As for the bird: When I got back from the dress rehearsal, it was gone, and Ros was nowhere to be found, in spite of what they’d said earlier that day. Maybe the bird had healed, flew away of its own accord. Or maybe something wild had carried it off into the woods, something that lived out there, furred and feral and hungry.

The first Into the Woods show went off without a hitch.

And the next show.

And the next show.

And the next show.

Which wasn’t to say that we weren’t busy. Even when the production ran smoothly, Benna always had work for us to do, which I enjoyed—steam this. Fold that. Wash that. Remove those stains. The nights were late, but the costume shop was busy with everyone working to make the shows come together. There was camaraderie that came with being there late into the night, all of us losing sleep to make sure the show went seamlessly, pun intended.

And still: No one in the costume shop, with the exception of maybe Benna, was working half as hard as Phoebe, who was doing everything we were doing plus furiously helping Benna design the yeti costume. Benna fought for her to get a raise halfway through the season, and Phoebe actually got one. Her process was very collaborative, which meant that Oliver Teller was often in the shop with us when he wasn’t in rehearsals, offering his thoughts on yeti character development, which I didn’t mind: in the first place because he was nice to look at, and also because it meant that Jacques was slightly more tolerable. His calls of existential distress had decreased considerably in Oliver’s presence, and once, he’d even let me touch the very tip of his tail.

“Hey,” Phoebe said one day. It was actually the first of July; I remember because I had looked at my calendar and been shocked at the passage of time, how quickly the summer seemed to be moving. “Oliver and I are going to get lunch at the Dropped Acorn. You want to come?”

“Touchstone said that place was supposed to be good,” I said.

“It rules,” Phoebe said. “They do strawberry shortcake for the Fourth of July.”

“Oh,” I said. “I forgot all about that!”

“You have the day off,” said Phoebe. “You better do something good. And then tell me every single detail. Come with us, now, though,” she said. “Honestly. You won’t regret it.”