Sugar Plums for Dry Creek & At Home in Dry Creek (14 page)

A man could just pre tend to be something he wasn't for so long in life. Judd figured his limit would be Saturday. He hoped he would get through the ballet with no problems. Then he could go back to counting out his nails so he could finish working on that fence of his like the solitary guy he was meant to be.

There wasn't any thing wrong with building fences, he re minded him self. He needed those fences, and that's what he'd started out to do that day he'd come to town with the kids. This whole ballet business had just been a distraction. He needed to get back to business. Besides, the whole world would be a better place if people had more fences.

I
t was only six o'clock, but Lizette was wide awake. She was lying in her bed in the back of her dance studio and looking at the hands of the clock on her night stand. For a moment, she thought her alarm must have gone off, but it hadn't. It wasn't scheduled to go off for an other hour.

Lizette had just had a dream about mice escaping into the audience and the Nutcracker's hat falling off his head. The reason she was awake was that she was having performance jitters. She hadn't had those in years. The odd thing was that she wasn't even worried about the dancing. She could dance Clara's role in her sleep, and she'd simplified everyone else's steps so they would look fine even if they for got everything she'd taught them. Clara did all of the true ballet dancing.

No, she wasn't fret ting about the dancing; she was
worried about more basic things—things like the tin soldier dying in the wrong place or the mice giggling in the middle of their fierce attack.

Or the Nutcracker for get ting how to stage a kiss and giving her the real thing. Not that she was worried about thinking the kiss would mean any thing. She'd given her self that speech enough times the last time it happened that she didn't think she'd fall for that illusion again. Even if their lips did happen to meet, she would know it was just an acting kiss.

But it could still fluster her so that she would for get some steps in the performance. Since she was really the only one dancing, that could be a problem. She was going to have to remember to tell Judd again that their stage kiss didn't require any physical contact. The audience couldn't see if their lips touched or not. They were supposed to air kiss be side their lips, not on their lips.

Maybe she should draw him a diagram, Lizette thought as she stretched and threw back the covers.

Ohh, it was cold. Lizette had the heat on in her room at the back of the studio, but she had kept it low. Until she knew how much money she would be making each month, she didn't want to spend too much extra on heat. That was an incentive to get more students if nothing else was.

Lizette reached under the quilt that covered her bed and pulled out the sweat pants and sweat shirt that
she'd put there last night. Her neighbor Linda, at the café, had taught her that trick. When it was cold out, you took your clothes for the next day to bed with you and they were warm when you got up. Of course, Linda recommended put ting them just under the top blanket in stead of between the sheets. That way, she assured Lizette, the clothes didn't get wrinkled.

Lizette pulled the sweat pants on.

She then quickly pulled on the sweat shirt, telling her self she should just go over and take an other look at the stage they had made in the barn. She wanted to see what everything looked like in the muted light of morning. This lighting would be the closest to the subdued light they'd have on their actual performance and Lizette didn't want to miss any chance to see how the shadows would fall. She wasn't sure how the shadows could help her, but knowledge al ways made one better pre pared.

After all, she told her self as she walked to her stove and turned the tea kettle on, her very first ballet production was going to be re viewed this afternoon. She hadn't realized quite how important that was until she had talked with Madame Aprele a few days ago and told her about the up coming re view.

Of course, she hadn't told Madame Aprele that the re view was going to run in a section of the paper called “Dry Creek Tidbits” or that Edna Best, the woman reviewing the ballet, obviously didn't recog
nize the Nutcracker and was, by her own admission, more comfort able covering the bait and pound age re ports during fishing sea son.

Lizette saw no reason to dismay her former teacher when the basic facts them selves were encouraging. Her ballet performance was scheduled in a large local community center, her dress rehearsal was Wednesday at two o'clock, during which time a re viewer would be present to critique the performance, and the Snow Queen was predicting a good audience turn out for the actual performance.

Madame Aprele was ecstatic with the news, and Lizette told her self she should just focus on the good things that she had told Madame Aprele.

It took Lizette ten more minutes to wash her face and fix her hair. She thought about put ting some makeup on just to help keep her face warmer, but decided against it. Then she put her wool coat on and wrapped a knit scarf around her ears and neck. She had put a tea bag in her cup of hot water a few minutes ago, and now she poured the tea into a thermal mug so she could take it with her to the barn.

The air was cold out side. There was no fresh snow, but the snow from yesterday was still on the streets of Dry Creek. It had been tramped down and was starting to be slippery.

The day promised to be gray, and Lizette wondered if she'd gone out too soon. The hard ware store
was still closed, as was the café. There was a bathroom light on in the par son age next to the church, but there were no other lights in the houses along the street. Most people had sense enough to stay in bed until the sun had a chance to warm up the day.

Lizette decided maybe she had the heat too low in her room. It barely seemed any colder out side than it had been in side. She would be glad to have the tea to drink while she looked around the stage.

The windows in the barn were covered with frost, and thin strips of snow sat on top of the door rim. The main double door was wide enough for a farmer's wagon to pass through it. The walls of the barn had been painted the usual red, and the trim was white. A wide slab of cement stood in front of the door to help with the mud.

The place might be humble com pared to other performance centers, but it was large, clean and sturdy. It even had a heating system. Apparently Mr. Elkton had in stalled heating in the building after the town started using it for their meeting center. Of course, it took a long time to heat up the huge building, so he had suggested she turn the heat on low several days be fore the performance.

Lizette had turned the heat up to fifty degrees yesterday, and she was looking for ward to seeing what the air was like in side the barn.

“Oh,” Lizette muttered as she looked at the barn
door. When she'd turned the heat on yesterday, she'd also locked the front door to the barn. She had brought the trunk over that held the props and costumes and she thought the sight of all those might tempt some one to experiment with them. And maybe it had, because now the door was most decidedly un locked. It wasn't un latched, but clearly some one had gone in side since Lizette had been here yesterday.

Of course, Lizette told her self as she opened the door and stepped into the barn, she supposed that half of the adults in Dry Creek had keys to the barn. One of them might have wanted to check to be sure the heat was on.

Lizette turned on the over head light. She was enough of a city woman to want the lights in stead of the shadows until she figured out if any thing was missing.

The Christmas tree was there, right in the middle of the area they had decided on as the stage. The card board fire place stood next to the wooden rocking chair. The old Christmas stockings that Mrs. Hargrove had hung on the stairs leading up to the hayloft were still tied in place. Folding chairs lined the edges of the barn and a table was sitting at the far end of the barn where they were going to put the pas tries and punch.

No one had moved any thing big.

It was the bath robe, Lizette decided after she looked around. All of the costumes and props were still in the trunk except for the heavy bath robe that the narrator wore. Maybe Charley had come to get it for some reason. Or Mrs. Hargrove might have decided it needed a good washing and taken it with her. It certainly was nothing some one would steal.

Lizette told her self it really didn't matter as she walked over to the small panel that ran the sound system. A bath robe was the one costume that she could easily re place. She bet there were a dozen old bath robes around that the men of Dry Creek would donate if she made the need known. Especially if she promised the bath robe owner wouldn't have to actually dance in the ballet along with his robe.

Lizette selected the Nutcracker audiocassette, inserted it into the panel, and turned the volume on low.

Pete Denning kept saying that he was willing to do what ever she needed to help with the ballet, and he could probably find a bath robe in that bunk house where he lived that looked as warm and comfort able as the one Charley had been using. Of course, the reason Pete was so helpful was because he was hoping she'd go out with him when the ballet was over.

If Pete had kept the role of the Nutcracker, he would have studied up on the proper way to give a stage kiss.

So far, Lizette had been able to gently refuse his requests for dates, explaining that it was not proper for her to date one of her students. Pete had offered to quit right then if she'd go out with him in stead. Fortunately, Lizette had talked him out of that idea, as well. But he was bound to ask her out again after the Nutcracker was finished, and she didn't know what she would say.

The sounds of Tchaikovsky's music filled the old barn. It truly was beautiful, soaring music Lizette thought to her self. Whoever had set up the speaker system had done a professional job. Several speakers hung from the rafters and several more hung either be side the hayloft or on the other side of the barn by where the refreshment table stood.

If the barn were a few degrees warmer, Lizette would be tempted to take her coat off and dance awhile. If nothing else, the sounds of Tchaikovsky would bring enough culture to the people of Dry Creek to re ward them for coming to the ballet.

Lizette drank the last swallow of her tea before she walked back to the door and opened it a crack. She looked across the road and saw that a light was now on in Linda's café. Good, Lizette thought, she would forget about the cereal in her cup board and have a proper break fast in the café this morning. After all, it was an important day. A critic from the press was going to come and review her performance.

The blinds were half-drawn on the café windows and there were no customers other than Lizette. The floor was a black-and-white pat tern and the tables and chairs had a fifties' look about them. A large glass counter filled the back wall. Linda had added a counter recently to sell more baked goods.

There was a phone call just as Linda was bringing Lizette's order out.

Linda set Lizette's plate of food down on the counter and answered the phone.

“Some telemarketer,” Linda had said thirty seconds later as she put the phone back on the hook and picked Lizette's plate up again. “Asking about a taxi in Dry Creek. Anyone from here to Wyoming knows there's no taxi in Dry Creek.”

“Why would they call the café any way?”

Linda shrugged as she put Lizette's plate in front of her. “We're the only business in the phone book with Dry Creek in our name. People get con fused.”

“Well, just as long as it's not Edna Best from the newspaper.”

Linda snorted. “Edna was born out this way. She'd be the last to call for a taxi.”

Lizette figured it probably was a telemarketer then. In any event, she wasn't going to worry about it. She had a plate of golden-brown French toast in front of her, and it was sprinkled with blueberries and rasp berries.

Linda went to the kitchen and came back with a bowl of oat meal for her self along with an apple and a small glass of orange juice.

“These frozen berries are the best,” Lizette said.

“I'm trying out a new brand,” Linda said as she sat down across from Lizette.

The two ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Lizette fretted aloud about the newspaper critic. “A re view can make or break a production.”

“Don't worry. Edna will be positive. She's probably never even been to a ballet.”

“Still, it doesn't hurt to be pre pared.”

“Well, she's liked her coffee strong and black as long as I've known her. Having a full cup will go a long way to giving her a positive impression since it's so cold out side,” Linda said as Lizette finished up her French toast. “I'll fix up a big thermal jug for you to come get around one o'clock. And I still have a few of those choc o late chip pecan cookies you made. We'll put those on a plate for her. That should take care of Edna. Did I tell you my afternoon business has picked up since I've started selling cookies to go with the coffee?”

Last week, Linda had offered Lizette meals in exchange for baked goods to sell in the café. So far, Lizette had made individual apple coffee cakes and the cookies.

“I'm thinking I'll try some pies next,” Lizette
said as she pushed her plate away. “Maybe cherry and apple with a special order possible for choc o late pecan for the holidays.”

Linda sat across the table from Lizette with her glass of orange juice in her hand. “I can sell all the baked goods you give me. You can make money in addition to your meals. We might even make up a batch of fruit cakes.”

“The people of Dry Creek sure do like their baked goods.”

Linda nodded as she picked up her apple. “They need to eat more fruits and vegetables, but you'll never convince these ranch hands around here. If it's not meat or bread, they think it's not food. I'm surprised you haven't started get ting marriage proposals. I guess they're all giving you a month or so to settle in be fore they start to pester you with their pleading.”

Lizette laughed. “If they like good cooking, I would think they'd be stopping at your door in stead. I don't know when I've had such good French toast.”

“It's the bread,” Linda said. “I use sweet bread. Besides, I've re fused them all so many times they've stopped asking.”

“Don't you want to get married?”

Linda finished chewing her bite of apple. “I was engaged once. That was enough.”

Lizette didn't think the other woman could be over twenty-two. “What happened?”