“That’s all for tonight,” Mal called. “But before you go, Randy has a bit of a surprise for you.”
“As you know,” Randy began when the actors had formed a circle about him, “tomorrow night is the audition performance. Our possible backer is grateful for all the work you’ve done on this scene for him, and to show his gratitude, he’s buying us all a good dinner first. So instead of coming here, come to Paolo’s Restaurant on East 48th Street, to the private dining room upstairs. See you there about six o’clock.”
Delighted with this gesture, the cast gathered their coats and hats and prepared to leave. Peggy hesitated, looking at Paula, who was no longer crying, but who still sat exhausted where she had finished the scene.
“Peggy,” Randy said, “will you take Paula home, please? She looks really exhausted, and I don’t want her walking, so take a cab, and I’ll pay for it.”
“That’s a good idea,” Peggy agreed. “I’ve been worried about her, too. Maybe I can get her to tell me if something’s bothering her. I tried once, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Maybe in the taxi, though....”
Paula gladly accepted the lift but, though still friendly and warm, was no more inclined to talk about her troubles, if any, than before. The address she gave proved to be in a fine block of remodeled town houses on East 36th Street, just a half block off Park Avenue—not at all the sort of place where Peggy expected a department-store salesgirl to live.
Without inviting Peggy in, she thanked her for the ride, waved good-by, and let herself in through a green-lacquered door with polished brass fittings.
Puzzled and worried, Peggy leaned back in the taxi seat and gave the driver the address of the Gramercy Arms.
Peggy had been in the crowded, brightly lighted, vaulted cellars of Paolo’s before, on dates with Randy, but this was the first time she had ever been in the private dining room. In fact, until now, she had not even suspected that such a room existed. She could not have been more astonished, then, to find that the restaurant occupied the entire four-story building instead of just the basement.
A tiny automatic elevator, that had barely room enough for four passengers squeezed together, carried Peggy and Amy to the top floor. Although they were scarcely five minutes late, the rest of the cast had already preceded them and were wandering about talking gaily and eating appetizers from the long, beautifully decorated table that filled one end of the room. Peggy spotted Paula, eating hungrily and, between bites, talking with animation to Greta and Alan Douglas. She looked much better than she had the night before, and Peggy felt a sense of relief. Maybe she had been making too much of just a normal case of tiredness.