“It does sound like a conspiracy, doesn’t it?” Peggy laughed.
“It is,” Paula’s mother said. “And Mr. Andrews has a point. We two are considered to be—well—newsworthy, you know. And while it’s not much of a story just to leave for Europe, it would be considered a story if the papers found out about our sudden cancellation of the trip. If that gets into the papers, and Paula sees it, she’ll know we’re in town, and she’ll probably be more nervous than ever. Shouldn’t we go somewhere?”
“We should,” Mr. Andrews said, getting up from the table. “And before we waste any more time, I’d better get hold of those policemen and that Mr. Watkins and see that they don’t start talking to any reporters about tonight.”
He returned somewhat later, looking pleased with himself.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ve taken care of them, and I’ve rented a car. We’re going to do something we’ve both wanted to do for years, and haven’t had time for. We’re taking a nice, leisurely sight-seeing trip by car. We won’t come back till opening night, and then we’ll go straight to the theater!”
Final plans were hurriedly made for the trip, and for the timing of their arrival on opening night, as Peggy and Randy walked Mr. and Mrs. Andrews to their waiting car. Good nights and thanks were exchanged once more.
By the time that Randy delivered Peggy to the doorstep of the Gramercy Arms, the first light of dawn was showing in the east. It was nearly five in the morning. Through the kitchen windows at street level, Peggy could see May Berriman, Amy, and Greta, surrounded by coffee cups, doggedly waiting up for her. It would still be awhile, she knew, before she would get to bed.
XV
Act One
First Night!
A magic phrase and a magic moment to everyone in show business! The glitter, the jitters, the excitement of a first night are the same everywhere—for the big new Broadway show, with its stars, its lavish sets and costumes, its important audience in formal dress, as well as for the smallest theater in the smallest town in America. In high school and college auditoriums, in summer tents and barns, in tiny converted carriage-house theaters in the back streets of Greenwich Village, the glamour comes as always, and with it, the feverish excitement.