“They’re here,” she said.

Mrs. Amberson nodded and dropped her cigarette, possibly on one of the arriving luminaries.

“All right,” she said. “Spencer and Eric. Take your unicycles and get down there and buzz around the crowd. Entertain a little.”

It was an odd little elevator ride, with Scarlett crushed between her brother in an oversized suit and a unicycle, and her former not-boyfriend in an oversized suit and unicycle…all riding downstairs together to entertain almost a hundred people who shouldn’t have even been there. The elevator, in a typically uncooperative move, decided to go extra slow, and even stalled a bit between the third and fourth floors.

Spencer brought it to a halt on the second floor.

“Could you get out here and walk down?” he said. “We’re going to make a big entrance out of here, so we need to make sure no one is in front of the doors, or we might, you know, kill them with unicycles.”

Scarlett ran the last flight and got downstairs just in time to see the elevator door come open. Eric emerged first. He wobbled uncertainly through the guests. This was a fake out, Scarlett knew. He was completely steady on it. The guests laughed and moved out of his way. Spencer shot out a moment later, cutting a quick path through the crowd. He made a beeline right for the closed doors of the dining room. Scarlett watched in horror when he didn’t slow down. He took them at full speed, knocking himself backward off the unicycle, doing a backflip through the assembled guests. They fell silent until he sprang up and pretended to be embarrassed. They exploded into applause and laughter.

Scarlett realized she’d been holding her breath. That was a new trick, and it looked amazingly real. Eric wheeled up next to her, lingering a moment by her side. He leaned in close—close enough that she could feel his breath on the side of her neck.

“Your brother is a show-off,” he said in a low voice.

This was followed by a wink, then he was back in the crowd, wrangling them, making conversation.

The elevator door opened again. Half the cast had crammed into it, and they processed out. The other half came down the back steps. They all went into the kitchen in a strict formation, greeting the guests in character as they passed. The last person to appear was Mrs. Amberson. She wore a slinky black dress with a minor explosion of fresh violets on her shoulder.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “Welcome to our show.”

The doors of the dining room snapped open by unseen hands. Inside, all was shadow and flickering candlelight.

“Please take your seats,” she said, pointing the way. “Anywhere you like. The show is about to begin.”

Mrs. Amberson hooked her arm into Scarlett’s and pulled her along.

“It’s your show, O’Hara,” she said. “Come and watch.”

MEANWHILE, IN DENMARK…

It wasn’t the dining room anymore. It had been completely transformed.