by Lois Lavrisa
“That is old news—he prefers being called Dwight.” Pricilla said. “So please refer to him that way.”
I whispered in Bezu’s ear, “He might have changed his name, but it doesn’t change that he’s still a dirty rat.”
Priscilla said, “And Dwight and I are quite serious. Actually, we’re getting married this weekend.”
Winona’s neck reddened. “You are?”
“My dear, why do you sound so surprised?” She admonished Winona. “You knew we were engaged to be married.”
Winona looked down at her clipboard and flipped the pages. “I had no idea you had set a date, and so soon. I mean, there’s a lot more work to do now, on top of everything else.”
Priscilla paused for a moment, her gaze softened as she reached out and touched Winona’s arm.
For a moment I sensed something affectionate coming from Priscilla directed toward Winona. But just as quickly I dismissed it. Maybe Priscilla just felt bad that she dumped more duties on her assistant.
Winona seemed to study her notes. “I don’t think I’ll have enough time.”
“You can handle it,” Priscilla retorted. “That’s your job. I have a whole list of items that you need to address. Of course, you won’t have much work to do, my dear. It’s going to be a modest little soirée, considering we only have a few days.” Priscilla fluffed her hair.
“Simple?” Winona’s voice rose as though in disbelief.
“Why, yes, of course.” Priscilla tapped a finger on Winona’s clipboard. “Which reminds me. Make sure you reserve the area in front of the fountain in Forsyth Park. Pull strings, call in favors—whatever needs to be done to make it happen. Plus, we need flowers—loads of flowers. Blue hydrangeas and white roses all over. And seating for one hundred fifty—maybe two hundred, and a few large tents, a three piece orchestra, bartenders, wait staff.”
Winona’s eyes widened.
I wondered if she thought, as I did, that the wedding was anything but a modest little soirée.
“Now now, Winona,” said Priscilla. “I can see on your face that you’re overwhelmed. But don’t fret. You don’t have to do it all yourself. My brother will handle the food. We can talk again later about the details, like media coverage and the rest. Now go, go—and get working on the list.”
Priscilla shooed her assistant away, then pushed out her chest and turned to Bezu and me. “Anyway, you’ll be seeing a lot of Dwight around here. And I do hope that won’t cause any issues for either of you. You know, mostly because of your former relationship with him,” she said gesturing to Bezu.
Bezu looked down.
Sensing that my friend was upset, I said to Priscilla, “Now that you’ve gotten that out in the open, might I just add, not only is Bezu over that scoundrel, but she is dating a gorgeous Brazilian tycoon. So if it’s all the same to you, this conversation is over.”
“I was just being civil,” Priscilla said. “Obviously neither of you like him, but you underestimate him. He really is a great man. And quite an entrepreneur. Let me tell you, his new business venture is taking off now that I assisted with the financing. As a matter of fact, he’s a theater camp board member. He’s in charge of pulling together the scholarship prize for this week, so you’ll be seeing a lot of him this week. He’s got such a knack for making money.”
“You mean taking money,” I murmured.
“What do you mean?” Priscilla asked.
“I guess you don’t know,” I said. “But it’s not my business to tell.”
Poor Bezu. He’d left her a week before their wedding, after taking a large bribe from her father to disappear.
Bezu shook her head. “It’s water under the bridge. He may be different now, and I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“I can’t believe he’s reformed at all,” I said.
“Reformed?” said Priscilla. “He’s an honorable, hardworking loyal man. And so handsome. What do they call it?” Priscilla snapped her fingers. “Eye candy. Anyway, my friends think I’m dating a movie star. He resembles a young Robert Redford, don’t you think?”
“Yes, he does.” Bezu glanced away.
“Young being the operative word here,” I said clapping my hands. “Okay, that’s enough. Let’s get back to work.”
Bezu drew in a breath. “Please send Dwight my regards. I’m glad that you found each other, from what I hear you’re two peas in a pod.”
I squeezed her hand, proud of her clever comeback.
“Why yes, we are a great match,” Priscilla said raising an eyebrow. “Anyhow. Annie Mae, would you indulge me?”
I exhaled noisily. She was like a Savannah sand gnat, always around and always annoying. “What do you need now?”
Priscilla thrust out her chin. “Is there anyway we can get in the theater just a tiny wee bit earlier than three? It is so important that we get that extra time.”
Give that lady a penny, and she would empty out your account. “Really? I’m already letting you in and I don’t have to.”
“Of course, I understand. But knowing you, I’m sure that you want this competition to be as fair as possible.” She held out her hand as if examining her manicured fingers.
I bit my lip to keep from spewing some foul language at her. “Here’s the deal. You get three o’clock or not at all.”
Priscilla pivoted then walked away.
“Wow,” said Bezu. “I think the moniker Wicked Witch of the South is way too kind for her. She’s more like a fashionable snake in the grass.”
“I wanted to shield you from her evil. But I’m afraid you’ll both be here all week.”
She shook her head. “That won’t be a problem. I can handle her. And actually, she did me a favor.”
“How?”
“She forewarned me that Dwight will be around here.” Bezu smiled. “I can fortify myself.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“When he served me papers.”
“I remember. That was the same day I got back from Chapel Hill. I crossed paths with the jerk when he was leaving your house.”
“Yes, you did.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “You know, I’m not mad at him for serving me the city zoning violation notice. After all, he was just doing his job. But what a shock to see him standing on my doorstep after all those years.”
“I bet.”
I arched an eyebrow. “And it sounds like he’s got a new business going, courtesy of his new sweetheart.”
“I meant it when I said they deserve each other.” Bezu grinned. “And I’m glad that I’ve moved on and made a whole new life.”
“Ah, yes.” I tipped my head back, dramatically flung an arm wide and spoke in a low voice. “This above all else, to thine own self be true.”
“Is that from Hamlet?”
I took a small bow. “Yes, my lady. Act one, Scene three.”
Chapter Three
At the end of the first day of camp, the six teams gathered in the theater so that each team could submit its theme.
The other five advisors and I sat on stage, along with the three judges. Gerald Gill had the highly coveted position of lead judge and director of the annual summer theater camp.
The auditorium filled with the din of conversation and laughter.
“Okay, everyone settle down please,” Gerald announced into the podium microphone. His salt and pepper hair looked bright against his tanned Caucasian skin. He wore a tweed blazer over a white polo shirt, and dark blue slacks. His ensemble made him look like an aged Ivy League fraternity boy.
Everyone hushed as Gerald continued, “Team one, with Professor Maple, is Rap Hamlet, or as they call it “Hip Hop Till You Drop,” and has been approved for the competition.”
Applause filled the stadium.
Priscilla fidgeted in her chair.
Gerald said, “Team two, advised by Ms. Woodham, is ballet Hamlet, dubbed Killer Swan Lake. It has been approved. Congratulations.”
Faint handclappin
g followed the announcement.
I felt a sense of amusement at pulling one over on Priscilla. She had stolen our bogus theme. Wilbert and Umika looked at me and shook their heads as if in disbelief.
“Team three, led by Mr. Smothers, is Zombie Hamlet. It has been approved, congratulations,” Gerald continued.
A student screamed out, “Walking Dead Hamlet.”
The audience broke out in hoots.
“Settle down now.” Gerald motioned to the crowd. “Team Four, with Miss Jones as advisor, you have been approved. Their theme is Fairy Tale Hamlet, or as they call it Once upon a Hamlet. Congratulations.”
The audience laughed.
“Congratulations to Mr. Helmsley’s team five who chose “Real Housewives of Denmark, Hamlet. You have been approved.” Gerald smiled.
“And I’m sorry to say, team six led by Dr. Isenberg, has been disqualified.” Gerald glanced down at the podium.
The low murmur of chatter came to a standstill. The crowd seemed to hold their breath.
Dr. Isenberg stood. “Wait a minute.” His round face flushed, as he shook his hand in the air. “Why?”
Gerald cleared his throat. “There have been objections to your subject matter.”
“What does that mean?” Dr. Isenberg threw up his arms.
“It means that your theme is not appropriate, nor politically correct.” Gerald said raking his fingers through his hair. “I’m really sorry.”
Dr. Isenberg pumped his fist. “Hold on there. You don’t understand. We weren’t trying to say that Hamlet was going to be Hitler. Hitler was the King who Hamlet wanted to kill. It was meant to be a mash up of Valkyrie and Hamlet.”
Gerald looked at Dr. Isenberg, then at the two other judges.
Dr. Isenberg continued, “Our theme is completely within the rules. You have to reconsider.”
Gerald spread his hands. “I understand how you feel. But the judges have deemed that a Hitler theme cannot be done in any way, shape or form.”
The sound of chatter enveloped the theater.
Dr. Isenberg animatedly flailed his arms. “We planned on using humor.”
Gerald raised a hand. “That doesn’t make it any less offensive.”
The professor’s neck reddened. “You still don’t understand, the theme was meant to be satirical, not impertinent.”
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to choose another theme,” Gerald said.
Priscilla stood. “According to the rules, if a theme is not chosen and approved by five in the afternoon, the first day of camp, that team is removed. They cannot be a part of this competition.”
Dr. Isenberg’s voice rose. “Are you kidding me? Priscilla, back off.”
“Please hold your comments, Ms. Woodham,” Gerald said.
“Rules are rules,” Priscilla said to Dr. Isenberg. “And you just blew your entry into the competition.”
“You really are a piece of work,” Dr. Isenberg retorted. A long piece of his hair, used to disguise his baldness, slid onto his forehead. “I’m surprised you didn’t do the Wizard of Oz theme and play the wicked witch yourself.”
The audience members snickered and howled.
“How dare you.” Priscilla scowled at him.
Gerald tapped on the microphone for attention. “Everyone, calm down. And, Dr. Isenberg, I would also warn you to watch your tongue and your tone of voice.” Then he waved a hand to the judges. “Give us a minute to sort this out.”
The judges gathered off stage, and conversed for several minutes. Finally they returned and Gerald went to the podium.
He adjusted the microphone and spoke, “We are in agreement, and we have decided that within the framework of the rules, we can give a team that had, indeed, made the initial deadline, although the theme was disqualified, ten more minutes to come up with another. As long as this extension is approved by a majority of the team leaders. All of the team leaders in favor of allowing team six another try at their theme please raise your hand.” He looked out into the crowd and back to the team leaders.
Raising my hand, I glanced around and noticed the other four of five leaders were in agreement. All but one.
Priscilla sank into her chair, her arms folded over her breasts.
***
After everyone was dismissed, I said to my team, “I’m glad it all worked out.”
“No kidding,” Wilbert said. “Ms. Woodham really wasn’t happy about the judges giving Dr. Isenberg’s team a second chance.”
Umika shrugged. “What’s her problem? She seemed like she wanted them to get kicked out of the competition. It’s like she’s seeking revenge or something.”
I didn’t want to get into a character assassination about Priscilla. “I’m just glad all six teams are still in the competition and that all the themes are set.”
“And what was with her stealing our fake ballet theme?” Wilbert huffed. “I’m just glad that it wasn’t our actual theme. But still, how could she do that?”
I shook my head. “Let it go. We need to move on.”
“Fine. And no matter, I think that our team is the best,” Wilbert said.
“But team three, with Zombie Hamlet is pretty cool too,” Umika said. “I think they’ll be our biggest competitor.”
Wilbert adjusted his glasses on his long thin nose and said, “I’m not sure. Team four could be a threat with Fairy Tale Hamlet. And team five with the reality theme is a solid idea. And now that team six chose Hamlet in outer space, or as they call it Hamlet Wars—the King Strikes Back. That could be a long shot, but might be great.”
Umika nodded. “You’re right.”
I smiled and said, “I think everyone stepped up to the plate with great ideas. I also think this will be a fantastic and creative challenge for everyone. So get to work.”
The team busied themselves on the stage.
A minute later, Gerald walked into our rehearsal. He pulled me aside. “How are you doing?”
“Great.” My heart flipped. For the past few weeks, we’d been spending a lot of time together, although I had no illusion that we were anything more than friends. “By the way, good job with the taming of the shrew.”
He chuckled. “Priscilla? I think there’s a special place in heaven for people who have to work with her.”
“It’s going to be hard for me to hold my tongue. But for the sake of the kids, I will definitely try. There’s no guarantee I’ll succeed though. You may have to gag me to keep me quiet.”
He smiled. “That’s what I like about you. I don’t have to ever ask what you’re thinking because you always speak your mind.”
My heart warmed with the sweet comment. “By the way, did you know we were being spied on?”
“Oh?”
“The other night at dinner, apparently someone saw us. Priscilla found out. She’s trying to claim that you and I might be biased because of our friendship. Implying that we should both be disqualified.”
He said, “Then she doesn’t know us, does she?”
“Nope. And I’d rather she never gets to really know me.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “How about dinner at Conner’s Corner tonight, seven?”
Poor guy must be lonely too. I guess at our age, having a companion for dinner was better than eating alone. “I’ll meet you there. I still have about an hour more here.”
He started to leave, then stopped. “Make sure we make a scene tonight.”
“Why?”
Gerald winked. “If we’re going to be observed, let’s give them something to talk about.”
Chapter Four
The second day of theater camp came and went. The set and costumes were nearly finished, lines were memorized, rap lyrics practiced and hip hop dance moves choreographed. Day three, the team began dress rehearsals.
After we finished lunch, while my team rehearsed, I chatted with Bezu while her helper cleaned up.
Bezu untied her apron. “This is so wonderful. I’m grinnin’ like a possum eatin�
�� a sweet tater.”
“I guess that means you’re pretty happy,” I said.
“You got that right. My catering business is doing great.”
“I bet you’re getting a lot of exposure this week by working here.”
“Yes, it’s been wonderful. Quite a few people here have asked for my business cards. One gentleman said he’s going to recommend my catering for their annual company conference. Another lady wants me to cater their daughter’s party after she graduates medical school this fall.”
“That’s great. Word of mouth is the best advertising.”
“It is. Although I can’t rely solely on that. I also had a professional website made. Plus an article about my business ran last week in the Savannah Morning News.”
“I read it. It was a terrific. Your business is really getting coverage,” I said. “Earlier, in the parking lot, I also noticed that you had a magnetic sign on your car.”
“I put that on yesterday. But now I’m wondering if my business is becoming overexposed.” Bezu pushed a flyaway hair from her eyes.
“Why do you think that?” I asked.
“I’m getting too busy to keep up. I know that’s a good thing when you’re in business for yourself. But all the same, I think I’m going to send some clients to another caterer.”
“How sweet of you,” I nodded. “What caterer were you thinking of?”
“Priscilla’s brother.”
For a moment I was speechless. “Why?”
“It’s good karma. Priscilla might be a little jagged around the edges, but her brother might be fine. Plus, anyone who has Priscilla as a sister needs all the help he can get.” Bezu smiled.
“Speaking of Priscilla, the past two days I’ve managed to evade her.”
Bezu grinned. “So have I.”
“Hello!” Priscilla squealed as she approached. Winona scurried at her heels.
Dang it. Mention her name and she appears.
“Good afternoon, Priscilla and Winona,” Bezu said. “It’s another perfect, sunny day in Savannah isn’t it?”
“Well Biddy, it’s also humid, hot and muggy.” Priscilla looked at Bezu.
Winona said to Priscilla, “Her name is Bezu.”
