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There was a great deal of work waiting for her at the playhouse. Several ripped seams from the evening’s performance. Nevelyn arrived first. It allowed her to get in extra work, but it also guaranteed she would not miss any gossip. Her plan would not work if there’d been a change in Edna’s relationship status.
Faith and John arrived next—quietly debating something they’d read in the morning paper. Kersey came after them. Nevelyn was so focused on the pattern in front of her that she didn’t even see the woman enter. It was as if she’d used the waxways to port there.
Finally, Edna arrived. The girl was always quite put together. Her hair was neat and curled. She’d shadowed her eyes, colored her cheeks, plucked her eyebrows. For all that, she was not a very pretty creature. Maybe Nevelyn’s opinion was soured by the treatment she’d received, but there was a pinched quality to the girl’s appearance. It reminded her of someone who’d just sipped curdled milk.
The group worked and chatted, worked and chatted. Edna offered no revelations about her situation. Apparently, she still liked the man she’d been dating. Nevelyn waited an hour, long enough for any proper news to surface, before excusing herself for a break.
In the dark of the underground labyrinth, she removed the small letter from her pocket. Her fingers traced the words. It had taken quite a bit of practice. She’d found a single note in one of Edna’s pockets from her current love interest. It had only been one sentence long, but that had been more than enough to rehearse his handwriting. The way he darted too far down on his t’s and the rather strange loop he made whenever he scribbled the S in his own name: Saul Bathlow.
She’d kept her forged letter brief and to the point. She didn’t want eloquence to throw Edna off the trail. Upstairs, Nevelyn glided across the backstage area. With such a massive work crew—and so many shifts involved—the mail wall served as the main source of communication. There were small, open compartments for every worker that ran from floor to ceiling. Nevelyn found the slot that had been marked with Edna’s name and slid the letter carefully inside.
Most of the correspondence was between crew members. A note to remind someone on the next shift of what work someone had or hadn’t done. But Nevelyn knew outsiders used the wall to leave notes for busy spouses or friends. She just needed Edna to see the letter.
There was movement on her left. She looked up in time to lock eyes with Tessa Brood. A shiver ran down Nevelyn’s spine. She’d been so focused on her current task that she’d nearly forgotten her true enemy was in these same halls. Living the life that Nevelyn had been denied. Tessa looked away first, inspecting her own mail slot. The girl’s bright hair was up in a tight bun that drew out the sharpness of her cheekbones. She had a pointed chin and narrow eyes. She was beautiful in the same way that most predators were beautiful. A luring that brought its prey in just a step, close enough to kill.
Not yet. I will face you soon enough.
Nevelyn knelt down and pretended to inspect her own mail slot. She heard Tessa leave and was about to leave too when she saw a slash of bright ribbon. She’d never inspected her own mail slot carefully. Only a passing glance, because the seamstresses rarely communicated in that fashion. She reached inside and found there were several notes piled on top of each other. All for her.
“What in the world…?”
There were four folded slips of paper. All identical, except the newest one. Someone had taken the time to punch a hole in the paper and tie a lovely red ribbon through. Nevelyn realized this was likely because she’d missed the other notes. She unfolded the first slip, thinking certainly it was from Ren Monroe. The handwriting was cramped and messy and signed by another name:
Do you like coffee?—Garth
She could not help smiling as she unfolded the second, hoping she had them in order.
Gods, you must be a tea person. I’ve obviously offended you.—Garth
And then the third:
Or maybe you’re religious? And my use of the term ‘gods’ has offended you. Lovely. I’m off to a horrible start with all of this, aren’t I?—Garth
Finally, she opened the one with the ribbon.
I’ve figured it out. You don’t know how to read! Which means I could write anything here and not even be slightly embarrassed about it. For example, I could write that the first time I saw you… I nearly called you beautiful. I could write that I wish I had been brave enough to just come out and say it. I could write that I’m afraid I won’t get the chance to say it again, even if it’s true. Anyways, it’s a shame you don’t know how to read. If you find someone who can read, please tell them to not say any of this out loud. I’d like to be the first one to tell you.—Garth
Nevelyn felt like her face might go numb from smiling. It was delightful, unexpected, and utterly terrifying. She read them one more time from beginning to end and fought the urge to clutch them to her chest. The last person to call her beautiful had been her father. Some small part of her had imagined she’d never hear the word applied to her again. Surely, this was the first time in her life that anyone had ever written a note to her. There was no ulterior motive either. No game behind what he was saying. He’d written these purely with the hope that she might write him back.
“Gods, what has you grinning like such a fool?”
Edna appeared at Nevelyn’s shoulder. She was glancing nosily down, but Nevelyn had already folded the slips back up. She shoved the notes in her pocket and fought the blush that was rising in her cheeks.
“It’s nothing.”
“Nothing,” Edna repeated. “What a fitting word for you.”
The line was delivered so casually that Nevelyn almost missed that it was intended to be cruel. Her eyes flicked to the forged letter and back to Edna. She left the room, continuing to play the part of the mouselike creature Edna wanted. There was some small satisfaction in hearing the noise of delight the other girl made when she found a waiting letter in her mail slot.
A normal workday followed.
Edna had returned to the room buzzing about going on a date that night. Nevelyn’s forged letter had instructed Edna to wait after work. Saul would be coming by to pick her up and escort her to one of the finer restaurants nearby. The others hooted and joked, but Edna’s shallow joy filled the room like sunlight all afternoon.
One by one, their crew departed. There was no show tonight. Once every ten days, the entire playhouse emptied itself out. An actor might stay behind to rehearse lines—but Nevelyn knew it was by far the quietest the Nodding Violet ever got. She had been waiting for this specific day, counting on a mostly empty playhouse.
Edna took a small break. Nevelyn could tell she was starting to grow restless. She took advantage of the girl’s absence. There were two wine bottles that had been stowed in her bag all day. She took them both out and used a small knife to remove the first cork. The stuff smelled cheap, but that didn’t matter. Nevelyn found the spare glasses in a corner cabinet and set them out. She poured a rather healthy measure of wine, poured less in her own, and waited for Edna’s return.
Eventually the girl’s shoes came clicking down the wooden floors of the labyrinth. Nevelyn heard her enter. When she spied the wine, Edna snorted. No doubt she had some sort of insult ready on her lips, but Nevelyn was quite done with that part of their relationship.
