said, “My father was a famous actor.”
Without a feather of a thought, I said what came immediately to my mind, borne of my life experience. “Then I’m very sorry
for you.”
A smile burst onto his face. He gave me an appreciative nod and raised his nearly empty glass in a toast.
I tried to inconspicuously slide out of the room.
Chapter Ten
I gave myself a stern lecture in the bathroom mirror. Or the “WC” mirror. Or was it a “looking glass” like in
Alice in Wonderland’?
Whatever it was I was looking into and whatever tiny room I was in with the itty-bitty sink and pull-chain toilet, I gazed
at my pale expression and reminded my sorry self that I had never been particularly good in social settings and that this
evening was further proof.
“Try to be polite, Miranda. Get some information, and then get out of here. Don’t make these people remember you for all the
wrong reasons.”
Taking a minute to comb back my dark hair, I gathered my shoulder-length mane up in a clip and found some lip gloss for my
dry lips in the side pocket of my shoulder bag.
Slightly freshened, I returned to the drawing room. The guests had gathered in an organized circle, and a game of some sort
had begun. I stood at the back, observing. It took me only a moment to realize what type of game had been initiated. This
was a company of actors and other theater aficionados. They were playing a form of charades, of course.
The guest who stood in the center of the room recited a linefrom a play, and everyone else tried to come up with either the play’s name or the line that followed.
I hung back as a large man took to the center of the room and called out, “’What light through yonder window breaks?’“
The group laughed at his attempted falsetto.
Young Scrooge was the quickest to shout out, “
Romeo and Juliet’.”
Hearty pats on the back were in order for nimble Scrooge, who then moved to the center and recited one of his lines from the
performance that evening.
“’Do not force me to look any longer at what I have become. Tell me instead what is to come.’“
The immediate response came from Andrew, as he delivered the following line in his Spirit of Christmas Present stage voice:
“’And so it shall be!’ That would be from
A Christmas Carol,
of course.”
The group rumbled with comments on how, from then on, the lines should be from plays other than A
Christmas Carol,
especially because the Carlton Heath adaptation had so mercilessly slaughtered the original lines, making the quotes less
than authentic. Everyone gave Scrooge a kind word or two, saying he’d done just fine.
Andrew moved right along with, “’Does it occur to you, Higgins, that the girl has some feelings?’“
“My Fair Lady,”
someone called out.
“Also known as… ” Andrew prompted the group, as if this were a trick question. To add to the clues, he continued with the
next line, ‘“Oh no, I don’t think so. Not any feelings that we need bother about. Have you, Eliza?’“
“’I got my feelings same as anyone else,’“ I said, filling in the next line under my breath. Only one person heard me. That
person was Ellie.
“Well done, Miranda! You should receive extra points for coming up with the next line.” To the group she said, “The play is
My Fair Lady.
Why are you stalling, Andrew?”
“Ah!” Edward stepped forward and said with a triumphant flash, “
My Fair Lady,
originally entitled
Pygmalion.”
A collective “of course” sigh rippled across the room.
“Miranda, were you in a performance
of My Fair Lady
at one time?” Ellie asked.
“No, I’ve never been in a play.”
“Really? Neither have I. I like you better by the moment. Here I thought I was the only one in this group who was inexperienced
on the stage.”
I didn’t respond to her comment because I couldn’t say I was inexperienced on the stage. I just had never officially been
in a performance. My mother had
Without a feather of a thought, I said what came immediately to my mind, borne of my life experience. “Then I’m very sorry
for you.”
A smile burst onto his face. He gave me an appreciative nod and raised his nearly empty glass in a toast.
I tried to inconspicuously slide out of the room.
Chapter Ten
I gave myself a stern lecture in the bathroom mirror. Or the “WC” mirror. Or was it a “looking glass” like in
Alice in Wonderland’?
Whatever it was I was looking into and whatever tiny room I was in with the itty-bitty sink and pull-chain toilet, I gazed
at my pale expression and reminded my sorry self that I had never been particularly good in social settings and that this
evening was further proof.
“Try to be polite, Miranda. Get some information, and then get out of here. Don’t make these people remember you for all the
wrong reasons.”
Taking a minute to comb back my dark hair, I gathered my shoulder-length mane up in a clip and found some lip gloss for my
dry lips in the side pocket of my shoulder bag.
Slightly freshened, I returned to the drawing room. The guests had gathered in an organized circle, and a game of some sort
had begun. I stood at the back, observing. It took me only a moment to realize what type of game had been initiated. This
was a company of actors and other theater aficionados. They were playing a form of charades, of course.
The guest who stood in the center of the room recited a linefrom a play, and everyone else tried to come up with either the play’s name or the line that followed.
I hung back as a large man took to the center of the room and called out, “’What light through yonder window breaks?’“
The group laughed at his attempted falsetto.
Young Scrooge was the quickest to shout out, “
Romeo and Juliet’.”
Hearty pats on the back were in order for nimble Scrooge, who then moved to the center and recited one of his lines from the
performance that evening.
“’Do not force me to look any longer at what I have become. Tell me instead what is to come.’“
The immediate response came from Andrew, as he delivered the following line in his Spirit of Christmas Present stage voice:
“’And so it shall be!’ That would be from
A Christmas Carol,
of course.”
The group rumbled with comments on how, from then on, the lines should be from plays other than A
Christmas Carol,
especially because the Carlton Heath adaptation had so mercilessly slaughtered the original lines, making the quotes less
than authentic. Everyone gave Scrooge a kind word or two, saying he’d done just fine.
Andrew moved right along with, “’Does it occur to you, Higgins, that the girl has some feelings?’“
“My Fair Lady,”
someone called out.
“Also known as… ” Andrew prompted the group, as if this were a trick question. To add to the clues, he continued with the
next line, ‘“Oh no, I don’t think so. Not any feelings that we need bother about. Have you, Eliza?’“
“’I got my feelings same as anyone else,’“ I said, filling in the next line under my breath. Only one person heard me. That
person was Ellie.
“Well done, Miranda! You should receive extra points for coming up with the next line.” To the group she said, “The play is
My Fair Lady.
Why are you stalling, Andrew?”
“Ah!” Edward stepped forward and said with a triumphant flash, “
My Fair Lady,
originally entitled
Pygmalion.”
A collective “of course” sigh rippled across the room.
“Miranda, were you in a performance
of My Fair Lady
at one time?” Ellie asked.
“No, I’ve never been in a play.”
“Really? Neither have I. I like you better by the moment. Here I thought I was the only one in this group who was inexperienced
on the stage.”
I didn’t respond to her comment because I couldn’t say I was inexperienced on the stage. I just had never officially been
in a performance. My mother had
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