Her mother was already making plans. “We’ll see that all our friends listen, and we’ll have them send in letters saying how good you are.”
Teresa looked at Monique, waiting for her to say, “You don’t have to do that. Teresa is good.”
But Monique said nothing. It will blow over quickly, was what she was thinking.
She was wrong.
Saturday night at the broadcast station, Teresa was in a panic.
“Believe me,” Louis Bonnet assured her. “It’s perfectly natural. All artists go through this.”
They were seated in the small green room used by performers.
“You’re going to be a sensation.”
“I’m going to be sick.”
“There’s no time. You’re on in two minutes.”
Teresa had rehearsed that afternoon with the small orchestra that was going to accompany her. The rehearsal had been extraordinary. The stage from which they broadcast was crowded with station personnel who had heard about the young girl with the incredible voice. They listened in awed silence as Teresa rehearsed the songs she was going to sing on the air. There was no question in any of their minds but that they were witnessing the birth of an important star.
“It’s too bad she’s not better-looking,” a stage manager commented, “but in radio who can tell the difference?”
Teresa’s performance that evening was superb. She was aware that she had never sung better. And who knew where this could lead? She might become famous and have men at her feet, begging her to marry them. As they begged Monique.
As though reading her thoughts, Monique said, “I’m really happy for you, Sis, but don’t let yourself get carried away by all this. These things never last.”
This will, Teresa thought happily. I’m finally a person. I’m somebody.
Monday morning, there was a long-distance telephone call for Teresa.
“It’s probably somebody’s idea of a joke,” her father warned her. “He says he’s Jacques Raimu.”
The most important stage director in France. Teresa picked up the telephone, wary. “Hello?”
“Miss De Fosse?”
“Yes.”
“Teresa De Fosse?”
“Yes.”
“This is Jacques Raimu. I heard your radio program Saturday night. You’re exactly what I’m looking for.”
“I—I don’t understand.”
“I’m staging a play at the Comédie Française, a musical. I start rehearsals next week. I’ve been searching for someone with a voice like yours. To tell you the truth, there is no one with a voice like yours. Who is your agent?”
“Agent? I—I have no agent.”
“Then I’ll drive down there and we’ll work out a deal between us.”
“Monsieur Raimu—I—I’m not very pretty.” It was painful for her to say the words, but she knew that it was necessary. He mustn’t have any false expectations.
He laughed. “You will be when I get through with you. Theater is make-believe. Stage makeup can do all kinds of incredible magic.”
“But—”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It was a dream on top of a fantasy. To be starring in a play by Raimu!
“I’ll work out the contract with him,” Teresa’s father said. “You must be careful when you deal with theater people.”
“We must get you a new dress,” her mother said. “And I’ll invite him to dinner.”
Monique said nothing. What was happening was unbearable. It was unthinkable that her sister was going to become a star. Perhaps there was a way…
Monique saw to it that she was the first one downstairs when Jacques Raimu arrived at the De Fosse villa that afternoon. He was greeted by a young girl so beautiful that his heart jumped. She was dressed in a simple white afternoon frock that set off her figure to perfection.
My God, he thought. Those looks and that voicel She’s perfect She’s going to be an enormous star.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to meet you,” Raimu said.
Monique smiled warmly. “I’m very happy to meet you. I’m a big admirer of yours, Monsieur Raimu.”
“Good. Then we’ll work well together. I brought a script with me. It’s a beautiful love story, and I think—”
At that moment Teresa walked into the room. She was wearing a new dress, but she looked awkward in it. She stopped as she saw Jacques Raimu.
“Oh—hello. I didn’t know you were here. I mean—you’re early.”