Chapter 3 #2
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, more voluminous than before.
Sylvie sagged in relief and waved again with her free hand.
While the audience dispersed and went on their way, Sylvie helped Mr. Miller gather the targets and props and take them to a storage area inside the Coliseum.
While there, she grabbed the unobtrusive carpetbag Delia had procured so Sylvie could stash her costume before she left the park.
Then they went back outside, with Sylvie still hidden by her hood and mask. Mr. Miller stopped in the path and turned to her. “The audience loved your show. Sometimes they’re lackluster about the demonstrations, but yours had them riveted.”
The knots in her stomach untied all at once, allowing tension to drain from her body. “Thank you for saying so. It’s difficult to determine if they’re being polite or if they truly enjoyed themselves.”
Mr. Miller gave a decisive nod. “I’ll report it to Mr. Wallace, as well. Hopefully, that will help keep your show on the schedule.”
Something in his words struck Sylvie, leaving her frozen in the path for a moment as she tried to decipher his meaning. Seeing that he was about to walk away, Sylvie rushed to catch up to him. “What do you mean? Is it likely to be removed?”
Shrugging, Mr. Miller turned to head toward the administration building, where he had an office.
“Less popular shows tend to be canceled without waiting around to see if they improve. There are so many other attractions here these days that Mr. Wallace has no patience for any duds. But I’m sure yours will remain.
Quite a few guests inquired earlier about what time you’d be performing today, which is an excellent sign.
They know about your show when they come, so people must be talking about it. ”
Despite his assurance, Sylvie’s stomach knotted all over again.
She managed to wave goodbye and let Mr. Miller continue on his way to his next task, but all the while, worries began swirling in her mind.
She couldn’t bear to lose this opportunity so soon.
It was the only choice she’d ever been able to make for herself.
Ducking into an alcove under the overhanging roof of the Coliseum and glancing around to see that she was alone, Sylvie pushed the mask up above her eyes and let the hood drop back a little.
The fresh air on her face helped stave off the panic, but only just. How could she make her show good enough to ensure the resort manager would never consider cutting it?
After a morning spent dodging crowds, Miles had started to question his choice to accompany the others to the resort.
He tried to stay away from places as busy as a lakeside amusement park on a warm day.
The noise and chaos that accompanied such revelry weren’t things he enjoyed, so why put himself in the midst of them?
Other than the crush of people, the attractions at the resort had been interesting.
Miles and the group of three other professors and six students spent the first half of their day at the Amusement Circle, where they tried the shooting gallery, rode the circle swing and carousel, and laughed at each other’s reflections in the silly mirrors filling the House of Mirth.
Several of the professors had stopped at a food stall to purchase a stack of sandwiches to share, and now they gathered in a shady spot near the beach for a picnic.
Miles found himself sitting on a thin flannel blanket with Henry until the students joined them, all laughter and energy.
While only a few years in age separated the younger faculty members from the students, there was a wide chasm between the enthusiasm with which the two groups experienced life.
Several students dropped onto the blanket with Miles and Henry, one being Miss Fording.
She shot Miles a shy smile, then looked away.
Heat climbed Miles’s neck when Henry raised his eyebrow, evidence he’d seen the gesture.
Miles shook his head and whispered, “Don’t get ideas. I want nothing to do with it.”
Henry shrugged but didn’t stop grinning.
Assumptions always worked the same way. No amount of protesting would change someone’s mind once it was made up.
Frustrated by his failure to convince Henry of the truth, Miles jumped to his feet, snagged a sandwich, and stalked toward a large building set back a bit from the beach.
Every few feet, arched openings allowed guests to take shelter from the sun on a wrap-around veranda, drawing him with the potential for quiet and privacy.
Indeed, cool shadows enveloped the narrow open-air space under the roof, which was emptier than he’d expected on a hot day.
Miles avoided several sets of doors leading into the Coliseum itself and instead headed toward a corner farther away from foot traffic.
He rested back against the wall and let the happy sounds of beachgoers soothe his irritation with being misunderstood yet again.
The relief was interrupted all too soon by a couple younger than himself stopping by the nearest arch.
The young man raised a hand to stroke the lady’s cheek, and Miles decided it was time to move on.
Hoping for a better spot on the other side of the building, Miles peeked around the corner to see a slim, feminine figure stepping through an arch.
The woman was clad in a white shirtwaist and black skirt with what looked to be a rather heavy green velvet cloak over the top, the deep hood completely hiding her face.
But the way she marched through that archway with such purpose… Miles recognized her from somewhere.
As the woman reached the wall and dropped back against it—much as he had a moment ago—Miles twisted to lean farther around the corner.
If he could only catch a glimpse of her face under that hood, he might figure out where he’d met her.
To his relief, the woman reached up and untied the mask that obscured her eyes and nose.
She tipped her chin up, letting the hood drop away…
and Miles sucked in a breath as he threw himself back against his side of the wall.