“Not too low cut. I want some subtlety.”

“A subtle white slip. Size thirty-four.”

Eve chuckled, but continued to go through the wardrobe for the first production. “Let’s keep within budget. Make it nylon—as long as it looks like silk.”

“She wants a miracle.”

“Always. Oh, and let out Big Daddy’s jackets, say, an inch and a half. I’m going to want Jared padded a bit more.”

Ethel chewed her stick of peppermint gum while she noted down instructions. She’d been in wardrobe for twenty-two years. She could, with forty-five minutes notice, make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. “If the cast keeps eating the way they did the other night, you won’t need any padding.”

“I intend to keep an eye on that, too.”

“Never doubted it.” Ethel brought her half glasses down farther on her nose and looked at Eve over the straight edge. “Somebody ought to be keeping an eye on you. You give up sleeping?”

“Looks that way.” She fingered two children’s costumes. “These may have to be altered. I audition kids tomorrow. Let’s pray we can find two who can play nasty little monsters.”

“I have a couple I’m willing to lend out.” Gabriella stepped into the wardrobe room.

“Brie, I was hoping you’d make it by.” Tucking the clipboard under one arm, Eve embraced her with the other.

“I’d have made it by yesterday, but I had four dentist appointments, two haircuts and a meeting with an impossibly tight-pursed budget committee.”

“Just another day of glamour and leisure. Princess Gabriella, may I present Miss Ethel Cohen, my miracle worker with needle and thread.”

Ethel dropped into an awkward curtsy. “Your Majesty.”

“We settle for ‘Your Highness’ in Cordina.” Smiling, Gabriella offered a hand. “So many costumes.” She studied the rack, the trays and boxes full of accessories, then fingered a rope of glass beads until she felt Ethel was more at ease. “How in the world do you keep track of everything?”

“I have a system, Your Highness. As long as I can keep certain people from fouling it up.” She cast a narrow-eyed look at Eve.

“I’m just checking off,” Eve muttered. “I’m not touching anything.”

“So far,” Ethel said under her breath.

“Did I hear you say that someone should keep an eye on Eve?”

“Yes, ma’am, Your Highness. Too keyed up and not sleeping right. I’d be obliged to anyone who could get her out of my hair for a while.”

“A fat lot of respect the producer gets around here.”

“Concern’s often more important,” Gabriella commented. “I believe I can help you out, Miss Cohen. I have twenty free minutes. Eve, I’d love a cup of coffee.”

“Brie, I’m up to my ears—”

“I could pull rank.”