LimeLight (15 page)

“May I help you?” asks the woman at the front desk.

“Yes, I’d like to look at your facility, but I need to use the rest room first.”

She smiles. “Oh, I know how that goes.” She points to a hallway off to the left. “It’s right there.”

As I’m using the rest room, I firmly make up my mind. I am not going to see Violet today. My reasoning is twofold. For one thing, I can tell that this is a fairly decent facility, or at least it seems to be, so my pity factor has just been removed. Violet should be just fine. It doesn’t even smell too terrible.

The other reason is just plain old stubbornness on my part. As I wash my hands, I ask myself,
Why should I be the one to go to her first?
I don’t care what Michael says; if anyone needs to apologize, it’s Violet. In a week or so, I’ll simply drop her a note, letting her know that I’m in town and I’ve moved into the house. I’ll even give her my cell phone number. Of course, that means I’ll either have to find that stupid charger device or get a new one.

Just as I’m exiting the rest room, a young blond woman in a navy business suit approaches me. She smiles and extends her hand.

“I’m Cynthia Winters, and I manage the assisted living facility. I just happened to be going by the reception area, and Barb told me that you wanted a tour.”

“Well, I don’t want to trouble—”

“It’s no trouble at all. I assume it’s the assisted living facility that you’re interested in since you seem to be in good health and fully ambulatory.”

“Well, it’s not—”

“Oh, unless you’re here for someone else. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked first. Perhaps a husband?”

“No, no. My husband’s deceased.”

“So the tour is for you then?”

I’m tempted to tell her the truth, but then I’d have to divulge my sister’s name and that might complicate things. Oh, what can it hurt to have a quick tour? This seems to be a fairly large place. What are the chances of running into Violet?

“Yes, why don’t you show me the place.” I glance at my watch, as if I’m pressed for time. “But, if you don’t mind, let’s keep it short. I have an appointment at ten.”

“No problem, Ms.—uh—did you tell me your name?”

“You can call me Claudette,” I say with a smile.

“Great.” She smiles back. “By the way, I love your handbag. Is that a Birkin?”

I nod. “It is.”

“Very nice.”

I feel that I have this under control as she shows me the dining room, where breakfast is just winding down. Then she shows me the large “family room,” where a number of residents are scattered about, some reading, some watching a big-screen television, some sitting around a table just visiting. Very congenial. Then we go to a game room with pool tables and game tables. Then a crafts room, where a class is in session, and finally she shows me a kitchen set up for residents to use.

“We want people to feel free to cook if they want. One resident
makes the most delectable sugar cookies. You can smell them all over the place. Do you like to cook, Claudette?”

I laugh. “Hardly.”

“Well, that’s okay. Because you never have to lift a finger here, and the food is really good. Everyone says so.”

“That’s nice.” I’m ready to go now. I think I’ve been lucky not to have seen or been seen by Violet. But my luck could run out at any moment.

“And we even have housekeeping service for those who want it. It costs a little more, but some of our residents, particularly the men, swear by it. The housekeepers even leave a mint on the pillow.” She laughs. “Can you imagine?”

I nod as I consider the prospects of making my own bed for the rest of my life. “Yes, I can.” I make a conspicuous effort to look at my watch.

“I know you need to go to your appointment, but I’d like to show you our sample room first. We keep one room open for potential residents.” She opens the door to a room that’s not much bigger than my current bedroom, although it does have its own bath.

“It’s not very large,” I say.

“No, but that’s only because we encourage our residents to get out and mingle with the others. We don’t think it’s healthy to spend too much time alone.”

“I see.”

“The double rooms are bigger…but then you have to share them with a roommate.”

I shake my head. “I could never do that.”

“Any questions?”

I am curious as to what these rooms go for, so I ask. Using my best actress face, I conceal my shock when she tells me the monthly cost. It’s more than twice my new monthly budget. I am stunned to think that I cannot afford to stay in a place like this. Not that I’m interested…just shocked. How can Violet possibly afford it? Plus, she’s been here for several years now.

“So, what do you think?” asks Cynthia brightly.

“I think it’s a very nice facility,” I admit as we leave the room.

“But not what you’re looking for?”

“The truth is, I’m just not sure I’m ready for this yet.”

“And I totally understand. But we do have a waiting list. It’s not terribly long at the moment, but you might want to get on it. You just never know.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s—” I stop as my sister emerges from the next room. I look the other way, hoping she won’t see my face. But it’s too late.

“Claudette?”

“Do you know each other?” Cynthia asks happily.

“Yes,” I say in a frosty voice.

“What are you doing here?” Violet asks.

“She’s just had the tour, Violet,” bubbles Cynthia. “I was just suggesting that she put her name on the waiting list.”

“You’re trying to get in here?” Violet clearly seems confused.

“Well, I…”

“Maybe you can encourage her,” says Cynthia. “How do you know each other, anyway?”

“She’s my sister,” Violet says in a flat tone.

“Really?” Cynthia turns and looks at me with surprise. “You didn’t tell me your sister was a resident.”

“Well, I wasn’t positive she was still here, and I just happened to be in town and I—”

“That’s great.” But Cynthia is eying me with a slightly suspicious expression. “I’ll just leave you two to catch up. That is, unless you really do have another appointment to get to, Claudette.”

“Thank you for the tour,” I tell her stiffly.

Then Violet and I are left standing in the hallway. I don’t know what to do, and she’s not saying anything.

“I should go,” I finally say.

“Why did you come here?”

“I…I was just curious.”

“You wanted to see how the rest of the world lives?”

“Something like that.”

“You come here, find out that I’m still living here, and then without even speaking to me, you just leave?”

“I only wanted to use the rest room.”

Violet’s eyes flash with anger. “You came all the way to Silverton just to use the rest room? You might think you’re a good actress, but I’m not buying that nonsense.”

“Oh, I didn’t come all the way to Silverton to use the bathroom. I was in town…and I just happened to be driving by…and I needed to go. I saw this place, so I stopped in.”

“And then while you just happened to be here, you decided to take the tour?”

“That’s right,” I snap.

“Well, you are a piece of work, Claudette. You always have been.”

“Thank you.”

“Claudette?” A woman with a cane hobbles over to us. She’s peering at me as if she knows me, and I wonder if she might possibly be a crazed fan, someone who followed Gavin’s career and somehow knows I’m his widow. “Violet?” she says to my sister. “Is it really?”

“Yes,” says Violet dryly. “This is Claudette. She’s been touring the facility.”

The woman comes closer now, looking into my eyes and smiling. “Claudette Porter. Don’t you remember me? I used to be Caroline Campbell. We were good friends, remember?”

“Caroline? From across the street? Of course I remember you. Although I never would’ve recognized you in a million years. You live here too?”

“I do.” She nods over her shoulder. “Let’s go sit down and catch up. I have a bad hip and can’t stand in one place very long without screaming bloody murder.”

“I think Claudette has an appointment to make,” Violet says in a snippy tone.

“No.” I take Caroline’s free arm and walk with her. “As usual, my little sister is wrong again.”

Caroline laughs as we make our way into the family room. Soon we’re settled into a pair of club chairs, and Violet simply stands there, looking at us with a mixed expression of what must be rage and jealousy.

“Aren’t you going to join us?” Caroline asks Violet.

“No, thank you.” Violet turns on her heel and stomps off.

“Who put the bee in her bonnet?” asks Caroline.

“I think she was born that way.”

“So, tell me, what
are
you doing here? Violet mentioned that you took the tour, but you couldn’t possibly be thinking of moving up here, could you? You wouldn’t leave sunny Southern California for Silverton, would you?”

“Not intentionally.” Then to change the subject, I focus on her. “What brought you back here? I thought you’d moved away.”

“I had moved away—eons ago. I went to Eureka and got a job at the newspaper. Then I started dating an editor there, and I married him when the war started. Jack made it back home in one piece. We had two kids and a good life. He eventually owned the newspaper. Our son took it over when Jack retired. Then Jack died in 1993, and I had some health problems that made me give up my home. I tried living with my kids for a while, but that just about drove us all mad. Finally, I started looking around for a good assisted living setup.” She waves her hand. “And can you believe I ended up back in our old stomping grounds?”

“I was surprised to find this place is much nicer than I remember.”

“So was I. My son discovered it for me on the Internet. It was ranked pretty high. And it’s not that far from Eureka. So here I am.” She stares at me and then shakes her head. “And here you are, Claudette, looking just as fantastic as ever, which is completely unfair. How do you do it, anyway?’

“Thank you. The truth is, I don’t feel terribly fantastic. Whenever I look into the mirror, I just see a faded old lady looking back.”

“You should try looking into
my
mirror sometime.” She laughs. “But really, what are you doing back in town? Did you come to see your sister?”

“Did it look like that to you?”

“Not unless you wanted your head torn off. Why is Violet acting like that anyway? Usually, she’s quite nice. In fact, she and I have become close friends. When I first came here, she kept me up-to-date on your doings down there in Hollywood and wherever you were off traveling to with that talented husband of yours. But, come to think of it, she doesn’t do that anymore. And if I bring up your name, she usually just changes the subject.”

“She’s mad at me.”

“Why?”

“Oh, it’s silly, really.”

Caroline leans over and puts her hand on my arm, smiling with conspiracy. “Come on, you can trust me, Claudette. We go back further than Violet and I.”

So I tell her about my mother’s home being left to me.

“To you alone?”

“Yes. It seemed a bit odd at the time, but I was distracted with my own problems. Gavin died shortly before Mother, and I had things to deal with. When Violet threw her hissy fit, well, it’s possible I said things that hurt her feelings too. It was all rather unfortunate.”

“I’ve heard that wills and property disputes can result in the worst kinds of family feuds. Jack and I made sure that everything was split evenly among the children, grandchildren, and even the great-grandchildren so none of them will have anything to argue about.”

“In my mother’s defense, I think she may have left the house to me because Gavin and I had helped her out so much financially. Perhaps she felt she owed it to us. I don’t know…”

“That’s understandable. But it’s a shame that it came between you and Violet. I hope you can work it out.”

“As you can see, it’s probably up to her.”

Caroline doesn’t say anything now.

“So, are you happy here?” I ask to change the subject.

“Happy as anyone in my condition can be.” She grins. “Do you remember that time we played hooky, Claudette? What were those boys’ names? The twins?” She squints, as if to remember, then snaps her fingers. “John and Ronald Green.”

“Johnny and Ronnie!”

“Yes. Johnny and Ronnie. We went to the lake and drank beer.” She sighs. “Oh, those were the days.”

“Remember when we got caught smoking in the rest room?”

“Yes. It was such a scandal. My parents were fit to be tied.”

I nod and say yes, as if my parents were furious as well, but the truth is, my mother barely reacted. She and my father were in one of their terrible fights, as I recall it, because he’d wasted some money that she’d set aside. Consequently my letter from the principal went mostly unnoticed.

Caroline and I reminisce about some of our other outrageous antics for quite some time. We really were rather wild and fun loving back in our high school days, and as we stroll down memory lane, we try to top each other in remembering crazy stories, sometimes laughing so loudly that others in the room begin to take notice.

Before long, some of Caroline’s friends come over to see what’s going on. So she tells them about how we were as teens. Then she tells them who I am and who I was married to, and she even mentions some of my famous friends. As a result, our little party gets bigger and better. People are asking me questions about Gavin and Hollywood and filmmaking back in the good old days, back when a motion picture was a big event. I answer their questions with drama and polish. They are a good audience, and I feel like I’m a star.

“You must stay for lunch,” says Eddie, who, according to Caroline, is one of the few “available” male residents—and highly sought after.

“Yes,” the others agree. “Stay for lunch, Claudette.”

So I stay. Of course, the food isn’t very good, but I’m not feeling terribly hungry anyway. I’m having too much fun entertaining my new fan club. But I notice that my sister is not among this crowd, and that troubles me a little. As I scan the dining room looking for Violet, I try not to be too obvious. I’m not all that surprised to finally spot her over by the kitchen doors, sitting by herself with her head down. Playing the wounded little sister again, the perennial wallflower, the outsider.