Page 64 of Specters & Spotlights

Jasper trailed behind, mouthing along with the orchestra’s “Two Left Feet” motif as he dug around for his next cravat.

And then came the hush.

Darcy’s first proposal. The crackle of emotion even the cheap backstage speaker couldn’t quite dull. Where Darcy’s fraught and sincere “In Vain Have I Struggled” ballad flowed into the contentious “Every Reason Not to Love You” duet.

And finally, the door slam, right before the curtain fell on intermission.

Elise was halfway through an intermission wig touch-up when Nick materialized in the doorway, buzzing with nerves and caffeine.

“Elise,” he said, eyes sparkling, “how’s my Darcy wig looking? Is she ready for her close-up?”

Elise turned from the wig stand, mock-inspecting the dark, carefully styled hairpiece already waiting on its foam head. “Oh, she’s been ready. She’s been brooding in the shadows, longing for a stage and a conveniently timed rainstorm.”

Nick let out a laugh, his foot tapping against the tile floor. “Tomorrow’s the big night. Graham gets to nap, and I get to panic.”

“You’re going to do great,” Elise said, brushing a stray hair from the wig. “You’ve got the cheekbones and the diction.”

Nick grinned. “I even managed to get a comp ticket for a guy I met at the bar our first night in town. There were sparks. Tall, cute, kind of skeptical—but I’m hoping a solid ‘my good opinion once lost’ delivery seals the deal.”

Elise snorted. “Well, I’ll be listening from the wings and rooting for you—and your romantic entanglements.”

Nick gave her a grateful, genuine smile, and then slipped back into the hallway buzz. Elise turned back to her wigs, the energy around her a little lighter than before.

Jen called for places, and the quiet tension of Act Two preparation settled in like a well-worn shawl. Elise had just finished re-straightening the Bennett sisters’ lineup when Kevin drifted in, his expression unusually thoughtful.

“I’ve been making the rounds,” he said, perching lightly on the coat rack. “Our lady in lace—Miss Seamstress Extraordinaire—isn’t going to be easy to please.”

Elise raised an eyebrow, smoothing a stubborn curl into place. “Any luck?”

Kevin sighed theatrically. “The whispering wall gave me the creeps. Either not sentient or a professional gas lighter. Kept repeating the same phrase over and over—‘It’s not yours, it never was.’ Delightful.”

Elise grimaced. “Yeah, that one’s never been particularly helpful.”

“The pianist didn’t know anything either. Polite about it. Played me a tune in apology.”

Elise gave a soft huff of breath. “Figures.”

Kevin hovered closer. “The techie ghost… he might’ve seen something. He mentioned a ring, at least. But I can’t tell if it was a real memory or just him being agreeable. He’s more… echo than essence, you know? Like he’s trying to remember how to be human.”

Elise leaned her shoulder against the wig shelf, considering. “If he saw it, even once, it’s worth following up. It’s the only thread we’ve got.”

Kevin gave a short nod. “After the show?”

“After the show,” she agreed. Her voice was quiet but certain.

Kevin drifted upward again, his form flickering briefly like static on an old TV. “I’ll keep listening. Maybe the building’s holding secrets it doesn’t even know it remembers.”

Elise watched him go, the weight of the unknown pressing faintly at the back of her neck.

That night, after the applause faded and the echoes settled into silence, the theatre was hers.

Elise stayed behind, curling and pinning the damp wig with practiced ease. Each twist, each straight pin, was a familiar dance—comforting in its repetition. “Don’t Rain on My Parade” hummed through her earbuds, a stubborn sort of anthem. Kevin drifted nearby like a curtain caught in a slow breeze.

When the last roller was in place and the dryer began its soft hum, Elise stood, rolling her shoulders. “Time to find the ring.”

She slipped out her flashlight and turned toward the theatre’s darkened wings. Kevin hovered beside her like a spectral tour guide.

“Where do you usually see him?” she asked.