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Sandra’s family had just settled at the table for supper when her cell phone rang.
“Please ignore that,” Nate said. He likely assumed, along with everyone else at the table, except for baby Sammy who was too young to assume anything, that it was reporters calling again. She was a local celebrity again, and her phone had been ringing off the hook.
Two seconds after her phone stopped ringing, his started. The reporters hadn’t called Nate yet, and Nate never ignored his phone, so he popped up to answer it.
“Hello? ... Yes ... Yes ... This is his father. ... Are you serious? ... Well, no, I thought ... You know what? Can I talk to my family and then call you right back?” He hung up the phone and sat back down at the table.
Sandra couldn’t take the suspense. “What was that?”
He picked up his fork. “That was Peter’s director, Frank Flamatti. He says the show is still on, and wants Peter to come to rehearsal tomorrow.”
“You’re kidding,” Sandra said.
“I know.” Nate picked up his fork and took a bite of pasta.
“Who’s going to play Mrs. Walton?” Joanna piped up.
No one answered her.
“I can’t believe it,” Sandra said.
Nate swallowed. “Me neither.” He looked at his son. “Do you even want to finish the play? You don’t have to. You don’t have to go back there—”
“I want to. Definitely.” Peter shoved an entire stick of garlic bread into his mouth. Normally, Sandra would’ve scolded him for that, but she was too distracted by the issue at hand.
Nate looked at Sandra. “What do you think?”
She shrugged. She didn’t know what to think. She was still in shock. She understood that the show must go on and all that, but they’d lost two of their actors, and it wasn’t like they had understudies. And Sandra was sure that the back stairwell was still an active crime scene. Well, maybe not sure. She had no idea how that stuff worked in real life. But pretty sure. “I guess it’s up to Peter. If he wants to finish, then I can support that.”
“You don’t think it will be too traumatic for him?”
“Dad!” Peter rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t traumatic!”
Nate narrowed his eyes in skepticism. “It wasn’t traumatic to see a dead body and then to be shoved into a shed by someone wearing a grizzly bear costume?”
Joanna’s eyes grew wide.
“Not a grizzly bear,” Sandra softly corrected for her sake. “It was Smokey the Bear.”
“Right. That makes it all better.” Nate was oblivious to the fact that he was frightening his daughter.
“Why would Smokey be mean to Peter?” Joanna asked, and Nate finally caught on.
“Oh, he wouldn’t. They were just playing.”
“Maybe we should discuss this later,” Sandra said.
“Do we really need to talk about it at all?” Peter asked. “I want to do it. I made a commitment, and I should do it. They already have to find a new Ma and a new Grandpa. We don’t want to make them find a new me too.”
The kid had a point.
“Okay,” Nate said resignedly.
“Okay.” Sandra waited a minute and then asked, “Can you call him back?”
Nate raised an eyebrow. “I can’t finish dinner first?”
“I’ll do it. If I know Frank, he is anxiously waiting for the call.” She held her hand out for his phone, even though it would be just as easy to get up and get hers. He handed it to her and she navigated to recent calls, found Frank’s home number, and called it.
Predictably, Frank was thrilled with the news. And after he thanked her too many times, he sprang something else on her. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in taking on the role of Ma Spencer?”
She barked out a laugh. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, but I just can’t. I’ve never done any sort of acting. I’d be terrible.”
“You’ve watched her scenes dozens of times. You know the script better than anyone who isn’t already in the play. Would you please consider it?” She opened her mouth to say no, but then Frank added, “We’re desperate.”
For as long as she could remember, Sandra had found it difficult to say no to people. This time would be no different. “I guess I could give it a shot?” Her voice came out squeaky, and Nate’s face filled with panic.
“Give what a shot?”
But she didn’t answer him. She was too busy listening to Frank thank her again and again. Her stomach rumbled. Maybe it had been a mistake not to wait until after supper to take care of this. “Okay, you’re quite welcome. I’ll let you go now.”
“One more thing, Ms. Provost.”
Oh dear. What else could there be?
“Do you think your husband might be willing to play Grandpa?”
No way. This time, she was too shocked to laugh. “Uh ... I doubt it. He’s really busy with work, and he’s not really old enough to be a Grandpa—”
“We can make him look old. I am quite skilled with costuming and makeup.” Frank rarely bothered with humility.
“I’m sure you are. I didn’t mean to doubt you. I just don’t think he can do it.”
Nate tapped her on the arm, and she lifted her eyes to meet his. “I’ll do it,” he mouthed.
She almost fell out of her chair.
“Tell him I’ll do it,” he said out loud. Then he raised his voice. “I’d be happy to help, Frank!”
“Oh!” Frank cried, and he was off with the thank-yous again.
“Wow, Dad! Thanks!” Peter sprang out of his chair to give his father a hug, something he never did without prompting.
“You’re welcome.” Looking quite pleased, he returned his son’s hug.
It took Sandra another two minutes to get Frank off the phone. Then she looked at her husband, who, just when she thought she had him all figured out, continued to surprise her. “What on earth?”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “I’ve been thinking that we should do something as a family. I spend so much time at work helping other families that sometimes I miss out on my own. And ...” He winked at her. “I don’t know who’s playing Mr. Walton, and I need to keep an eye on him.”