“Quite a crowd we’ve got here,” Chris said in a low voice.

Auditions were being held at one o’clock on Saturday afternoon in the University Theater. The old building’s air-conditioning system struggled to keep up with the duel demands of an unusually hot day and the warmth generated by the 100 or so hopefuls who filled up about a third of the seats in the theater.

Chris took in the surroundings, his nostalgia tinged with sadness at the state of the old theater. The velvet-covered seats were shabby, the carpet that lined the aisles was worn; the only thing that had changed since he’d been a student there was that everything had gotten older.

The students, on the other hand, seemed to have gotten younger. Charlotte and a gaggle of high-school-aged kids sat in a group toward the back, but there were plenty of others who looked like they might be even younger than she was. He smiled pleasantly at a group of girls in the fourth row who were giggling and pointing at him.

“Is it just that I’m getting older, or is this group really young?”

Joy stood next to him beside the stage, tapping her ubiquitous clipboard with a pen. She was also studying the crowd intently. “Definitely a younger crowd than we usually get. I’d say you have a fan base at the high school.” She studied the crowd. “Maybe even the middle school.” She looked at him apologetically.

Chris frowned. Technically, the Players were supposed to be at least 18 years old, but it didn’t look like many of the hopefuls had read the fine print. “Where are the college kids and the grown-ups?”

“We never get too many college students, because there just aren’t that many here over the summer,” Joy explained. “We didn’t have a production last year, and the year before that we didn’t do much outreach. A lot of people fell off the mailing list. That left us with Craig’s List and the flyers, which weren’t exactly targeted.”

He glanced at his watch; they still had five minutes before they were supposed to start. He swept the audience feeling like he was looking for something, but he wasn’t quite sure what.

“Whatever happened to Jennifer?” he asked in a low voice. Jennifer had been the wispy blond girl who’d played the delicate Hero in Much Ado about Nothing. “I was thinking she’d be a good Hermia.”

Joy tapped her clipboard idly. “She got married and moved to Idaho. She’s got four kids.”

“Oh. Right.” Hadn’t she been just a couple years older than he was? But then, he was in his early thirties now, so that made sense. “I keep forgetting how long it’s been.”

Simon came in through one of the side doors, caught their eyes with a little wave and made his way over to them. He too studied the crowd.

“I see a few familiar faces. You’ve got some good talent to choose from,” he said reassuringly.

“Of course.” Casting a quick glance around the assembled Players, Chris couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment. No doubt Simon, Victor, and Joy could help steer him to choose the best actors for each role and they’d make it work, but he realized that what he really wanted was the old cast back. He wanted to recreate the experience of that summer they’d all acted together, a team on stage and off. To relive that pivotal moment of his life ... only this time with a different ending.

But he wasn’t there for himself; he was there for Victor, and for the Players as a whole. It wasn’t fair to impose his personal nostalgia on the play.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t keep a note of hopefulness out of his voice. “It’s not too late for either of you to audition,” he reminded them.

Simon shook his head. “I’ve got my hands full as it is, darling. I’ll help with the costumes, but I can’t commit to more than that.”

Chris understood that “hands full” referred to Simon’s role as Victor’s caregiver. He looked hopefully at Joy. “What do you say? If Titania’s too much, then what about Hippolyta? It’s not that big a role.”

Joy shook her head. “Give it another couple of minutes. It’s not quite one yet. Maybe we’ll get some stragglers.”

As if on queue, a slender woman with strawberry blond curls and a bright smile stepped into the theater from one of the side doors. She wore a flowing cotton dress and leather sandals. Behind her she pulled a handsome man with excellent posture whose t-shirt showed off strong arms and a muscular chest.

Ex-military, Chris would have bet. With a flower-child girlfriend. Interesting pair. But the sight of them lifted his spirits somewhat. They were the right age and good looking enough to play two of the lovers; if she didn’t have the acting chops for a lead role, the girl at least would make a good-looking fairy.

The strawberry blonde turned to smile at them and gave a friendly wave.

“Do you know her?”

Joy and Simon both shook their heads. “Never seen her before,” murmured Joy.

“Okay, well, she looks ... nice,” Chris gave her an awkward wave back.

To his relief, a few more people trickled in over the next few minutes. Just as he was about to call everyone to order, a slender man about his age with dark wavy hair and a neatly trimmed beard walked in and looked around. Catching Chris’s eye he gave him a big grin and walked over.

It took Chris a moment to recognize him. “Luke!” he said, a little too loudly as he started forward. He put out his hand but Luke pushed it aside and gave him a hug instead. “Good to see you, man! You here to audition?”

“Heard you were back, you ol’ son of a gun.” Luke slapped him on the back. “Couldn’t stay away. Course I’m here to audition! I’m not gonna miss the chance to see our very own Hollywood star at work. Brice is gonna be here too, but he’s running late, hopes you’ll be patient. Joy, Simon.” He gave them each a hug. “Good to see the both of you. Joy, I’m surprised you’re still speaking to this guy.” Luke laughed.

Chris felt that familiar heat start to crawl up the back of his neck at the oblique reference to the cast party. Joy hadn’t mentioned it, and he hadn’t brought it up, but he knew that one of these days, he should probably address it ... He watched Joy’s face for her reaction, but she didn’t blink.

“Simon tells me he’s a reformed character now,” she answered. He was relieved to note that she was smiling slightly at Luke.

Luke shook hands with Simon. “Simon, buddy. Been a while. How’s Victor?”

Simon smiled, but his eyes were tired. “He’s doing okay. We’re trying to tweak his meds so that he’s lucid but not in too much pain most of the time. It’s not an exact science, but we seem to be finding a more or less happy medium.”

Luke nodded solemnly, the twinkle in his eyes fading somewhat. “You know if there’s anything I can do to help, you just call me, okay? What I lack in intellect, I make up for in the ability to run errands and lift heavy objects.” The twinkle was back.

Simon nodded, his smile a little bigger now. “I’ll take you up on that, darling.”

Just then, the side door opened again, and a woman who looked to be in her late twenties walked in. Chris was struck first by her face, which was beautiful and perfectly made up, next by her dress, which looked designer and tailor fitted, if not tailor made, and lastly by her figure, which was ... full. Very full.

All in all, not the kind of woman you saw in Silverweed very often.

She walked straight over to the small group by the stage. “Excuse me, are you Joy Albright? I’m Krystal Winston from the Silverweed Sentinel.”

Joy’s face lit up as she shook Krystal’s hand. “I guess you got the press release I sent? Delighted you were able to make it.”

“We actually got two press releases, one from you and one from, I believe, the agency representing Mr. McPherson—so we figured it was important. I do a weekly column called Silverweed Scene. It’s sort of part community events, part gossip column. I’d like to cover your production, if that’s okay.”

“Yes, please! We need all the publicity we can get.” Joy quickly introduced Chris, Luke and Simon. Chris noticed that Luke’s smile, always warm and friendly, grew warmer as he shook Krystal’s hand.

Krystal greeted each of them pleasantly, but her focus was clearly on Chris.

“If you have some time after the auditions, would you be up for a quick interview?” she asked him.

“I would love to do an interview with you,” Chris put on his most charming smile. “I have to warn you though, with this many people, auditions will probably take a while. Any chance we could meet tomorrow, maybe in the morning?”

“Tomorrow would be fine. Here’s my card, and if I could get your phone number ...?”

He hastily scribbled his number on one of Joy’s try-out forms and handed it to Krystal, who smiled a little bashfully. “I’m actually planning on trying out for the play as well. Could I get another one of these to fill out?”

“Absolutely.” Joy handed her a form and directed her to a seat. Chris followed Luke’s eyes to Krystal’s ample backside as she walked up the aisle and he smiled to himself.

Simon looked at Chris. Shall we get started, darling? Victor’s with a nurse, but I don’t like to be gone too long.”

“Names please, and let us know if you’re trying out for a specific role,” Chris called to the two people on stage.

Now he was sitting in the audience, Joy and Simon to either side of him.

“Doreen Landon,” the woman on stage shouted. “Any role would be fine.”

Doreen smiled broadly, and even from where he sat, Chris could see she was missing one of her back teeth. She looked like she was in her mid-fifties, with long, iron-grey hair. She was somewhat overweight, but her build made her look more tough than grandmotherly. A tattoo of a bleeding rose crept up the length of one beefy forearm.

“Nice projection!” Chris called back to her, trying to be encouraging. He cast around in his mind for an appropriate role in the play. One of the characters played a wall in the play-within-the-play.

He could see Doreen making a good wall.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m loud,” Doreen laughed. “I’m a school bus driver. I’m always yelling at someone.”

“Okay.” Chris nodded. “And you are?”

“Wyatt Winter, sir,” said the muscular young man Chris had pegged as ex-military. “Any role would be fine.”

He was good looking and had excellent posture; like Doreen’s, his voice carried well, though Chris found it even more disconcerting to be called “sir” than “Mr. McPherson.”

“Thanks, Wyatt. Okay, you two, start reading your scene when you’re ready.”

They read Oberon and Titania’s dialogue from Act two, Scene one. Doreen stumbled over some of the unfamiliar words, but her timing wasn’t bad. Wyatt was a little stiff, but his voice was clear and confident. Could be worse.

“Thank you, Wyatt and Doreen.” Chris jotted a few notes. “Okay, next up—”

“Wait!” Simon called. “Doreen darling, would you be willing to dye your hair for the play?”

Chris shot him a surprised look. Did he really see a role for Doreen?

Doreen shrugged. “Sure. I draw the line at anything crazy, though, like shaving it all off,” she warned.

“Don’t worry, dear, that won’t be necessary,” Simon assured her, making a note on his clipboard. “Back to you,” he nodded at Chris.

“Sure.” He consulted the forms in front of him, choosing the next male and female. “Tracie Ellington and Brice Dunkley.” He smiled a little at Brice’s name. The man who lumbered onto the stage was considerably heavier than the one he remembered. Brice had always been beefy; now he was decidedly stout. His dark beard was fuller and streaked with grey, and there were heavy pouches under his eyes. He had the look of a once-handsome man gone to seed.

“Brice Dunkley,” said Brice in an impressive baritone. “I am auditioning for the part of Oberon.”

Chris grinned at him. The part was his, as far as Chris was concerned. Brice was pompous and pedantic and often as not stoned, but he was a good actor. And the nostalgia factor was in play as well; Brice had played Don John, the villain in Much Ado About Nothing.

Hippie Girl followed him onto the stage. “Hi, I’m Tracie.” She smiled cheerfully and shrugged. “I dunno. A fairy, maybe?”

Tracie was nervous and giggled more than Chris would have liked, but she had a sprightly energy that made him think she would, indeed, make a good fairy. Maybe even Puck—if they could get her to stop giggling. Brice was comfortable on stage and read well.

“Thank you, Tracie and Brice. Okay, next!”

“Rob Short.”

Appropriate, Chris thought, a little uncharitably. Rob wasn’t short, but he wasn’t tall; maybe about five foot ten. He was disproportionately muscular, though, and his bulging shoulders had displaced much of his neck. His low forehead and eyebrows that almost met in the middle gave him a somewhat Neanderthal look that was contrasted by a dark crew cut and sharp eyes. He looked extremely serious.

“I’d like to be considered for one of the male leads, but I’ll take any part that you feel I’m a good fit for, sir.”

Again with the “sir.” Chris tried to remember if he’d ever called anyone “sir” in an audition. He was pretty sure he hadn’t.

Maybe he should have.

“Okay, Rob. Thank you.”

Rob had been called up on stage with Krystal, the reporter. She looked confident and relaxed and moved gracefully despite her size.

“Krystal Winston. Any part’s fine.”

“I’ll need you to be a little louder, Krystal. Okay, go ahead and start.”

Rob’s delivery was loud but wooden; he read each line with the same stiff cadence. Krystal, on the other hand, spoke eloquently and moved around the stage with graceful steps and fluid gestures—a little quiet, but that could be fixed.

Some of the younger kids went on. A gangly youth named Bryan who reminded him a little of himself in college, Charlotte’s girlfriends who giggled as much as they spoke, and Goth-type girl with black hair, black eyeliner and black lipstick.

Charlotte herself auditioned well, he was relieved to note. She’d be fun to have in the cast, and giving her a role would make Joy happy.

It took almost three hours, but eventually, everyone had tried out. He’d seen more enthusiasm than talent, if he were being honest, but he was determined to make it work. He gave an encouraging speech, promising that they’d send out a cast list no later than Sunday night, signed several dozen autographs, and the hopefuls began to file out.

Joy was talking to Brice, Simon and Luke. He shook hands and greeted Brice, then looked around the small group.

“Here’s where I throw myself on your mercy.” He looked at them hopefully. “Anyone want to go out for a drink and talk about the cast?”