am. I’m an assistant.” She frowned. “More of a servant, really but everyone pays their dues, right?”
“You’re not wrong. I worked my share of lousy jobs before I landed the one I have. I’m Molly, by the way.”
“Tiffany. And that’s what I keep telling myself. Every single day. You look a bit familiar.” Her brows scrunched again like she was trying to place her.
“I was on set the other night, helping a friend paint.”
Tiffany smirked. “Ahh, yes. The intruders.”
“Next,” Georgie called.
Molly laughed, her pulse scrambling a bit. Tiffany might be the closest thing to an interview The Bulletin could get.
“Hi there. How are you?” Georgie asked.
Tiffany’s shoulders stiffened. “Oh. I’m fine, thank you for asking. Uh, I’ll get two low-fat bran muffins, in separate bags please, a regular tea steeped for two minutes exactly and…oh my, is that a chocolate croissant? No. I’ll get a low-fat blueberry muffin in its own bag please.”
Georgie nodded cheerfully and set about gathering the order. Tiffany turned back to Molly and shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Easier to annoy others than not get her highness what she wants. She’d just make me come back for another if it’s not perfect.”
“Speaking of your boss, we’d love to do a feature on her for the paper but she’s been hard to pin down. I know she’s busy with the play so we didn’t want to push too hard.” Plus, Hannah and Jill are scared of her. Hannah had started doing more interviews and could handle the exchange easily if the person was accommodating, but Molly would never send the twelfth-grade student to interview Magnolia.
Tiffany’s features hardened, suddenly resembling smooth granite. “You have to frame these things just right. If she feels like you want something from her or don’t appreciate who she is, she’ll blow you off. I could probably answer most of what you’d want to ask.” She glanced over to where Georgie was steeping the tea. “No more than two minutes, please.”
Georgie smiled and pulled the tea bag out. “Perfect.”
She probably has to field questions all the time. Molly ignored the sudden chill of Tiffany’s words. “I’d love to ask some questions if you have time, but do you think there’s any chance she’d be willing to answer a few?”
Tiffany eyed Molly for what felt like a long minute. She paid for her order, tucked her wallet away, tugged the strap of her purse over her head so it rested on top of her jacket and picked up her items. She sighed, her mouth and gaze softening a touch when she looked at Molly.
“I can’t promise anything but she’s at the theater early every day. Says she needs to clear her mind and connect with the space without any of us there ruining it. Do you think you could be there at, say, four today? I’ll mention it and say you’ve been dying to talk to her about her days as a star. That’s what really makes her shine.”
Molly nodded. “That would be fantastic. Thank you. I’ll be there at four.”
“Good luck.” The right side of her mouth tipped up and Molly got the impression she might need that luck.
“Thanks. Nice to meet you,” Molly said, too excited to realize the woman never said it back.
She approached the counter and grinned at Georgie. “Bella not working this morning?”
Georgie leaned forward. “She’s in the kitchen working on Katherine’s cake. Wait until you see it.”
Molly’s brows shot up. “Really? The party isn’t for three days.”
More customers walked in and the bell over the door jingled in competition with Georgie’s cute laugh. “It goes in the freezer while she decorates. Don’t worry, she’s an expert.”
Rubbing her stomach, Molly nodded. “That much I know. I’m going to have to switch to yoga pants only if she becomes any more of an expert.”
They chatted another few seconds before Molly placed an order for enough food to share with her co-workers. Those walks she took Tigger on were more than just his exercise; they were Molly’s free pass to enjoy all the good eats Britton Bay had to offer.
* * * *
Molly expected the rec center to be on the quiet side when she arrived just before four. The parking lot, however, suggested otherwise. As Molly got out of her beloved blue Jeep, she looked up at the moody gray sky, wondering if she’d get to take the top off early this year or if the winter chill was going to hang on tight.
Hitching her bag on her shoulder, she turned, locked the Jeep, and stopped in her tracks, brows coming together as she looked across the lot. Was that Tiffany getting into the passenger’s side of a Honda CRV? The long black locks of hair hanging from a ponytail made Molly sure it was, but the person was quickly inside the vehicle with the door shut. Weird. This morning, when she’d said Magnolia didn’t like anyone else in the theater, she assumed they all arrived later in the evening. Hopefully, she’d smoothed the way for Molly to get some questions answered.
Looking up at the bright sky, she wondered if Tiffany lived in town or just came to Britton Bay for the play. Molly walked toward the front door, then thought better of it and went around the back. As she padded along the narrow alleyway, where the truck had been blocking the door a few nights earlier, she crinkled her nose at the strong smell of garbage.
The door to the back of the auditorium wasn’t locked, which Molly found helpful. She let herself in, making sure it was shut behind her.
The quiet, dark hallway was ominous and sent a shiver over Molly’s skin. She rubbed her arms through her lightweight jacket and walked along the barely lit narrow corridor toward the stage. The other night, she’d run off stage to grab a couple of extra brushes Sarah had needed, so she knew the hall led to the stage and out to a side door for the auditorium. There were a bunch of extra rooms and closets off of the hallway but, as Tiffany had said, no one was around.
When she made it to the door that opened to the auditorium, Molly pressed the handle and frowned. It wouldn’t budge. Looking down, she saw it had been locked from the bottom. Maybe so people don’t come backstage? Although, she realized, they could use the stage stairs if they really wanted to.
She hoped Magnolia didn’t have some sort of meditation ritual or something that she’d be interrupting. Did she just sit in the audience seats and stare at the stage? The door to it, also shut, showed light from the gaps. And it was unlocked.
Molly didn’t mind doing interviews, even though she preferred editing and organizing at the paper. Nerves weren’t usually an issue for her even when meeting new people. Other than Sam. That man had sent butterflies all the way through her at first sight. She smiled, thinking of him as she ascended the stairs at the side of the stage. She couldn’t wait to see the changes to the set that had occurred over the last couple days. Sarah told her that every day, the scenery and the background came more and more alive, and that by opening night they’d feel like they really were in Oz.
This side of the stage would be closed off with one set of the large black curtains currently tucked away with a thick…cord that didn’t match the red velvet ropes on the other side. She wondered, momentarily, if any sort of fund raising occurred
