The Playing Fields

Chapter 17

THE PLAY

The Month of May stepped aside, introducing June with a few days of light showers and matching winds. Remnants of the last apple blossoms huddled in damp clumps in garden corners and along the edges of the sidewalks; their short period of glorious bloom ended, like a dirty, discarded memory. Plump Robins hopped about the lawns foraging for morning worms, and the ever-present squirrels played chase among the leaf laden tree branches. Nigel and Victoria had spent a solid two weeks roughing out the play, debating, sometimes hotly, the characterizations and direction various roles should take. Susan had been on the telephone daily, digging for information and trying to wangle an invitation to see the rough draft. Undaunted, Nigel's procrastinating was ignored, with tenacious promises to call the next day.

"Why are you doing this Victoria?" Nigel considered his aunt over the top of his sunglasses. She was sitting at the patio table editing some pages, her legs crossed, and the brim of her floppy sun hat dipping low over one eye. He had come to admire the older woman for more than the acting credentials that originally infatuated him. She was a tall, stately reminder of a more gentile era; her auburn hair, streaked with silver grey, was swept up in a roll under the big hat, her features, in repose, were soft and smooth, accented by high cheekbones, tinged with a blush of pink. The nose, pointing straight and narrow, to the generous mouth, bespoke an understated haughtiness akin to the comfortably resigned, upper class; quite a change from the woman who first greeted his arrival.

She tilted her head back, leveling an amused glance at her nephew. "Doing what?"

"C'mon, I haven't been sitting here with you for two straight weeks without seeing you've got some kind of agenda cooking in that detached attitude of yours. What are you up to?"

Victoria put down her pencil and took off the sun hat, brushing some loose strands of hair away from her face as she set it to one side on the glass table.

"You have certainly emerged totally from your cocoon in a relatively short time, eh, nephew? Canada must really agree with you."

"My question stands, Victoria."

She gave him a sad smile and took a breath. "I've lived in this town for twenty-seven years, Nigel. I came here right after I retired from the stage. The population wasn't even a tenth of what it is today." She sat back and stared out into the garden, her silence stretching to the point that Nigel thought she had finished. "Twenty-two years ago, Ashton Hills decided it had grown big enough to support a local theatre, and they built the playhouse. Everet Polasky was mayor then." She spoke with dreamy reminiscence. "Because of my background and experience, the town appointed me as director of the theatre... they were fun times, Nigel.

We performed all the traditional plays with just volunteers from the community- and did a darn good job, if I do say so. Within two years, our little town unfortunately caught the attention of developers, and we had subdivisions popping up where once it was rolling fields and small farms. Then along came Arthur Paisley, a retired cattle breeder, and he built a god-awful monstrosity on the hill overlooking Woogen Creek. You probably haven't seen it yet.

When his cronies saw what he had, and the prime land that was still available, they coaxed him into buying it up for exclusive development. Next thing we knew, we had The Paisley Pathway, wealth's answer to the avaricious pursuits of the baby-boomers."

Nigel fished a beer from the cooler by his lounge and adroitly twisted the cap off, a practice he had finally mastered, after several painful attempts since his arrival.

"You sound aah, sad, Victoria. Maybe even a little bitter."

She wagged her head thoughtfully, toying with the paper she was editing. "I suppose. In a very short time, Everet was no longer the mayor. Instead, we had the town council, composed solely of Pathway residents who set about changing everything that had made Ashton Hills the attractive community it originally was. Their first assault was on the theatre. The idea of local people putting on plays was just too... Mickey Rooney, Judy Garland, for them. They wanted to bring in professionals- and that included the theatre management."

"You got the boot." Vindicating instantly the suspicions he held.

Victoria looked at her nephew, the sadness palpable in her eyes, for a long time before answering. "You think I'm a vindictive old woman, don't you?"

"Well, I guess I have to admit," he waved a hand at their pile of notes, "this business smacks just a tad, of revenge."

"Are you angry with me?"

Nigel popped his finger out of the top of the beer bottle a few times, uncertain of how he really felt. He was writing a play that was destined to be performed, and he had come all the way from England to learn from his aunt and get some experience, although some of the experience he'd gained was well outside the realm of his original intent. Still, without Victoria pushing him, however questionably, his long sought dream had come true; he was writing a real play!

"Not for your actual motives, Victoria, just for the fact that you didn't confide them to me."

"And if I had, you would have cheerfully accepted?"

Nigel grunted a laugh, "No, probably not. But after spending all this time with you, and meeting these people...well..."

Her eyes took on a twinkle, knowing she had passed his muster. "So, we're in business then?"

"We're in business- partner." He toasted his compliance with a long slug of warm beer. "I wanted to ask you, Victoria, is there a nice quiet restaurant in this town that I could take someone to dinner. Not the Forbidden City."

"Someone special?"

"In a way... it's Darlene King, the young woman from the salon."

Victoria smoothed the ribbons of her sun hat on the top of the table, "I thought you looked a little neater somehow."

He laughed, and explained what had happened when he went to the meeting and his promise to repay her with a dinner. Victoria made her suggestion then paused, debating whether to add her advice regarding this turn of events.

"I can almost smell the wood burning, Victoria. You're thinking that this date is ill advised."

"Not if it remains a casual dinner between friends. You have to give serious consideration to the implications for Darlene." The openly sincere look held his eyes, silently suggesting all her unspoken qualms.

*****