Shopaholic to the Stars
Page 39
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BY: OUR MOVIE REPORTER
When seventy-year-old Edna Gatterby from St. Louis went on a tour of Sedgewood Studios, she expected to end up with a souvenir or two. Instead, she came away with a part in a major Sedgewood production, Fought the Day, a World War II weepie that begins production next month.
The Missouri senior found herself being screen-tested by director Ron Thickson after an encounter in the gift store. “I was browsing for a gift when an old lady tumbled to the ground,” commented Thickson. “As I ran to help her, I caught sight of her face, and she matched perfectly my vision of Vera, the hero’s grandmother.” Edna was screen-tested later that day and has been offered the small role.
“I’m ecstatic beyond belief. I’ve always wanted to act,” commented Edna. “I have to thank Rebecca,” she added, but would not elaborate on who “Rebecca” is.
What a disaster. I never got to meet Nenita Dietz. I never got to meet anyone. When I got outside, I was so flustered, I almost ran all the way to the exit, looking behind me all the time for the men in dark jackets. I didn’t even buy any souvenirs, so the whole thing was a total waste. And then Luke wanted to hear all about it, and I had to pretend I’d had a brilliant time.
As I get Minnie ready for Little Leaf the next day, I’m still downcast. And my misery has been increased about a million-fold because we’ve had an email saying Alicia wants to address all the parents today about a fund-raiser, so could we all please stay behind after drop-off for an informal gathering.
Which means, after managing to avoid her these last few days, I’ll have to face her again. I don’t know how I’m going to keep my cool.
“What shall I do?” I say to Minnie as I plait her wispy little locks into a braid.
“Cup of tea,” replies Minnie seriously, and passes me a plastic cocktail glass. We’re sitting on the terrace outside, which is where Minnie chooses to get dressed most mornings (I can’t blame her, with this lovely sunshine), and all her teddies and dolls are sitting around, with a cocktail glass each. As Luke steps out of the house, briefcase in hand, he looks aghast at the sight.
“Is this Alcoholics Anonymous for teddies?” he says.
“No!” I giggle. “They’re our garden cocktail glasses. Minnie found them in the outdoor kitchen. They won’t break, so I let her play with them.”
“Daddy, cup of tea,” says Minnie, handing him a cocktail glass.
“OK,” says Luke. “A quick cup of tea.” He crouches down and takes the glass from her. A moment later, his gaze focuses on the teddy in front of him. Damn. I know what he’s seen. I should have hidden it.
“Becky,” he says. “Is that bear wearing my Asprey cuff links? The ones you gave me?”
“Er …” I assume an innocent expression. “Let me see. Ah. Yes, I believe it is.”
“And my Cartier watch.”
“So it is.”
“And that doll has got my old college tie on.”
“Has it?” I’m trying not to giggle. “Well, Minnie wanted to dress her toys up. You should be flattered she chose your things.”
“Oh, really?” Luke grabs his watch off the bear, ignoring Minnie’s protests. “I don’t notice you volunteering any of your priceless jewelry.”
“Your cuff links aren’t priceless!”
“Maybe they’re priceless to me because they came from you.” He raises his eyebrows at me and I feel a little flicker, because although I know he’s teasing me, I also know he means it.
“Drink tea, Daddy!” says Minnie sternly, and Luke puts his cocktail glass to his lips obediently. I wonder what all his board members in London would say if they could see him now.
“Luke …” I bite my lip.
“Uh-huh?”
I wasn’t planning on bothering him with my problems, but I can’t help myself. “What am I going to do about Alicia?”
“Alicia,” says Luke tersely, and raises his eyes to heaven. “God help us.”
“Exactly! But here she is, and I’m going to see her today at preschool, and everyone thinks she’s marvelous, and I want to yell, If only you knew what an evil witch she is!”
“Well, I wouldn’t do that,” says Luke, looking amused. “Not in public.”
“It’s OK for you! You’re really good when you meet people you don’t like. You just go all calm and stony. I get flustered.”
“Just think dignified. That’s my best advice.”
“Dignified!” I echo despairingly, and Minnie perks up.
When seventy-year-old Edna Gatterby from St. Louis went on a tour of Sedgewood Studios, she expected to end up with a souvenir or two. Instead, she came away with a part in a major Sedgewood production, Fought the Day, a World War II weepie that begins production next month.
The Missouri senior found herself being screen-tested by director Ron Thickson after an encounter in the gift store. “I was browsing for a gift when an old lady tumbled to the ground,” commented Thickson. “As I ran to help her, I caught sight of her face, and she matched perfectly my vision of Vera, the hero’s grandmother.” Edna was screen-tested later that day and has been offered the small role.
“I’m ecstatic beyond belief. I’ve always wanted to act,” commented Edna. “I have to thank Rebecca,” she added, but would not elaborate on who “Rebecca” is.
What a disaster. I never got to meet Nenita Dietz. I never got to meet anyone. When I got outside, I was so flustered, I almost ran all the way to the exit, looking behind me all the time for the men in dark jackets. I didn’t even buy any souvenirs, so the whole thing was a total waste. And then Luke wanted to hear all about it, and I had to pretend I’d had a brilliant time.
As I get Minnie ready for Little Leaf the next day, I’m still downcast. And my misery has been increased about a million-fold because we’ve had an email saying Alicia wants to address all the parents today about a fund-raiser, so could we all please stay behind after drop-off for an informal gathering.
Which means, after managing to avoid her these last few days, I’ll have to face her again. I don’t know how I’m going to keep my cool.
“What shall I do?” I say to Minnie as I plait her wispy little locks into a braid.
“Cup of tea,” replies Minnie seriously, and passes me a plastic cocktail glass. We’re sitting on the terrace outside, which is where Minnie chooses to get dressed most mornings (I can’t blame her, with this lovely sunshine), and all her teddies and dolls are sitting around, with a cocktail glass each. As Luke steps out of the house, briefcase in hand, he looks aghast at the sight.
“Is this Alcoholics Anonymous for teddies?” he says.
“No!” I giggle. “They’re our garden cocktail glasses. Minnie found them in the outdoor kitchen. They won’t break, so I let her play with them.”
“Daddy, cup of tea,” says Minnie, handing him a cocktail glass.
“OK,” says Luke. “A quick cup of tea.” He crouches down and takes the glass from her. A moment later, his gaze focuses on the teddy in front of him. Damn. I know what he’s seen. I should have hidden it.
“Becky,” he says. “Is that bear wearing my Asprey cuff links? The ones you gave me?”
“Er …” I assume an innocent expression. “Let me see. Ah. Yes, I believe it is.”
“And my Cartier watch.”
“So it is.”
“And that doll has got my old college tie on.”
“Has it?” I’m trying not to giggle. “Well, Minnie wanted to dress her toys up. You should be flattered she chose your things.”
“Oh, really?” Luke grabs his watch off the bear, ignoring Minnie’s protests. “I don’t notice you volunteering any of your priceless jewelry.”
“Your cuff links aren’t priceless!”
“Maybe they’re priceless to me because they came from you.” He raises his eyebrows at me and I feel a little flicker, because although I know he’s teasing me, I also know he means it.
“Drink tea, Daddy!” says Minnie sternly, and Luke puts his cocktail glass to his lips obediently. I wonder what all his board members in London would say if they could see him now.
“Luke …” I bite my lip.
“Uh-huh?”
I wasn’t planning on bothering him with my problems, but I can’t help myself. “What am I going to do about Alicia?”
“Alicia,” says Luke tersely, and raises his eyes to heaven. “God help us.”
“Exactly! But here she is, and I’m going to see her today at preschool, and everyone thinks she’s marvelous, and I want to yell, If only you knew what an evil witch she is!”
“Well, I wouldn’t do that,” says Luke, looking amused. “Not in public.”
“It’s OK for you! You’re really good when you meet people you don’t like. You just go all calm and stony. I get flustered.”
“Just think dignified. That’s my best advice.”
“Dignified!” I echo despairingly, and Minnie perks up.
