Excerpt from Tom Lake by Ann Patchett, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"If all these people come back and buy a ticket, they'll have a smash on their hands," Veronica said. "The whole production can go straight to Broadway and we'll be rich."

"How does that make us rich?" I asked.

Veronica said she was extrapolating.

Mr. Martin had thought of everything except clipboards, which turned out to be a real oversight. People were using our table as a desk, creating a bottleneck in the flow of traffic. I tried to decide if it was more depressing to see the people I knew or the people I didn't know. Cheryl, who worked the register at Major Market and must have been my mother's age, was holding a résumé and headshot in her mittened hands. If Cheryl had always wanted to be an actress, I didn't think I could ever go to the grocery store again. Then there were the rafts of strangers, men and women bundled in their coats and scarves, looking around the gym in a way that made it clear they'd never seen it before. It struck me as equally sad to think of these people driving for who knew how long on this frozen morning because it meant they were willing to keep driving here for rehearsals and performances straight into summer.

"'All the world's a stage,'" Veronica said, because Veronica could read my mind, "and all the men and women merely want to be players."

I accepted a résumé and headshot from the father of my friend Marcia, which she pronounced Mar-see-a. I had sat at this man's dinner table, ridden in the back seat of his station wagon when he took his family for ice cream, slept in the second twin bed of his daughter's rose-pink bedroom. I pretended not to know him because I thought that was the kindest course of action.

"Laura," he said, smiling with all his teeth. "Good morning! Some sort of crowd."

I agreed that it was, then gave him his number and the sides and told him to go back out to the lobby to wait.

"Where's the restroom?" he asked.

It was mortifying. Even the men wanted to know where the restroom was. They wanted to fluff up their hair that had been flattened by sock hats. They wanted to read their part aloud to themselves in the mirror to see how they looked. I told him the one by the Language Arts Center would be less crowded.

"You girls look busy," my grandmother said. She came up from behind us just as Marcia's father walked away.

"Do you want a part?" Veronica asked her. "I know people. I can make you a star." Veronica loved my grandmother. Everyone did.

"I'm just here to take a look." My grandmother glanced back to the table in front of the stage to indicate that she would be sitting with Mr. Martin and the theater people. My grandmother, who owned Stitch-It, the alterations shop in town, had volunteered to make the costumes, which meant that she'd volunteered me to make the costumes as well since I worked for her after school. She kissed the top of my head before crossing the long, empty stretch of the basketball court towards that faraway table.

Auditions were to have begun promptly at ten, but thanks to the clipboard situation it was past ten-thirty. Once everyone had been registered, Veronica said she would cull out small groups according to their numbers and the roles they had come for, then herd them down the hallway to wait. "I'll be the sheepdog," she said, getting up from our table. I would stay and silently register the stragglers. Mr. Martin and my grandmother took their seats with three other people at the table in front of the stage and just that fast the gym, which had been booming all morning, fell to silence. Veronica was to escort the would-be actors down the hall and up the stairs, through the backstage, and right to the edge of the stage when their names were called. The actors waiting to audition were not allowed to watch the other auditions, and the actors who had finished their auditions were instructed to leave unless specifically asked to stay. All the Stage Managers would go first (the Stage Manager being the biggest and most important part in the play) followed by all the Georges and Emilys, and then the other Webbs (Mister and Missus and Wally) and the other Gibbses (Doctor and Missus and Rebecca). The smaller roles would be awarded on a runner-up basis. No one leaves home hoping to land the part of Constable Warren, but if Constable Warren is what you are offered, you take it.

Excerpted from Tom Lake by Ann Patchett. Copyright © 2023 by Ann Patchett. Excerpted by permission of Harper. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.