Trudi Schumann turned around to say something to Tory Bascomb. Tory nodded and rose to her feet.

“Mrs. Claus!” Tory called out.

Phyllis stopped arranging the lap robe and turned to face their director. “Yes?”

“Where did you get your costume? And don’t try to tell me it was from our costume department, because I know we don’t have anything like that!”

Phyllis tossed her head, which would normally cause her blond hair to swing in a graceful arc. Now, however, the effect was lost due to the short, curly Mrs. Santa wig she was wearing. “The Mrs. Claus costume you have didn’t fit me. I had to go to Minneapolis to get this one.”

“Which doesn’t fit you, either. It’s much too short, much too brief, and much too tight.”

“No, this one fits perfectly!” Phyllis argued.

Hannah held her breath. Tory Bascomb had a legendary temper, and Hannah expected it to manifest itself at any moment.

“You’re right, Miss Bates. It certainly does fit. It’s the perfect costume for a Christmas show in a strip club. But . . . my dear girl . . . this is not a strip club. This is general entertainment for men, women, and children of all ages. And there is no way that I will allow you on my stage in a lap dancer’s costume!”

Tory turned to Trudi. “Is there any way you can alter our Mrs. Claus costume to fit Miss Bates so that she can return her lamentable and unfortunate choice?”

“Of course, Miss Bascomb. All I need are her measurements and I can have it ready by tomorrow.” Even in the darkened theater, Hannah saw that Trudi’s lips were twitching with laughter. “I can do it, no problem.”

“Then get right on it after tonight’s rehearsal. And thank you, Trudi. You’ve saved us from total disaster.” Tory turned to face the stage again. “Now let us put this unfortunate incident behind us and rehearse the rest of the Santa appearance. Miss Bates?”

“Yes?”

Hannah’s eyes widened. It was clear that Phyllis was not cowed by the famous director’s tone.

“Please go to the table, pick up an imaginary Christmas gift bag, and carry it to Santa.”

Hannah and Lisa watched as Phyllis walked to the table, pretended to pick up something from the surface, and returned to hand the nonexistent object to Herb.