Page 23 of Every Star that Shines

Delanie shook her head. “Is there anything your daughter can’t do?”

“Not that we’ve found so far.” Caleb grinned back.

“Well, this won’t work,” Amber said, frowning at the phone.

“What do you mean? Which one?” Delanie glanced toward the screen, which wasn’t visible to her until Amber laid the phone on the table between them.

The phone display showed the coloured pencil sketch of the costume for Judy the Puppet—Celeste’s role—with its long pleated red bell skirt and simple white blouse under a long bib apron. Marie had even drawn a mole onto the hooked prosthetic nose, which Delanie had thought was a nice touch. She had laughed just looking at that outfit.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Why is this costume so unappealing? Celeste deserves to look better than this. I won’t have her going onstage looking like some old biddy.”

Delanie drew a breath. Didn’t Amber know how acting worked? “That’s just the role. The old Punch and Judy puppets always looked that way, because they were supposed to be ordinary folk, and they were meant to be funny caricatures. And I think it’s perfect. Celeste will look amazing in it.”

Amber shook her head emphatically. “I don’t care what they were traditionally, this costume has to be redesigned, or Celeste will need to be recast.”

“What?” Delanie frowned. “We’re not recasting now. Celeste did really well at the rehearsal last night—I can see why she was cast as Judy. Her comedic timing is exceptional.” And Punch and Judy’s song is one of the easiest to perform of all the principal female roles. But Delanie kept that to herself. Celeste was a delightful girl and a promising young actress, but her singing needed work. Her vocal tone was nice, but she was so pitchy that it had taken effort not to cringe. Delanie shuddered to think of Celeste trying to tackle the soaring runs and octave leaps in Stella the Blue Fairy’s songs. Nope, Nan and Anne Erickson had cast Celeste wisely.

“But I don’t want Celeste in the comedy role. I tried telling Molly that, but she wouldn’t listen. She was just as stubborn as you are. I’m telling you, casting Celeste as Judy is a mistake. You’re wasting her talent.”

Delanie opened her mouth, but no sound came out. What could she say to that? Amber was obviously trying to work out her own issues through her daughter, and after Delanie’s recent loss and cancellation, her patience for other people’s drama had worn thin. She had enough of her own to deal with. She bit her tongue on the urge to snap that perhaps the real solution was for Amber to see a therapist, but no other kinder words came out in their stead.

“Every role in this play is a comedy role,” Caleb said at last, glancing at Delanie, then piercing Amber with his scrutiny. “So what is your real issue?”

“I . . . I just don’t want her to be made to feel ridiculous, that’s all. And this costume is ridiculous.” Amber tapped the phone screen, which had gone to sleep.

Delanie took her phone back and laid it on the table in front of her. “Have you ever been in a play, Amber?”

Amber’s face went red. “Yes, a long time ago, but the part was very small.”

She glanced away, and Delanie suspected that Amber’s resistance was rooted at least in part in that experience, which must not have been very pleasant.

“I can appreciate that you want to protect Celeste’s feelings, but I can assure you that being onstage and producing a laugh from the audience that you intended to manufacture is nothing like being laughed at in the school lunch room,” Delanie said. “You don’t feel embarrassed and ridiculous—you feel powerful.”

Amber met Delanie’s gaze and arched a brow. “Oh? And what about when the audience starts throwing tomatoes and tweeting death threats? What then?”

Delanie froze, her whole body hot and her heart hammering in her chest. How dare this woman bring that up? Delanie tried to think of a response, even a retort, but her mind had gone completely blank. She was back in her apartment in Vancouver, crying herself to sleep in bed while her life fell apart around her.

Violet cleared her throat. “One of the lessons I try to teach my choir students is that everyone’s voice is a vital part of the whole, and each one matters. We cover for each other’s mistakes, and we lift each other up when we struggle. That’s also the way Molly, Anne, and I have always run this play. Amber, if you can’t adhere to that standard, whether for yourself or for Celeste, then perhaps you don’t belong on this team. And if Celeste doesn’t want the part of Judy, she should come talk to us, but there is no guarantee she would get a speaking role at all otherwise.”

Amber glared at Violet. “You’re not kicking Celeste out of the play altogether.”

“No, but there are only so many roles she is suited for,” Violet said. “I think she will make a particularly fine Judy. But if you don’t want her there—”

“No, it’s fine.” Amber snapped her tablet closed with a glare. Yanking her purse off the back of her chair, she jammed the tablet into it. “Thank you.” She stood and looked at Delanie, her expression cold. “I’ll text you about the posters once I talk to Alexander. We’re lucky his daughter could make it work to be in the play this year. He’s one of the best graphic designers in town.”

“Great,” Delanie said stiffly, her mouth dry. “Thanks.”

Violet glanced at her wristwatch. “I also have to go so I can get ready for my first lesson.” She began packing up her things as Amber pulled her jacket off the back of the chair and put it on.

“Violet,” Caleb said, “Didn’t you tell me after Emma’s last lesson that one of your voice students is moving soon? Would that slot be available for Celeste if she wanted it?”

Violet glanced at him in consternation, but then turned a warm smile on Amber.

“That’s true. I have a waiting list, but it’s not long. It can be tough to fill a slot once the school year has begun because everyone already has their schedule full of activities, so it may be that none of the folks on the waiting list can even jump in. A year of voice lessons might really open up Celeste’s options in the play next year.”

Amber huffed and glared at Violet again, then Caleb. “She doesn’t need voice lessons. She needs to be in a town that recognizes real talent when it sees it. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

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