Rejected Writers Take the Stage Page 14

“What?” I asked, unfamiliar with these particular words coming from my daughter’s lips. At the table, Martin seemed to choke on his toast.

  “Direct. I could help direct. I did a lot in college. I’m good at directing.”

  “I wouldn’t want to bother you,” I said.

  “It would be no bother. I could just stay a little longer now that Chris is going to be gone, and help you get started. At least help you through the auditions. I know what to look for and how to get people to audition so you can get the best out of them.”

  I had mixed feelings. I loved the idea of a chance to work with my daughter on something, but up to now, I had never managed to find anything that we didn’t end up fighting about. On the other hand, Stacy was a hard worker, but working with people really wasn’t her strength.

  “I think I could manage. You have the babies to think about.”

  Stacy raised her eyebrows. “Manage an audition? Let me tell you something. Half the work of getting a good show going is in the casting. You cast it right, and the job’s a dream. Cast it wrong, and you create an utter unholy nightmare for yourself.”

  I started to feel apprehensive. I hadn’t really thought that much about the casting. I just planned to see who turned up and make the people fit. If there was more than one person interested in a particular role, I’d planned to maybe toss a coin.

  It was as if Stacy read my mind. “You can’t just cast the first person that walks in and wants the part. There’s a lot to consider, not only their willingness, but also their ability to play the part, who they are, and if they fit with the other actors on the stage. Also, if they’re believable in that role, whether they have what it takes to pull it off.”

  I started to have a minor panic attack. I hadn’t thought about any of these things, and I thought, for a minute, that maybe having Stacy by my side for the auditions wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  CONFESSIONS OVER FROTHY COFFEE

  Flora was alone with her thoughts as they drove in silence to pick up Marcy. She tried to excuse herself one more time, but Dan had looked so crestfallen at her attempts to go home that, in the end, reluctantly, she’d agreed to go.

  They reached Marcy’s house, and she came bounding out. Flora felt instantly underdressed. Marcy was decked out as if she were on her way to a swanky New York restaurant, not to have coffee with a bunch of locals. Marcy’s hair was gathered in two sparkly clips, pinned up on both sides, and her abundance of curls shone in the sun as she bounded toward the car.

  Marcy saw Flora sitting in the front seat and looked perturbed. Flora looked over at Dan to see if he caught it, but he was too busy parking the car to notice Marcy’s expression. Ignoring Flora, Marcy marched all the way around to the other side of the car to the driver’s window and rapped on the glass.

  Dan looked shocked as she loomed large, and he rolled down the window. A cloud of frozen air crept in as Marcy spoke. “Dan,” she shrieked as if they were long-lost friends, “so glad you could come. This coffee place sounds so intriguing. I can’t wait to get to know your friends.”

  It was obvious to Flora that he didn’t know how to respond. He just said, “Marcy, you remember Flora, of course.”

  Marcy pretended she didn’t hear him. Instead, she jumped into the backseat behind him. “Such a lovely day,” she said, staring out the window. “All crisp and winterish.”

  Dan repeated himself as he started to pull away. “Marcy, you remember Flora, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” said Marcy, rubbing her highly glossed lips together and looking out the window. “I remember the girl in the oxygen mask.”

  Flora didn’t know how to respond, and by the look on his face, neither did Dan. Not that it mattered, as Marcy knew how to suck up all the air and make it her own. She talked about how cold the weather was and how she hadn’t known what to wear and her excitement about the fact they were going out today. In fact, Flora was pretty sure she didn’t draw breath the whole way into town.

  As Marcy continued to speak, Flora felt herself becoming smaller and smaller by the second. All she wanted to do was go home. She certainly didn’t feel sophisticated at all. In fact, she felt like a country bumpkin next to this girl. Dan looked over at her at one point, and the apology was obvious in his eyes. They pulled up outside the coffee shop.

  “Here you are, Marcy,” he said, sounding like he wanted her to get out.

  Marcy looked at him in the rearview mirror, then blinked a couple of times. “Surely you’re not expecting me to go in that strange coffee shop all alone, are you?” she whined like a four-year-old.

  Flora couldn’t believe this girl’s gall. Miss Overconfident, could steal your boyfriend before breakfast but can’t walk into anywhere alone?

  “It’s just a coffee shop. How strange can it be?” said Dan flatly.

  Flora felt annoyed. “People go in there all the time alone,” she said, feeling the need to defend her community. “We’re a very kind and accepting town.”

  Marcy answered her coldly, avoiding Flora’s gaze and instead looking intently at Dan. “Well, locals, I’m sure, have no problem doing that,” she said offhandedly. The way that she spat out the word “locals” made Flora bristle, something that didn’t appear to go unnoticed by Dan as Marcy continued. “But I’m not a local, am I? I can’t just walk into some odd coffee bar like that. Please, Dan,” she implored, “could you just walk me in so I’m not alone?” She swished her hair back over her shoulder, and Flora got a whiff of what smelled like Chanel perfume.

  Before either of them could answer her, Marcy was out of the car and waiting by the door. Dan looked over at Flora, who was trying not to lose her cool. This girl was really working it, she could tell.

  Dan rolled down the window and started to protest, but Marcy cut him short. “Oh, come on, Dan,” she said, hopping from foot to foot. “It’s cold out here, and it will just be for a minute.”

  He sighed, then looked at Flora, gave a shrug, and climbed out of the car.

  Marcy finally looked at Flora for the first time, saying bluntly, “You can just wait here in the car. We shouldn’t be too long.”

  That was all it took. Flora had the door open and was out before Marcy could finish her sentence.

  “I’d like to come,” said Flora, firmly, “and see if there’s anyone there I know.”

  But before Flora could protest, Marcy linked arms with Dan and pulled him toward the coffee shop, leaving Flora to drag behind.

  Inside the Coffee Spot, it was warm and cozy. It was a small cabin-type building that had started out as a family home but over the years had been converted to various shops due to its close proximity to town. It had once been a toy shop, then a pharmacy for many years, and for a short time, a gift shop. Then, about three years ago, someone had broached the idea that the town needed a coffee shop, a modern one that created drinks out of espresso and steamed milk and flavoring and served them alongside slabs of lemon or gingerbread cake. So the Coffee Spot was born. Painted in cheerful colors of burnished reds and mellow yellows, the main wall contained a bookshelf of well-worn books, and the other walls were adorned with posters of modern art. It had a warm wood fire and a lively clientele of mainly students.

  Marcy bound in on Dan’s arm and looked around expectantly. The people she was meeting did not appear to be there yet, and her disappointment showed. Flora couldn’t help thinking that Marcy’s plan might have been to give the impression to her new friends that she and Dan were intimate. Flora thought of the kiss again, and her stomach knotted. How could Dan not be interested in someone so glamorous and poised?

  “Okay,” Dan said, taking action and detangling himself from Marcy. “You’re in now, so have fun.”

  Marcy looked at him sharply. “Sorry?” she said. “You’re going to leave me here on my own with all these stranger people?”

  Flora looked around the room. Most of them were a gathering of the local community she knew by sight. Some h
ad jobs in the town as shopkeepers or at the local plant center. There were also some students from the local college, and other visitors here for spring break. Most she only knew by sight, but dressed in colorful woolens and blue jeans, these were not the kind of people one would describe as “strange.”

  Dan responded firmly, “I want to spend more time with Flora. I didn’t get to spend any real time with her yet, and if you remember, that’s why I came this weekend. I think you’re going to be fine until your friends get here.”

  Marcy pouted, but Flora’s heart soared. It was the first time he admitted why he was here—and to Marcy! She suddenly started to see a glimmer of hope. Surely if he were also dating Marcy, he wouldn’t have been so dismissive toward her.

  Flora felt more and more embarrassed that she’d suspected anything from that kiss, if it had been a kiss at all. Now she was pretty sure it was all in her imagination. After all, it had been raining. With this new generosity of spirit and the fact the coffee shop was so warm and cozy, Flora found herself saying, “We could stay for just one cup of coffee, if you’d like, Dan, until Marcy’s friends get here.”

  Dan looked at Flora, bewildered. “Are you sure?”

  Flora nodded, taking off her coat and placing it on the back of her chair at a nearby table.

  “There,” said Marcy, her tone betraying that she wasn’t totally happy with the fact that Flora was staying too.

  Dan shrugged and asked them what they’d like to drink. Marcy ordered a complicated coffee drink that took Dan a couple of tries to remember, and Flora ordered a peppermint tea. Dan left for the counter.

  Marcy arranged herself in the best chair, obviously wanting to look her most stunning and have a good view of the door of the coffee shop. She straightened her blouse, adjusted a cream silk scarf that lay in folds around her neck, and tightened her hair clips. Eventually, she cast an ungracious gaze over Flora as she continued to peel off her layers.

  “How long have you lived in this town?” she asked, only appearing mildly interested as she looked over Flora’s shoulder.

  “Most of my life,” answered Flora. She was beginning to think that Marcy was the one who was instigating everything with Dan, and she was ready to deal with whatever that meant.

  “I’m thinking of moving here,” Marcy said without much conviction.

  “Really,” said Flora with distaste. “Why?”

  Marcy looked surprised at Flora’s directness. So was Flora, but she was suddenly feeling bolder.

  “Danny’s talking about maybe doing that, and I have some family here. I thought with Danny being here, and the fact that I could come and stay with them, it might be interesting for a while.”

  Flora shook off the familiarity of “Danny” and allowed this new piece of information to sink in. Dan had been thinking about moving to Southlea Bay? He hadn’t mentioned that to her. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up. But the thought of having him right here with her made her heart soar.

  “What would you do here?” she asked.

  Marcy started to inspect her beautifully manicured pink nails. “I’m not sure yet. I usually find something to keep me busy. I saw an advertisement for a show coming up. Danny and I used to act in shows together all the time in high school.”

  “I know about the play in town,” answered Flora. “I’m considering playing the lead in it.” Flora cringed inwardly. Why had she said that? She didn’t want to compete, but she knew it would score points.

  Marcy actually looked a little impressed, but then the shutters came down, and she quickly continued, “Yes, I suppose there’s not a large pool of talent to choose from here.”

  Flora could feel the red creeping up slowly from her neck to her cheeks. She looked over at Dan. He was still in line.

  “I’m auditioning tomorrow,” added Marcy.

  “Good,” said Flora. “I’ll be there.”

  “Good,” responded Marcy. They faced off as Marcy added, “There’s obviously not much else to do here.”

  “There’s a lot to do here,” Flora said defensively. “There’s the art gallery and restaurants and the movie theater.”

  “Yes,” said Marcy, then she paused and seemed to enjoy this next statement. “Danny and I were at the theater yesterday and also the local wine bar.”

  Flora wished she could confront Marcy. She wanted to say, “I saw you. I saw you in the window kissing my boyfriend. Yes, my boyfriend. What do you think you were doing, kissing him like that?” But Flora didn’t feel brave enough to say those words, so instead she just said, “I know. I saw you there.”

  Instantly, it appeared Marcy seemed to know what Flora was thinking, and she looked amused, so she continued. “The Nook is a great place. Lots of nice people and a great atmosphere. Danny and I really enjoyed it.”

  “You seemed to,” said Flora, pushing again. She wanted Marcy to acknowledge it.

  Marcy responded, “We have known each other a long time. We feel very comfortable with each other,” she added, adjusting her skirt.

  Flora felt something rise up inside her and totter just under the surface of her feelings, something akin to rage. She heard herself speak, and it wasn’t quiet, and it wasn’t weak. It was forceful and challenging, and she couldn’t believe herself.

  “When I looked in the window, you were very close. In fact, you appeared to be kissing him.”

  There, it was out on the table, the elephant, the huge matzo ball, and the weight hanging in the air between them.

  Marcy laughed a gentle laugh. “Of course,” she said. Then, seeming to relish this next statement intently, she stated, “That wasn’t the first time we’ve kissed, you know.”

  Flora opened her mouth to respond, but she couldn’t say anything. Her mouth just flapped about like a distressed seagull.

  Dan arrived at the table, juggling their drinks. “Here we are,” he said merrily, placing the cups on the table. He noted Flora’s discomfort. “I hope Marcy’s been behaving herself.”

  “Of course,” said Marcy, answering for Flora, who just continued to sit there with her mouth open. “Flora and I were just getting to know each other. We know where we stand, don’t we, Flora?”

  Dan looked nervous. He responded defensively by taking Flora’s hand. She felt the warmth of it pressed against hers and noted her own felt like a block of ice. He appeared to be about to ask her if she was okay when the people Marcy had been waiting for came in, and Marcy leapt to her feet. The moment was lost in the flurry of all the introductions.

  Flora looked at the group that had pulled up chairs and stools to join them. She knew some of them by sight, but that was all. The island attracted two types of people: the bohemian artist set and the very rich. The artistic community was attracted to the beauty and peacefulness of the island to create their art year-round. They lived on a shoestring budget and did myriad part-time jobs just to survive. The other set arrived during summer vacation, and they spent their days fishing out on their yachts on Puget Sound to provide for their extensive cookouts on the beach in front of grand waterfront holiday homes. Flora knew a lot more of the first group than the second. This group was very obviously city folk who liked to play summer islander.

  A dashing young man who had introduced himself as Jeremy thrust a hand into Flora’s and then Dan’s. Once it was established that Dan worked with cars, Jeremy slid into an easy conversation along those lines about his new sports car and then on to his latest handheld gadget.

  Marcy fit in perfectly, whereas Flora didn’t actually follow a lot of what they were saying. She found it hard to be up on all the latest trends. It was like they were speaking a different language. She just quietly sipped her tea, trying to digest the words Marcy had said that were now echoing over and over in her mind. “That wasn’t the first time we’ve kissed, you know.” Flora was sure that’s what she had said—so brazen, so self-assured, it just must be true. And now Flora knew for sure that what she’d seen had been real, and it was like she’d been kicke
d in the gut all over again. In fact, it was actually giving her a real stomachache.

  Dan looked at her with concern. He continued to make small talk with Marcy’s friends but constantly looked Flora’s way as if he were trying to read her. He sipped quickly at his hot coffee, making the right conversational noises at the right times, but even Dan seemed unable to keep up with the group after a while as they chatted on about their electronic toys.

  Flora watched Marcy with envy as she dominated the conversation, and the three guys that had joined them didn’t seem to mind that at all. Marcy was a novelty, she decided, something shiny, a new thing to add to their collection. What was making her angry was the way that she kept referring to Dan and herself as “we.”

  Dan finished his coffee quickly and said, “Flora, are you ready?”

  Flora had hardly touched her drink and had just sat there in silence while the group had talked around her. Flora nodded absently, and Dan grabbed Flora’s coat and helped her into it before she even realized what was happening.

  Marcy stopped talking and started to protest. “You’re not leaving already, are you, Danny?” she said, pouting again. “We’ve only just got here.”

  Dan didn’t take the bait. He hurriedly said his good-byes. Flora just turned and was already heading for the door. She hadn’t even bothered with good-byes. She noticed that the group, full of its own importance, hadn’t even noticed.

  It appeared that Marcy was not going to miss her chance, though. She jumped to her feet and threw her arms around Dan before he reached the door. “Good-bye, Danny!” she said and hugged and kissed him dramatically on the cheek.

  As she opened the door, Flora turned just in time to see the display, and her stomach added another knot to the tension that was already there. She walked quickly to the car, breathing deeply. Her head was swimming. She really did not want to pass out again.

  Dan wasn’t far behind her. He was at her car door before she got there and opened it quickly. Flora jumped inside and breathed a sigh of relief, so glad to finally be away from Marcy.