Glinda hid the necklace from Ama Clutch. She wanted to process everything herself before involving her confidant. She just found out that her secret admirer was the mysterious opera owner, meaning she'll probably never meet him. And he had been near when she was looking at the necklace. That's the only plausible way to figure out that she wanted it.

She had just solved one part of the puzzle, but the picture was nowhere near complete.

No one talked about her second variation debut anymore, for which she was a bit grateful. The attention felt good in the immediate moments after, but now, it felt like the congratulations became less sincere as more time passed.

After the necklace, the little gifts from the owner stopped. ShenShen and Pfannee asked if she received any more gifts, and she said no. She didn't tell anyone that she figured out who he was. She didn't tell anyone that she missed the lavender roses.

"Ladies, delivery," Greyling called as she answered the knock on the door.

The girls looked up as a delivery man wheeled a large crate into the studio. Judging by the large, pink ribbon, they knew immediately what it was. As usual, a mini fight broke out over who would keep the ribbon this time, and when Milla declared herself the winner after snatching it from ShenShen, Greyling called for attention before cutting the box open and distributing its contents; their new pointe shoes.

The opera house provided three pairs of pointe shoes every two months for all the ballerinas, and stipends to buy their own if they needed more. Between rehearsals, classes, and performances, their shoes died rather quickly, but there was more than enough money to buy more.

Glinda nodded her thanks as she took her pair of baby blush pink shoes from Greyling, and went to her corner of the studio with her kit to break them in, and mentally prepared herself for the noise that was about to fill the large, echoey studio, and got to work.

Everyone knew that ballet took a lot of strength, but no one knew strength until they saw a bunch of corps de ballet girls ripping their brand-new shoes apart.

Glinda tore the shank from the inside of her shoe with brute force that didn't match her petite appearance, and bent it back and forth. She cut the drawstrings, sewed the ribbons and elastics to the sides, and molded the vamp with her heels. Once she finished, she finally put her toe pads and shoes on and began molding them to her feet. While everyone else banged their shoes against the floor and walls, Glinda was breaking in her demi-pointe and molding her arches. Her box was still brick hard, but she liked keeping them that way as long as possible, to slow the dying process. It was more painful, but she was used to it by now.

"Pardon, ladies!" Morrible called as she knocked on the door.

The girls closest quieted, which started a chain reaction of everyone pausing their routines and expectantly turning to Morrible.

"A note for Miss Upland." Morrible's expression was unreadable as she held out a small envelope to Glinda.

The blonde pushed herself away from the barre and slowly waddled over. "Thank you, Madame Morrible."

The old woman hummed and hurried out. The second she closed the door behind her, the noise immediately resumed.

Glinda returned to her corner, her eyes glued to her name written in large, neat cursive. She had a feeling she knew who this was from, but didn't want to get her hopes up. She stretched in her relevé as she carefully opened the envelope and unfolded the paper.

Miss Upland,

Before you leave today, please meet me upstairs in the third-floor library. Tell no one where you're going and ensure no one follows you.

E.

"Who's the note from, Glinda?" Pfannee asked, trying to look over Glinda's shoulder as she hopped on one foot, shoving her other foot into her shoe.

Glinda folded and pocketed the paper. "Just a note saying there was an issue back home, and my driver will be a bit delayed." She took her shoes, marked the right and left on the inside with a marker, and handed them to Milla to darn for her. Milla was the best and quickest pointe shoe darner in the corps group. She always sewed the thick cotton thread perfectly around the shoe's boxes. She didn't make it a business until Glinda practically forced money into her hands. Now half the girls came to her for her services.

"Here, Glinda," Milla said, handing Glinda her shoes back.

"Thank you, Milla." She put them away in her bag, and stayed in her ballet flats until Greyling dismissed them for the day.

Her mind swirled as she thought about the note, and how she would finally meet whoever E. was.

The third floor was one of the unused floors of the opera house. It used to be storage for the larger set pieces, but Glinda had no idea why they stopped. She did as instructed, sneaking away from the group as they filed out of the room. She went up via the side stairway, and slipped through the creaky door.

Finally, she reached the library. She moved to push the door open, but before her hand touched the knob, it opened on its own. She jumped back, startled, but swallowed her fear and stepped inside.

It was just a loose hinge, she said to herself. Not a ghost. "Hello?" she called, then remembered she was in a library and lowered her voice. Though, it didn't look like anyone was there. "Hello? Uh… I'm here. Glinda Upland."

Silence.

She sighed, closed the door, and walked around. She had never been inside the library before. It was well-lit, and someone was keeping up with the upkeep. There were catalogs and programs from previous productions, manuscripts, sheet music, and plays, all alphabetically organized on the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

There was that feeling again. That not-quite-exactly uneasy feeling that she was being watched. She pulled a manuscript from the shelf, flipped through it, admired the attention to the drawing of the dancer in her costume, and placed it back on the shelf.

"That doesn't go there."

With a squeak, Glinda jumped away from the sudden voice and bumped into the shelf. A few more books came free of their spots, crashing down around her. She turned to see who had startled her, and came face-to-face with something even more startling than a disembodied voice.

The person in front of her was a woman, a head taller and a few years older than her, wearing a cream, long-sleeved blouse, and long, pleated dark purple skirt. Her black hair was in a braid that stopped at her waist, and thin-rimmed black glasses sat perfectly perched on her nose.

If the library were dimly lit, then Glinda knew she could've blamed what she was seeing as a trick of the light. But she was wrong. The library was well-lit, and the woman standing in front of her was, indeed, green.

"I… sorry… I…" she stuttered, pulling the book back and trying another spot.

"No. It goes here." The woman took the manuscript from Glinda and placed it on the other side of the book. She picked up the books from the floor and returned them to their proper spots.

"Oh… thank you. And… sorry… again. I… I'm supposed to meet someone here, but I believe he's running late."

"Who?"

"The opera house owner. He's been sending me flowers after my performances recently and sent me this note to meet him here." She produced the note from her pocket.

The green woman took the note and examined it. "How do you know it's from the owner?"

"It's signed 'E', the same as the note Morrible read from him for our opening night." She took the note back. "I suppose it would've been better if he put a time to meet, but is there a place I could wait for him?"

The green woman frowned slightly, then her lips slowly quirked into a smirk. "I don't think you'll be waiting very long."

"Oh? And why's that? Do you know who he is? Or where he is?"

"Well, if you're expecting a man, you will be waiting here for very long. The opera house closes at eleven, and I'd hate for you to be locked in while waiting for me."

She stared at the woman. "Why would I…" Then it slowly dawned on her as her words sunk in, and she stumbled back. "You're E.?"

She extended her hand. "Elphaba Thropp."

"You're the owner?"

"I am."

"You're the one who's been sending me flowers and –"

"And the necklace. Yes."

"Why?" The question came out harsher than she intended. "I mean, thank you, but why?"

She finally lowered her hand when she realized Glinda wouldn't reciprocate the handshake. "I must admit, it's rare for a dancer to come along who can captivate and grasp my attention. Most dancers just do the steps, but your added passion caught my attention, and I wanted to catch yours."

"Very subliminally. You're toying with me."

Elphaba bit her lip and averted her gaze as she locked her hands behind her back. "I suppose I should apologize for that part of my game, both then and now. Though I never planned on leaving you in the dark forever."

At least she's not the opera ghost, Glinda thought, but the judgmental expression on Elphaba's face told her she accidentally said it out loud. She turned away, suddenly finding the askew books very interesting. She righted them as she took all this information in. She didn't view herself as shy, and always had a way to keep a conversation going, but now, she was at a loss.

"Your second variation… I saw you rehearsing it that first time… on the stage. Then when you performed it, you were just as, if not more, passionate."

So she was the presence she felt watching her. "I never saw you anywhere."

"Despite my verdigris, I can hide very easily."

"In here, perhaps. But outside… the necklace… were you following me?"

"No. I was in town that day, reading on the bench down the street. I overheard because you weren't exactly speaking in hushed tones."

Glinda hadn't noticed anyone on the bench. Though, she didn't think to look over at the bench. She should've looked over at the bench. She took a breath. "Ms. Thropp, I –"

"Elphaba."

"Elphaba, I… I am sorry. I was expecting –"

"You were expecting a man." Or at least, a non-verdant woman, she thought. "I understand."

"Is that why you remain hidden? Because you don't want anyone to find out that the opera house is owned by a woman?"

"One of many reasons."

"What are the others?"

Her lips twitched. "I don't think we've known each other long enough for that answer."

"Do you plan on us getting to know each other long enough for me to get an answer? Surely this isn't a one-time secret meeting. Especially after you confessed to watching me."

Elphaba regarded her, then gave her a small smile. "I would like to not have this be a one-time secret meeting, if you'll allow it."

Having the opera house owner as a friend could prove beneficial down the line, she mused. She expressed an interest in you first, so it's not like you'd be using her to gain anything. "I'd like that."

The large clock on the wall chimed the hour. Elphaba looked up and frowned, wondering if she had to take heed to the loud, time warning. A moment later, she decided that she probably should. "Good. I must go now, but I'll send another message soon. You should get some rest. Performances start again tomorrow." She swiftly hurried past her and disappeared around the shelves.

Glinda stood rooted to her spot, then hurried after her. "Thank you," she called when she saw Elphaba reaching for the doorknob.

Elphaba paused and turned.

"Again… for the roses and necklace. Thank you. I've never been noticed like that before."

She smiled and nodded. "You're a very talented dancer, Miss Upland," she said as she opened the door and disappeared.

Glinda fanned her flushing face with her hand. Her head was reeling, and she could feel her pulse rushing. She knew why she had captivated Elphaba, but had no idea why Elphaba captivated her. Maybe it was her alluring aura, or that she just really loved receiving gifts, or that receiving those gifts, then finding out that her admirer was a woman erased the pressure to reciprocate affections immediately, and she could figure out what her next move would be for herself.

And that's exactly what it was. She smiled to herself. She wanted more meetings with Elphaba. She wanted to reciprocate the attention. And she was determined to complete this puzzle.