Folly Beach - Dorothea Benton Frank [138]
“So, I’m sitting in my office eating a tuna salad sandwich on whole wheat and the phone rings. It’s not just some flunky calling me it’s Ellen Dressler Moryl, the director of the entire Office of Cultural Affairs.”
“And?”
“And she tells me who she is and all that, like I don’t know, and then she says, so, Professor Risley? How wed are you to producing this play Folly Beach at the college? And I say, I think it’s a fine first effort, don’t you? Emerging voice and all that stuff. And she says, Oh, yes, yes! But I happened to mention it to one of my colleagues from the Dock Street Theater and they just went crazy to put it up themselves! You see, the Dock Street is a little bit excitable when it comes to anything about DuBose and Dorothy . . .”
“Wait! Stop! Are you telling me that the Dock Street Theater wants to present my play?”
“Yes.”
“For real?” I think I was squealing then.
“I’m still the director but, ma’am? You are the cat’s ass! I knew you could write! I just knew it!”
He put the champagne down on the steps, grabbed my arms, and swung me around.
“They love it?”
“They adore it!”
My heart was pounding so hard I thought I had better sit down, so I sat on the bottom step.
“I am . . . I’m completely shocked! I don’t even know what to say.”
“Well, why don’t we have a glass of champagne and plan our response.”
“I think the answer is a big fat yes!”
“No kidding?”
“Stop! Listen, I’m drinking out of Dorothy’s glasses tonight and if you tell I’ll pinch you!”
“I’m not telling a soul.”
I got up and unlocked the door. “I still don’t have a porch light, you know.”
“I’ll go to Lowe’s tomorrow.”
“Talk’s cheap,” I said.
We drank the champagne and I called everyone I knew. There were screams of delight from South Carolina to California and of course, Patti was beside herself with a hefty case of glee.
“I’m making a giant cake of the Dock Street Theater for opening night and I’m baking it in Dorothy’s oven.”
I laughed and said, “Be my guest!”
“Oh, Cate, this is just thrilling news!” she said.
“Yeah, I’m pretty thrilled, like right down to my toes. I just can’t believe it.”
“What did Sara say?”
“She’s quitting her job tonight, she’s flying here as soon as she can pack, and we start rehearsals next week.”
“She’s playing Dorothy? Hoo, boy!”
“Look, she’s John’s problem to direct, not mine. But you know what? I think she’ll do anything he tells her to. She’s stubborn but she’s not stupid. This is an enormous opportunity for her.”
“For all of you, Cate. This is an incredible opportunity for all of you. Oh, I am so proud of you!”
“Thanks, Patti. I love you, you know.”
“I know that.”
“Yeah, but sometimes you can’t say it enough.”
That weekend, I picked Sara up at the airport.
“Mom!”
I was waiting for her in baggage claim and there she was, hurrying to me. One minute I was alone in the world and in the next I had my beautiful daughter’s arms around my neck. I hugged her back as though I had not seen her in years.
“Do you have much luggage?”
“Um, Mom? I have everything that I could cram in three suitcases and ten more boxes coming at some point. My friends are sending them. Whew! I can’t believe I’m here!”
“Me either. This is so incredibly wonderful.”
“I’ve already memorized half of the lines, too.”
“Oh, honey, that’s great. We start rehearsals on Monday. Life’s pretty surreal, isn’t it?”
“I’ll say. Dad kicks the bucket and boom! Meet Cate the Beach Bunny playwright!” She started to giggle like a schoolgirl and the music of her laughter was so infectious that people, milling around waiting for their bags, too, looked at us and smiled.
Beach Bunny?
It was only with the help of two stalwart skycaps that we were able to load her bags into my SUV. Each one was a hernia-maker in its own right. I pulled out of the parking spot, paid the toll, and left the airport.
“How’re we going to get these terrible bags of mine in the house?”
“Aunt Daisy has an elevator.”
“Oh, I thought I was staying at the Porgy House with you!”
“Aunt Daisy wanted you to stay in her house if you would, because