Folly Beach - Dorothea Benton Frank [57]
“I knew it. Give it back. I’ll nuke it.”
She passed me her bowl and I put mine and hers in the microwave, setting the timer for one minute.
“Well, you can sure learn a lot from our Mr. Risley. He lectures all over God’s green earth about it. Basically it was a period of time, the twenties and the thirties, when there was a creative fire lit under a lot of aristocratic backsides and a bunch of new thoughts were thought.”
“Like what?”
“Like the Civil War was actually over and maybe segregation was wrong. You know, these are sensitive subjects that took some getting used to.”
“Yeah, but the Civil Rights Movement didn’t really get going until Kennedy was in office.”
“I told you it took a while. The seeds were planted much earlier. Anyway, there were lots of interesting people coming and going in Charleston and, of course, that’s when Gershwin came to Folly while he and the Heywards were working on the music for Porgy and Bess. It was 1934. I was only about eight. Hell, I can’t remember anything from yesterday, much less 1934.”
“Oh, come on, Aunt Daisy. Throw me a bone.”
“My mother, your grandmother, used to say she had no idea that the crazy bohemian man running around without his shirt on was George Gershwin himself! Every time she told that story she would hold her heart and pretend to swoon.”
“It must have been a pretty exciting summer.”
“I imagine so. Ask Mr. Risley. He’ll tell you all about it.”
“I’ll do that.” I looked out of the window at the rustling trees. It was after two and beginning to look like winter again in the fading afternoon sun. “I’m seeing him tonight.”
“Big surprise. The Merry Widow rides again!”
“Oh, Aunt Daisy. Hush! It’s not like that at all. I think he feels bad about the poor widow’s car and who knows? Maybe he’s just lonely.”
“Somebody’s been bit by the Love Bug.”
“Oh, Aunt Daisy . . .”
“You can’t help it, honey. I knew this would happen. So did Ella. It’s like he’s been down here just waiting for you to show up. We decided a long time ago that you two are perfect for each other.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Because your personalities are absolutely compatible, you have so much in common that it’s frightening, and because neither one of you has ever had a real love.”
“I loved Addison. No one, even you Aunt Daisy, no one can ever say that I didn’t. Especially in the early years. The last few years are debatable.”
“All right then. But this is what Fate looks like, Cate. Think about it. He even ran into you, literally, before you could even get to this island.”
“Okay, let’s say it’s Fate. I’ve been a widow for about fifteen minutes and he’s got a wife in the nut house. I’m not touching a married man. No way.”
“Great God! Of course not! You’re too old to be jumping in the bed with a man anyway! It’s nasty!”
“What? I’m not even fifty!”
“Well, maybe then . . .”
“Stop! I’m not talking about sex, for heaven’s sake. I’m saying I shouldn’t be running around with a married man. It’s not nice.”
“Nice? Nice? Listen to me. I’m an old lady who’s done a lot of living and who’s been a bit of a scandal, too, when I felt like it. Standing on your self-righteous indignation won’t keep you warm at night. You and Mr. Risley were M. A. D. E. for each other.”
“OMG.”
“OMG is right. Go home and wash your hair.”
“Right. I’ll buy a toaster tomorrow.”
It was six o’clock on the nose when John Risley pulled up into my yard, got out of his car, and knocked on the Porgy House door. Okay, I told myself, be calm. My hands were damp and my pulse pounded in my ears. There was no medicine yet invented that could calm me down, at least none that I had around the house. I pushed my hair back from my face and opened the door.
“Hey,” I said, standing back. “Want to come in?”
Aunt Daisy was right. This was Fate.
Chapter Thirteen
Setting: New Hampshire.
Director’s Note: Photos of MacDowell Colony, Josephine Pinckney, and Elinor Wylie fill the backstage scrim.
Act II
Scene 2
Dorothy: We should probably