Friday morning. The end of the beginning, or the beginning of the end, I didn't know which it was going to be. Tonight we put on our premiere performance, according to Mary Simpson, to a full house. The future of my ballet company could live or die on tonight's performance.
Everybody who had any claim to being anybody, who wasn't otherwise detained or required for military service, was going to be there. Half of the blue bloods from Magdeburg had already invaded Grantville. Most were staying in the houses of friends and acquaintances who had homes in the area. Duchess Elisabeth Sofie's mother and father were back for the performance and had opened their Saalfeld house to guests. Count Ludwig, Emelie's husband, was in attendance. The sudden influx of people and their money was pushing up demand and local prices for accommodation.
On the merchandising front, Melba Sue and her team of ceramic artists were working overtime, and were still unable to meet demand for their range of ballet and Brillo figurines. Other artists were pumping out paintings of the performers, and hanging in pride of place in the auditorium foyer was a large oil painting of Carl and Staci as Cavalier and Sugar Plum Fairy in a scene from the ballet.
Meanwhile, I had heard that Flo was being run into the ground with demand for Brillo merchandise. There was even a story going around that someone had offered some obscene amount to buy Brillo. The fact that he was still on Flo's farm was, as far as I was concerned, proof positive that there was no truth in that story.
Before class started I did a check for injuries. Franz Sprug, the boy who hurt himself yesterday, was a little bruised and tender, but otherwise okay. Nobody else admitted to carrying an injury. That was expected. Not only were the performers going to get paid for this short season, but tonight would be a historic occasion. Nobody wanted to miss it.
My son Joseph played up a little, pretending to have developed a limp, but a whack on the back of the head with a thrown pointe shoe soon had him scampering away. I couldn't be too hard on him. His fooling around had broken the ice and people were visibly relaxing.
For the next four hours I worked everyone into the ground. We were all sweating heavily, and some of the dancers were starting to droop when I called an end to rehearsal. I was happy with how everything was going. I sent everyone out to clean up, eat, drink, and get as much rest as they could before the evening premiere. They had about five hours before the curtain went up.
* * *
"Where the hell is Carl?" I was just about in a panic. The auditorium was starting to fill up and I couldn't see him anywhere. Looking around I found Casey. "Casey, have you seen Carl? I've looked everywhere."
She pointed to a lump off in one corner of the Green room. He was sleeping. Again! How could he sleep at a time like this? I stamped my way over to him. A head poked out of the sleeping bag as I got close. "Is it time to start?"
"Yes," I just about roared. How dare he be so relaxed when I was so on edge? I watched as he slipped out of his sleeping bag, and bundled it into a corner. He then had the nerve to turn round and smile at me. "Warm up; you don't want your muscles getting cold, not with how the soldier doll dance is supposed to end," I said in a relatively controlled voice, all things considered.
I was just turning away when a stifled chuckle stopped me dead. I turned and glared at Carl as he stretched out on the floor, warming up. I was severely tempted to kick him. Just then I felt a certain fellow feeling for Flo when Brillo was being unusually agreeable.
Amber Higham, the knowledgeable expert Mary Simpson had dug up to serve as theater manager for the ballet season, waved me over to look at the audience from behind the curtain. The seats were filling rapidly. There was a central roped off area that was filling up with dignitaries, and I'm sure, the princess. There couldn't be that many young girls who might be seated in the VIP area. Around the roped off area, the more expensive seats were rapidly filling. Amber had told me how much she was charging for those seats. I'd been horrified. Then she told me the latest scalper's price. Ouch. It looked like someone was making money out of my show.
Looking at the rest of the audience I felt that Catharina Matzinger's father would be happy. It looked like half the audience was fitted out in clothes made from his fancy new colored cloth, and the women didn't look too drab either. With their batik silk gowns topped with fancy shawls made by Flo's ladies, they made a pretty picture.
Receiving a signal from somewhere in the auditorium Amber pulled me back to the performers. It was time to start. A quick survey of the technicians brought a forest of up-raised thumbs. We were ready to go. "Places" I called. With the stage set for the opening scene, and the party guests ready in the wings, I took one final calming look around. In just under two hours the performance would be over. I could hold together that long. From my position on the wings I signaled Deanna to start the music.