Look Both Ways by Carol J. Perry Page B

hasn’t already found somebody else.”
    â€œI doubt that he has. Volunteers aren’t as easy to find as they once were. Lots of people who’d like to offer to help have to bring home a paycheck these days.”
    â€œI know. I’m one of the lucky ones. I have a lovely home here with you, a job I like at the school, and enough money so that I don’t need to worry.”
    It was true. Between an inheritance from my parents and Johnny’s insurance, I was quite well set financially. That was another thing Pete didn’t know about me yet. The list seemed to be growing.
    Within the hour, dressed in conservative black cropped pants and a crisp white cotton blouse, with tummy full and to-do list reprioritized, I backed the Corvette out of the garage and headed downtown to offer my services to the Tabby.
    Mr. Pennington was in his office, behind his massive old oak desk. He rose to greet me, smiling broadly. “Ms. Barrett, what a delightful surprise. I’d just been thinking of calling you . . . asking a favor of you, so to speak.” He gestured toward the one comfortable chair in his office. “But please sit down. What brings you here this fine morning?”
    â€œThank you.” I sat as directed. “My aunt told me that you might be in need of a property manager for the theater group.”
    â€œHow perfectly serendipitous, my dear! The very favor of which I spoke.”
    â€œReally? Well, then, if you think I can handle the job, I’m happy to volunteer.”
    â€œOh, you’re perfectly suited to the task, Ms. Barrett. With your extensive background in television production, your familiarity with set design, and with your innate exquisite taste . . . why, I couldn’t have found anyone better. I’ve been trying to fill the position myself, gathering together a few things for our first production, but . . .” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “But my executive plate is very full, so to speak.”
    Mr. Pennington had been an actor in his youth and was given to long, flowery speeches. He looked the part, too, always impeccably dressed, with flawless manners. He and Aunt Ibby had started dating some months earlier. They are both film buffs, and it was fun listening to them try to top each other when they recited lines from old movies.
    â€œGlad to help,” I said. “What’s my job description?”
    â€œWe’ll be doing three plays during the summer,” he said. “I’ll give you the script of each one, along with the general set outlines, so you can see how the onstage action should flow.”
    â€œSounds like a fun challenge. When do you want me to start?”
    â€œHow about tomorrow? I’ll speak with the Theater Arts Department people.” He scribbled on a large desk calendar, then frowned. “I suppose you realize that our budget is . . . shall we say . . . somewhat limited?”
    â€œAunt Ibby made that clear.”
    â€œAh, yes. Miss Russell is a remarkably astute woman.” Again, the broad smile. “Will tomorrow at ten be convenient?”
    â€œI’ll look forward to it,” I said, shook his hand, and left the office, mentally checking off number four on my list.
    The Tabby was housed in Salem’s old Trumbull’s Department Store. Even after considerable renovation, the building had kept its retail-store look. There was a wide staircase leading from the main floor to the upper stories, and even some of the original store fixtures had been repurposed. An old rolltop glass counter housed student awards, and the elevators still had the old directory in them, showing floors marked MILLINERY, MENSWEAR, BEAUTY SHOP, and the like. My classroom was housed on the mezzanine, between the first and second floors, in the old shoe department, and was complete with vintage Thonet chairs and campy mid-century display pieces. I couldn’t resist taking a peek at it as long as I