“Pooh,” Rita chuckled. “Nobody ever has all the things she needs in stock, Peggy. We all borrow from each other.”
“I doubt if Alison will want anything, anyway,” Peggy said, reflecting on the piles of luggage Alison had brought. “Oh, Rita, here we are, talking as if the theater will actually open, and for all we know, Thursday night may come and we’ll all be on the bus going back to New York!”
She sank dejectedly on her bed while Rita carefully folded the little jacket. “We might be,” Rita conceded cheerfully, “but I don’t think we will! You’re forgetting your trunk, Peggy. Remember? Your symbol of good luck!” She patted it with a smile as she left the room, leaving Peggy some of her contagious optimism.
On stage at last! Peggy could hardly believe it. She ran lightly up the steps from the auditorium floor, crossed the stage, tried each piece of furniture, moving back and forth—
“What on earth are you doing?” Alison called from the front row where she was seated, holding a coffee container while she waited for rehearsal to begin.
“Getting the feel of the set,” Peggy called happily as she ran to the stairs up left, crossed down right, and exited. “Where’s the prop phone?” she asked, reappearing from the wings.
“Michael’s out getting props,” Gus answered, coming on stage with a paintbrush to put the finishing touches on the banister.
Peggy ran down to the auditorium floor again, walked up the aisle, and stood looking at the stage. Gus had done a beautiful job, she realized with a thrill. For their opening show an effective set was important, and Gus had transformed the flats with a miracle of paint and imagination. The room was so realistic that Peggy felt she could touch the molding on the walls.
“You’d think you never saw a stage before in your life,” Alison commented lazily, getting up and stretching.
“I feel like this every time,” Peggy said. “There’s something absolutely magical about a good set—like moving into a brand-new home. I love it!”