboard was told not to disturb him. He’s sort of a celebrity, right?”
“A celebrity?”
“Well, he is the host of a popular TV show.”
“Great, Brooklyn. Glad to see you’ve turned into yet another groupie. Well, I’m sick of all you bitches.” She turned and walked away.
“Hold it.” I went after her. “I’m not a groupie, damn it. And I’m not a bitch. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” But then I noticed that her eyes were damp with tears. I’d never seen Angie cry, not once. She was tough. All-powerful. She practically ran this place. Her superhero motto should’ve been, “Have headset; will kick ass.”
I pulled her off to the side—or tried to. She balked and refused to pick up her feet and walk with me, but I pulled her by the shirt and her shoes slid easily across the polished studio floor with me. “Tell me what’s going on, Angie. Maybe I can help.”
“Just leave it alone, Brooklyn.”
“Nope.” I shook my head stubbornly. “We might not ever see each other again after this week, but right now I consider you a friend and I’m not going to let you suffer alone.”
“I’m in love with him,” she wailed.
“I’m sorry.” I rubbed my ears. “What did you say?”
“Don’t make me repeat it. It’s too humiliating.”
“Okay, you don’t have to. I heard you.” I shook her arm lightly. “But that’s not humiliating—it’s wonderful. Oh, wait. Does Randy know? Is he interested?” I gasped. “Wait. Did he hurt you? That bastard.”
“Shush,” she said, giggling like a schoolgirl now. “He knows. He loves me, too. He wants to live together.”
“That’s so cool. Aww.”
“Oh, God. You’re as bad as Tish.”
“Why? I’m happy for you.”
She buried her face in her hands. “But I’m stuck in San Francisco and he travels with the show.” She looked up and her eyes widened. “Or else he’s dead in the hospital. Who knows? I can’t talk to him!”
“He’s not dead,” I said with a certainty I had no right to feel.
“Okay, we’ll go with that theory for now.” She gnawed on a fingernail. “So he’s alive, but he’s leaving town next week and I’ll never see him again.”
“So leave with him. Join the show. You’ve got to be the best stage manager they’ve ever had.”
“I’m damn good, and it would be nice to have a permanent job.” She let out a wistful sigh. “Usually a show moves in here for a few months, you meet people, become friends, and then they’re gone and you never see them again. I hate that.”
“If you stayed with the show, you’d be able to see Randolph and all the other people you’ve become friends with.”
“But I live here. You don’t understand—I was born and raised here. My mom is here. My friends.”
“So in between shows, you come back here and live.”
“But he lives in Minneapolis.”
I gave her a look. “If he turns down San Francisco in favor of Minneapolis, you might want to rethink your opinion of him.”
She groaned. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s got this real Midwestern sensibility. It’s charming and all, but a little weird.”
“You’re just making up excuses. I’ve been to Minneapolis and it’s filled with smart people. They like to read.”
“Because it’s always snowing,” she muttered.
I laughed. “You could live there half the time and here the rest of the time. Or what the hell? Move to Minneapolis. It’s really pretty.”
“Hello? It snows,” she reminded me.