“No,” says Jess, “it’s just this way.”

We stand beneath this white tree and consider it, this tree that feels like it’s been set on the planet for us and us alone. This is our tree, I understand. Jess is sharing it with me, and so it’s ours.

Jess speaks: “The first time I saw you—at the party—you reminded me of it.”

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

“I know,” Jess says. “That’s why I said you reminded me of it.”

Jess touches her own eyebrow where mine has the white patch. Then she reaches out and slowly touches mine. I need no further invitation. I take Jess by the hand, the same hand that helped me over the fallen log, and kiss her.

The kiss feels like passing through a portal: Our lips touch, and we leave someplace ordinary and pass through to somewhere new, someplace that feels like magic.

VOYAGE TO THE TOGSHOP,
or a Brief History of the Doublet

That Sunday, a little less than a week before the opening of Into the Woods, the shop went into a tizzy and we were called in for an emergency. Cinderella—or, rather, the actor who played Cinderella in Into the Woods—was being a real pain in the neck. At the eleventh hour, she’d decided that she didn’t like the dress that she was going to wear, and she was demanding an entirely new costume.

“Evidently it didn’t make her feel princessy enough,” Phoebe said, rolling her eyes. “Bet she felt princessy pitching a fit. Anyway—are you comfortable running to the Togshop to pull some new dresses for her? It’s on the other side of town, and it’s where we store most of our costumes when they’re not in use. I wrote directions down for you; I’d go with you if I could, but I’ve got so much to do here. Don’t follow Google Maps or else you’ll wind up in a lake. One more thing—can you take Oliver with you?”

“Oliver? As in… Teller?”

“Yeah,” Phoebe said. “Oh, wait—I haven’t even told you the best part! The reason they had me at the last production meeting. Benna needs a special assistant for Oliver’s costume. She’s letting me submit some designs.”

“What? Really? That’s amazing!”

“Yeah—I mean, I know I just told you we’re not the West End,” Phoebe said. “And it’s going to be a lot of work. Like, the show opens in seven weeks.”

“You can do it,” I said.

“You think?”

“Of course,” I said. And I meant it, too. If anyone could pull that off, it was Phoebe. “This is so cool. To have a big name like Oliver in your design?”

“I mean, does anyone actually watch that show?” said Phoebe. “What did they call it? ‘The worst show on television’?”