Eyes (10 page)

CHAPTER 12

It was the Friday before Christmas, the day of the department Christmas party. Jill took one last look in the mirror and slipped into her coat, belting it tightly around her waist. Helen was in the kitchen, and she didn't want to answer any questions. She wasn't sure how she'd explain the outfit she was wearing.

“Good morning, Jill.” Helen looked up from the stove as Jill entered the room. “I know you're running late this morning, so I fixed you some breakfast for the road.”

Jill smiled as she saw the biscuits Helen was wrapping in foil. Neil's newest companion was a gem. She kept the house neat, made sure Neil kept all his appointments, and even started dinner if Jill had to work late. And so far, to Jill's complete amazement, Neil actually seemed to like her. “Thanks, Helen. Those biscuits smell wonderful!”

“It's my mother's recipe. She made the best biscuits in Georgia. And the jam's homemade blueberry. I picked the berries and put them up last fall.”

Jill shook her head. “You're amazing. I don't know what we ever did without you.”

Helen smiled and waved away the compliment. “You'd better get on the road. It's still snowing, and the freeway's going to be a mess.”

“You're right.” Jill pulled on her gloves, took the package Helen handed her, and headed for the door. “I should be back around four. Today's the Christmas party, but I'm not staying long.”

“Stay as late as you want. I don't have to be home at any particular time. It'll do you good to have a little fun.”

“Thanks.” Jill was smiling as she went out the door, but she gave a little yelp as she slid into the driver's seat of her car. Bare legs were definitely not advisable during winter in Minnesota!

The freeway was a mess, exactly as Helen had predicted, and Jill bailed out as soon as she could. She took surface streets until she came to Hennepin Avenue, then she turned east. Her appointment was at nine, and she had only five minutes to spare as she turned into the alley and parked behind the building.

Jill pulled her coat tightly around her as she rushed inside. Thank goodness she wouldn't have to wear this outfit much longer! When she rang the buzzer, the outside door clicked open. She'd explained what she needed on the phone last week, and Myron Sawyer, a friend of her father's, had promised her that he could deliver a print by noon.

“Jilly! It's been too long!”

“I know.” Jill laughed as Myron engulfed her in a bear hug. He was a small man, thin and wiry, with snow white hair, but he'd always been strong. He'd carried her around on his shoulders when she was a child, and he'd been the family photographer for as long as she could remember.

“Come in here, Jilly, and let's get started.”

Myron ushered her into his studio, a large room with drapes, various backdrops, and cameras of all shapes and sizes. He'd started in the business by shooting modeling portfolios, but the last time she'd spoken with him, he had told her he was going to go into something less demanding.

Jill frowned slightly as she gazed around the studio. There were props in every corner, feather boas in variety of colors, fake palm trees with beach backdrops, champagne bottles with crystal glasses, and painted oriental fans. “What's this, Myron? I thought you were getting out of the modeling business.”

“Believe me, I tried.” Myron sighed. “I started by doubling my prices, but the girls kept right on coming. I doubled them again, and would you believe? My business increased! I guess they figure I must be the best because I charge so much. As of last week, I'm the most expensive photographer in town, and they're practically breaking down the door to get an appointment.”

“Now you can't afford to quit . . . right?”

Myron nodded. “Every time I tell them I'm getting out of the business, they offer me more money. I'm stuck, Jilly, but at least my bank account's growing. I figure if I stay in for another year or so, I can put all the grandkids through college.”

“I'm sorry, Myron.” Jill started to frown. “If I'd known you were this busy, I'd never have asked you for a favor.”

Myron patted her on the back. “No problem, Jilly. It's always good to see you, and you don't want a modeling portfolio, do you?”

“Hardly. But I do want something unusual. Promise me you won't laugh, Myron.”

Myron nodded. “Okay. I won't. What do you want, Jilly?”

“A picture of me in this outfit.” Jill blushed as she slipped off her coat. She knew she looked silly in the short, red pleated skirt and the tight, white sweater with the huge red letter on the front.

Myron struggled not to laugh, then snorted, instead. “You're a cheerleader, Jilly?”

“That's what I'm
supposed
to be. I know I look ridiculous, but it's for a joke Christmas present.”

“Okay.” Myron nodded. “Did you rent that outfit?”

“No. I borrowed it from the high school girl down the street. The only things she didn't have were the pom-poms.”

“I think I've got pom-poms around here someplace.” Myron pointed to a huge steamer chest. “Check in that trunk, Jilly. I'll see what I can find in the back.”

Jill located the pom-poms in the trunk, under a pile of gold and silver scarves. She was just shaking them out when Myron came back. He was carrying a roll of backdrop paper, and was grinning from ear to ear.

“You're going to love this.” He picked up a stepladder and carried it over to the far wall. “Go put your hair in a ponytail while I hang the backdrop.”

Jill shook her head. “My hair's too short for a ponytail. I tried it at home. It wouldn't work.”

“Then use a wig. There's one in the dressing room that'll match your hair.”

In less than five minutes, Jill was ready, complete with white socks and tennis shoes. She smiled as she saw the backdrop Myron had hung. It was a football field with fans and bleachers.

“Stand right here, Jilly.” Myron pointed to a mark on the floor. “And give me a cheerleader pose.”

Jill did her best, and it didn't take long for Myron to shoot a roll of film. She then used the dressing room to put on the dress she was wearing to the office. When she came out, Myron was waiting for her.

“It's in the tank.” He grinned, “I'll blow up the best shot and have my assistant deliver it to your office by noon.”

Jill opened her purse and took out her checkbook. “Thanks, Myron. What do I owe you?”

“Lunch. Two weeks from Tuesday, unless you're in court. I want a greasy hamburger, dripping with onions, and an update on everything that's happening in your life.”

“It's a date.” Jill nodded. “I'll pick you up at one o'clock, and we'll go to The Beef Barrel.”

As Jill said good-bye and hurried back out to her car, she wondered what she should tell Myron. He'd said he wanted to know what was happening, but he had been her father's friend. She was too embarrassed to tell him how dismal her life really was.

“Oh, great! Just what I needed!” Jill frowned as she pulled the cardboard parking ticket from her windshield wiper. She'd parked in a loading zone; the fine was twenty-five dollars. Of course she'd pay it, but it was just another irritation in a life already filled with inconveniences. If this was any indication of what the remainder of the day would bring, she felt like turning around and going back home!

Jill sighed as she unlocked her car and brushed the snow from the windshield. She couldn't go home. Neil was there, and she just couldn't cope with him for a whole day. He was fine when Helen was around, but the moment she left for the evening, he began to complain.

Of course Neil had problems. Jill was the first to admit that his limited eyesight was a terrible burden for him to bear. But he accused her of being unsympathetic and demanded that she wait on him until it was time for bed. That wouldn't have bothered her if he hadn't criticized everything she did. The coffee was too weak, the house was too hot or too cold, the cookies she baked weren't as good as the ones from the bakery, the television programs she watched were insipid.

Jill had tried to bring her work home, hoping that he would understand if she had briefs to prepare or court transcripts to read. But Neil resented her work and expected her to spend every moment with him. She wasn't allowed to have any time for herself. He accused her of being selfish if she spent twenty minutes in the shower. He wanted her to be his personal slave, so going to the office was her only means of escape.

No, she definitely didn't want to go home. Jill drove down the alley and turned onto the street. What would Myron say if she told him she'd made a terrible mistake when she'd married Neil? What if she admitted that her husband had been unfaithful and she'd been about to divorce him when the doctor had discovered Neil needed a transplant? Myron thought she had a good marriage, and Jill didn't want to disappoint him. It would be almost like disappointing her parents.

Should she lie and say everything was fine? Jill sighed and shook her head. Myron had known her since she was a child. He'd realize that she wasn't telling the truth. It would be safer to talk about her job, to tell Myron about her clients and the judges she faced in court. If he asked any questions about her marriage, she'd change the subject as fast as she could. Myron was old-fashioned, just as her parents had been. People of their generation believed that a marriage should last a lifetime. When they'd exchanged their vows and spoken the line, “'Til death do us part,” they'd taken the commitment literally. But did a bad marriage really have to be a life sentence?

The parking garage was on her left. Jill flicked on the signal, waited until the oncoming traffic had passed, and then pulled into the entrance. Her spot was on the third level underground. She entered the narrow, corkscrew ramp that led into the bowels of the building. As she drove around and around, circling down to the subbasement, Jill laughed bitterly. This ramp was like her life, spiraling around, descending into the depths. She was stuck in a circle of her own making, an endless coil she'd entered into the day she'd married Neil. Her path had been set then, and she was headed for rock bottom, but there didn't seem to be any way to break free.

* * *

It was the Friday before Christmas, and Connie was lonely. In this time for relatives and immediate family, she had no one. She'd heard that the Christmas season was the most dangerous time for people who were alone. Depression could set in, so there was an abnormally high suicide rate over the holidays. Connie could understand why. Others had parties to attend, preparations to make, and gifts to buy for loved ones. If you were alone, Christmas only deepened your sense of abandonment.

Only one thing saved Connie from severe depression. She had a mission in life, one last obligation to the man she'd loved. It was almost time to put her plan into action, and she was counting the days.

“Be patient, Alan. It won't be long now.” Connie smiled at the picture of him she'd hung over her bed. It was a newspaper photo taken on the day Alan had gone to work for his father. The photographer had kept the negative on file, and Connie had paid him to make her a print.

Connie called the hospital. When she hung up, she was smiling. Willy Rossini had been released, and he was home with his family. It was time for the first step of her plan.

“I'll be back later, honey.” Connie blew a kiss to Alan. “I have to spend some of the baby's money, but it's the only way.”

Twenty minutes later, she was in a beauty parlor just down the street from Dayton's Department Store. She knew it was expensive, but she needed the best beautician money could buy.

“Do you have an appointment?” The receptionist frowned as Connie shook her head. “I'm sorry, but we can't do walk-ins today. Everybody's booked solid.”

Connie nodded and reached into her purse. She'd expected this and had planned her approach. “I know I should have made an appointment, but it just slipped my mind. Isn't there any way you could work me in?”

“It's the week before Christmas. Normally, it wouldn't be a problem, but . . .” The receptionist's eyes widened as Connie put a twenty-dollar bill on her appointment book.

“I know you're busy, but this is terribly important.” Connie laid out a second twenty-dollar bill. “It's the governor's dinner, and I simply have to look my best.”

The receptionist nodded and reached for the bills. “I could probably work you in between Roland's next two appointments. Mrs. Adamczak just wants a blow dry and Miss Murphy is always late. What did you need?”

“Everything.” Connie gave a little laugh. “Tell Roland I'm tired of being me. I need a totally new look.”

It took over two hours and it cost a small fortune, but Connie was smiling as she went out the door. She was now a redhead with soft, curly hair, and she was carrying a large bag of the makeup Roland had taught her how to use.

Clothes were next. Connie headed straight for Dayton's side entrance. She wouldn't go up to the Oval Room. Their clothes were stylish, but much too matronly. She wanted a younger, sexier look, so she'd have better luck at the ground-floor boutique.

Music was blaring from the speakers as Connie entered the boutique. The noise was deafening, but she managed to smile when a salesgirl came over the help her.

“Yes, ma'am. We do have designer originals.” The salesgirl's eyes began to sparkle at the prospect of a big commission. “What did you have in mind?”

“I need a full outfit. Dress, shoes, coat, and accessories. It's got to be fabulous, but I don't have much time.”