Susannah stood backstage, listening to Maria sing her part in “Making a Venus.” Susannah felt grateful she’d been chosen for one of the Maidens, although she only sang a small part in one song. One song, though, was better than no song.
The sweeping sounds of violins drew Susannah’s attention to the orchestra. Phillip played there, his attention focused solely on his music. Susannah smiled. Phillip’s hair had gotten disheveled with his passionate playing.
“Silence down there!” Victor Henshaw, the opera conductor, called down to the pit. The musicians ceased their playing. “Now, now, Maria! Listen for your cue! You’re coming in too early,” he explained. “Wait for your signal!”
“I was trying, but there are too many distractions!” Maria pouted. She ran a hand through her long curls. Fanning herself with the end of her fox stole, she glanced at Susannah, who stared wide-eyed at the prima donna. “There are certain things in this room that need fixing so I can perform my part.”
Victor raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”
“Well, for starters…” Maria walked across the stage, swinging her stole and batting her eyelashes. She smirked at Susannah. “We could do away with Miss Brown.”
Susannah opened her mouth to speak but found she had no voice. Her mouth had gone dry.
Victor pursed his lips. When he spoke, his voice took on an exasperated tone, as if he’d explained a simple fact to a child fifteen times over. “Maria, we can’t just fire another singer because she or he is distracting you. Besides, that is beyond my power.”
“Then make it your power!” Maria dropped her stole. It trailed on the floor as she glided toward Victor. “Or are you too afraid of our miserable little director?”
“What’s going on here?”
All eyes turned toward the man who’d spoken. Stone strutted down the main aisle, his white hair bouncing with each step. His cat trotted behind him, his feathery tail held high. Stone approached the stage, stopped, and wiped his glasses. He glared at Maria before popping them on his nose. In a stern voice, he asked, “Why is no one singing? And what’s this about getting rid of a singer?”
“Maria believes Susannah is a distraction,” Victor grumbled. He tapped his foot, impatient to continue the rehearsal.
Stone clasped his hands together and raised them to Maria in a placating gesture. “Maria, dear, do cooperate—”
“I will not cooperate!” Maria stamped her foot. Jabbing her finger at Susannah, she grumbled, “That woman tried to poison me!”
Groans issued from the gathered singers and musicians. Evidently, everyone had had enough of Maria’s accusations. Phillip stood, gripping his violin in one hand and his bow in the other. Stone motioned for the young violinist to sit down. Phillip remained on his feet.
Stepping on the stage, Stone said, “Maria, you are being dramatic. No one tried poisoning you. You must stop throwing accusations around like roses, or else I will have to take drastic measures.”
“So will I, if you don’t do something about her!” Maria exclaimed. Her eyes grew wide, giving her the look of a surprised owl. “I’ll tell my friends about the horrible working conditions here! I haven’t yet breathed a word to anyone regarding the attempt on my life, but I will spread the story if I have to!”
Swaying on his feet, Stone bit his lip. Susannah clutched her sweaty hands together. Whenever the reputation of the Shelley Opera House was threatened, Stone's resolution always wavered.
Swallowing the dryness away, Susannah asked, “You don’t believe her, do you? I didn’t do anything. I don’t even know where she lives! How many more times must I repeat myself?”
“Pooh!” Maria lifted her chin to stare down her nose at Susannah. “Such information can be easily obtained! You’d only have to ask around this theater!”
“Maria, please!” Stone patted the air with his hands in an attempt to diffuse the situation. Beads of perspiration shone on his forehead. “How can we put this silliness behind us?”
Maria tapped her lips. The seconds stretched on, the silence in the theater deafening. Maria grinned. “Perhaps if Susannah is out of The Dream Girl and the next few operas…”
Susannah’s skin grew cold. She clenched her hands—which were still sweating profusely—tighter to stop their trembling. “No!”
“You can’t comply with that ridiculous idea!” Phillip protested, waving his bow at Stone. “She’s a prima donna. You don’t have to bow down to her every whim!” This time Phillip jabbed the air with his bow at Maria.
Victor, holding his chin in one hand and draping his other arm on the podium, begged, “Can we simply commence rehearsals?”
“Hush!” Stone silenced Victor with a snap. To Maria, he said, “That will make you happy? You’ll drop this nonsense about being poisoned once and for all?”
Maria smirked. “Hmmm… yes. Yes, I will.”
Susannah released her pent-up breath. Her heart thudded in her chest, her body rocking with each heartbeat.
Maria continued speaking in a sing-song voice. “I figure it will be a greater punishment for Susannah being shoved offstage, getting to watch me perform, and therefore not receiving the attention she craves. No more singing roles for the little canary.”
“Not sing?” Susannah muttered, her words warbling. Her breathing hitched. Surely Stone wouldn’t listen to Maria’s absurd demand. But one look at the nervous man told Susannah that yes, Stone would abide by whatever Maria wanted.
Nodding, Stone said, “If it will get us past this poison silliness, very well. Susannah, you’re out of the operetta. You can still be Maria’s understudy if she agrees…?”
Maria narrowed her eyes. Huffing, she said, “Fine. But know this: there’s no way she’ll be singing in my place. I plan on staying healthy for a long time.”
“Then it’s settled. I’m sorry, Susannah, but it’s the way things have to be,” Stone said, shrugging.
Tears spilled from Susannah’s eyes. Biting her lip, she raced off the stage.
“That’s taken care of,” Stone said. He brushed his hands together, then walked to a seat and plopped in it with a huff. After he settled himself on the velvet chair, Norb crawled on Stone’s lap and stared at the singers.
Phillip shoved his violin on his chair. He leaped on the stage and walked after Susannah. As he passed Maria, he hissed, “You’re a real pill, you know that?”
“Ah!” Maria gasped and placed a bejeweled hand to her breast and watched, open-mouthed, as Phillip disappeared behind the curtains.
“Great! There goes one of my violinists,” Victor wailed.
Alma, who’d been sitting in the wings with the other ballerinas, spoke up. “Susannah wouldn’t make anyone sick. It was probably the Phantom Cat.”
“Oh, Alma! That’s the only thing on your mind these days!” Evelyn grumbled.
The comment didn’t go unnoticed by the singers onstage. Several chuckled at the silliness of the young girls, while others glanced warily over their shoulders as if some spectral entity were present.
Maria raised an eyebrow. “Why in the heavens would a ghost cat want to poison me?” she asked.
Alma straightened herself. “The Phantom Cat plays tricks on people. Everyone knows that. It was probably a trick.”
“Ha! It was no phantom, you sniveling goose,” Maria snapped. “The person who harmed me is very much alive. She just ran from this room!” Maria waved her hand toward where Susannah had disappeared offstage.
“All right, enough chit-chat!” Victor waved his baton for attention. “Let’s resume our rehearsal! Now, ‘Making a Venus,’ from the top!”
Alma leaned closer to Evelyn and whispered, “It was the Phantom Cat.”
“Whatever you say,” Evelyn muttered, gripping her shivering arms. She didn’t believe in ghosts, but she also knew Susannah would never hurt anyone.
Thus, rehearsal continued without a second thought given to Susannah or spectral felines.