those arms, but still the scent of chlorine hovered in the air, probably from people leaving after their swim. The three of them went to the left—clearly Chris had already come by to see his girlfriend, Sarah. She was a newer resident—which, to Molly, was anyone who’d settled in Britton Bay after her. Along with being a talented artist, Sarah owned an art studio up the road. She and Molly had become fast friends, which worked out well since their respective boyfriends were close.
“Through here,” Chris said, gesturing to a set of double doors that had black paper taped over the windows. A white sign had been plastered over the paper saying, Closed Set. Molly bit her lip to keep from grinning. Apparently, community theater was a serious thing.
“You’re not scared to go in?” Sam asked, gesturing to the sign.
Chris scowled. “This woman was on a soap opera for five minutes thirty years ago, and she acts like she’s next in line for the throne.” He tugged on the sign, pulling it down. “How on earth can she close the set when she needs volunteers to be ready for opening night?”
When he pulled the door open for them, Molly let Sam go first. “Sacrificing me?” he whispered as he led the way into the darkened auditorium.
“You’re being noble,” she whispered back, tucking her fingers in the back pocket of his jeans while her eyes adjusted to the dark.
“That’s awfully nice of me,” Sam said, reaching back for her other hand and pulling her close.
“You know what they say about nice guys,” Chris whispered behind them.
Up ahead of them, at the front of the auditorium, the stage was lit up with overhead lighting but it didn’t cast a glow far enough for Molly, Sam, and Chris to really see where they were going.
The door swung shut behind them, like it had been on a five-second delay. Everyone on stage froze and looked in their direction. If what Molly had heard about stage lighting was true, none of the cast could see them. Someone in the front row stood, almost cinematically slow, and turned. It was impossible with the distance and the dark to make out the features, and maybe it was the rumors she’d heard, but the figure looked ominous with the light glowing in the background.
“Uh-oh,” Sam whispered, stopping. “I think we’ve upset the Wizard.”
“What part of closed set do you not understand?” The slightly nasally feminine voice rang out through the auditorium like a dignified roar.
“We’re here to help out with the set, Ms. Sweet,” Chris called back. Molly could feel the tension radiating from him, nearly vibrating through the darkness. She’d been on the wrong side of Chris’s anger more than once and knew he wouldn’t cower in the face of conflict. They should have let him go first.
“Stagehands enter through the alley. Never through the front,” Ms. Sweet called back.
Molly gulped down the ball of nerves that lodged in her throat. She’d been brave in the face of disaster more than once, yet just this woman’s tone froze the hair on her arms.
“Maybe so,” Chris said, stepping around Molly and Sam. “But there’s a truck blocking that entrance right now.”
“What?”
The director’s shriek made Molly jump, and Sam pulled her into his side, putting his arm around her shoulder.
She pointed toward the stage, yelling, “Five-minute break. Not six; five,” and stormed off to what Molly was pretty sure was stage right. It wasn’t until she got a bit further that Molly noticed there was someone following behind her. With the light and the dark, whoever it was had literally been eaten up by the former star’s presence.
The three of them continued down the aisle toward the front of the room where the cast still stood like a scared tableau. Now that they were closer, Molly recognized several of the townsfolk including Sarah, who was crossing the stage with two cans of paint in hand, looking like she was holding back laughter.
Molly grinned at the people she recognized and tried to lighten the moment. “We’re definitely not in Britton Bay anymore,” she said loud enough for others to hear.
The laughter that rumbled through the cast and stage crew seemed to set them in motion. People started rushing off the stage to claim what was now the four minutes and thirty seconds they had left of their break.
Sarah greeted them as they ascended the short stairway up to the stage. She set the cans down behind the set.
“Hey.” She went up on tiptoes to accept Chris’s kiss, then leaned into him and looked at Molly and Sam. “I feel like I should tell you to run for your lives, but you know what they say about misery.”
Sam and Chris chuckled while Molly looked around.
“There’s safety in numbers,” Chris said, a smile in his tone.
Sarah gave an exaggerated laugh, making Molly giggle. “That’s what you think, my pretty.”
Molly took a moment to absorb her surroundings. She’d been to a couple of community plays when she’d lived in other towns, but none had rivaled the elaborate detail of the set she was standing on. Instead of a stage, she stood on the yellow brick road, surrounded by tall trees of various shapes and colors. The wooden backdrop resembled houses on one side—meant to be Kansas, while on the other, Oz was depicted with an elegant castle. When she looked up, she saw a hollow house hanging in the air. Sarah stood beside her and pointed. “That’s the house that kills the witch.”
Molly looked at her friend, momentarily admiring the pretty green clip holding back her dark side bangs. “This is incredible.”
Sarah nodded. “She’s a tyrant, but she’s actually very talented. I worked on plays all through high school and a bit in college. She knows what she’s doing even if she doesn’t go about getting what she wants in the nicest way.”
Cora Lester— a local who’d informed Molly shortly after she’d arrived that by dating Sam she had stolen the perfect husband for her daughter—came to stand next to them.
“Don’t be hard on Magnolia,” Cora said. “Especially not where she can hear you. From what I’ve read, most geniuses have gruff personalities, and can you blame them? I mean, no one really gets them, do they?”
Before she could say anything in response, a tall woman dressed as Auntie Em glared down the bridge of her nose, even going so far as to put her fingers on her thin-framed glasses. For a moment, Molly thought she was just staying in character.
“Do you think all that brown-nosing will actually get you anywhere?”
Cora turned an icy shoulder on the woman and gave Molly a wide-fake smile. Molly knew from experience that Cora had a sharp tongue and didn’t mind using it to spread gossip or warnings. It was surprising that she chose not to respond to the other cast member. Instead, she asked, “How are you, Molly?”
“Fine, thanks,” Molly said, glancing over at Sarah.
The other woman walked away from them and Cora’s smile dropped immediately. “You should really clear the stage for the actors,” Cora said dismissively, pulling a folded script from her back pocket.
Sarah turned to Molly and rolled her eyes. “Come
