Hangs up. She studies MARIGOLD.

Pause.

MRS. MAY: What have you done?

MARIGOLD: Me?

MRS. MAY: What has your husband done?

MARIGOLD: Who?

MRS. MAY: Mr. Cassandra?

MARIGOLD: I’m not married.

MRS. MAY: Then Mr. Cassandra is—

MARIGOLD: I guess my—what is his first name?

MRS. MAY: Who?

MARIGOLD: My brother.

MRS. MAY: You’ve misplaced your brother’s first name?

MARIGOLD: I have three brothers, if it’s my brother. But if it isn’t Mark or Luke or John, then I don’t know.

MRS. MAY: What.

MARIGOLD: Who it is.

Pause.

MRS. MAY: And you’re aware of what your brother has done.

MARIGOLD: Is it Mark?

MRS. MAY: And you’re aware of what he’s done, but you won’t say clearly that it’s your brother who’s undertaking this…mischief. Because that’s all it is.

MARIGOLD: Good. Okay. Because if you told me Cass was up a tall building with an arsenal, I’d believe it. Everybody calls him Cass. My brother Mark.

MRS. MAY: He doesn’t have an arsenal.

Pause.

MARIGOLD: Does he have a gun?

MRS. MAY: You tell me. What sort of firepower do you think we’re talking about?

MARIGOLD gets up, asserting herself very reluctantly…

MARIGOLD: I should—where is this happening? I don’t even know what town he lives in! I’ve gotta—maybe I should be there.

MRS. MAY: There are people who handle these matters.

MARIGOLD: But—

MRS. MAY: Ms. Cassandra. Marigold. Right now you’re bringing an incredible energy into this room. You’ve torn the roof off and—money is pouring in. So I’m a little reluctant to bring you back to earth.

MARIGOLD: I want to get back to earth!

MRS. MAY: Sometimes it isn’t—what I allow to invigorate me isn’t clean. I think I’m destroying myself.

MARIGOLD: GODDAMN YOU.

Pause.

MRS. MAY: A Mark Cassandra has sent a letter to the National Director of Human Resources.

Pause.

MARIGOLD: That’s all.

MRS. MAY: It’s plenty.

MARIGOLD: I’d like to ask a question. (Pause.) When you came in here you appeared to be something like a receptionist or almost the cleaning lady, and then it turned out you’re not, you’re the troubleshooter for Regional Human Resources, but isn’t it possible you’re really not the troubleshooter for Regional Human Resources but actually really in fact the FUCKING CLEANING LADY? Because you are insane. And it’s easier to figure hey, an insane cleaning lady, than to think wow, the Human Resources Ombudsperson for the Southwest Region is a sadistic homosexual maniac.

A long, long pause. They start out staring each other down and then their eyes drift away.

The fax machine starts up and emits a document. This process absorbs the two of them as they watch it from beginning to end.

Pause.

MRS. MAY: The text of your brother’s letter has arrived. Oh, a personal touch. (Shows it.) Handwritten. (Reads:) “Dear Director Jameson. Out of a family pretty well running wild all over Texas and California and the entire United States, which is the Cassandra family, my sister is the only good one. Her name is Marigold Cassandra. The only good Cassandra ever born. This is to bring your attention to the following facts:” (Pause. She reads on, silently.) Oh—look here. Down at the bottom. (She leans across the desk with the letter.) Look at those two words. Would you read those two words? Aloud, please?