“Take your pick,” Darla said. She’d returned from her errands, and judging from the claw mark on her arm, I gathered she’d managed to get Gumbo the kitty into a carrier.
“Any trouble with the cat?” I asked.
“She was afraid of traveling, but I managed to get her here. Just until Kathleen returns.” She lifted her chin as if challenging me to say different.
“Are you sure you’re up to this mumming thing?” I asked. “I know you’re upset.”
“It’s better for me to keep busy.” She turned away and went to the beautiful gown. “This is for our Maid Marian. Care to help me cast the show? Since everyone really knows the story of Robin Hood and the Merry Men of Sherwood Forest, there can be a lot of ad libbing. The central part of the tableau is the fight between the Sheriff of Nottingham”—she gestured at the chain mail costume—“and our fair Robin.”
I had no desire to cast the production, but Tinkie stepped right up. She was at heart a director. “Coleman should be Robin. Oscar can be the Sheriff. Jaytee can be Little John. Harold can be Sir Guy of Gisborne. I’ll be Maid Marian and Sarah Booth, Millie, and Cece can be Mortianna, Aria, milady’s observant handmaid, and Friar Tuck, respectively.”
I actually loved the idea of Mortianna, and I found her costume on the far end of the sofa, complete with a straggly wig and pasty makeup. This was going to be some party. “I get a solo scene where I predict the return of Robin Hood.” I was already highlighting my stage time. “How do you think Cece will react to being cast as a fat friar?”
“Cece doesn’t care. Maybe we can work in a scene where Little John plays the harmonica and Friar Tuck sings.” Tinkie, in her mind, had made the casting decisions and was moving on to scene development. “How many houses do we mum at?” Tinkie asked Darla.
“As many as you’d like. It’s only the big houses with lawns that participate, but there are plenty. I’ll give you a list and you can pick where you’d like to go. If you collect any money, it has to go to charity.”
“Certainly,” Tinkie said. “This is for fun, not profit.”
The front door opened and Cece and Millie joined us. The men were only ten steps behind. They entered in a huddle that reeked of conspiracy. I really wanted a word with Coleman about another law enforcement official—Jerry Goode. I certainly had not foreseen Goode’s entanglement with Spider-Woman Clarissa.
Before I could take action to get Coleman alone, Darla herded us all to the parlor. “Tinkie has cast the story for tonight.” She gave a little drumroll, and I had to admire her ability to push her grief over Kathleen down deep inside in order to entertain her guests. “Tinkie, reveal your casting.”
Tinkie assigned everyone their roles, and when she pointed to me and said Mortianna, everyone laughed.
“I see we’re going with the Hollywood version. Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.”
“Of course,” Tinkie said. “No one will ever top Alan Rickman as the Sheriff of Nottingham, unless it’s Oscar.”
Cece found the fat pads she’d wear under her monk’s robe and held them up. “These will be very warm.”
“And protect you if someone throws rotten eggs at you,” Jaytee said.
We sat down and worked out the simple story of Robin robbing a rich noble, to be played by Cece in a double role. The scenario would open with Mortianna speaking of Robin, describing how he made the sheriff and his followers furious by interfering with their robbery of local citizens to fatten the rulers’ purses. Robin would give a little talk about his love for Marian and his joy in his Merry Men. The rich noble would arrive on scene, and Robin would cleverly rob him, with some slapstick antics involved in distracting the noble. The sheriff would arrive and try to capture Robin. The Merry Men would suddenly appear to help Robin. Marian and her clever handmaid Aria would arrive to distract the evil sheriff. A sword fight would ensue; Robin would escape with his Merry Men. Mortianna would close out the scenario with another sinister prediction of future encounters between the bandit and the evil sheriff.
“We can do this.” Tinkie was deeply invested.
“Is anyone going to write lines?” Cece asked.
“Ad-lib,” Tinkie said. “Improvise. But there is one thing we need to do. Set up a scene where Jaytee plays the harmonica and you sing the blues.”
“There’s a pretty cool song called ‘Robin Hood Blues,’” Jaytee said. He hummed a few bars.
“They could perform that for the finale, and we could all do a court dance,” Millie said, getting into the mood.
“Do you know a court dance?” I asked. This was turning into a real production.
“In fact I do.” Millie almost smirked. “I went to a Renaissance faire not so long ago and learned several. Very easy steps. Forward, back, walk around with your partner in a half circle, hands up—very simple.” She demonstrated as she talked.
It was simple, and it would be fun.
“We need to keep the play within about fifteen minutes,” Darla said. “And we’ll try to hit about six or seven houses. What are you going to do with the money you collect?”
“How about the local animal shelter?” Cece suggested. “We can have a good time and help the local animals.”
“Perfect,” Darla said. “And speaking of animals, I have Kathleen’s cat, Gumbo, in my apartment here. She’s very sweet. Is anyone allergic?”
“No one in this group,” Jaytee said. “We’re cat lovers, in fact.”
“She’s only here until Kathleen—” She broke off and turned away.
“You don’t have to keep her shut away,” Tinkie said gently. “We’d love to have her roaming about the B and B. We’ll be careful not to let her get outside.”
“Thank you.” Darla had composed herself. “That’s good to know. Now, while you rehearse, I need to finish baking some
