Part 37 (1/2)
”Well, why don't we have a gla.s.s 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 gla.s.ses 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 she's in Greece and you know she worries about bandits all the time.”
”Mom! Come on! I want to be with you.”
”And the Porgy House has no shower . . .”
”No shower? So, like . . . how in the world do you wash your hair?”
”With considerable determination and about fifty different yoga poses. And it has no television, either.”
”You're kidding, right?”
”Nope.”
”So, what are you doing there? I mean, like what the h.e.l.l, Mom. You're a creature-comfort kind of girl.”
”When you see it, you might understand. It grows on you.”
”Oh, wait. This is about John, isn't it? He sleeps over and you don't want me to hear you guys getting crazy.”
I pulled the car over to the side of the road and said, ”You listen to me and hear me good, young lady. Yes, it's because of John and you're right, I don't want you to hear your mother having s.e.x. Happy? And guess what else? John Risley is the nicest, finest man I know and he makes me happier than anyone I have ever known in my entire life. Furthermore, the only reason you are here is because of him. He is the one who insisted on you playing Dorothy. Sight unseen, he wanted you.”
”Mom . . .”
”I'm not finished. I also don't think it's a good idea for us to rehea.r.s.e all day and then be together all night. You're twenty-five years old. When it gets dark, all adults should retreat to their own camps. You and I have a tremendous opportunity here, Sara. The world comes to Piccolo Spoleto, scouts from every casting company on and off Broadway. Let's not blow it because you don't like the idea of your mother being in love with someone you don't know. Give this a chance, Sara. Now, if you don't think you can abide by my wishes, tell me right now and we'll go straight back to the airport and I'll buy you a ticket to Los Angeles. No hard feelings.”
”Jeesch, Mom. Seems to me somebody else memorized their lines.”
”What's it gonna be?”
”So when do I get to meet John?”