Folly Beach - Dorothea Benton Frank [94]
“I really think this is a beautiful piece of genius, Cate. You need to write this down, just as you told it to me. So, you know, if you take this idea, write it in the right format, polish it to death, and we manage to get it up on a stage during Piccolo Spoleto, I’m just thinking here, would this be something your daughter Sara might like to do? Play Dorothy, I mean.”
“Wouldn’t that be brazen nepotism?”
“Well, yeah it is. So what? If you’re the director and I’m the producer, we can cast Adam’s house cat if we want.”
“Do you want pie? I’d have to ask Sara, but she’d probably go crazy to do it.”
“Pie? Absolutely. But the next dinner is at my house. I have a dishwasher.”
“And a shower. It’s a deal. Hey, did I mention to you that my sister is coming for a visit next week?”
“No, but that’s great! Can I take you ladies out on the town?”
“I don’t see why not. Thanks! And did I tell you that Aunt Daisy isn’t up to snuff?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Ella doesn’t know. She just told me this afternoon and she’s pretty concerned about her. I’m taking her to the doctor first thing in the morning.”
“Think we should check on her tonight? I mean, they’re not exactly in their twenties anymore.”
I weighed the choice of hopping in the sack with John before or maybe right after the dishes were done, or going over to Aunt Daisy’s to see if she was really all right, for about two seconds and knew what we had to do. It wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. Decent people didn’t screw this early at night. It was gauche. And it was barely dark.
“You know what? We can take the rest of this pie over there, saying it was so good we just wanted to make sure they got a slice and then we can see what’s up. What do you think?”
“Great idea. Let’s go now.”
I quickly wrapped the pie plate in aluminum foil, put it back in Ella’s basket, and grabbed my cell phone and my purse. We were out of the door and over at Aunt Daisy’s in a matter of minutes. I let us in the front door using my key.
“Anybody home?” I called out, expecting to find them somewhere watching one of their many televisions.
There was no answer so I called out again, but louder.
“Ella? Aunt Daisy? Y’all here? It’s Cate and John! We brought the pie over to share!”
“This can’t be good,” John said.
I put the pie down on the kitchen counter and said, “I’m going upstairs.”
“I’m coming with you,” he said.
We hurried up the steps, calling out for Ella and Aunt Daisy to no response. Finally, I tiptoed into Aunt Daisy’s bedroom and I could see from the doorway to her bathroom door, which was slightly ajar. There were her hat racks, filled with every style and color hat you could imagine.
“Come on now,” I heard Ella saying. “Let’s just sit still.”
I went to the door and without looking inside I said, “Ella? It’s me, Cate. Y’all okay?”
“I’m just trying to give Daisy a sponge bath to cool her down.”
“Who? Who’s there?” Aunt Daisy said.
Let me tell you, her voice did not sound right. Not one bit. I felt my chest tighten with panic. She wasn’t gasping for breath but she sounded congested and out of it.
“Can I help you in any way?” I said.
“Maybe you can help me get her out of the tub. I got her in here but I can’t . . .”
“No!” Aunt Daisy said. “I’m naked!”
I was going in and I didn’t care if the whole world was naked.
“Please!” I said and swooped right into the bathroom. “Where’s her robe?”
“In the wash,” Ella said. “There’s a big towel on that rack.”
“Get out of here!” Aunt Daisy said.
She yelled so loudly that John came to the door immediately.
“What’s going on in there?” he said.
“We’re trying to get Aunt Daisy out of the tub and she’s fighting us,” I said.
The next thing I knew John was