I spent another couple of hours meandering around the town of Topsail Beach, wandering in and out of the charming stores and café. At the far side of the town I came across an old whitewashed church that had been converted into the Topsail Little Theater. Located in a beautiful wooded setting directly behind the church was the Canterbury Amphitheater, the Topsail Little Theater’s summer venue for outdoor Shakespeare productions. Hanging on the large oak front doors were posters advertising their summer season and notices regarding upcoming auditions. The next show they were casting was William Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night.
I thought back to my last year at NYU. One of my professors had been directing a reimagined staging of Twelfth Night at the Williamstown Theater Festival. Every summer, well-established actors and actresses in the league of Gwyneth Paltrow and Bradley Cooper descended on the small campus of Williams College in Williamstown, Massachusetts to sharpen their acting skills by performing in classic and brand-new theater productions. It was considered the place to be for any actor truly interested in working on and getting recognized for the essentials of their craft.
One day after my contemporary scene study class, my professor asked if I could stay behind so he could talk to me. He asked if I’d consider auditioning for the role of Viola in his Williamstown Twelfth Night production. If cast, I’d spend most of the summer in the Berkshires rehearsing for the August three-week run.
When I got home, I told Sam about the audition, and he couldn’t have been more supportive. He ran lines with me, watched every movie version of the play we could find, even suffering through the 2006 contemporary take on Twelfth Night, the Amanda Bynes version, She’s the Man. I gave up drinking and partying completely, putting every ounce of energy and effort into getting the role.
After a grueling audition process, I was cast as the understudy for the part of Viola. While I knew it was unlikely I’d ever actually go on in the role, just the experience of getting to cover a well-established actress and learn from a cast of celebrated actors and directors was more than I could’ve ever dreamed of as a recent graduate of theater school.
Sam didn’t feel quite the same way. He didn’t outright tell me not to do the show, but because of his hyper-competitive nature, he had a hard time hiding his disappointment in me coming in second place. As a “consolation,” he surprised me with a three-week trip to the Greek Isles in August, making it virtually impossible for me to accept the part in Twelfth Night.
I turned down the role in exchange for a romantic getaway to Santorini and Mykonos with the love of my life and, back then, didn’t have a single regret. It was only recently that I began to wonder how different my life and career would be if I’d gone to Williamstown that summer.
I pushed the heavy oak doors open and stepped into the intimate theater that looked as though it could seat about 150 people. My ankle was starting to throb from all the walking, so I took a seat in the front row to rest it. I settled into the chair and looked around. Considering the theater’s small size, the light wood floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and white-washed walls gave the space an airy, open feel. Having spent the last several years in massive Broadway theaters, there was something nice about the cozy feel of this one.
“Can I help you?” a man asked, coming through the stage’s red curtain.
I sat upright. “I’m sorry, I was wandering through town and saw the theater. The door was open, so I thought it was okay if I came inside and looked around.”
He jogged down the steps of the stage with his hand outstretched. “Totally okay. I’m Gerald Mason, the Resident Artistic Director of the Topsail Little Theater.”
I shook it. “Joanna Kitt. I’m staying at the Retreat House.”
Gerald took the seat next to me. “Nice hotel. My favorite on the island. A lot of our summer audience are guests there.”
“I saw you’re holding auditions for Twelfth Night?”
“We put on two Shakespeare plays in our outdoor theater every summer. This is the last week of Romeo and Juliet, and then we’ll go into rehearsals for Twelfth Night, our end of summer production. We’re calling it our Summer of Love series.”
I scrunched my nose. “Summer of Love series?”
“I know, but I’m not the one in charge of marketing. Here,” he said, handing me a flyer from his leather portfolio. “This has all the information for Romeo and Juliet. You should come check it out before we close.” Gerald rose from his chair. “Feel free to hang here as long as you want. We don’t have a show tonight.”
I stayed another few minutes before going outside to try to figure out how to get back to the hotel. I took out my phone and had just found a map of the island, when I heard my name being called from down the street. Todd guided his motorcycle up to the curb and pulled off his helmet, his sandy hair pulled back into a trendy man bun.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asked, a large smile on his face.
“Exploring Topsail Beach, what about you?”
“I make a trip to the farmers market every afternoon.”
“You come to the farmers market every day? Don’t you have sous chefs who can do that for you?”
“For me, it’s simple, great ingredients make great food. The biggest misconception about cooking is that a recipe has to be complex to be any good. If you choose the right ingredients you can prepare the most straightforward dish and it’ll come out incredible. That’s why I come to the market. I don’t trust anyone else to get it right.” Todd pointed to the paper in my hand. “What’s that?”
I was still holding the Topsail Little Theater flyer. I passed it to him.
“Are you going to this?” he asked.
“I don’t know, maybe. Why?”
He tilted his head to the side. “Not really the ideal story for someone going through a breakup, is it?” He handed the flyer back to me.
“Maybe I’m more over my ex than I realized,” I teased. “What about you? Up for some Shakespeare?”
“Nah, it’s not really my thing.”
“Theater, or Romeo and Juliet specifically?”
“Romeo and Juliet were, what, like fourteen when they met? High schoolers? If you ask me, that’s way too young to know what love really is, let alone go to pieces over.”
I looked down. “I met my ex in high school my freshman year. I was around fourteen.”
He gently tipped up my chin. “I hope you know I’m not judging you for being at the Boot Camp,” he said.
“I’m judging me, so I wouldn’t blame you one bit.”
He rubbed the scruff on his face and locked into my gaze. “Nah, not my style.”
God, he had beautiful eyes. Like the Atlantic Ocean off Topsail, they were iridescent and flecked with every shade of blue. They were the kind of eyes you could get lost in, and for just a moment, I did.
Todd pointed down the cobblestone street. “Want to check out the farmers market? It’s just a little bit farther down that way.”
“Umm, sure, I guess. I have a little more time.”
We approached the Topsail Farmers Market, which put even the Los Angeles Farmers Market to shame. Spread out across a huge fairway were carts and stands with farm fresh corn, organic berries, heirloom tomatoes, purple carrots, fields of greens, lettuce, broccoli, and kale. There were local merchants selling fresh eggs, local honey, pickles, handmade artisan goat cheese, fresh bread, homemade jam, and fresh fish and seafood.
Todd took my hand and guided me to a stand on the far side of the market. “Oh, good, my favorite vendor’s here. You have to taste this woman’s melons.” He let go of my hand. “Sorry, I’m just realizing how bad that sounded.”
I laughed for the first time in what seemed like months, and it felt wonderful.
He escorted me around to his usual stands and introduced me to the merchants he liked to buy from. I tasted my way through the market, savoring new foods and flavors, while Todd worked out the dinner menu for the hotel.
He picked up large seedless watermelons and fresh mint from the herb stand for a chilled watermelon soup and zucchini blossoms for an Asian tempura-inspired appetizer. We made our way over to the seafood tents, where the fishmongers had their different catches of the day strewn out over trays of crushed ice.
“I’ll take six pounds of the striped bass,” Todd said to the merchant.
“Striped bass? Isn’t that what you were catching off the jetty?” I asked.
“Mine were piddly little guys. Daniel over here,” he said, patting the back of a tall guy with a backwards cap and bright yellow men’s fishing waders, “knows where to catch the big boys.”
Daniel laughed and turned to face me. He had a handsome face that was slightly weather-worn, giving him a more rugged appearance than Todd. “I keep telling him he’s not using the right bait.”
“My bait’s outstanding. What I don’t have is a deep-sea fishing boat. I asked Retreat House for one, but I don’t think it’s in the budget.”
“Well, you’re welcome on my boat anytime. You too, pretty lady,” Daniel said, winking at me.
My cheeks heated up.
“Do you work over at the Retreat House with Todd?” he asked.
“I’m a guest there.”
Daniel glanced over at Todd. “So now that you’re done sleeping your way through the staff, you’re hitting on the guests?” Daniel handed me a flower from the table display. “Don’t let his nice-guy persona fool you, pretty lady. This guy’s a cad of the first order.”
I don’t know why I was surprised by Daniel’s comment. Todd was a handsome, charming, world-renowned chef living in seaside resort town, of course he’d have his fun. But, I didn’t intend to be another notch in his bedpost. According to Emmy, a meaningless fling was the surest way to get over an ex. There was a part of me that desperately wanted to test her hypothesis, to see if I could erase the last fifteen years with Sam in a single night. But, I didn’t know how to separate lust from love, feelings from fever. For me, with Sam, those things had always been one and the same.
“Dan, how much do I owe you for the bass?” Todd asked, his voice now a bit more on edge.
“I’ll take one forty even.”
Todd pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and counted out the bills before passing them over. Daniel took the money, stuffed it into his money pouch, and passed over the wrapped fish.
“Be sure to stop by the table tomorrow. I’m taking the boat over to Stump Sound for oysters.”
“Where’s that?” I asked.
“The backside of Topsail Island’s north end, near enough to the Atlantic to create a salty oyster, but sheltered from strong currents, making them easy to farm. You should come with me and check it out,” Daniel said.
“I’ll text you in the morning if I can make it,” Todd said.
Daniel turned to me. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, want to try your hand at oyster harvesting? Low tide’s around 11:00. That’s the best time to go.”
“I don’t know. I’d have to see what I have going on tomorrow.”
“Joanna’s staying at the Retreat House for a Breakup Boot Camp,” Todd said flatly.
I did a double take. For someone who, less than an hour ago, told me he didn’t judge me for taking part in the Boot Camp, his tone certainly sounded disapproving.
Some local shoppers started to crowd the tent. The guys working at the stand were tossing wrapped fish back and forth like I’d seen the fishmongers do at the Pike Place Fish Market in Seattle.
“Breakup camp, so, you’re single then?” Daniel said with a twinkle in his eye.
I was momentarily mesmerized by the flying fish. “What? Oh, right. I guess I am single.”
“I should get back to the hotel to start prepping dinner. Your ankle must be pretty sore. Can I give you a ride back on my bike?” Todd asked.
“That’s okay. I was gonna walk. There are a few more places I want to check out in town before heading back.” I reached into my backpack and pulled out the book from the pirate shop. “But, before I forget, this is for you.”
“What’s this?”
“Something to thank you for helping me off the rocks.”
Todd took the package and held it to his chest.
“So, tomorrow? The oysters?” Daniel asked again.
“Sure, man, I’ll join you,” Todd answered, “but only if Joanna agrees to come.”
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll go oyster harvesting if you’ll see Romeo and Juliet with me.”
“Deal.”