Quincy’s smile was unsure. “Is that a yes?”
Ramona’s laugh was buoyant and free, like a rushing brook. “Yes, you ridiculous man. I’ll marry you.” She leaned back in his embrace. “I love you so much. And I love the way you love me.”
Quincy’s heart swelled in his chest. “You’ve just made me the happiest man of the century. I love you, Ramona McCloud. Forever and always.”
“She’s not coming. I can’t believe Ginny’s not coming.” Vaughn sounded on the verge of hyperventilating.
It was six-thirty on Mystic Park’s opening night, June thirteenth. Curtain call was seven P.M. Cast members and stagehands had been asked to arrive backstage by five-thirty P.M. As five-thirty became six o’clock and six o’clock had grown to six-thirty, the volunteers had accepted that Ginny Carp, their play’s immensely talented but grossly unreliable female lead, wasn’t coming.
Benita had ignored the furtive glances cast in her direction. It was apparent that the cast and crew expected her to replace Ginny for tonight’s performance just as she had each time Ginny had been late or missed rehearsal altogether. However, the knots reproducing in her stomach were sending another message.
“The stagehand came back a few minutes ago.” Benita stood beside Vaughn as they looked out over the audience, each willing Ginny to appear; better late than never. “He said no one answered the door and it didn’t look as though anyone had been home.”
They hadn’t stood this close or spoken as many words to each other in more than a week, not since Benita had told Vaughn about the theater producer who was interested in his play.
“Do you think she’s on her way?” Vaughn checked his watch.
“No, and neither do you.” Benita checked her wristwatch as well. They were running out of time. Guests were beginning to arrive. Darius escorted Peyton and Ms. Helen into the auditorium. Jackson and Audra followed them in. Benita was going to be sick. She could only imagine how anxious Vaughn felt. “She’s still not answering her phone, either.”
“I can’t believe she’s not going to show for the performance.”
“I warned you she was erratic. She keyed Darius’s car, for heaven’s sake.” Benita crossed her arms. She felt her heart thundering against her chest. “Do you remember when I suggested we get understudies?”
Now probably wasn’t the best time to remind Vaughn of the road not traveled. But she really hated being put in this position.
Vaughn turned to her, his expression desperate. “Yes, I remember.”
“I hate when I’m right.”
“So do I.” He glanced over the audience again before facing Benita.
“I know what you’re going to say.” She glared at him, more from fear than anger.
“I don’t have any right to ask you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“But I am asking, Benny. Will you fill in for Ginny one more time?”
“This isn’t a rehearsal. It’s the actual performance. There are people watching.” Benita’s muscles were tight with panic. A sharp pain in her temple signaled a tension headache was building.
“I know you’re not comfortable performing. But you’re a natural and you have a beautiful singing voice.”
Vaughn was laying it on pretty thick. She was still angry with him. His accusations about her contacting the L.A. producer were ugly and uncalled for. But as angry as she felt, she still couldn’t bring herself to destroy his opening night. Tonight was the realization of his dream. A lot of other people also had worked hard and made great sacrifices to get to this night. She couldn’t let any of them down.
“I really hate this.” She rubbed her eyebrow.
“I know. I’m sorry, but I’m not asking just for me.”
“I know.” Benita spun on her heels and hurried toward the dressing room before she changed her mind. “Just make the announcement that I’m filling in for Ginny.”
“I will.” Vaughn followed after her.
Benita clenched her fists as her body started to shake with nerves. “The costume probably won’t fit.”
“We have time to make adjustments.”
That depended on the extent of the alterations. Benita had never even tried on the costume. She’d refused to believe Ginny wouldn’t turn up for the performance. She should have known better.