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Nobody was more surprised than Theodosia as she hung on for dear life as the ladder she was standing on dropped like a shot. Her breath was ripped from her as she rode it down like a fireman sliding down a firehouse pole. And then…
BOOM!
The old ladder hit the ground with earth-shattering impact, sending up a puff of dust mingled with myriad rust chips.
Theodosia sneezed and then cried, “Drayton, I’m back on terra firma! No need to come and break me out.”
“What about the broken window?”
She glanced up at the old house with trepidation. “I kind of don’t care about that right now. Besides, I’m guessing the film company’s insurance will cover it.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
Theodosia heaved a loud sigh. “They can bill me.”
* * *
It was seven thirty by the time Theodosia got home. She still felt shaken and a teeny bit wired. So after feeding Earl Grey, and deciding her knee and ankle felt better, she changed into running gear and headed out for what she figured would be a twenty-minute slow jog.
But just as she was turning the corner onto Archdale Street, she saw Mrs. Robie, one of her neighbors, sitting on her porch in the twilight. The poor sweetheart, who had to be in her high eighties, had been robbed of most of her eyesight by macular degeneration.
“Hey, Mrs. Robie,” Theodosia called out. “It’s Theodosia.”
“Evening, Theo,” Mrs. Robie called back. “Do you by any chance have that lovely dog with you tonight?”
“You bet. We’re both out for a jog.”
“Come say hello before y’all go on your run, will you, honey?”
“Gladly,” Theodosia said as she and Earl Grey headed up Mrs. Robie’s flagstone walk, then climbed three steps onto her wraparound porch.
“Come here, sweet doggy,” Mrs. Robie said. She was petite, with birdlike arms and legs and cottony white hair. Tonight she sat in a wicker chair with a pink blanket spread across her lap.
Dutifully, Earl Grey walked over and pressed his fine head into Mrs. Robie’s waiting hands. She massaged his neck, gently tugged his ears, and rubbed his soft muzzle. Earl Grey let out a satisfied grunt.
“There’s my boy, there’s a good boy.”
“He remembers you,” Theodosia said.
Mrs. Robie laughed. “And I remember him. I’ll never forget the time I was laid up in the hospital with my bad hip and you and Earl Grey came to visit. I never thought a hospital would let a dog in. Because of their silly rules, you know.”
“Earl Grey is a certified therapy dog,” Theodosia explained. “So he’s allowed special access.”
“I tossed a rubber ball right from my bed and he chased after it, the little rascal.”
“He had a great time,” Theodosia said.
“So did I,” Mrs. Robie said. Then she patted Earl Grey’s shoulder and said, “Have a nice run, Mr. Earl. Run like the wind.”
* * *
They did run like the wind. Picking up speed as they cruised down Archdale, then over on South Battery as they ran past some of Charleston’s grandest homes, ending up in White Point Garden. This was one of Theodosia’s favorite parks. Located right on the tip of the peninsula, White Point Garden featured military statues and old cannons, stands of live oak and palmettos, and a wonderful classic gazebo that was often reserved for weddings.
Tonight, the wind was whipping in from the Atlantic at a good twenty knots, stirring up white caps on Charleston Harbor and tossing a few small craft around. Theodosia stood there and watched a large container ship come gliding in. Next to one of the small J/22 sailboats that flitted across the harbor, it looked like an enormous whale.
Theodosia ran past the gazebo toward the parking lot along the battery wall. A half dozen food trucks were congregated there and she realized she was feeling hungry. Famished, really, since she hadn’t eaten a morsel of food since before noon. She looked at the food trucks and their various offerings—barbecued ribs, Creole chicken, tacos and gorditas, and one called Squeals on Wheels that featured brisket and pulled pork. Another truck had the word smoothies painted on its side in bouncy pink and blue letters. And underneath that, made with frozen yogurt. Perfect.
Theodosia walked Earl Grey over to the food truck’s window and ordered a peanut butter and carob smoothie. Paid for it with the ten-dollar bill she’d stuck in her tennis shoe. Yes, a smoothie should do the trick. Stanch her hunger pangs and give her the kick she needed to run back home.
