Page 121 of Everything's Coming Up Rosie

“I know,” I say. “I’m sorry about that. Things around here are pretty busy, and being in charge of everything, it’s... it’s a lot, that’s for sure.”

“Well,” her voice brightens, “I love that you’re callingmeand not Maya or Taylor.”

I grin at the playful fake competition. “Yeah, feel free to lord that over them for a while.”

“So, what’s up?”

Hmm. What’s up? Where do I begin?

“It’s just...” I’m standing in the back of the theatre, watching as volunteers work to make the stage usable again. “This job hasn’t exactly been what I expected.” I chew the inside of mylip. “Turns out, I’m not just part of the creative team. I’m the director.”

“Oh!” She sounds impressed. “Fancy.”

I groan a little to myself. “Not really.”

“Why?” There’s confusion in her voice.

I pause for a beat, and then—“It’s at a... retirement community?” My voice goes up at the end, like a question.

Marnie is quiet.

“Marnie?”

“Sorry...” I picture her, perfectly made up without a hair out of place, trying to make sense of what I’m saying. “Did you say ‘retirement community’?”

I clear my throat. My skin feels prickly, and I’m totally uncomfortable. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. It’s a whole campus—there’s a golf course and a fitness center and...” I search my mind, which only comes up with, “Pickleball! Do you know it’s the country’s fastest growing sport?”

“You play pickleball?” she asks.

“I mean, I don’t,” I say. “But I could, you know, if I... had a paddle.”

Another long pause.

“So... you’re directing a production ofCinderellawith a bunch of old people?”

“Yes?” I wince.

“Rosie, that’s amazing,” she says, and it takes me by surprise.

I stand a little straighter. “Wait... it is?”

“Yes,” she says emphatically. “That’s really cool! I didn’t know therewereshows for senior citizens. My grandma would love that.”

“There are in Door County,” I say, smiling. “Only...” I hate the thought of using our friendship to ask for a favor.

“Only...?”

“I’m actually calling because I need a favor,” I say, pacing a circle.

“Name it,” she says.

“This morning, we had an accident that flooded the space.”

“Oh no! What happened?”

I briefly tell her about the flyaway, about the broken sprinkler heads, and the people now working to mop everything up and dry everything out.

I can hear her concern. “Oh my gosh, Rosie, are you okay? What’s going to happen to the show?”

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