"I'm going to hide this script in my briefcase and take it home to read tonight," Sh.e.l.ley said. "So far I'm not much impressed with it."

"I don't like the director," Jane said. "I think it's unfortunate he's also the writer of the script. Too much ego bundled in one person. It's odd about the casting, don't you think?"

"In what way?" Sh.e.l.ley asked.

"With the proper makeup and clothing, the Weston family will look like they're all related. Imry did make good choices in this case."

"You think so?" Sh.e.l.ley was perplexed. "They don't even have the same colored eyes. Both the Buntings are blue eyed, and the older son's eyes are brown. That's impossible, I think."

"Sh.e.l.ley, we see them up close. The audience won't see the color of their eyes. I wasn't crazy, I have to admit, about Denny."

"What's wrong with Denny? He was right about his character's background and was dead on about 'Angeline and me.' "

"But it was wrong of Denny to tackle him that way in front of all of us. He should have taken Imry aside and told him that his grammar was wrong in private instead of showing off in front of all of us. I think I'm having heatstroke," Jane said, sorry that she'd brought up the subject of casting. She stood up. "We don't have to sit out here in the heat any longer, do we?"

"I just dragged you out here to air a few opinions. Since we agree, we can wait inside." Sh.e.l.ley glanced at her watch. "The caterer will be parking the van in the back alley any minute now."

Four.

while Sh.e.l.ley was letting the caterers in through the back of the theater and showing them where to prepare and serve the snack supper, Jane took out the canvas bag she'd brought along and removed her needlepoint project. She'd been working on it all day. Looking at the patterns in the book she'd been given, she realized quickly that most of them, except the bargellos, were in sets of four or six st.i.tches. She'd roughed out a basic pattern that could accommodate either multiples of four or multiples of six.

She'd only done two patterns so far. One was a square block of jacquard in light and dark blue in the upper left corner. The pattern beneath it was a cashmere diagonal in a long strip down the left side in a dark pink and dark purple. She was contemplating which colors and patterns to do next when Gloria Bunting, who had no dialogue in the scene they were reading through, walked over and sat down beside Jane.

"That's lovely," she said. "I was a friend of the actress Sylvia Sidney and she was always needle-pointing on the set. She did lovely work. I envied the skill. She showed me the basic st.i.tches, but I didn't follow through."

Jane smiled. "You know she did at least one instructional book about needlepoint, don't you? I have a copy at home. I bought it when I tried this years ago and failed. Now Sh.e.l.ley and I are taking lessons."

"When are the lessons? And are they close by?"

"The first was this morning. There are two sessions a week, one each Tuesday and Thursday morning for four weeks, right here in town. The woman limits the cla.s.s to five. But maybe she'd be willing to add a celebrity."

Gloria was pleased at this description. "Could I catch up tomorrow? Maybe you could take me to the shop and tell me what I need to buy. Although I think I should start something smaller than what you're working on. The arthritis in my hands might make it impossible."

"Are you going to be here long enough to take the whole course?"

"Good Lord, I hope so. We contracted for two weeks of rehearsals and three weeks of performances. I don't think this dog of a play will last that long, but I'd stay over to finish the course anyway if it doesn't."

Jane reached in her canvas bag and showedGloria the instruction book. "It's fifty dollars for the bound canvas, this book, the needles, and enough thread to make something this size. I think that's a bargain. Then the lessons are ten dollars for two hours of help and advice. At least you'd have all the information to take along when the play is done."

"I need something to do while I'm here. We don't normally do these amateur things in which all the rehearsals are in the evenings. I like to put in almost a full day's work, then relax at night until the play starts. This is the opposite. This time we're working at night and I need something to fill the mornings. Of course, both John and I grew up here and now our daughter lives here, too. So we have grandchildren to visit with on weekend mornings."

Sh.e.l.ley reappeared from the next room and said, "The snack supper is ready. I hope it's a good time for a short break. You're welcome to fill your plates and bring your food back in here, if you like."

"Excuse me, Ms. Nowack?" Imry said. "I don't remember carrying around food being part of the arrangement."

Sh.e.l.ley stared at him for a long moment and said, "This is a charitable donation. You do remember that, don't you? And there is a handy old phrase that 'beggars can't be choosers.' Besides, I arranged it this way so you wouldn't lose rehearsal time."

"But it was a rude way to state it," Imry said.

"And who started the rudeness?" Sh.e.l.ley asked.

Bill Denk, who played the butler, grinned at Sh.e.l.ley, saying in his old-man voice, "You go, girl," and started clapping. It was taken up by the others.

Imry rose, red-faced, and went into the next room ahead of everyone else.

"Jane," Sh.e.l.ley said, "we have to nibble a bit of everything to note the taste and texture and such of the food. I know we've both eaten dinner, but I'd appreciate it if you would-"

She came to a dead halt, staring at Jane's needlepoint canvas. "You've already started?"

"Of course I have," Jane said. "I planned it on the computer this afternoon. I bought Todd a grid program when he was working on those prime numbers, don't you remember?"

"While I was making out my detailed checklist to fill out on the caterers?" Sh.e.l.ley asked in a wounded voice. "I thought we'd be working together. Oh well, I guess that really isn't practical."

Jane told Sh.e.l.ley, "Ms. Bunting would like to go to the needlepoint shop with us in the morning and catch up with what we did today. Don't you think-since Ms. Bunting is so famous and actually knew Sylvia Sidney-that the teacher would take one more person?" '

Sh.e.l.ley turned to Gloria Bunting. "You reallyknew Sylvia Sidney?" she exclaimed, her annoyance with Jane forgotten. "I love her movies."

"She was as wonderful in real life," Ms. Bunting said. "What is that thing you're keeping your yarn in, Ms. Jeffry?"

"It's supposed to be for jewelry. But the individual pockets are great for keeping the colors from being in a jumble. We could shop for one for you tomorrow."

"That's so kind of you. We have a rental car. I could drive."

"It would be easier if I drive," Jane said. There was no way she was letting Sh.e.l.ley scare an old woman to death with her driving. Nor did she trust that Ms. Bunting would get them where they were going. She might be an even worse driver than Sh.e.l.ley.

The three of them went into the other room. Gloria Bunting took little dabs of everything, as Jane and Sh.e.l.ley had done. The rest piled their paper plates high. Sh.e.l.ley gave this caterer good marks for providing st.u.r.dy paper plates, plastic silverware that looked better than most, and delivering a few hot dishes instead of merely cold pasta salads, cold bread, and deli-type meats. The bread received her highest mark. Not only was it warm, it was already b.u.t.tered with real b.u.t.ter (or something that tasted like real b.u.t.ter). It was crusty and had caraway seeds on the outside that still tasted good. Sh.e.l.ley felt strongly that the spices caterers used should be fresh.

Jane and most of the cast took their food out to the big table in the other room. Sh.e.l.ley wanted to stay in the room with the caterers to watch how they worked. Professor Imry stayed there to eat as well, making his point that this was what he'd expected.

"The caterers will clean that table where the rest are eating, won't they?" he asked Sh.e.l.ley haughtily.

Before she could reply, the owner of the company said, "Mrs. Nowack, that wasn't in the contract, but for you, we'll do so."

"That's gracious, William. Thanks."

Sh.e.l.ley gave Imry another critical look, which he pretended to ignore, but he got red in the face again.

Sh.e.l.ley stayed in the serving area of the theater to watch the cleanup. These caterers were efficient. They brought along their own bags to take away the trash, and they cleaned every surface they'd used, including the floor. They asked everyone to pick up their scripts so they could clean the big table in the room where most of the cast had eaten. As Sh.e.l.ley stashed her critique in her briefcase and Jane rolled up her needlepoint and put it in her canvas bag, Ms. Bunting gave Jane a slip of paper.

"This is where we're staying. The telephonenumber is for our suite. Let me know if and when we can go to the needlepoint shop."

"I think they open at ten in the morning," Jane said. "The owner will probably be in by at least nine forty-five. I'll call and tell her we'd like to bring you. If you don't mind, I'll use your connection with Sylvia Sidney to impress her."

"I wouldn't mind at all. I'm so glad to have met you girls."

When they were in Jane's car, Sh.e.l.ley said, "I haven't been referred to as a 'girl' in ages. What a sweet woman Ms. Bunting is."

When Jane called Martha the next morning at eight-thirty, she was glad the proprietor was already at work. Jane's mention of the extra student went over well. Martha had even heard of Gloria Bunting. She'd seen her in Connecticut in the out-of-town first performance of a play that was going to New York a month later. "She played a sort of Mrs. Danvers-like role. She was wonderfully wicked."

When Jane told Martha that Ms. Bunting had been a friend of Sylvia Sidney, the woman nearly swooned. "I'd be delighted to add her. Bring her along as soon as you like. She won't even have to pay for the lessons, only the materials. I'm so thrilled about this. I can't wait to meet her in person."

Jane called Sh.e.l.ley first. "We're all set. I'll call Ms. Bunting and tell her to be ready to be picked up at a quarter to ten. I'll drive. We also need to figure out where to get her one of these jewelry things for her floss."

"I'm glad you're driving. I need to call the caterers for tonight and tell them there will be four more people. Two doing scenery, another doing props, and one responsible for costumes."

Ms. Bunting was thrilled to hear from Jane. "John's gone off with cronies from the old days to play golf. They'll probably all collapse from heatstroke. I'll be in front of the hotel waiting for you just roll down a window and wave at me. I'm so glad you made these arrangements! I'd have been bored senseless and worrying about John's health if you hadn't."

Sh.e.l.ley made her call to the caterer. She also called several department stores that had good jewelry departments to see if any of them had one of those roll-up jewelry things with the clear pockets. She found one place that did.

"It's in that mall across from where we stayed for the mystery conference. We could take Ms. Bunting to lunch at that fabulous restaurant we discovered there, after we get her all set up."

"You like her, don't you? So do I," Jane said.

Martha at the needlepoint shop was gracious to Ms. Bunting, but had calmed,down and didn't gush too effusively-except for wanting to know which play she had been in with Sylvia Sidney.

Ms. Bunting said it was Summer Wishes, Winter Dreams in 1973. Sylvia was one of the leads. Ms. Bunting was offered only a small part, but she took it in order to get to know Sylvia. "She was almost as old then as I am now. But she had more energy than I do. You know, she was once married to the publisher Bennett Cerf, and again to an actor named Luther Adler. She only died in 1999. She was eighty-nine years old. A very durable woman."

"Indeed she was. And I've heard of both of her husbands," Martha said. "Well, I shouldn't take more of your time with this just now. I want to get you set up for cla.s.s tomorrow."

Ms. Bunting chose a combination of mauves, slate blues, and several clear greens. Martha told her what the a.s.signment was, adding, "But you, of course, Ms. Bunting, may do anything you wish."

Five.

jane dropped Sh.e.l.ley and Ms. Bunting at one of the entrances to the mall, then parked, as she always did, as far away as she could so that n.o.body was near enough to her car to ding it. In her eagerness to rejoin her friends, Jane trotted back to the entrance, arriving breathless and a bit sweaty.

"We've found something you'll like," Sh.e.l.ley told Ms. Bunting. "Would you like to come up the escalator with us to fetch it, or would you rather take a table and save it for us in our favorite restaurant? The restaurant is much closer. And you could order our drinks while we're gone."

"The second option sounds best to me. I'm absolutely parched," the older woman admitted. "I wasn't expecting all this heat."

They made sure they settled her by a window, and headed upstairs to buy the jewelry container for her flosses. Sh.e.l.ley slapped down a credit card and they rushed back down to the ground floor as soon as the clerk produced the receipt.

Ms. Bunting was already settled in, with a bottle of white wine for herself and Sh.e.l.ley, and the rose-flavored iced tea that Jane had requested.

Sh.e.l.ley reached into the department store bag and brought out the jewelry container, which was almost identical to the ones she and Jane had.

"Oh!" Ms. Bunting exclaimed. "How dear of you pretty girls to get this. You must let me reimburse you."

"No, it's a gift. We're all too hungry to mess around with money right now," Sh.e.l.ley proclaimed. "Besides, Jane and I wanted you to have it as a gift."

"Then I'll pay for our lunch," Ms. Bunting said.

"Let's just be nuisances and ask for separate checks and you and Sh.e.l.ley can split the cost of the wine," Jane suggested.

They all agreed that this was fair. They studied the extensive menu and all chose different salads and entrees to share around.

"Would you like for me to go back to the car and get your flosses and needles while you two place our order?" Jane asked Ms. Bunting.

"I can't let you do that. It's too hot out there. Besides, it will give me something fun to do at leisure when I'm back at my hotel," the older woman said.

They fell to gossiping about the cast, and agreed wholeheartedly that the most annoying by far was the director. Ms. Bunting said, "John and I seldom do amateur productions like this. It was only because we have family and friends here. I hadn't even looked at the script until we were on the plane, and was shocked at how silly it is."

"Sh.e.l.ley and I purloined two scripts yesterday," Jane said, "and glanced over them. We agreed that it's obvious he's never even read a mystery. The reader or viewer deserves to know whodunit and why at the end. And he has no sense of humor. Are you sure you can't back out?"

"An actor never backs out," Ms. Bunting exclaimed. "No matter how bad the script is, we'll bring what talent we still possess to it. We'll just warn our local friends not to attend, as it's a miserable script."

They didn't get any further with their criticisms because the salads arrived. All three were gigantic. "I'll never get through this and the pasta dish I ordered," Ms. Bunting said.

"They're used to guests like us. They'll box it up for us to take home," Jane rea.s.sured her.

At the end of the meal, Ms. Bunting was looking tired. "I'm seldom up as early as I was today, except on film shoots. They often start at dawn if they're shooting outside scenes, in order to get all the natural light they can."

"We'll take you right straight back to your hotel for a nap. I may take one, too," Jane said. "This heat is exhausting."

As they walked her to the hotel entrance, Jane asked, "Would you like Sh.e.l.ley to take your things up to your room for you?"

"No, thanks. I'm not so tired that I can't carry these treasures, not to mention my leftover lunch. See you tonight-and thank you for the lovely day."

"She was really fading away," Jane said as she squeezed her way back into traffic.

"I wonder how old she really is?" Sh.e.l.ley asked.

"I don't think we'll find out. The older the actress, the younger she says she is," Jane replied.

"Not anymore. Jane Fonda, Cher, Sally Field, and a lot of others are bragging about pa.s.sing fifty these days."

Jane said, "But they all still look thirty-eight. Times and plastic surgery have changed our perception of age since Gloria Bunting's heyday. If there ever really was one for her."

"What do you mean by that?" Sh.e.l.ley asked.