One of Lindsey’s favorite parts of A Midsummer Night’s Dream was the complicated love lives of Shakespeare’s young lovers. Hermia loves Lysander, but her father wants her to marry Demetrius, and he has Theseus threaten her with a convent or death if she doesn’t comply with her father’s wishes. So, of course, Helena, who was thrown over by Demetrius when he fell for Hermia, rats out Lysander and Hermia when they plan to elope. It was great stuff.

Lindsey helped the actors with their costumes, and when everything was a go, Nancy sent them away and called in the actors playing Hermia and Lysander. Lola was playing Hermia, and Lindsey was pleased to see that she hadn’t quit the show despite her grief.

“How are you holding up?” she asked the fragile-looking brunette as she adjusted the actress’s headpiece.

Lola tipped her chin up and said, “I know Robbie would want me to give the performance of my life. So that’s what I plan to do.”

“That’s the spirit,” Lindsey said. She watched as Lola walked out onto the stage to have Violet approve her final costume.

While Nancy cinched Lysander’s tunic, Lindsey heard harsh whispers coming from behind her. She turned her head, trying to see in the gloomy light. No luck. She went into the shadows and paused.

“Don’t lie to me,” a man said.

Lindsey peeped around a large canvas backdrop and saw Brian standing there, looking red-faced and angry, with his hands on his hips.

“I’m not lying,” a woman answered.

Lindsey leaned farther forward and saw that it was Brian’s wife, Brandy.

“I didn’t sleep with Robbie,” she said. Her voice sounded weary, as if she’d had this argument so many times she was utterly bored by it.

“You’re lying,” Brian snapped. “Do you think I can’t tell? You don’t want me to touch you anymore. You’re always tired or have a headache.”

“Why do you suppose that is?” Brandy asked. “You exhaust me with your crazy, jealous hysteria.”

Before Brandy could react, Brian grabbed her by the throat and shoved her up against the wall. Lindsey jumped forward as Brandy clawed at Brian’s hand.

“Let her go!” Lindsey snapped.

“Mind your own business!” Brian retorted, but he released Brandy, who was gasping. “Stick to papier-mâché, Lindsey, or you’ll regret it.”

“Like Robbie did?” she asked.

He narrowed his eyes and reached out to grab Brandy’s hand.

“Don’t touch me!” she snarled. “Ever again.”

“What are you saying?” he asked.

“I want a divorce,” Brandy said.

“You can’t do that,” he argued.

“Oh, yes, I can,” she said. “Because now I have bruises and a witness.”