head. “When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow. They’re putting me up at a hotel, and paying for my airfare and everything. I’ve got Dalya all set to take my place at the store. I’m taking this afternoon off too, so I can go home and pack and get ready. Let’s face it, I wouldn’t get any work done today anyway.”
She hustled to the door and was gone before Elizabeth could say goodbye. “Call me,” Elizabeth shouted into a slipstream perfumed with incense and lavender.
The following Wednesday, Gail walked back through the front door of the Prints and the Pauper . Without a word.
“Well?” Elizabeth said.
“Well, what?”
“Oh, don’t you be coy with me. Are you on the show?”
“I don’t know yet. They sent me back home last night and told me that if I made the show, I would know this week.”
Elizabeth looked at her more closely. “Don’t worry. They’d be crazy to pass on you."
"Are you so sure?" For once, no self-assurance. I have never seen this. This is solemn Gail. I miss Tropical Storm Gail .
"Someday I’ll be able to tell people that I knew you when—"
The door to the shop slammed open hard, sending a few bargain paperbacks tumbling to the floor.
Elizabeth stepped toward the door, a warrior-priestess ready to defend her temple from barbarian invaders, but a young man pushed past her. He had sandy blond hair and a million-watt plastic smile, and sported a gray suit with a red tie. Immediately behind him came a burly man aiming a camera as if it were a surface-to-air missile launcher. The parade continued with a guy wearing a Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers t-shirt, carrying a long boom with a microphone attached to the end of it.
“Excuse me!” Elizabeth said, but the young man pushed right past her. His smile turned up another half notch. Before Elizabeth could react, Plastic Smile took a position opposite Gail.
“Gail Weathers, I am Skip Corcoran. Congratulations! You have been chosen to be on Guest House Gestapo! You have one hour to pack whatever you can fit into this bag.” He handed her a green duffel bag with the Guest House Gestapo logo printed on it, a fist superimposed upon stylized chains.
Gail squealed, jumped, and clapped her hands like an unhinged person. And now her whole body is smiling. Such unbounded joy!
“Do you have anything you’d like to tell our viewing audience?”
With great difficulty and iron self-mastery, Elizabeth suppressed a belly laugh.
“Hi! I’m Gail, and you’re going to be seeing, and, I guess, hearing, a lot from me this summer on Guest House Gestapo. I have been waiting my entire life for this opportunity to come along, and you can bet your sister Sadie’s very last dollar that I am not going to blow it now that I’ve got it…”
The verbal avalanche caught Skip Corcoran by surprise. His smile faded when her voice did not. Finally, Skip leaned forward toward the camera and said, “Cut. Wrap. Let’s go on to the next one.”
Gail was still talking, holding the duffel bag.
Chapter Seventeen
That Friday night, Steve picked up Elizabeth at the shop and drove across town to his condo. As soon as Elizabeth was buckled in, Steve said: “So, tell me again, why we’re going straight home instead of stopping for our normal Friday night blue plate special at Maybelle’s?”
“Several reasons, actually. One, we agreed we would limit ourselves to Maybelle’s once a week, and we went last night. More importantly, though, tonight is the premiere of Guest House Gestapo –the night Gail becomes a star!”
“I know, I know. I’ve got it set to DVR. We don’t need to be there to watch it live.”
“I was talking about it with Max a little while ago, and he told me that these kind of shows sometimes require people to call in and vote for them. I want to be there for her in case she needs it.”
Forty-five minutes later, Elizabeth had made a fair effort at a chicken stir-fry. They were eating on the deep leather couch in front
“Tomorrow. They’re putting me up at a hotel, and paying for my airfare and everything. I’ve got Dalya all set to take my place at the store. I’m taking this afternoon off too, so I can go home and pack and get ready. Let’s face it, I wouldn’t get any work done today anyway.”
She hustled to the door and was gone before Elizabeth could say goodbye. “Call me,” Elizabeth shouted into a slipstream perfumed with incense and lavender.
The following Wednesday, Gail walked back through the front door of the Prints and the Pauper . Without a word.
“Well?” Elizabeth said.
“Well, what?”
“Oh, don’t you be coy with me. Are you on the show?”
“I don’t know yet. They sent me back home last night and told me that if I made the show, I would know this week.”
Elizabeth looked at her more closely. “Don’t worry. They’d be crazy to pass on you."
"Are you so sure?" For once, no self-assurance. I have never seen this. This is solemn Gail. I miss Tropical Storm Gail .
"Someday I’ll be able to tell people that I knew you when—"
The door to the shop slammed open hard, sending a few bargain paperbacks tumbling to the floor.
Elizabeth stepped toward the door, a warrior-priestess ready to defend her temple from barbarian invaders, but a young man pushed past her. He had sandy blond hair and a million-watt plastic smile, and sported a gray suit with a red tie. Immediately behind him came a burly man aiming a camera as if it were a surface-to-air missile launcher. The parade continued with a guy wearing a Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers t-shirt, carrying a long boom with a microphone attached to the end of it.
“Excuse me!” Elizabeth said, but the young man pushed right past her. His smile turned up another half notch. Before Elizabeth could react, Plastic Smile took a position opposite Gail.
“Gail Weathers, I am Skip Corcoran. Congratulations! You have been chosen to be on Guest House Gestapo! You have one hour to pack whatever you can fit into this bag.” He handed her a green duffel bag with the Guest House Gestapo logo printed on it, a fist superimposed upon stylized chains.
Gail squealed, jumped, and clapped her hands like an unhinged person. And now her whole body is smiling. Such unbounded joy!
“Do you have anything you’d like to tell our viewing audience?”
With great difficulty and iron self-mastery, Elizabeth suppressed a belly laugh.
“Hi! I’m Gail, and you’re going to be seeing, and, I guess, hearing, a lot from me this summer on Guest House Gestapo. I have been waiting my entire life for this opportunity to come along, and you can bet your sister Sadie’s very last dollar that I am not going to blow it now that I’ve got it…”
The verbal avalanche caught Skip Corcoran by surprise. His smile faded when her voice did not. Finally, Skip leaned forward toward the camera and said, “Cut. Wrap. Let’s go on to the next one.”
Gail was still talking, holding the duffel bag.
Chapter Seventeen
That Friday night, Steve picked up Elizabeth at the shop and drove across town to his condo. As soon as Elizabeth was buckled in, Steve said: “So, tell me again, why we’re going straight home instead of stopping for our normal Friday night blue plate special at Maybelle’s?”
“Several reasons, actually. One, we agreed we would limit ourselves to Maybelle’s once a week, and we went last night. More importantly, though, tonight is the premiere of Guest House Gestapo –the night Gail becomes a star!”
“I know, I know. I’ve got it set to DVR. We don’t need to be there to watch it live.”
“I was talking about it with Max a little while ago, and he told me that these kind of shows sometimes require people to call in and vote for them. I want to be there for her in case she needs it.”
Forty-five minutes later, Elizabeth had made a fair effort at a chicken stir-fry. They were eating on the deep leather couch in front
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