Her phone buzzed again. This time, it was Eric.

Where are you? I’m doing my best to cover, but between the “unwrapping” and the “setting” and the fire department on speed dial, I’m afraid I’m missing something.

A grin snuck up on her, and even Maddie sounded pissed when she peered over Delia’s shoulder and looked at her phone. “Eric, really? Not cool, Delia. I’m here, trying to win, for you.”

Delia’s smile vanished, and she stood frozen in the doorway. Her phone lit up again, this time with a phone call. Cassie. But Cassie never called—Delia wasn’t even entirely convinced her friend knew her phone, despite its name, had the capability.

She shrugged an apology and answered on her way down the hall. “Is everything all right?”

“Dee Dee, it’s me.”

“I know.”

“Good, we can cut to it then. My bus is about to leave.”

“Cut to what? Wait, why are you getting on a bus? Shouldn’t you be at the theater?”

“Not tonight. And not tomorrow. And not because I’m all sorts of psychic like you, but because your parents already said they canceled tomorrow night’s show too.”

“They what?” Delia’s parents were the definition of “the show must go on.” Her mom spent the first two hours of her labor with Delia onstage as Juliet. A testament to her dedication to her craft even if those last scenes had her lying on a slab, pretending to be dead.

“When was the last time you talked to them?” Cassie asked.

Delia thought. “A few days ago. I’ve left messages, but I know how busy they get during the season, and they’re the worst texters.”

“Listen, Dee Dee, Chicago’s calling me, and unlike your parents, who you know I love—sometimes more than my own—I’m answering. So, you didn’t hear this from me, but the theater’s in a major nosedive, like snatch those oxygen masks and say a dozen Hail Marys. And now someone’s swooping in, offering a parachute. I think they just might jump ship.”

Delia closed her eyes. “Cassie, I live for your mixed metaphors, but I’m already late for work and . . . and these are my parents. The theater’s everything to them. It’s their life.”

Our life.

“Some vultures want to turn your parents’ theater into a multiplex. Offering big bucks.”

“A movie theater?” Delia couldn’t remember the last movie she’d watched with her parents. “But how . . .”

“Because, Dee Dee, the theater’s not everything to them. You are.”

*   *   *