Folly Beach - Dorothea Benton Frank [141]
“I’ve got the cure for that,” John said, and made a low-pitched growl that sounded like a leopard getting ready to pounce.
Men. So silly.
We arrived back at the Porgy House and I was still chuckling to myself.
“Want to have a nightcap?” I said.
“What do you think?” he said.
My anxiety was completely addressed and it magically dissolved before the night ended and I thought, whew, if Sara had been in the next room during this steamy episode, she’d spend the rest of her life in analysis.
Monday at ten Sara and I made our way to the Dock Street Theater.
“I fully expect the spirit of Emmett Robinson to open the door,” I said, opening the door myself.
“Who’s he?” Sara said.
“He was the most cherished artistic director of the Footlight Players and he was Alfred Hutty’s best friend. His daughter is a new friend of mine.” I told Sara how Jennet had helped me tell Heather Parke to get lost.
“Wow. I want to meet her.”
“Oh, you will! I’ll make sure you do.”
We were meeting John with a lighting person, a sound engineer, a stage manager, and two assistants to see about props and costumes. The main stage was free so we decided we would begin there and just do a read-through to get used to the acoustics. Everyone trickled in and by ten thirty had introduced themselves to one another and we got started. A familiar face arrived with a cooler of drinks and sandwiches.
“Don’t I know you?” I said.
“I’m Christi Geier. I think we met at the Red Drum.”
“Oh, right! Well, how nice to see you again. Wow, you’ve got a job, your LSATs, and now this? That’s a lot to juggle.”
“Yeah, but you know what? I loved Professor Risley’s playwrighting class so much, when he put out a call for volunteers, I jumped at it! Who wouldn’t want to work on a play about the Heywards?”
“Actually, it’s more about Dorothy.”
“Oh, really? Have you read the script?”
“Yeah, about a thousand times. I wrote it.”
“Oh! I didn’t know you were a playwright.”
“I didn’t either. Well, now I am . . .” I could feel myself blushing.
“Oh my goodness. Congratulations!”
“Thanks! And that’s my daughter . . .”
I sat in the audience in different places to see if I could hear Sara. Her young voice was so clear and carried so well, the only place I had a little trouble hearing her was the far corners of the house. John and the sound engineer decided to place several discreet and tiny wireless mikes on the floor stage left and right, which corrected that issue. Lists were made of props and costumes scene by scene and over the next three weeks, the props and costumes were found and approved or not and it looked like we were finally getting our proverbial act together.
At last, we got to dress rehearsal and it was almost flawless. Sara said, not to worry, she would be the reincarnation of Dorothy herself within twenty-four hours. The word was out that our play was a must-see and every single performance was sold out.
Aunt Daisy and Ella were home, for a change, Patti and Mark were flying in that afternoon. Alice and Russ were coming for an early dinner and we were all mighty excited. As soon as Patti and Mark checked into the Jolly Buddha, her favorite, we were all to gather with John at Aunt Daisy’s and Ella’s for moussaka and feta cheese salad and what other Greek delights Ella had taken a shine to on their trip. Patti apologized at least ten times for not making the cake. She’d had a wedding to bake for or she would have come down days ago. I told her it didn’t matter one bit. There was no way I’d be able to swallow food. I just wanted to get to the theater and have the first performance of Folly Beach behind me.
“I’ve been stuffing grape leaves over here, Mom. Gross. When are you coming over?”
“I’ll be there soon.” I was just waiting for John to arrive. It was just three.
A few minutes later he knocked on the door.
“Hey,” he said. “You look beautiful! Success must agree with you!”
I had on a new dress, something kind of silky and retro that I thought Dorothy might have worn.
“Oh, John! What a journey this has been. How can I ever thank