“Can I talk to you?” she asked.

This was obviously directed at just two of them. Scarlett and Spencer stepped forward. She at least had the decency to retreat to the steps and speak in a low voice.

“How long did you think this was going to remain a secret?” she asked calmly.

“Um…forever?” Spencer said.

“Isn’t it wonderful!” cried a voice from the opposite corner.

Mrs. Amberson, dressed entirely in black yogawear, stepped out of the shadowy anteroom where the hot water heater was. There was a faint, audible gasp from one of the girls over by that wall—which was totally understandable. Otherwise, absolutely everyone stood in shocked silence.

Mrs. Amberson walked into the middle of the group, as natural as day, dusting a bit of smudge from her sleeve. She was holding one of the small French notebooks and had been scrawling away.

“I think you’re right, Trevor,” she said, consulting the opened page. “That last line is hard to hear from a distance. We’ll need to do some vocal work.”

Trevor, who had never met Mrs. Amberson, nodded slowly. He did remarkably well by not going insane when the strange woman emerged from the wall to answer his question.

Mrs. Amberson walked up to Scarlett’s mother, who was receiving a double surprise. She flashed her biggest smile, which was longer and more insidious than a holiday traffic jam.

“We were just using the downstairs tonight as there was a little problem with our rehearsal space,” Mrs. Amberson said. “It’s not a problem, is it? I promise I’ll have them moved out as soon as possible. I would have asked…but I hated to bother you. Oh, I hope you’re not mad. Please, let’s have a talk. You come along, Scarlett. Take a break everyone. We’ll be back.”

“Um…sure,” Spencer said. “We’ll break.”

His look to Scarlett said: Please tell me you know what’s going on.

But, of course, she didn’t.

A SPY IN THE HOUSE OF DENMARK

Upstairs, in the dining room, Mrs. Amberson gratefully accepted the offer of a cup of hot water while Scarlett was sent upstairs to fetch one of her organic-ginger teabags and her box of pickled Japanese plums. She bypassed the elevator and took the stairs three at a time. When she got back, winded, Mrs. Amberson was in full conversational swing.

“…I’d been hearing a lot about that theater group, First National Bang, from friends of mine in the business. It’s a cuttingedge production, and it’s going to get a lot of attention in the industry. Color me amazed when I heard Spencer was part of the cast and that was the show he mentioned on the night I arrived!”

She gave her hand a little swirl in the air.

“And naturally, when I heard they had run into a small spot of financial trouble…which every worthwhile show does, believe me…I absolutely jumped at the chance to become the company’s new artistic director and the main financial backer. It was the ultimate piece of good fortune. This is exactly the reason this hotel is recommended. Wasn’t I thrilled, Scarlett?”