Hidden Riches

to her wide mouth. It was a face of subtle angles and smoothcurves, caught between wholesome and lovely. The energy inside her small, compact body shimmered out.
    She was a woman interested in everything around her, who believed in illusions. Watching her father rattling Marley’s chains and intoning dire predictions to the fear-struck Scrooge, she believed in ghosts. And because she believed, he was no longer her father, but the doomed miser wrapped for eternity in the heavy chains of his own greed.
    Then Marley became Quentin Conroy again, veteran actor, director and theater buff, calling for a minute change in the blocking.
    “Dora.” Hurrying up from behind, Dora’s sister, Ophelia, said, “We’re already twenty minutes behind schedule.”
    “We don’t have a schedule,” Dora murmured, nodding because the blocking change was perfect. “I never have a schedule on a buying trip. Isn’t he wonderful, Lea?”
    Though her sense of organization was hampered, Lea glanced out onstage and studied their father. “Yes. Though God knows how he can stand to put on this same production year after year.”
    “Tradition.” Dora beamed. “The theater’s rooted in it.” Leaving the stage hadn’t diminished her love of it, or her admiration for the man who had taught her how to milk a line. She’d watched him become hundreds of men onstage. Macbeth, Willie Loman, Nathan Detroit. She’d seen him triumph and seen him bomb. But he always entertained.
    “Remember Mom and Dad as Titania and Oberon?”
    Lea rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Who could forget? Mom stayed in character for weeks. It wasn’t easy living with the queen of the fairies. And if we don’t get out of here soon, the queen’s going to come out and run through her list of what might happen to two women traveling alone to Virginia.”
    Sensing her sister’s nerves and impatience, Dora swung an arm around Lea’s shoulders. “Relax, honey, I’ve got her covered, and he’s going to take five in a minute.”
    Which he did, on cue. When the actors scattered, Dora stepped out to center stage. “Dad.” She took a long look, skimming down from the top of his head to his feet. “You were great.”
    “Thank you, my sweet.” He lifted an arm so that his tattered shroud floated. “I think the makeup is an improvement over last year.”
    “Absolutely.” In fact, the greasepaint and charcoal were alarmingly realistic; his handsome face appeared just short of decay. “Absolutely gruesome.” She kissed him lightly on the lips, careful not to smudge. “Sorry we’ll miss opening night.”
    “Can’t be helped.” Though he did pout just a little. Although he had a son to carry on the Conroy tradition, he’d lost his two daughters, one to marriage, one to free enterprise. Then again, he did occasionally shanghai them into a minor role. “So, my two little girls are off on their adventure.”
    “It’s a buying trip, Dad, not a trip to the Amazon.”
    “Just the same.” He winked and kissed Lea in turn. “Watch out for snakes.”
    “Oh, Lea!” Trixie Conroy, resplendent in her costume complete with bustle and feathered hat, rushed out onstage. The Liberty’s excellent acoustics carried her throaty voice to the rear balcony. “John’s on the phone, dear. He couldn’t remember if Missy had a scout meeting tonight at five, or a piano lesson at six.”
    “I left a list,” Lea muttered. “How’s he going to manage the kids for three days if he can’t read a list?”
    “Such a sweet man,” Trixie commented when Lea dashed off. “The perfect son-in-law. Now, Dora, you will drive carefully?”
    “Yes, Mom.”
    “Of course you will. You’re always careful. You won’t pick up any hitchhikers?”
    “Not even if they beg.”
    “And you’ll stop every two hours to rest your eyes?”
    “Like clockwork.”
    An inveterate worrier, Trixie gnawed on her bottom lip. “Still, it’s an awfully long way to Virginia. And it might snow.”
    “I have snow tires.” To forestall more speculation, Dora gave her mother another kiss. “There’s a phone in the van, Mom. I’ll check in every time we cross a state line.”
    “Won’t that be fun?” The idea cheered Trixie enormously. “Oh, and Quentin, darling, I’ve just come from the box office.” She gave her husband a deep curtsy. “We’re sold out for the week.”
    “Naturally.” Quentin lifted his wife to her feet and twirled her in a graceful spin that ended in a deep dip.