Old play pamphlets were heaped on a table. Costumes were scattered around in piles. She’d leave the programs for now, but the costumes had to be dealt with. She fingered the fabric of a long ballgown, then the smooth silk of a 1920s flapper dress, wondering what roles had been played in these costumes.
She made trip after trip, hauling them over to the costume area. Hanging them up. Trying to get some sort of order to all of them. When those were all finally sorted out, she returned to the dressing room and crossed over to the closet on the far side, hoping there weren’t yet more costumes inside. She tugged on the door, but it didn’t budge.
“Want some help?”
She whirled around, her heart skipping a beat, startled by Gavin’s voice. He had a way of surprising her. “I… uh… the door is stuck.”
“Let me give it a try.”
He walked over and jiggled the handle, but had no more luck than she did. She stood back, patiently watching as he wrestled with the door. “It’s stuck.” He finally gave up in defeat.
“That’s what I said.” Amusement tugged the corners of her mouth.
“Let me get some tools.” He came back and set to work on the door while she sorted through the programs. She set aside some that were in good shape to frame and put up in the lobby.
“There, got it,” he announced triumphantly with a flourish of his arm.
The closet door stood wide open. She crossed over and peeked inside, struggling to see into the depths. “I thought it was just a tiny closet. It’s larger than I thought.”
Gavin tapped on the flashlight on his phone and raised it high. “It is rather large. Here’s a light switch.” He clicked it on, but nothing happened. “Let me go get a ladder and a lightbulb. I’ll be back.”
She turned back to her project, sorting through the programs while Gavin worked on the light. Soon light spilled out from the closet and she went over to look at it again.
“Oh, wow. Look at this. It must have been a private dressing room.” A fancy dressing table surrounded by lights sat on one end. A neon star adorned the wall across from it. A single clothes rack was tucked into the corner and an old, faded sofa sat under the star.
“Looks like it.”
She closed her eyes against the wave of memories flooding back. Her own dressing room with her name on the door. The lights surrounding her reflection in the mirror as the hairstylist would do her hair each night—hair without even one strand of gray in it— and the makeup artist applying her stage makeup.
“You okay?” Gavin looked at her closely.
“What?” She turned to him slowly. “Yes, I’m… fine.”
“You kind of look like you’ve seen a ghost. You think this theater has one?” He teased her.
“I doubt it.” She pulled herself together and walked over to the dressing table. She slowly pulled open the drawers to look inside. Old makeup. Some brushes and combs. A fancy hair clip. She tugged on the bottom drawer, but it was stuck. Why was everything sticking on her today?
“Let me look at it,” Gavin said, walking over and jiggling the drawer before dropping down to the floor and peeking underneath it. “Something’s caught. There, try it again.”
She pulled on the drawer and it slid open. “All that work for an empty drawer.”
He crawled out from under the dressing table and looked at the drawer. “Can’t be. Something made it stick.” He felt around in the drawer, then finally pulled it out all the way and sat it on the table, frowning. He held it up, scrutinized it, and then pushed on the back section. A board popped open.
They leaned over the drawer. “Oh, a pendant.” She reached out and picked it up, tracing her finger over it. It’s lovely, isn’t it? I wonder if it was a prop in some show.”
“Why would someone hide a prop? That doesn’t make much sense, does it?”
“No, I guess not.” She held it up to the light, examining it closely. “Look, it has a magnolia on it. And I think these are diamonds and emeralds, aren’t they? Or I guess they could be crystals.”
“You should have it looked at.”
She wrapped her fingers around it, feeling it warm to her touch. “I wonder what the story is behind this?”
“I’m sure I don’t know. But Beverly or Miss Eleanor might. They pretty much know everything there is to know about the island.”
She slipped it in her pocket, making a mental note to talk to both of them about it.
“I’ve got to go,” he said as he packed up his tools.
