Stranded (30 page)

“That was Kelli Keifer. She’s been letting us live in the house. She’s the niece of the man who—” I broke off, not wanting to get into details about Hiram and murder just yet. Magnolia tends to fuss when I get involved in these things. “The fire was just an accident that got started in a room where a lot of inflammable trash was stored.”

Magnolia frowned. “An accident? Are you sure?”

Magnolia knew all about the Braxtons, although I had yet to tell her about Boone.

“The fire department has already investigated. Probably something to do with a malfunction in the old wiring.” I still didn’t go along with that 100 percent, but I didn’t intend to fuss at the fire department about it. I changed the subject. “I’m so glad you got here today! I don’t suppose you’ll be able to stay for the Roaring ’20s Revue next weekend, but we’re having a dress rehearsal tonight. Would you like to come?”

Magnolia looked at Geoff. Some people think flamboyant Magnolia runs everything, but quiet Geoff is really boss behind the scenes.

“Sounds interesting. We’ll go get registered at the RV park,” he said.

I didn’t realize until then that Charlotte had been standing there with us all the time, looking curious, and I finally collected my manners and made introductions. Charlotte echoed my invitation to the rehearsal. We were going to pretend she’d never made that snide ski bunny remark, I realized.

“And you’re both in the Revue?” Magnolia asked. She sounded doubtful, because she knows I’m not the performing type.

“Oh no. I’m costumes and Ivy is props.” Charlotte laughed. “But the whole production would surely fall apart without us.”

Actually, that evening the whole production appeared on the edge of falling apart even with us.

By then, Magnolia and Geoff had gotten parked and hooked up at the RV park. Chris, Kelli, and Charlotte were going to the Chuckwagon Buffet for dinner, and Magnolia, Geoff, Abilene, and I met them there before the rehearsal. The Margollins were pulling a small Honda behind their motor home now, so they had transportation to get around. We made quite an exuberant group all gathered around one big table at the Chuckwagon. Chris entertained us with tales from a law school friend who now worked in L.A. and dealt with the high jinks legal affairs of various celebrities. (“Would you believe this one actress has written into all her contracts that she gets approval on bosom measurements of all the other actresses?”) Magnolia had a small genealogical gaffe to admit concerning a cat named Molly that had somehow gotten written into the family line as an ancestor. Charlotte had a real-estate story about people who took their poodle along to look at a house and then rejected the house because the poodle didn’t like it. (“And I’m not going to tell you how that miserable creature expressed his disapproval.”) I was pleased that we made such a compatible group. Kelli didn’t have much to say, but she and Chris were holding hands under the table.

After the meal Kelli and Chris went back to his office to look up a fine-print technicality on the insurance on Hiram’s house, and Charlotte said, with what I thought was more pride than exasperation, “See? What did I tell you? Always wrapped up in work.”

The rest of us went on to the rehearsal. I got Magnolia and Geoff settled in one of the rows of folding seats, and then Abilene helped me carry more props down from the third floor. We had backstage lined with everything from a policeman’s nightstick to a phony ham.

The first thing that went wrong was when DaisyBelle wiggled her leash out of Stella’s grasp, snatched a feather boa from one of the chorus-line dancers, and raced up the aisle with it. Charlotte took off in hot pursuit, her yells blasting even over the sound of music and dancing feet.

I thought I’d do my part and barricaded the end of the aisle with my arms spread wide. A great move, except that DaisyBelle didn’t aim for my spread arms. She dove between my knees, and down I went. Charlotte crashed on top of me, and the three of us wallowed in the aisle like three hogs in a mud hole. DaisyBelle then made sharp little pig prints across both of us and sprinted on up the aisle, feather boa flying victoriously.

All was not lost, however. Abilene, coming down the aisle behind me, grabbed DaisyBelle. The pig squealed objections, but Abilene, who I sometimes think could calm a charging hippopotamus, soothed her and carried her back to a grateful Stella, who was also running up the aisle now. They met where Charlotte and I were disentangling ourselves, and a Pig War appeared on the verge of erupting. All this time the chorus line had kept right on dancing, shimmying up a storm in their chemises and feather boas, apparently oblivious to the pig drama going on offstage. I was thinking Charlotte had been right. Pork chops it was. Maybe decorated with tiny feather boas.

But Abilene won Stella’s gratitude forever, I think, by yelling over the music, “She’s a really nice pig, isn’t she? How old is she?”

Even I, now that DaisyBelle was safely snuggled in Abilene’s arms, had to admit she looked kind of cute all wrapped up in a feather boa.

Charlotte was not so easily soothed, and she definitely did not think DaisyBelle was cute. She snatched back the boa and marched up to Lucinda, waving it like a war flag. The two of them stood face-to-face just below the stage, Charlotte’s words coming through like the boom of a loudspeaker when the music and dancing suddenly ended. “Either the pig goes or I go.”

“We’ll work it out,” Lucinda soothed. “Stella, perhaps DaisyBelle could go out to the car for the rest of rehearsal tonight?”

Stella momentarily looked as if she might grab the boa and wrap it around Charlotte’s neck, but Abilene again came to the rescue.

“I’ll help you take her out,” she offered to Stella. “We can run the heater for a few minutes so she’ll be warm.” And off they went, two new buddies discussing how wonderfully sweet and intelligent potbellied pigs were.

I hoped this meant DaisyBelle was banned from the main performance, but I could see Lucinda had a problem here. Retain the pig, lose Charlotte. Ban the pig, lose Stella. Charlotte was essential with the costumes, but Stella, singing a solo of “Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue” couldn’t be replaced in the street scene.

Magnolia was applauding the performance now as she helped me to a seat and scooted in beside me. “Ivy, that was marvelous! Is that part of the show? The audience will love it. But how did they ever train the pig to do that?”

I decided I hadn’t the energy just then to tell her that the pig caper wasn’t part of the regular performance. Getting run over by the duet of an escaping pig and an angry Historical Society lady is somewhat debilitating for an LOL.

The next thing that went wrong was Ben Simpson’s performance as Will Rogers. He got through the monologue itself okay, sitting on his tall stool, but as he was getting off the stool something in his back locked up and he couldn’t straighten up. And there the poor guy stood, looking rather like a bent toothpick.

“Is that part of the performance?” Magnolia whispered doubtfully.

“I’m afraid not.” From all appearances, I’d say Ben Simpson and Will Rogers were now kaput as far as the Revue went.

The third and worst disaster happened during the final chorus-line number, the one where the dancers circled around like a revolving wagon wheel, Lulu Newman the statuesque hub of the wheel. Lulu kicked, crumpled, and didn’t get up, her spangled costume puddled around her. People crowded around, but her husband shoved them aside to get to her. Poor Paul looked terrified as he knelt by his wife. A few minutes later an ambulance arrived, and the EMTs carried her out on a stretcher, Paul running along beside them.

Lucinda waved a hand as if in defeat. “Okay, everybody can go home now.” She plopped into a seat beside me. “Her doctor’s been telling her for months something like this could happen.”

“What now?” I said.

“It’ll shorten the program, but we can just cancel Ben Simpson’s spot. But without Lulu the chorus line falls apart. She’s like the heart of it. The centerpiece. The flagpole.”

“Can’t you just rearrange the line and put the tallest person in her spot?”

Lucinda shook her head. “There’s too much rivalry among the others. I pick one of them, and someone else will have a hissy fit. What I need is someone new . . .” Suddenly she looked beyond me to Magnolia. “Stand up, would you please?”

Magnolia looked a little surprised, but she stood up, and I suddenly saw her through Lucinda’s eyes. Tonight she was wearing a white pantsuit of some silky material that flowed around her body, and she had her trademark silk magnolia tucked in her red hair. Tall. Imposing. Regal. Yes, even statuesque.

“How about you? You want to be in the chorus line?”

Magnolia is not easy to flabbergast, but this definitely flabbergasted her. “Me?” she squeaked in a voice totally unlike her own. “Dance in the chorus line? Oh, I don’t think so—”

“Yes, you. You’d be perfect. Can you dance?”

In a split second, Magnolia did an about-face. The impossible suddenly shifted to possible. “I’ve never performed on stage, but I did have a few dancing lessons. Back when I was . . . younger.”

“Good,” Lucinda said. She didn’t inquire how many years ago those lessons were, but I knew. Tap dance lessons back in grade school. “You and Lulu are about the same size. Her costumes should fit you.”

“But it’s only a week before the performance!” I objected. “There are all the dance routines she’d have to learn, all those steps, and Lulu was such a . . . a centerpiece of the line. She’d been doing it for years, and there’s only a week—”

Magnolia drew herself up to her full height. “I think I can manage,” she said loftily, with a downward glance at me, and I felt properly chastised. Confidence has never been a problem for Magnolia, and I could see that she did not appreciate my throwing roadblocks in the path of this new venture. “I’m quite musical you know, and Geoff has always said I’m light on my feet, haven’t you, dear?”

Geoff blinked as if trying to remember ever making such a statement, and I tried to remember if Magnolia had ever exhibited any musical talent. All I could think was that she did play a radio reasonably well, which didn’t seem terribly relevant.

“And the costumes are quite lovely, aren’t they?” Magnolia added.

Yes, quite lovely. Okay, I granted reluctantly, if the clothes were right, maybe Magnolia could do it. Maybe.

Then the big problem apparently occurred to her. She looked at Geoff. “But we weren’t planning to stay here in Hello that long, were we?”

Geoff came through, as he always does, even the time Magnolia decided she wanted to make a quick side trip by dogsled when they were doing genealogical research in Alaska.

“I’m sure staying a few days longer than we planned won’t be a problem,” he said.

“Okay, it’s all set then.” Lucinda stood up. “The next regular rehearsal isn’t until Monday afternoon, but I’ll get the girls from the chorus line together tomorrow afternoon. I’ll go up to the hospital and see how Lulu is and get her costume. Can you make it tomorrow, say two o’clock?”

“Oh yes,” Magnolia said. “Perhaps you have diagrams of the chorus line’s movements? Something I could study?”

I was astonished by this bit of insight into the workings of a chorus line, but Lucinda didn’t seem surprised. “Why, yes, I do. That’s a good idea. I’ll go get them.”

“Actually,” Magnolia confided to me as we were headed back to the cabin a few minutes later, “I’ve always wanted to be in a chorus line.”

News to me. She’d never mentioned it. But then, I’ve always had a smidgen of secret desire to be one of those glamorous barrel racers in a rodeo, tearing around the arena in a rhinestone-studded cowboy hat, and I’ve never mentioned that to anyone either.

“I’m sure I’ll be quite good at it,” Magnolia added serenely. “A much better choice than skiing, actually.”

I remembered a phrase of Norman’s that seemed appropriate now. “Glory be.”

22

I had to work on Saturday, but I rushed over to the hotel as soon as I got through at the library at four o’clock. The old building felt hollow and empty today without the usual bustle of activity in the lobby and people wandering in and out, but music and thump of feet echoed from the stage.