“‘That will ask some tears in the true performing of it: if I do it, let the audience look to their eyes; I will move storms, I will condole in some measure,’” a deep voice said from the back of the stage.

“What?” Violet looked up. “Who said that? That’s Bottom’s part in Act I, Scene II. Continue!”

Ian Murphy strode forward and bowed. Then he continued, “‘To the rest: yet my chief humour is for a tyrant: I could play Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, to make all split.’”

“Ian Murphy, I could kiss you, you brilliant man,” Violet said. “Why haven’t you auditioned before?”

Ian looked down as he scuffed the toe of his shoe on the wooden floor of the stage. “I’m shy.”

“Ha!” Violet laughed. “Well, now you’re a star. Lindsey, take him to Mary to get fitted. Ian, I want you back here in fifteen minutes for a run-through.”

“Yes ma’am,” they said together. Ian gave Violet a snappy salute and jumped off the stage to stand beside Lindsey.

Lindsey led him to the back room, where Mary stood finalizing the stitching on one of the faerie costumes. She glanced up in surprise and looked questioningly at Ian.

“Mary, meet our new Nick Bottom,” Lindsey said. “I think you might be familiar with his measurements.”

“What?” Mary asked. “Ian, what is she talking about?”

“Brian, the original Nick Bottom has been fired,” Ian said. “Apparently Violet didn’t assign anyone as understudy, so she needed someone who knew the part.”

“You do?” Mary asked. She looked at Lindsey. “How do I not know this about my husband?”

Lindsey shrugged.

“So, I need a costume,” Ian said. “What do you think of a pair of leopard-print tights and a gold lamé tunic or is that too much?”

Mary grinned at him and shook her head. “Well, the donkey mask will certainly be appropriate.”

“Hee-haw.” Ian brayed and pranced around his wife while she laughed.

“Don’t forget, you have fifteen minutes until Violet wants you on stage,” Lindsey said.

“Oh yeah, that’s right. I have to admit, I’m a little afraid of Violet,” Ian said. He stopped prancing while Mary got out her measuring tape.

“We all are,” Mary agreed.

Lindsey left the room and went back into the theater to see if Nancy needed any help. The players were on the stage and Dylan was practicing his final speech as Puck.

“‘If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended, That you have but slumber’d here. While these visions did appear.’”

Not wanting to interrupt, Lindsey sat and watched him. He was a perfect Puck: less polished than Robbie, but he had the same twinkle in his eye and the same perfect pitch with his delivery.