Gail Oust - 'Til Dice Do Us Part

Me… a designing woman? Jezebel? I’d never thought of myself in those terms. Now that I had, I have to admit the notion rather intrigued me. They made me sound like some sort of Medicare Mata Hari.

“The two of them badgered me until I promised to take things slow. They kept saying, ‘No fool like an old fool.’”

Déjà vu all over again, as the philosopher Yogi Berra once said. I distinctly remembered my daughter, Jennifer, making the exact same comment.

“But that’s not the half of it,” Bill confessed dejectedly. “My niece ran a background check on you on the Internet.”

The mention of background check started a bubble of laughter down deep inside. A bubble that swelled and swelled until it couldn’t be contained. Try as I might, it was bigger than both of us. It burst out, not as a coy giggle or a hearty chuckle, but as a full-bodied laugh. I laughed until tears rolled down my cheeks. All the while I was aware of Bill watching me with concern. The poor man was obviously worried I’d lost my marbles. Finally regaining a modicum of control, I dug through my purse for a crumpled Kleenex.

“Here.” Smiling a little in spite of himself, Bill handed me a neatly folded white handkerchief.

“Thanks,” I managed between bouts of giggles.

“Here all this time, I was afraid you were going to be mad-or disappointed. If I’da known it would make you laugh so hard, I would’ve told you weeks ago.”

He listened with bemusement as I told him about Jennifer’s unwarranted concern about my pension. How she referred to him as a gigolo.

“Who, me?” he exclaimed, his pretty blue eyes rounding in disbelief. “A gigolo?”

I nodded, then went on to admit that my son, Steven, had run a background check on him similar to the one his niece had run on me.

Bill’s lips twitched in a smile. “Well, I’m relieved your family knows I’m not on the terrorist watch.”

“Or a pervert,” I added solemnly. “And I’m happy your brother and niece are aware I don’t have a criminal record or liens against my property.”

“No lawsuits…”

“No outstanding debts other than a mortgage.”

Another giggle escaped; then we both laughed ourselves silly.

Bill sobered first, then reached for my hand. “Forgive me, Kate?”

At this point I’d have forgiven him anything. I hadn’t felt this good in an age. “Whatever for?”

“Maybe the kids were right after all when they said there’s no fool like an old fool.” Raising my hand to his lips, he brushed a kiss across the knuckles, causing my heart to go into a skid. “I never should have listened to my brother.”

“Why did you?” I asked when I’d recovered enough to speak.

He gave me that bashful smile I’d always found so appealing. “I’ve never been real smooth where the ladies are concerned. My brother, Bob, on the other hand, always had a way with women. I never should have let him influence me, but little by little he eroded my self-confidence. When I came home and saw how things had turned out for Claudia and Lance, two people who had rushed into things, I decided it might be best to heed Bob’s advice. To take things slow. Get to know each other better.”

“Do you still feel that way?” I asked quietly, glad it was dark enough so that Bill couldn’t read my expression to see how much his answer mattered.

“I had one of those come-to-Jesus moments people talk about and realized I’d be an even bigger fool if I let you get away.”

He scooted closer-no easy feat with a center console-and sealed the deal with a kiss that made my head spin.

Caught in the bright beam of headlights, we broke apart abruptly like teenagers caught necking on Lover’s Lane.

Bill swore softly under his breath as he pulled away. “Almost forgot about poker night. That must be Gus. He’s usually first to arrive. Are things OK between us?”

“More than OK.” I went to switch on the ignition and realized I had never turned it off. There was more than just one motor running. “Well, if you don’t mind dating a Jezebel, I have no trouble seeing a gigolo. I’m fixing a pot roast Sunday. Care to come for dinner?”

He climbed out of the car and grinned back at me. “See you Sunday.”

I smiled all the way home.

The following Monday, rehearsal started promptly, courtesy of the drill sergeant formerly known as Janine.

“All right, everyone,” Janine called out. “Bring some energy! Bring some action!”

Who would’ve ever thought mild-mannered, laid-back Janine would turn into a tyrant? The artistic director title had gone to her head faster than Asti Spumante on New Year’s Eve.

“How many more times do we have to rehearse this stupid scene?” Bernie whined.

“’Til I’m satisfied,” Janine snapped.

Usually, just out of general principle, I disagree with Bernie, but in this case I heartily concurred. We’d been rehearsing since six p.m., and even Krystal looked ready to fade. I said it before and I’ll say it again. She’s a real trouper. Not once had she used her pregnancy as an excuse to quit early, although I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had. I wondered how people would react if I told them I was pregnant and wanted to call it a night. I’m not, of course, but it would be fun to see their reactions. I bet rumors would travel through Serenity Cove Estates faster than a California wildfire.

“One more time,” Janine the slave driver instructed. “Stay in the world of the play.”

I hadn’t the foggiest idea what that meant, but I gave it my best shot. I was grateful the part of Myrna, the housekeeper, didn’t require a lot of acting ability. Having been a housewife the better part of my life seemed adequate training for the role. I could shake a feather duster and run a vacuum with the best of them.

I watched from the wings as Eric and Megan went through their scene. Megan, too, seemed typecast as an ingénue. I ask you, just how hard can it be for a perky blue-eyed blonde to play a perky blue-eyed blonde? When I thought about it, Eric had an easy role as well. He transitioned from clever rookie cop in real life to clever detective in Lance’s playwriting masterpiece. Megan, I noticed, seemed to have her lines down pat, but Eric needed a lot of help from Pam, who was acting as prompter.

“Sorry,” he apologized for the nth time, running his hand over his sandy blond military-style haircut. “I’ve been pulling extra shifts at the department in order to get time off for the rehearsals and performance.”

“Take five, everyone,” Janine said brusquely. “Afterward, we’ll run through it again top to bottom.”

Janine’s announcement met a chorus of groans. “In case you’ve forgotten, tickets go on sale tomorrow. Time’s running out.”

Having said this, she beckoned Mort Thorndike, who had replaced Gus Smith for lighting and sound, aside to go over a list of suggestions. Eric and Megan huddled together in a far corner, but from their flirty smiles and giggles, I didn’t think they were running lines. I made a mental note to ask Pam how she felt about her baby girl dating a policeman. The rest of the cast and crew dispersed in different directions, some heading toward the coffeemaker, others to the restroom. I didn’t see any sign of Bill, so I wandered off in hopes of finding him. I must admit, Sunday’s pot roast dinner had been a resounding success. I’m happy to report Jezebel and Gigolo have gotten their relationship/ friendship back on track.

“BRB,” I told Pam as I sailed out of the auditorium in hot pursuit of a certain blue-eyed devil. Pam looked puzzled, but gave me an absent wave as she made her way to her daughter’s side. BRB stands for “Be right back” in texting jargon. I probably should ease up a bit, but can’t seem to resist using it now and then. Truth is, I find it a lot more fun than either Morse code or Gregg shorthand.