Chapter 1

Posted on Friday, 10 November 2006

William was ready to listen to some amateurs slaughter Sondheim.

Not the man himself, although on reflection he considered that might be slightly pleasanter.

He had gotten himself into this by being too friendly with the attorney in the office next to his. Or actually, he'd really gotten himself into this by moving back to Maryland in the first place, since he could hardly help making friends with Charles once they had met. Charles was that kind of person.

One five-minute conversation had been sufficient to determine that both had practiced big-city corporate law - William in New York; Charles in Washington - although Charles had tired of it after only two years while William had lasted four; that Charles was a year younger than William; that both had grown up in Maryland, although Charles was from the Eastern Shore and William was a Baltimorean; that they had both attended excellent schools - Charles at Dartmouth and Yale, William at Yale and Georgetown - and that both had performed with undergraduate theatrical groups. That last was what had led Charles to exclaim that William simply had to accompany him to the performance of Sondheim's Into the Woods - the musical that combined the stories of well-known fairy tale characters - being given that very weekend by the community group to which Charles belonged.

William had his doubts about the Oxford Lyric Opera - the name coming from the town on the Eastern Shore where they performed, not the venerable university - and about the talents of, as Charles had described them, a mixed bag of twenty-something lawyers and young professionals from Annapolis and the Upper Bay who missed their college theater days. In the name of civility, and because Charles was the first really friendly person he had met since arriving in Annapolis, William had agreed to attend. But he was prepared for the worst.

After driving over the Bay Bridge - mercifully less crowded on a Friday in November than at most other times of the year - they were to meet Charles's cousin for drinks before the show. Carrie was also a member of "Olo," as they insisted on calling it, and lost no time in sizing William up as . . .

"A lyric tenor," she pronounced gleefully as the waiter wrote down their drink orders. "Just what we need."

"A baritone, actually," he replied, casually sliding his chair a bit further from hers under the guise of pulling it closer to the bar. "And I thought Charles was a tenor."

"Well he is, but you can never have too many," she purred. "Of course you can never have too many baritones, either."

William was beginning to think Carrie could never have too many of any kind of man, ever. Or perhaps she was only partial to men who could sing. "Are there many strong singers in the group?" he asked diplomatically.

"Oh, absolutely!" Charles replied. "You'll see some of them tonight - a very strong tenor, Edward - he's a real operatic tenor, not like me . . ." Charles accompanied this declaration with a cheerful grin as he accepted his martini from the waiter, making it clear that he did not disparage himself in hopes that someone would contradict him. "Of course," he continued, "in this show you won't hear his highest range, he plays Jack, you know, the beanstalk boy. The guys playing the princes are great, too. And Jane, she plays Cinderella . . ."

Carrie cut him off before he could say anything further about Cinderella. "You'll just love Jane, everyone does," she gushed. "Her voice is so pretty, it's just amazing. And she looks so adorable in her ball gown."

"Yes, she does," Charles agreed in a way that made William look at him with more interest.

"You didn't want to be Cinderella's Prince?" he asked slyly.

If Charles picked up on his insinuation, he didn't show it. "I was too busy this summer, what with that tax case we just finished. I would never have been able to get to rehearsal every night."

Carrie, although no one had asked her, piped up with, "And of course I didn't audition either - I've been much too busy with all my other activities."

Although she clearly wanted them to ask what her other activities were, Charles was distracted by something she had said and asked, "But you're going to audition for the fall production, aren't you? You love the show."

"Oh of course - there's no doubt I would want to be in that one! I've been practicing my audition song for a week already." She turned to William, martini clasped imploringly in both hands. "We got permission to do Les Miserables this fall - one of the first amateur adult groups to be granted the rights! I guess it's probably because we're way out here in the boonies . . ."

"Or because our group, unlike most, is run by very clever lawyers," Charles put in.

"But you will audition, won't you?" Carrie continued as if her cousin had not spoken. "We're going to need a few good baritones. Marius, for example . . ."

"Marius is a tenor role," William said as he tried to spear an olive at the bottom of his drink. "But," he added quickly before Carrie could continue her argument, "I'll certainly think about auditioning. If I have time - you know, I only just started at the firm."

"Let him see one of the shows first, Carrie," Charles said by way of rescuing him. "You can't expect him to commit to the group without seeing us in action."

"Oh, you'll love it," she said smoothly. "As we were saying, we have some really great cast members in this show. There are always a few weak links, but . . . well, Rapunzel, for example, isn't very good. And the witch - I haven't seen any rehearsals, but I've known her for years, and I just love her, but . . . well, not to be mean or anything, but she's not that attractive. She could do better if she tried a little more, but she doesn't seem to care about her clothes or wear makeup or anything - anyway I'm sure she's fine in the beginning of the show, but . . ."

Charles interrupted, with his brow sufficiently furrowed that William gathered he actually quite liked the actress in question. "Really, Carrie," he said. "Don't you think that's a little too harsh? I mean, she doesn't get herself up like Paris Hilton -"

"Isn't the witch supposed to transform and become beautiful partway through the show?" William asked, if only to stop them from getting into a conversation about the woman's choices in clothing.

"Yes, at the end of the first act." Carrie's expression of deeply sincere worry was not entirely as sincere as she probably hoped. "And I'm just afraid people will think it's - you know, funny."

"Funny?" William echoed.

"You know - huge crash of music, big flourish, and she doesn't look any better than she did before? What if they laugh?"

"Carrie, I highly doubt they're going to laugh." Charles turned to William and set his drink down on the bar. "The poor girl's only sin is coming to rehearsal in her work clothes instead of getting dressed up for a night on the town. I've never seen her very dressed up - before this she's only been in character roles - but no one is going to laugh. I'm sure she'll look very pretty."

Carrie cast a look at William that clearly proclaimed she thought her cousin was being too generous.

As they slid into their seats in the small theater OLO rented for their productions - Carrie having run off in a cloud of perfume to give kisses on the cheek to a number of women wearing sparkly tops and very tight pants - William asked Charles, "So tell me more about Jane. Carrie seems to like her." He felt it unnecessary to point out further that Carrie had run down every other woman she had mentioned, so there must be something particularly interesting about this Jane if Carrie found her nonthreatening.

"Yes, well . . ." Charles opened his program and glanced down the list of names in the cast before replying. "Carrie doesn't tend to like women who . . . compete with her for the attention of the men in the group. She's my cousin, and I've known her since she was born, but I have to say it. Jane - although she's very pretty, probably prettier than any of the other girls in the group, she doesn't offer any threat or competition to Carrie. She doesn't flirt, she doesn't dress especially provocatively - and most of the men are interested in girls that are -"

He was comically interrupted by one of the men sitting in the row in front of them - a man of about twenty-one or twenty-two, wearing a Redskins jersey - who pointed at the program and said, "I remember this chick from the last show! She's hot!"

While Charles smothered a laugh, William finished, "Girls that are 'hot?'"

With a roll of his eyes, Charles replied, "Exactly." He dropped his voice to whisper, "That guy's a work colleague of Rapunzel's Prince. He's nice about coming to see Dennis in all the shows, but otherwise I don't have much time for him."

"Who was he talking about?" William whispered back, scanning his own program for help.

"Lydia. She plays Little Red Riding Hood - she's good, but also definitely . . ."

"Hot?"

"Yeah." Returning his voice to its normal volume, Charles continued, "Anyway, Jane - she always looks great, but she doesn't show a lot of cleavage and make suggestive comments and get hammered at cast parties. Ergo, she's not really of interest to the men Carrie's after. She's too sweet. So Carrie's free to like her."

"And you like her, too?"

William had never seen a twenty-eight-year-old male lawyer blush before, but Charles managed it. "Sure. She's really nice."

Nice? William was still shaking his head as the lights began to dim. "I'm surprised Carrie doesn't like - what's-her-name, the witch. If she's not very attractive."

"Well, I don't think she's at all unattractive," Charles whispered back. "But I'm looking forward to seeing her in this role."

"Let's hope it's not a case of some poor, plain girl embarrassing herself by thinking she looks better than she does."

"It won't be," Charles whispered as the people in front of them turned around to glare. The conductor was taking his place to begin the show.

At first glance, Charles and Carrie seemed to have described the cast members aptly. There were a few weak spots - the Narrator, a role that in many ways needed to carry the first act by knitting all the characters together, was rather dull; and it was very difficult to hear some of the singers. Jack seemed just as good as Charles had said, although his singing part in the first number didn't show off his voice very much. Jane, however, was every bit the standout William had expected. She was a beautiful girl - about twenty-four maybe, tall and well-built, with dark curls prettily arranged around her face, a lovely fair complexion, and a sweet, warm smile. Her soprano singing voice perfectly matched her appearance; it was light, bright, and danced comfortably over the highest notes. Within seconds of the opening of the show she had convinced William that this might not be so bad after all, and he settled back in his seat to enjoy at least her performance.

After all the extended discussion at the bar he was very curious to see the witch, who did not enter until halfway through the opening number. When she stumped onstage to visit the Baker and his wife - the made-up characters who tied the other fairy tales together in Sondheim's plot - some members of the audience gasped audibly. The costume designers had obviously done their work well - the witch was almost frightening, with a twisted, ugly face peering out from beneath a dark hood. From William's vantage point it looked as though most of the effect had been accomplished with makeup, accentuating deep-set eyes, a wrinkled brow, a pock-marked chin, an ugly scar on one cheek. The nose, long and twisted, was clearly a prosthetic, as possibly was some of the chin. A frizzed mass of white hair tumbled from out of the hood, and long black claws seemed to take the place of fingernails. She was hunched over, leaning heavily on a twisted wooden walking stick, and she was clearly what William's mother would call a "big girl" - her girth was not grotesque, but she easily outweighed the Baker.

When she began to speak, and to sing, he instantly felt the same way he had about Jane as Cinderella - she might not be pretty, but this woman was good in her role and she would give an enjoyable performance (at least until she was supposed to become beautiful). Her voice gave impressive variety to the witch's pronouncements, and of all the cast members she showed perhaps the most comfort with Sondheim's queer rhymes and difficult rhythms. William found himself especially mesmerized by her hands, which curled into hideous-looking talons and yet accentuated everything she said with impressive flexibility of motion.

Indeed, he was impressed with everything. The rest of the first act proceeded with few surprises - except that Rapunzel, the one Carrie had described as "not very good," was a pretty enough girl who acted her role competently and had an incredible coloratura soprano voice.

When the time came for the witch's transformation - the Baker and his wife had broken the spell that kept them childless and had made the witch old and ugly. During the entire short scene preceding the actress had artfully kept her face more or less hidden within her hood so that it was impossible to see what she looked like - no doubt her makeup had been changed backstage and she would merely throw off the hood in order to transform. The music grew tense, the lights flickered, the other characters reacted in accordance with their storylines, and then the lights blacked out for a quick three or four seconds, no more, and flashed back on again in time to a huge flourish from the orchestra.

"Oh my God," said Charles. "She looks amazing."

The woman standing center stage, with the remains of her former costume apparently whisked offstage during the blackout, was as different as night and day from the witch she had been seconds earlier. If he hadn't known better, William would have asked if it were a different actress. It was now clear, first of all, that her girth had been padding: this woman - now wearing a gown made of what looked like dark blue velvet, tight and strapless at the top and with a slit reaching all the way to her right thigh - this woman could barely have weighed a hundred pounds. She had just enough of a chest that no one would call her flat, and her arms were well-toned, but she was otherwise almost thin enough to be a dancer. William could see now that her complexion was perfectly clear and very fair, and her eyes wide and bright. Her hair was a light brown, twisted in some elaborate way around her head almost like a crown. Looking at her carefully, as the audience applauded (and, in the case of some, whistled) at her transformation, he could spot the aspects of the witch that had really belonged to her: the thin, flexible hands, the long bridge of her nose, the high (now smooth) forehead. Although the audience reaction had to have been flattering, her expression remained proud and cold until she left the stage - the slit in her dress parting as she walked, revealing a very high heeled-shoe and a very long, slender leg.

"Wow," Charles said. William had to agree.

During the final number of the first act he got a much better look at the witch - as well as a glimpse of how she would be performing the role differently now that she was supposed to be young and beautiful. It was hard to pinpoint her age, although William guessed with some surprise that she was younger than he. The reason for the very high heels was easy to spot - it was not because they were sexy, he suspected, but rather because she was not of a very imposing height without them. She had dropped all attempts at a "character" voice and the one she was using now was clearly her own. It was a low voice for a woman, although her singing voice in contrast was light and high. In all, she did a commendable job at maintaining her character while easing comfortably into a young and vital appearance. William applauded her, and all the other members of the cast, enthusiastically as the act ended.

"That was really very good," he told Charles as the lights came up.

"Wasn't it?" Charles asked, his eyes sparkling. "I expected it to be good, but this is amazing. And Elizabeth looked fantastic, didn't you think?"

"Elizabeth is . . ."

"The witch?"

"Oh, yes!" William glanced at his program before replying. "Yes, her transformation was very well done. A remarkable job by both the costumer and the actress."

"Jane was lovely, of course."

"Yes, she was," William replied sincerely. "She looked beautiful in that gold and silver gown. And her singing voice is wonderful."

"Should we run backstage and say hi to everyone during intermission?"

"Oh - well, I don't know. It's not really . . ."

"Everyone doesn't do it, of course," Charles said hastily. "We do have some claims to professionalism. But members of the group are considered welcome backstage at any time - and I can introduce you around; some of them might not be at the cast party and I want you to meet everybody."

William finally acceded, and they headed for an unmarked door that led down a stairwell to the backstage area. The first person they ran into was a man named Brian who had provided very good physical comedy in the silent role of Jack's cow (Brian had removed the cow head in order to get some air). Jack himself - or rather, Edward the celebrated tenor - was cheerfully having a drink of water with the Baker, and they both seemed pleased to meet William.

As they rounded the corner toward the ladies' dressing area in search of Jane, William found his eyes unwillingly seized by a quantity of bare shoulder and back, very fair over a dark velvet gown. The witch, who was facing away from them, was unpinning her hair and the position showed the lean muscles in her back and arms to great advantage. She had also kicked off her shoes, and William was able to confirm his suspicion that she was, at most, eye-level with his chest.

"Elizabeth, you need any help?" another girl called from across the room.

"No thank you!" the witch called back. As William watched - Charles had edged past him to look for Jane - she let her hair fall down around her shoulders and then began twisting the sides back away from her face. She frowned into the mirror as she worked, but she was also cheerfully discussing some backstage mishap with the girl who was playing Rapunzel.

Now that he had seen her in "real life," William had to give this Elizabeth even more credit for her acting than he had done previously. Her haughtiness had disappeared, although she retained a natural reserve that wasn't nearly as cold, and her smile was perfectly friendly. The pitch of her voice was a bit higher offstage as well, and with her witch persona dropped it was easier to see that she was probably several years younger than William. He smiled benignly at her back as she prepared for the second act, until Charles brought Jane over to meet him.

Jane, still wearing an enormous gold and silver ball gown and a sparkling tiara, was as pretty and sweet in person as she seemed on stage. They exchanged small pleasantries about the show for a few moments, and then Charles dropped a hand onto Elizabeth's shoulder and turned her around, saying, "Elizabeth, come and meet my friend William. He's thinking of auditioning for the next show."

"Oh, really?" Elizabeth finished pinning one side of her hair as she turned around. "It's nice to meet you. We're definitely going to need new people for Les Miserables - it's such a big cast."

Her smile was warm enough, but she greeted him in the way that he expected she would greet anyone - which is to say, she didn't instantly turn into Carrie and begin dropping innuendo about needing a good tenor. William couldn't quite decide whether he should be pleased about that or not.

Another voice appeared at his elbow to say, "Hey guys, we're gonna head back up to our seats." The speaker was the Redskins-emblazoned man who had been sitting in front of William and Charles. He glanced at them sidelong as he spoke.

A momentary silence fell, and Elizabeth quickly said, "Oh - John, have you met Charles's friend William?"

The man looked at William again, and then said in a tone filled with portent that William didn't understand, "We didn't meet, but he's sitting right behind us, aren't you?"

William nodded politely without any enthusiasm, but strangely, Elizabeth's expression seemed to close off. She turned rather deliberately to Charles and said, "Well, I have to finish getting ready. I'll see you at the cast party?"

Charles apparently didn't notice that Elizabeth's attitude toward William, while not especially open in the first place, had grown a degree colder in the last moment. "Sure! We'll be there," he replied. He glanced shyly at Jane, and she nodded back and smiled.

William managed to stop looking at Elizabeth in confusion and turned to his friend. "Let's get back to our seats, then." By the time they left, Elizabeth had already turned away and was putting her shoes back on. Although she was not yet back on stage, her haughty expression was firmly in place.

Chapter 2

Posted on Monday, 13 November 2006

William enjoyed the second act of Into the Woods, although he was slightly puzzled as to why Elizabeth had seemed to dislike him so instantly, on their first meeting. He couldn't have said anything to offend her - indeed, he'd hardly said anything to her, or in her presence, at all.

That aside, however, the difficult second act of the show was performed well - staged with a bit of creativity, and carried ably by Jane, Elizabeth, and the actor playing the Baker in particular. William noticed that Jane and Elizabeth shared the same tendency to blush with faint embarrassment, or shyness, during their curtain calls - to which the audience had responded with resounding applause for all the roles. A small part of the benefit, he thought, of having a regular audience consisting of many friends and family members.

William allowed Charles, without putting up much of a fight, to drag him to the cast party after the show at the Baker's house. Upon their arrival, however, Charles led them both to the kitchen, poured them each a glass of wine, and then clapped William on the back and said, "Right back. I want to go and congratulate everyone."

Apparently he had meant that he wanted to congratulate them at incredible speed and that William would only slow him down, because William had barely taken a sip of his wine before he found himself standing alone with Charles nowhere to be seen. He dreaded being possibly drawn into conversation with Carrie if he left the kitchen - she had definitely seemed to have him in her sights - but then if he stayed in the kitchen, and she found him there, they would be alone. He decided to make his way back out to the party.

Almost immediately upon entering the room he heard his name, and he winced at the sound of a high female voice calling him, but it turned out to be Jane who was making her way through the crowd to his side.

"I'm so glad Charles brought you!" she exclaimed with a warmth that convinced him of her sincerity. "But did he abandon you already?"

William leaned back against the wall - he and Jane were now, conveniently, tucked in a corner out of the way of most of the revelers - and said, "He went off to mingle, I think."

"Ah." Jane smiled down at her half-full wine glass. "That's Charles for you - 'the life of the party' isn't exactly the right description for him, but something like that only less drunk."

Jane was looking very pretty in a dark red dress, and her looks were only enhanced by the slight flush that crept over her cheeks as she talked about Charles.

"Have you known him long?" William asked.

"About a year - since my first show with the group. We were in The Music Man together."

"Charles didn't play Professor Hill?" Somehow William couldn't picture that.

"No, he was one of the barbershop quartet. Edward played Harold Hill - Edward was Jack tonight, you know."

"Charles pointed him out to me. He says he's a very good tenor."

"He is, he's fantastic. Everyone's expecting him to be cast as Valjean, unless someone new tries out." Jane looked up at him, her smile suddenly broader. "So, have you made up your mind? Charles said you might audition."

He shrugged. "I'm thinking about it."

"Thinking about it seriously?"

He couldn't help but smile back in the face of Jane's gentle teasing. "Yes, seriously."

"Good!"

"What's good?" Charles asked as he joined them. He propped himself against the wall just behind Jane, and William had to hide a smile at the quick, furtive glances that passed between them.

"William is thinking seriously about auditioning for Les Mis," Jane said, twisting around to address Charles.

They were distracted by a man speaking nearby in a very loud voice who, as became clear after a moment, was extolling the virtues of Elizabeth's cleavage and her legs in the costume she'd worn as the younger, beautiful witch. This would have been bad enough, in William's mind, but then he noticed that the man was actually talking to Elizabeth. She was smiling weakly but looked entirely trapped, and William watched as she formulated some excuse and made a beeline for Charles and Jane, who had also been watching the exchange.

"Well, now I need a shower," she commented dryly.

"Would you settle for a refill?" Charles asked, plucking her empty glass from her hands.

"Bless you," she said with an honest grin.

"Jane?" Charles asked.

"Oh." She looked down at her glass. "Not at the moment, thanks."

"Back in a sec," Charles told them before heading off to the kitchen again.

"So who was that?" William asked.

Elizabeth seemed to notice him for the first time and looked slightly startled. "Oh. Hello," she said. "That's - um - Kevin. He performs with the group sometimes. He's really harmless, just a little . . . shameless as well."

Jane patted Elizabeth sympathetically on the back. "It'll be someone else next time. Just think of all the women who'll be dressed as prostitutes in Les Mis."

"One of whom will no doubt be me," Elizabeth pointed out, "and you."

"I had sort of forgotten about that," Jane said, eyeing her wine glass. "I may need more wine after all. In fact, I may need it to get me on stage in - whatever that getup is likely to be."

"You can probably still catch Charles in the kitchen," Elizabeth said. William looked at her suspiciously, but her expression was one of pure innocence.

"Maybe I'll do that." Jane gestured toward William's glass. "Need a refill?"

"No, thanks." He watched her carefully elbow her way through the crowd, and an awkward silence fell between him and Elizabeth.

"So," she said finally, "how did you like the show?"

"It was really good," he replied, hoping his enthusiasm sounded as sincere as it actually was. "Overall I thought it was a great production. And you were . . . wonderful, in that role." He thought he saw something flicker in her eyes, and he quickly added, "So many of the cast were - really excellent."

Elizabeth surveyed him for a moment, her nose crinkling just the tiniest bit. "So there was nothing . . . say . . . embarrassing about it? The show, I mean?"

"Um - no?" He could feel his brow furrowing as he peered down at her, and he suspected that this was not an attractive look for him, but he was confused. Why would she ask -

Oh. Oops. He kicked himself mentally for having been an idiot, although at least now he thought he understood why Elizabeth had been so cold with him. The Redskins Man - John - had talked to Elizabeth down in the dressing room as though he had already had a conversation with her before William and Charles arrived, and was merely saying goodbye before returning to his seat. Obviously, although for what reason William couldn't imagine, the man had repeated William's careless comment before the show to Elizabeth.

Why would anyone do that, though? he wondered. It could only serve to make her feel bad, or self-conscious - why repeat something insulting said in ignorance by a total stranger?

Then he realized he had been thinking for much too long, and Elizabeth was still staring at him. But how to fix - not, of course, that he cared what she thought of him. But he really didn't want to be rude to Charles's friends the first time they met - especially if he were to audition for their next show.

"Er - yes, well . . ." She was still looking up at him, wide-eyed, waiting to see what he would say. "Actually the entire show really - exceeded my expectations. Charles's cousin Carrie had told me a bit about it, and . . ." He wasn't sure what else to say, but the mention of Carrie's name seemed to have done the trick. Elizabeth didn't necessarily look any friendlier, but she suddenly looked as though she understood what had happened.

"So Carrie told you what to expect?" she asked, nodding slightly.

"Well - yes. Yes, she did. She was right about Jane," he added hastily. "She said Jane was - I think 'amazing' and 'adorable' were the words. And of course, she is both."

Elizabeth relaxed into a faint smile. "Yes, she is, isn't she? Carrie's always been . . . a big fan, of Jane's." Their eyes met for a moment in which neither seemed to have anything to say - and then Elizabeth turned as if to look for Jane and Charles, and in that moment she did something - a gesture, a tilt of her head, he couldn't even really identify what it was - that made him see her, for that moment, as not merely rather pretty but very pretty. Then she looked back and must have caught him watching her - she seemed to be holding her breath for an instant - and then whatever had passed between them was over as quickly as it had happened, and Jane and Charles were threading their way back through the crowd with full wineglasses.

******************

As was, perhaps, inevitable, William found himself two weeks later standing in the lobby of the same rented theater holding a sheet of photocopied music and humming quietly to himself. Although he had not seen any of the other OLO members since the cast party, Charles had kept up a steady stream of chatter at the office about the group, and the members, and how much fun it was, and the grand production they had planned for Les Miserables, until William finally had to admit that he was very much tempted to audition. He had refused, however, to choose an audition song until he actually arrived at the theater - practicing would have made him feel too desperate - and so here he was, trying to decide between something from South Pacific and a number from Brigadoon. Or possibly something entirely different.

The drill seemed to be that they would each go into the theater with the directors and sing their prepared (or not, in William's case) song, and then would be called back in later in small groups or pairs to sing the music they had been given to learn. William's sheet contained bits of the scenes - all sung - between Valjean, the hero (a very high tenor, so William knew he would at least not be asked to sing that) and Javert, the police inspector who tracks him down over decades in an attempt to return him to finish his prison sentence; as well as a handful of scenes between several of the young revolutionary students, and a short scene between Marius and Eponine that occurred near the very beginning of their storyline.

Jane had been one of the earliest to audition. She had trooped into the theater gamely, with Elizabeth calling, "Just be sure not to think about prostitute costumes!" after her. The doors did not close tightly, and those waiting to audition were able to hear the strongest (and, not coincidentally, the highest) parts of Jane's rendition of "If I Loved You" from Carousel. She came out looking flushed and happy, and quickly sank into a chair to await being called back in. When Elizabeth on the other hand got up to audition, she looked surprisingly pale and shaky. William couldn't tell what she had chosen to sing - it wasn't quite loud enough for that - but he could hear enough to make out that despite her Into the Woods role she leaned toward soprano, and that her high notes were nice and clean. When she came out she looked as though she had just survived a terrible ordeal, although she was playing it as casually as she could manage. As she sat down, she whispered to Jane, "I really hate auditions."

William finally settled on "Being Alive" from Sondheim's Company - apparently Into the Woods had gotten the composer firmly stuck in his head - and thought that he managed to sing it without faltering, at least. His last real singing experience had been in college nearly ten years previous, so he had no idea whether he had been good enough to get a role. At least, he thought, he hadn't embarrassed himself. Or not much.

He was called in early for his first chance with another singer, and was asked to sing the Javert part while the actor who had played the Narrator in Into the Woods (a man named Sean, apparently) sang Valjean. Sean didn't have a very strong voice and seemed to struggle with the highest notes, but William felt, again, as though he had at least sung competently. When they had sung through the scene twice, the director and music director put their heads together and whispered for a moment before the director announced, "Okay Sean, thanks very much, you can go. William, we'll want you to come back in a few minutes, but for now could you send in Kevin and Charles?"

Kevin was indeed the same Kevin who had been discussing Elizabeth's - assets with her at the cast party. He managed to be tall and stocky at the same time, and his face seemed set in a sort of leering frown. Charles treated him with friendliness, however, which supported Elizabeth's claim that the man was really harmless.

What followed was a round of musical tenors: Charles emerged and sent Edward in to audition, then Edward came out and sent in someone named Tim, and then William stopped paying attention until the stream of tenors turned into a stream of women and eventually Jane was called in with Charles.

The piano music William could hear from the lobby indicated that Jane and Charles were doing the Marius and Eponine scene, although neither of them was singing it at full enough volume to be heard clearly. It sounded as though they ran through it about three times, and then Jane came out and, with a shy little smile, sent Elizabeth in to take her place. Charles and Elizabeth seemed to run through the same musical interlude at least five or six times before Charles came out and sent William back in.

When he came into the room Elizabeth was standing by the piano, leaning on it just a bit and smiling wanly. She did appear to have relaxed a little - maybe singing with Charles had been good for her - but there was still an air of "anywhere but here" about her. William smiled at her, but from her reaction it hadn't done much good.

Once they started singing, however, Elizabeth relaxed into the music and instantly seemed less nervous (of course, she had already sung the same scene a number of times). In this interlude, Eponine was attempting, clumsily, to flirt with Marius while he asked her to find out more about the beautiful girl (Cosette) he had spotted earlier that day. William had to admit that Elizabeth knew how to act a role, and that having a good actor opposite him made his own audition better. She slid easily into playing the awkward coquette, reaching out and touching his arm in a way he suspected she never would have done in real life, smiling at him out of a sideways glance, and then adeptly playing a girl who had been disappointed and was trying to hide it. At least twice he caught himself watching her instead of thinking about his own effort, but they ran through the scene four times and he had ample opportunity to try harder. When they were finished he was dismissed for the evening, and told to send Charles back in again.

On his way into the theater Charles said hastily, "Wait till I'm done and come for drinks with us. Jane's coming too, and Joel."

William was tempted to ask whether Charles couldn't get up the nerve to ask Jane for a date on their own, but the prospect of a drink after the long audition process was too appealing - and he was much too keyed up to want to make the drive back to Annapolis right away. He nodded his acceptance and went to sit with Jane while they waited, most of the other auditioners having gone home when their parts were finished.

Charles and Elizabeth emerged together a short time later, both obviously on the verge of laughing, and sent Edward, by himself, back into the theater. "And there goes Valjean," Elizabeth said softly as the door closed behind him.

"Undoubtedly," Charles said. "I heard a bit of his audition and it was phenomenal. I don't know what he's doing hanging out here with us." He smiled around at the rest of them and said, "So - drinks? Elizabeth's coming too, right?"

"Sure," she agreed with a show of reluctance. Charles took an arm of hers and an arm of Jane's and steered them toward the exit, leaving William and Joel to follow behind.

"So what were you laughing about?" Joel called up ahead as they walked. "Your last round can't have been that bad."

Charles and Elizabeth looked at each other and both began to laugh again. "We did the beginning of the death scene," Charles said.

"Three times," Elizabeth added.

"And you know how it is," Charles finished, "you're trying really hard to do well because you know this is such a serious scene, and then everyone gets a bad case of the giggles."

"Including the directors," Elizabeth said. "They practically threw us out of the room to get control of themselves. It's been a long night."

"Hey, guess what I've got?" Charles pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and waved it in the air.

"It's a cell phone?" said Joel blankly.

"It gets email!" Charles clarified. "They'll be emailing the cast list as soon as they're finished in there - we can watch for it at the bar."

"And I'm officially back in high school, waiting to see if I got the lead in The Sound of Music," Jane sighed.

"Did you?" Charles asked curiously.

"With that face, of course she did," Elizabeth answered for her. Jane blushed, but nodded.

At the bar the conversation centered around audition recaps and predictions of who would be cast as what. William had ended up next to Jane and across from Elizabeth, but Elizabeth seemed to be avoiding his eyes and kept her attention focused on the others. Whenever their eyes did accidentally meet, she would look embarrassed and perhaps a bit confused, and turn quickly away. In the end he decided that deciphering her behavior would have to be a task for another night, because he was (if he were honest with himself) much too excited about the auditions.

It was about an hour before Charles's phone buzzed, indicating that he had a new email. Charles cast a nervous glance around the table before he opened it, but when he had finished skimming the email William saw his posture relax. Charles smiled and said, "Well, I think we should all be happy. Ladies first?" He passed the phone across the table to Jane.

"So we're all in?" Joel clarified as Jane's eyes searched the email for her name.

"We're all in," Charles confirmed.

"Who are you?"

"Marius," Jane answered for him, her cheeks coloring as she read from the phone's screen.

Marius would be a wonderful part for Charles, William thought. Amid the general congratulations Elizabeth asked Jane, "And what about you?"

Yes, the blush on Jane's cheeks had definitely grown darker. "Cosette." Of course, William thought, hiding his smile in his beer glass.

Elizabeth actually got up and ran around the table to throw her arms around Jane, who laughed in response. "Here," she said, handing the phone to Elizabeth, "find yourself."

Elizabeth skimmed the email expectantly, but then her face paled and she stared wide-eyed at the screen. "Are they on crack?" she asked rhetorically. Charles and Jane, the only ones in the know, both laughed and Charles said, "Nicely done, Elizabeth." Elizabeth, however, didn't seem to have recovered. "No, seriously," she said, "I had thought maybe Cosette or something if they drafted you for Fantine - obviously you're a much better choice for a true soprano role than me, but - I can't sing this."

"Yes, you can, don't be silly," Jane said. "They wouldn't have cast you otherwise."

"It's just - I - oh!" Elizabeth turned to William and flushed in embarrassment. "Sorry, didn't mean to . . . here you go."

William was almost more interested in her role than in his own, having seen her terrified reaction - luckily, they were listed very near each other. He had been given the role of Enjolras, the leader of the student uprising. It was a high baritone role, which made him a bit nervous, but he hadn't reached Elizabeth's level of horror. The reason for her reaction was quite clear: she had been cast as Eponine. Many of the women auditioning had probably coveted that role, but it was a mezzo/alto part and what he had heard of Elizabeth's voice made it clear that she was happier as a soprano.

"I wouldn't worry about it," he told her as he passed the phone to Joel (who, William saw, had been cast as the criminal innkeeper Thenardier). "I heard you audition, remember, and Eponine isn't much different from what you did as the witch."

"But it's . . . not really my style," Elizabeth fretted as she returned to her own seat. In her nervousness she seemed to have forgotten not to look at William. "I can sing the songs, basically, if I try to get through it in my head voice. But it's always done so pop-rock-y - I'm just not sure I can pull that off, or at least not with a straight face."

"So don't do it that way," Jane said. "They cast you, not someone else. Maybe they want the role done your way."

Elizabeth still looked so pale that William added, "And your acting, frankly, had to have outclassed most of the other contenders." When she looked up at him, startled, he looked to Charles and said, "Right?"

"Absolutely," Charles said. "Now we know why we ran those Marius/Eponine scenes so many times, Lizzy."

"I guess." Elizabeth made a conscious effort to shake off her nervousness and said brightly, "We'll see! I'm glad we all made it." Although she was not looking at William, he chose to believe that she included him in the sentiment.

Charles raised his near-empty glass of beer. "To French musicals, big long death scenes, and building a giant barricade on a stage that's much too small for it!"

"That's the attitude I like to hear!" Joel said as the rest of them raised their glasses.

For those interested:

The Music Man is by Meredith Willson
South Pacific is by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein, as are Carousel and The Sound of Music
Brigadoon is by Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe
The Secret Garden (musical) is by Lucy Simon and Marsha Norman