“The place looks just like it always did,” George remarked as the girls headed up the snowy walk to the double front doors. Just then, she hit a patch of ice. “Whoa!” she cried as her feet slipped underneath her.
Nancy grabbed her friend’s elbow, but it was too late. George fell to the sidewalk with a plop. “Are you okay?” Nancy asked. She couldn’t help but grin at her friend’s disgruntled expression.
“Yeah,” George said. “I can’t believe it. I skied all morning and never fell once.”
Nancy helped her friend up. “I don’t think it’s your fault,” she said. “The sidewalk should’ve had sand or salt on it. Remember how Madame was always so careful? She didn’t want one of her precious ballerinas to hurt themselves.”
“We’d better tell her, then,” George said, slapping the snow off the back of her pants.
As they continued up the walk, Nancy saw that the ice hadn’t been cleared from the steps, either. “This is pretty dangerous,” she commented.
But George had already entered the building. When Nancy stepped into the hall beside her friend, she quickly noticed the chipping paint on the walls and the scuffed linoleum floor.
“Brings back old memories, huh?” George said.
Nancy nodded. “Bess was right, though. The place is a lot more run-down than I remember.”
“Repairs are expensive,” George said as the two of them started down the hall. “And Bess told me that, because of the rent increase, Madame’s strapped for money. This year she’s been teaching most of the classes herself, with help from some of the older students, who get a tuition break.”
“That means less money coming in,” Nancy pointed out. “Let’s hope for Madame Dugrand’s sake that bringing Shana back will draw a huge crowd for The Nutcracker.”
“Speaking of ballerinas,” George said, stopping in the front foyer and looking around the empty halls, “where is everyone?”
Nancy could hear the faint sound of piano music. “They must be in class.”
“Bess is probably in the wardrobe room,” George said.
“It was in the basement, right?” Nancy said. “Let’s go look for her there.”
The girls started down the dimly lit stairs. Cobwebs hung from the high ceiling.
“I don’t think I’d like to come down here alone,” George whispered. “It’s kind of—”
“Who’s there?” someone called in a shrill voice, cutting George off. An elderly woman with a cane hobbled into the dark, narrow hall below. Stopping at the foot of the stairs, she peered up at them through round granny glasses. Her wispy, snow-white hair looked like a halo around her forehead.
“I’m Nancy Drew,” Nancy said politely. “And this is George Fayne. We’re here to see—”
“Nancy! George!” Bess exclaimed, coming out of the wardrobe room and stopping beside the elderly woman. “What a nice surprise. How was the skiing?”
“Great,” George said as she and Nancy made their way down the rest of the steps. “We stopped by to see if you wanted to have lunch with us.”
Bess glanced over at the elderly woman, then said hesitantly, “I don’t know if I should. I’m in the middle of putting lace on Clara’s nightgown.”
The white-haired woman smiled kindly. “Go eat, dear. You deserve a break.”
“Oh, all right,” Bess said. “But first, I want to show my friends your handiwork.” After introducing Gertrude Wolaski to Nancy and George, Bess said, “Mrs. Wolaski is the most talented seamstress in the world.”
“Now, Bess,” Mrs. Wolaski said, shaking her head modestly. “Don’t carry on.”
“I’m not carrying on,” Bess insisted. “You’re a magician with a needle and thread.”
“That’s only because I spent thirty years of my life sewing for my husband’s dry cleaning business,” Mrs. Wolaski informed the girls.
Bess led the way down the short hall and into a medium-sized room. Long fluorescent lights shone down on several racks of costumes. Two sewing machines were set up on large tables littered with scissors, straight pins, and patterns. Spools of thread were stored on racks on the walls, next to bolts of many-colored fabrics.
Now that Nancy was standing next to the elderly woman, she could see how tiny she was. Mrs. Wolaski’s rounded shoulders and hunched back made her look even smaller.
“How’d you get into the costume business?” Nancy asked, waving at the rows of gowns, mice suits, soldier uniforms, and ballet tutus.
Mrs. Wolaski laughed. “Well, I love the ballet. About a month ago I was at a recital here at the school and mentioned to Madame Dugrand that I used to sew. And as you know, Madame can be very persuasive. So I volunteered to help with the Nutcracker costumes. Not that an old lady like me has anything better to do.” The wardrobe mistress smiled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must find Lawrence. He promised to pick up more pink tulle for me yesterday.”
The girls said goodbye, then watched as Mrs. Wolaski limped slowly back into the hall with the aid of her cane.
When the woman had gone, Bess grabbed Nancy’s hand. “I want you both to see the Sugar Plum Fairy costume Mrs. Wolaski is making for Shana,” she said excitedly. Riffling through a rack of costumes, Bess pulled out a dress with a bodice of shimmering silver satin and a skirt of wispy silver tulle. Clusters of pink beads decorated both the shoulder straps and the skirt.
“It’s beautiful,” Nancy said, touching the gossamer fabric.
“It looks expensive,” George commented. “I thought Madame was trying to save money.”
“Shana’s costume had to be special, but we’re just altering most of the others.” Bess hung up the Sugar Plum costume, then pulled out a soldier uniform. “Does this remind you of anything?” she asked, a twinkle in her blue eyes. “Like opening night of The Nutcracker when I stole the show?”
“Is that what you did?” Nancy teased as she and George burst out laughing. “I thought you fell on George and me, and we all knocked the big Christmas tree over.”
“Well, maybe it was more like that.” Bess giggled, then frowned slightly. “Let’s hope this year’s Nutcracker is more successful. Nothing else seems to be going right for Madame Dugrand.”
Nancy raised her brows. “You mean like the rent increase?”
“It’s worse than just that,” Bess said. “A lot of little things have been happening around here, and they’re beginning to add up.”
