While not everyone could make it to the reading the next evening, most of the local cast members were there. “I’m sure you all know I have my doubts about Fair Exchange,” he told them. “It just hasn’t come alive for me in the couple of months I’ve been thinking about it. In the last few days we’ve come up with an alternative, a slightly different presentation of several plays Janine Warrenton has pulled together for us, and tonight may be the session that turns it into a make or break. This is not a normal reading, and I’m not going to be a part of it. I’m just going to sit back and make notes or suggestions. What’s more, I want you to do the same. If you come across something that seems funny, or doesn’t present right, speak up. Your opinion is as important as anyone else’s.”

It took a lot longer than anyone had imagined to work their way through Janine’s revised play, mostly because there were some decisions to be made on how to play it, and more than a few suggestions for improvement. Janine had her computer open and took notes on almost everything that was said, although she didn’t say much at the session. It was a good time and a lighthearted gathering, at least partly because they went through several bottles of wine during the reading. The wine had been provided by Marty and Samantha, who sat in the whole time, and offered comments along with everyone else.

Finally Brett was able to tell everyone, “Thanks for coming tonight. You’ve been a big help. I haven’t reached a decision yet, but you’ve given me plenty of food for thought.”

It was still a while before the four of them, along with Marty and Samantha, settled down around one of the tables in the theater with a couple of partly empty bottles of wine to use up. “So, Marty, Samantha,” Brett asked, “do you have any thoughts about this, in terms of dumping Fair Exchange?”

“About all I can tell you is that this play seems like it would work,” Marty said. “I’m not that familiar with Fair Exchange, so I can’t say it would work better.”

“I must agree,” Samantha put in. “There are parts of this one that are delightful, and I love the concept of the table being the silent witness to all the drama and personal happenings that go on at it. While each of the vignettes is different, it provides a unity.”

“The bottom line,” Marty said, “is that I don’t think Samantha and I are really in the position to make a decision. Brett, it’s going to have to be up to you, Kellye, and Meredith. It’s your opinion that I value.”

“I almost feel as if I shouldn’t have an opinion,” Meredith said. “After all, I have a personal interest. But Brett, I have to point out, that whichever way we go, we’re accomplishing the thing we set out to do, which is to do a play that’s never previously been performed, and written by an unknown playwright, all to try to bring them a little attention. Now, that much said, I lean toward Janine’s play, mostly because we do know her and like her. But that part is personal opinion, of course.”

“I don’t disagree,” he said. He took a sip from his glass and thought about it for a moment. “Oh, the hell with it,” he said. “Let’s do this play. Meredith, you’re not the only one who has a personal interest. We all have it, though of course not to the degree you have. None of us knows this guy who wrote Fair Exchange, and I was never that much in love with it anyway.”

“I don’t think any of us were,” Kellye agreed. “It was just, well, kind of there. My only question is this: we’ve been just calling it ‘Janine’s play.’ It needs to have a title.”

“Why not just The Back Table,” Samantha suggested. “That is the unifying element of the play. Janine, perhaps somewhere in an early section of the play you might make mention of the fact that it’s located in the back corner of the coffeehouse.”

“I c-can work that in,” she agreed.

“Works for me,” Brett agreed. “Let’s do it. Janine, why don’t you try to work in the suggestions you feel are valid in the next couple of days, and leave a copy of it with us when you go back to New York. Then think about it and see if there’s anything else you want to change. We don’t have to have an absolutely firm copy of it for a little while yet, maybe not until we get done with The Odd Couple, but I think we should limit changes after that.”

“I c-can have it b-by then.”

“All right, that’s pinned down,” he replied. “We still need to think about Saving Grace and Barefoot in the Park, but we have time before we have to make final decisions on them.”

They polished off the rest of the wine in the next few minutes, then all six of them piled onto Marty’s golf cart, which he and Samantha often used to run back and forth between their house and the mill. He dropped off the four at the rental house, and they went inside, feeling pretty good, and not just because of the wine.

“This is s-something else I n-never would have b-believed,” Janine said as they watched Marty and Samantha drive off. She explained that she had been unbelievably happy just to have Chocolate, Roses and Sex performed, and now it seemed even more amazing that some of her little pieces had been turned into a full-length play, and it was going to be performed, too! She’d kept up her reserve around Marty and Samantha, but she now was just about bouncing off the walls!

Meredith apparently decided that some of that energy had to be put to good use, so she led her lover upstairs. Within minutes it was very clear to Brett and Kellye that there was some very loud and enthusiastic celebrating going on.

“That sounds pretty inspirational to me,” Kellye smiled.

“We might as well have some fun of our own,” he agreed. “We’re not going to get to sleep anytime soon.”

They didn’t work as hard the next day, mostly because they had to get ready for the final weekend of the twin bill. At one point there had been some question about doing a Friday afternoon rehearsal for both plays again, but after talking it over with Mike they all agreed that they were good to go, and more rehearsal probably wouldn’t improve anything. So Brett, Kellye, Meredith, and Janine decided it was time to walk back to the swimming hole again and just spend a couple hours getting unwound and relaxed and ready for the evening. Brett noticed that Meredith and Janine seemed especially close out there but didn’t say anything about it. It was obvious that both of them knew that a delightful, and possibly life-changing few days were drawing to a close.

That evening, they did something hadn’t been done before. As unobtrusively as possible, a video camera had been set up to record the plays, which included both versions of Chocolate, Roses and Sex. It had been mostly Marty’s idea; he felt that Janine would appreciate having a record of both versions of the play, as the difference between the interpretations was as great as it ever had been.

Apparently, word had been getting around, since there was good house that evening, not a sell-out crowd, but not far short of it, either. Everything went very well, including the roast turkey dinner the good ladies of the Funston Church put on.

Saturday’s performance of the twin bill also went well, and to another good, solid crowd; there was nothing to complain about. Sunday, however, was a different story. Both Janine and Meredith seemed a bit melancholy, realizing that their delightful time together was drawing to a close. Janine couldn’t extend her vacation any longer, and she had to be on the road to the airport not long after the end of the matinee. It may have affected Meredith’s performance a little; at least Brett didn’t feel like she’d nailed it as well as she had in other shows.

Once again, they thanked the audience as they filed out, but once everything was done, it was a long, slow, and especially quiet walk back to the house, with Meredith and Janine clinging close to each other every step of the way. Brett and Kellye held back from them to give them some time alone; they felt the sadness, too, and couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen after Janine left.

Brett and Kellye tried to leave the other two some space for their final good-byes, which didn’t extend as far as the bedroom upstairs, other than to bring some luggage down. While they wished Janine a good trip home and told her they’d miss her – and they would – they stood back and tried to not notice how long a hug and kiss the two lovers shared next to her rental car. And they tried not to hear the promises the two made that they’d get together again soon. Tears were very much in evidence all the while.

Finally, there was no choice; Janine had to go. She got in her car, started it up, and backed out the driveway, while Meredith stood watching until long after she was out of sight. With just a look at each other, Brett and Kellye decided to go inside so Meredith could have time to pull herself together – it was clear she needed it.

It was a while before Meredith came in to join them. “Jesus, that was hard,” she said when she came in the door.

“It looked like it to me,” Brett agreed. “I sure didn’t envy you having to watch her go. I could see you’d really got hooked on her.”

“And the other way around,” Kellye added. “It looked like your hearts were coming out.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Meredith said softly. “Jesus, I never expected that to happen. Not any of it. I knew it was going to be hard, but there was no way in hell I ever thought it could be that hard. My God, has it only been ten days?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Brett said.

“I never expected that to happen,” Meredith said. “I mean, when we came back here the first night, it was, oh, celebrating or something like that, but we blew through that so quickly it wasn’t funny. I never …”

“Never what?” Kellye asked softly after Meredith had hesitated for a few seconds.

“I never believed I could need someone that badly,” Meredith finally managed to get out. “I’ve … I’ve never had it happen before. Not in the slightest.”

“If it helps, it seemed to me that she needed you just about as much as you needed her,” Brett said softly.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah,” Meredith nodded. “She was so shy, so … lost, I guess. Lonely as hell. And then she found me, and it was like she was almost a different person. I mean, warm and loving, someone I could care about, someone who could care about me. I’ve never had that before, and she hasn’t either. We just dropped into each other like magnets. I guess we each needed the other just about as badly.”

“It didn’t look like a fling to me,” Brett said.

“Oh, it was a fling for maybe ten minutes,” Meredith said. “But then it got real serious. I don’t know how I’m going to get along without her, and worse, I don’t know how she’s going to get along without me.”

“So what are you going to do?” Kellye asked.

“Hell if I know,” she replied. “We didn’t … well, we didn’t make any real plans. I know I’m stuck here for the summer, but as soon as we’re done here … well, if we still need each other I’m off to New York. I hope I am.”

“I thought something like that might happen,” Brett conceded gently.

“I hope we’ll still need each other,” Meredith replied bravely. “I think we will. It’s just that the end of the summer is so damn far away. It seems like forever. If we don’t … well, hell, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Kellye took Meredith into her arms. “All I can say is that I think she feels the same way.”

“God, I hope so. Like I said, we didn’t get into making any real plans or anything, other than we want to be together, and it’ll have to be in New York. Maybe we’ll talk about it a little more when she comes back.”

“She’s coming back?”

“You don’t think she’d miss the opening of her first full-length play, do you?” Meredith smiled, the first smile she’d managed in the last few minutes.

“Well, now that you mention it, no,” Kellye said.

“It may be that she’ll be here for the whole run of it. At least I hope so. It’s going to be pushing her for vacation time a lot, and she won’t know until she gets back to work. But she’s sure we’ll have at least a few days.”

“That’s something to look forward to.”

“Yeah, but it’s still a hell of a long time. It’s what? Over six weeks. It’s going to seem like forever.”

“We’ll just keep you busy enough to keep you from brooding about it,” Brett said.

“Fat chance of that. I mean, God, I’ve never felt like this before and I have no idea how to handle it.”

Meredith perked up a little late on Sunday evening when she got a text message from Janine telling her that she’d arrived in New York safely and was back in her apartment in Brooklyn. The message was signed, “Love you” and that helped out a little.

Meredith seemed moody and morose the next few days, and there was no doubt about why she felt that way; her mind was far away. She was still involved in the plays and preparation for them, but it was clear that they were no longer the primary thing on her mind.

Fortunately, she wasn’t preparing directly for the next play. It had been agreed long before that she would be directing The Hermit of Walden and wouldn’t be acting in it, which may or may not have been a blessing since there wasn’t as much to keep her mind occupied.

On Monday, they rebuilt the set, not that it took much work; the set had been designed that way in the first place. The curtains and the pictures came down, except for the picture on the wall that represented a window outside. The furniture had to be changed to items that were much more rustic than had been the case in the Chubukov living room for A Marriage Proposal. Early in the day the work was done except for a few little details, which meant they could finally rehearse the play on the actual set.

They were pretty well prepared for it, and rehearsals went well every night that week. On Thursday night they held a full dress rehearsal, and Meredith, who was now getting back into the swing of things, thought it went pretty well.

After the good crowds of the last two weekends, they were a little disappointed to see a significant drop-off in the size of the audience for The Hermit of Walden. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t known it was coming, since advance ticket sales and reservations hadn’t gone as well. On the other hand, it was clear that a lot of people coming to the play were quite familiar with Thoreau, which made all of the work Brett had gone to in nailing down his lines seem especially worth the effort. The play went well and the dinners were good, but it just lacked the snap of the previous weekend’s shows.

In talking about it later, Brett decided he’d learned something about scheduling plays for the Curlew Creek Dinner Theater: don’t get too esoteric. While it was a fun play in its way and there were some laugh lines to be found, it was not a light comedy, either. It was possible to have some drama – the “lipstick” version of Chocolate, Roses and Sex proved it – but it seemed better to concentrate on the things that would be more fun.

Actually, it made him wonder a little about the decision to do The Back Table. While it had its funny spots, it was more dramatic comedy, and sometimes just dramatic, period. Still, there was something there for everyone, and considering the way Meredith was still mooning over not having Janine around, he decided it would be best to keep his thoughts on the matter to himself.

Saturday’s performance drew a slightly larger crowd, but nothing stunning, and Sunday’s crowd was down. There was still some hope that the next weekend would be better, but Brett didn’t want to bet on it.

The subject came up on Monday, when the three of them had a planning session with Marty and Samantha. Brett conceded that he hadn’t made the best possible decision with The Hermit of Walden, but they were stuck with it now and would only have to do it one more weekend. “Then we get to The Odd Couple,” he told the two. “I think we’re going to make up a lot with that one. In fact, I think it may be the best chance for a sellout we have all season.”

“I hope you’re right,” Marty told him. “I think we’re running in the black right now, in spite of having to eat those tickets from the first night of Same Time Next Year, but if we’re breaking even with Hermit we’re only breaking even. I’m just hoping we can make out pretty well on The Odd Couple and then hold our own after that.”

“We should be able to,” Brett told him. “So far, we’re committed to The Man with the Plastic Sandwich after The Odd Couple, and then The Back Table. Plastic Sandwich is kind of a goofy name, but then it should indicate that it’s kind of a goofy play. And it is – the premise is a little poignant, but the play makes up for it. Back Table, well, it’s kind of a shot in the dark but maybe we can ride the popularity of Chocolate, Roses and Sex with it.”

“So where are we at for the final two shows?”

“I haven’t been thinking about that as much as I should have,” Brett told him. “I’ve had my mind on more immediate concerns. Saving Grace is a comedy and a good one, but there is that problem with the name.”

“I’ve been concerned with that,” Samantha said. “I’m afraid too many people will confuse it with the TV show.”

“Right, and this is something totally different,” Brett agreed. “The only thing I can think of is to change the name some without changing the name.”

“I don’t follow you on that one,” Marty shook his head.

“What I’m saying is that we should lose the first part of the title, but not quite,” he said. “I mean, when we make up the flyers, let’s put the ‘Saving’ part in real small letters, and mostly make out that the name of the play is simply ‘Grace.’”

“Might work,” Marty nodded. “Is there any reason we just couldn’t lose the ‘Saving’ entirely?”

“Good question, and I can’t answer it. About all I can do is run it by the copyright holder. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d had this question come up before, and it’s not impossible they might have an alternate title. If they don’t, they’re shooting themselves in the foot. It sucks about the name, but the play itself is worth doing.”

“See what you can find out,” Marty told him. “But do it as quickly as you can. I’m at the point where I have to print flyers for the rest of the season.”

“I’ll get on it today,” Brett told him.

“So have you decided anything on the last play? I know you were talking about Barefoot in the Park at one point, but I also know you were talking about holding it back until next season.”

“That’s still an option. If we did it next season, it could easily be the big show of the season. However, there are other plays to consider, too. On the other hand, if we do it this year, we’re pretty well assured of a good crowd on the closing weekend, when we’ll have seven performances instead of the normal six.”

“That would help with the balance sheet a little, that’s for sure. Once again, I don’t want to tell you what to do, but I’d say to go ahead with Barefoot in the Park this year, and we’ll worry about something else for next year. As you said, there are other plays out there, and next year we might be able to be a little more liberal about cast sizes since we’ll have a better idea of what we’re doing.”

“Good enough,” Brett replied. “Let’s go with it, and I hope to know about Saving Grace in the next couple of days.”

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