Free The Jewels of Tessa Kent by Judith Krantz

satisfied Sister Elizabeth?”
    “She said I was right for the Maid of France, that’s all. She doesn’t give an opinion if she can help it.”
    “So I remember. Thank you, Tessa. We’ll see you tomorrow. And Mrs. Horvath, please leave your phone number with the receptionist.”
    After the door closed behind Agnes and Tessa, Peggy and Fiona sat in silence for stunned seconds, both of them struck by the sudden flat dullness of the room as soon as Tessa left it.
    “What was that business about
Saint Joan
and Sister Elizabeth?” Fiona ventured, realizing that Peggy had gone somewhere she couldn’t follow her.
    “Sister Elizabeth never, ever put on a production of Saint Joan unless …”
    “Unless?”
    “She’d discovered someone she considered worthy of the part.”
    “And what’s so terrific about this Sister Elizabeth, besides a long life span?”
    “Fiona, she was the best director I’ve ever worked with. Ever. If she weren’t a nun she’d be a Hollywood legend. To my knowledge she hasn’t put on
Saint Joan
in twenty years. Miss Bridges, you’ve just been fortunate enough to witness a born actress, a schoolgirl with acting born in the bone and muscle and the fiber and the throat, the passion and the pacing, the arrogance and the humility, all there. And we were the first to hear her! You should pay me for letting you be here today!”
    “I was over the moon about Tessa before she mentioned Sister Elizabeth. And you … you were gone from the minute she said hello in that marvelous voice. Must be the Hungarian father, I should think. Yummy Hungarians. Seriously, Peggy, did you really think she wouldn’t be able to act worth a damn?”
    “Consider it my form of knocking on wood. As for Sister Elizabeth, it never hurts to have a saintly and infallible second opinion when magic strikes. Send the other girls away, Fi, I’m much too excited to give them a fair reading now. I’ve just remembered why I chose this infernal profession.”
    “Righto. Want another Coke to celebrate, oh, secret convent queen?”
    “You know perfectly well where I keep the Dom Pérignon, so stop being disrespectful to your betters.”
    “I’m just jealous of that sexy uniform.”
    “As well you might be. Now get out the champagne!”

6

     
    T he next afternoon, Roddy Fensterwald sat in the I casting office alongside Peggy Westbrook and Fiona Bridges. Much to his irritation, Glenda Bancroft had insisted on being present. She had heard from her assistant, who had been told by the all-knowing Ginger, that he was reading an exciting unknown for Jo.
    “Roddy, lover, I’m thrilled that Peggy has found someone she thinks might do for Jo,” Glenda had said on the phone the previous night. “There’s no way I’d play Marmee with any of the hot young girls who are already out there,” Glenda continued earnestly. “They’ve all been spoiled by too many photos of them making the club scene. I’m dying to see a fresh face. Don’t be an old meanie. I promise I’ll be a fly on the wall. She won’t have any idea that it’s me. I’m aware that might make her freeze. I can’t be good if the whole cast isn’t good, you know that. After all, it is an ensemble piece.”
    “You worry me when you make sense, Glenda. What do you plan to do, come in drag?”
    “Give me credit for more subtlety than that. I often spend the afternoon shopping at the Price Club—it’s mysecret vice. I’ve never been spotted yet. If you have to introduce me, say I’m your secretary. I’ll make notes.”
    “Damn it, Glenda—”
    “Roddy, you won’t regret it. Till tomorrow, lover.”
    He regretted it already, Roddy Fensterwald thought. Glenda Bancroft had taken a chair and put it quietly in a corner, as far away from them as she could sit, a diabolic move that somehow made her a focus of attention. She’d made a genuine effort not to be recognizable, he had to admit, in a truly dowdy pants suit and a head scarf, so that her signature red