She saw his mother sitting in the row in front of her. She was mouthing the lines with her son, and Lindsey thought it was remarkable how her tune had changed with his advancement to a larger role.

When Dylan finished, Violet called him forward. “That was excellent,” she said. “You’ve really nailed it.”

Dylan beamed at her, and Lindsey noted that his mother looked quite pleased. She found this ironic given how much she had previously expressed her dislike of Violet and her immoral lifestyle.

As Joanie Peet rose, Lindsey leaned forward and said, “He really is a wonderful actor. He must have some very strong acting DNA.”

Joanie frowned at her. “Why do you say that?”

“He just seems gifted,” she said. “He almost looks like Robbie Vine up there.”

“I don’t see any resemblance,” Joanie said. “In fact, I think Mr. Vine’s talents were always a bit overrated.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry,” Lindsey said. “I meant it as a compliment. Dylan is very talented for a seventeen-year-old.”

“He’ll be eighteen in a few weeks,” she said. “He’s very mature for his age.”

“Yes, well, he’s really something special,” Lindsey said. She was getting the feeling that Joanie was annoyed with her, but she couldn’t for the life of her think why unless she really resented having her son compared to Robbie Vine.

“I’m fully aware of how special my son is,” Joanie said. She moved around Lindsey. “I haven’t spent all these years nursing my sickly boy back to health to not know what a gift he is. Please, excuse me.”

Lindsey watched as she approached her son. He was crouched on the edge of the stage, listening to directions from Violet. When he turned his head, the lighting lit up his reddish-brown hair and he grinned a sort of sideways smile that looked so much like Robbie Vine’s that Lindsey felt her breath catch.

Suddenly, Lindsey remembered the tattoo on Robbie’s arm. It was a stylized sun with a date in the middle of it. He had told her that the date was a reminder of the most significant day of his life.

It had been 10-23-95, just a few weeks short of being eighteen years ago. Lindsey had assumed it was the date of a big show or maybe the first lead role Robbie had gotten, but looking at Dylan and remembering the article about Robbie having fathered a child, she wondered.

She must be crazy. No, it was impossible. But hadn’t Heather said that Dylan told her he was adopted? Still, the odds that he was Robbie’s son were slim to none. And yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps it was true. There was only one way to be sure.

She made her way down to the edge of the stage, where Joanie was listening in on Violet’s instructions to Dylan.