Folly Beach - Dorothea Benton Frank [134]
Patti put down her wooden spoon, with which she was stirring chicken stock into the risotto, and gave me a big hug.
“Don’t you want to stay and help me manage Aunt Daisy’s properties?”
“No, baby. I leave in the morning ’cause I’ve got cakes to bake. This is perfect for you, Cate. Congratulations! Aunt Daisy?” she said. “Here’s to you!”
“Aunt Daisy! Thank you! Thank you so much!” I hugged her so hard I thought she might break and I kissed her face a dozen times. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Listen, this is the easiest money you’ll ever earn. Most of my houses are rented by the same tenants over and over. I only open the office if I need to drum up business. Each house has its own file in my office in this house. I’ve got a kid from the College of Charleston who manages my Web site. Here’s the list of all the people I use, been using them all for ages. Every third year, you paint. Sometimes every second year. Depends on the weather. Think you can handle it?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Good! Ella? Is the shaker empty? I’m a little parched.”
Ella refilled our glasses, Aunt Daisy knocked hers back in one giant swallow, held it out for Ella to refill yet again, which she did, and Aunt Daisy took a lady sip.
“I’m gonna tell you something and I don’t want you to ever forget it.”
I nodded my head and waited.
“Every woman needs to have her own money.”
“We all do!” Patti said.
“Aunt Daisy? I learned that lesson the hard way. Patti always said I needed a stash of FU money. And I had a little but not nearly what I needed.”
“Yes, but that’s in the past now. And you know what’s really wonderful about you taking over?”
“What?”
“Now you’ll have all the time in the world to write and you don’t need a man to pay your bills.”
“Thanks to you, Aunt Daisy. Only because of you.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Setting: Empty stage, soft light.
Director’s Note: Show the silhouettes of Dorothy and DuBose on the back scrim. At the end remarks, Dorothy blows audience a kiss and stays onstage while the lights go down.
Act III
Scene 5
Dorothy: I am one of the luckiest women you will ever meet. I had so many spectacular opportunities and I am so grateful for having had each and every one of them. I actually lived my dream of having a life in the theater. I met and even knew many of the great creative minds of my day. I had the chance to help young playwrights find their voice and ultimately their wings. And most important, I was the mother of Jenifer Heyward and the very happy wife of Edwin DuBose Heyward. Oh, let’s be honest, there were days I wanted to strangle him but there was never one minute that I regretted my decision to marry him.
Do I have any regrets? Only that I didn’t meet DuBose sooner. And maybe that I was not born in Charleston, although I got here as quickly as I could.
My time with you is coming to an end. After all, it’s late and DuBose is waiting for me in that big cocktail lounge in the sky. We still have our rituals, you know. These days we’re drinking whatever heavenly thing that they’re pouring and then we get together and sing. Not a bad way to pass eternity.
You all coming here tonight and listening so patiently marks the fulfillment of my dreams and I want to thank you for allowing me to tell you my story. Oh, there are endless anecdotal stories I could regale you with—bits of gossip about our friends, about us, but for me it is enough that you now know where DuBose fit in the scheme of things, just how very important he was to not only the Poetry Society of South Carolina and the Charleston Literary Renaissance but to also consider the bold risks he took to make his contribution to the collective social consciousness in matters of racial inequality.
Edwin DuBose Heyward was a great man. He was an intellectual decades ahead of his time. He literally had the sensitive soul of a poet, the gentlemanly manners of an aristocrat, and I cherished his love. Yes, I did.
Thank you for coming and good night.
Fade to Black
Chapter Thirty
The Playwright
The Porgy