“It’s funny you didn’t hear about it,” Fran muttered. He eyed her unhappily. “There isn’t going to be any summer theater. Mr. Crowley couldn’t raise enough money to swing it. He went back to Denver three days ago.”
“Oh!” Judy felt the blood mounting to her face. There were questions she wanted to ask but she didn’t trust herself to speak.
“I’m sorry about it, kid,” Fran murmured. “But don’t let it get you down. Maybe next year Crowley will raise the money and you’ll be back as leading lady.” He edged off the porch back to his bus. “Aspen isn’t a bad place, even without a theater. You’ll have a lot of fun. And don’t forget, whenever you want to climb—” He was at the wheel racing the motor. The bus pulled away, gathered speed, and disappeared around the corner far up the street. Slowly, Judy turned and dragged herself into the house.
“Judy? Judy? Where are you?”
“You haven’t seen the house! How do you like the piano? Ugly, but it has a wonderful tone! From what I just learned about the students coming here to practice, you’ll escape playing without even a struggle,” her mother rattled on.
“Oh, I’ll play sometimes.”
It was not only the voice bordering on despair but her features distorted in pain that made her father eye her keenly.
“Judy, why this face of gloom on this lovely, happy occasion?”
“Fran just told me that the theater is all washed up—that Mr. Crowley went back to Denver—” She couldn’t go on.
A fleeting uncertainty passed over Minna’s face but her father smiled reassuringly.