LimeLight (16 page)

Well, that’s her choice. I don’t see why it should be of any concern to me.

I
stick around for a while after lunch, but I can tell Caroline is tired. It seems that her friends are either snoozing in front of the television or have all tottered off to their rooms for their afternoon naps, which actually sounds rather appealing to me too.

“Well, dear,” I say to Caroline, “I should be on my way.”

“Oh, I hate to see you leave, Claudette. It’s been so long… and so fun to see you again. Are you going back to Beverly Hills now?”

I realize that I haven’t confessed to her or anyone, including my sister, that I’ve returned to Silverton for good—rather for bad, which is more how it feels. I try to think of a creative way to tell her this news, a way that’s not completely humiliating to me. Especially after being the star with her friends today. I hate to see the limelight growing dim as people, even Silverton people, discover how degrading life has become for Claudette Fioré. It’s all so embarrassing. “Actually…I’ve decided not to go back to Beverly Hills.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, you know how it is… Everything is so busy and noisy down there. So many of my friends have passed on. I want to try a simpler life.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I came up here to check on my mother’s house and decided to do a little renovation, move some of my things up, and try living here. I’ve heard of other people from my circle of friends who enjoy small-town life, and I thought perhaps it was time for me to give it a try as well. Also, Silverton has gotten a bit of culture since we were kids, what with the new restaurants, coffee house, gallery. I even found the little bookstore to be charming, and I enjoyed meeting the owner, Page Turner.”

Caroline smiles happily. “That’s wonderful.”

“I hope it’s not a mistake.”

“Well, at least you still have your home in Beverly Hills to return to. You might try living here for part of the time, then going down there.” Now she frowns. “Although you seem to be doing it backward.”

“Backward?”

“I’d think you’d want to winter down there and come up here during the warmer months. But we’re just going into winter.”

I wave my hand. “Oh, well, I’ll just have to see how it goes.”

“Anyway, I’m so happy to know my old friend is back in town. I hope you’ll come out and visit here. Perhaps I can come visit you sometime too. I don’t drive, of course, but there’s a van that takes residents to town.”

“Yes. When I get all settled into my house, I’ll have to give a little party.”

“A party.” She sighs. “That would be such fun, Claudette. You have just made my day.”

“And now I’ll let you get some rest,” I say as I stand.

“How I wish I had your stamina. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I’ve tried to remain active with yoga, t’ai chi, golf, walking with friends… It’s just the way people are down where I lived.” Now this used to be true. But it’s been nearly two months since I’ve pursued any real form of physical exercise, and I’m afraid the time off is taking its toll. However, it’s never too late. Or is it?

“Does your sister know of your plans?” Caroline grunts as she pushes herself to a standing position, balancing herself with her cane.

“No…” I frown. “I really didn’t get much of a chance to talk to her.”

“Would you like me to tell her?”

That seems to be an easy way to break the news. “Feel free. It’s not a secret.”

She grins. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell everyone here. They enjoyed your visit so much, and I know they’ll be pleased as pie to hear that you’ll be around.”

“Take care now, Caroline.”

“You too.”

I’m surprised at how I feel slightly energized as I walk out of the building and to my car. I’m not sure if this is due to the
attention I got here today or, perhaps, my observation that, in comparison to Caroline or even my sister, who seemed to be dragging, I am actually doing rather well for my age. I suppose things could be worse. Still, as I check out my image in the visor mirror, I look old and wrinkled and worn out. I poke at the creases in my temples. Is there a reputable doctor who gives reasonably priced Botox injections up here? Perhaps Michael will have ideas.

As I drive back toward town, I wonder how Michael is progressing on my house. I’m sure he doesn’t want me to come home yet, but I don’t know where else to go. Although I’m feeling a little hungry since I barely touched my lunch at McLachlan Manor. Perhaps I could kill a bit more time by getting something to eat. I wonder if Marco’s has a lunch menu. If I were as adept as Michael at driving and using my cell phone, I would try to give them a call. But my cell phone is still dead, and until I find or replace the charging cord, I am completely cut off. As I turn to go down Main Street, I notice a Radio Shack store. Maybe someone in there will be able to help me with my phone. Perhaps I’ll drive back after I have some lunch.

Marco’s turns out to be open, but I barely make their cutoff, since they stop serving lunch at two thirty. I’m seated at a small table by the fireplace. I order the eggplant ravioli and a salad, which are much better than what they were serving at McLachlan Manor.

As I eat, I feel a flicker of hope. Perhaps I
can
make this
work. I think of the lies I told Caroline today. But maybe I can turn those lies into the truth. Maybe, in time, I will be happy that I moved up here. Or maybe I will simply die in my sleep…with the aid of some sleeping pills. Would Caroline and her friends all come to my funeral? Perhaps I should do some planning for it in advance. It would be so pitiful, not to mention humiliating, to have it handled poorly. I suppose I should put that on my to-do list.

After lunch I drive back to Radio Shack, where a young man with shaggy hair and bad skin helps me find a charging cord. Of course, it turns out that it must be ordered, but he promises that it will be here within a week.

“We’ll give you a call.”

“On what? My cell phone is dead.”

“You don’t have a landline?”

“No, not yet. I suppose I’ll have to look into that.” I shake my head as I go out to my car. So many things one has to do just to live in this world. I never really grasped this before—not for years and years anyway. Gavin took care of so much…and then my household staff looked after so many other necessary things. I feel a twinge of guilt when I consider how I treated them sometimes. But I am a woman with high expectations. I do not like to settle for less than excellence.

I think about my cook, Sylvia, and wish that I could’ve brought her with me. Oh, I know she has family and friends down there, but it would’ve been so nice to have help. I don’t
even want to think about all the things I’ll have to do for myself now…all the things I must learn. It’s overwhelming.

“You’re home, darling,” Michael says as I stand on my doorstep waiting to be let inside.

“Yes, I’m home, and I’m tired. I stayed away as long as I possibly could. Please, let me in, and I promise to go directly to my room and take a nice long nap.”

He grins. “It’s a deal.” Then he makes me cover my eyes as he walks me through the house. I can smell paint as we go. I’m curious as to what color he chose. I do trust his taste, although he can get carried away at times. For instance, his home in Hawaii is far more colorful than anything I could ever live with. But then, I feel that he knows my likes and dislikes. I just hope he hasn’t done anything too outrageous.

“Here you are,” he says.

I open my eyes to see that I’m back in my peaceful bedroom, and to my surprise, I feel comforted to be here. “Thank you.”

“Rest well, dear. I think I shall have this all wrapped up before dinner.”

“I look forward to seeing it.”

“Really?” He sounds pleased.

“Yes, of course.”

He claps his hands. “That’s the most enthusiasm you’ve shown me since we started our little journey. You give my heart hope.”

Hope
, I think as I remove my shoes and lie down on the bed. It seems such a fleeting thing, so slippery. Just when you think you have a grasp on it, it evaporates. As I’m dozing off, I vaguely remember a time when I felt hopeful as a child. It’s not something I usually allow myself to think of, but I’m so tired and my resistance is low.

And like a ghost floating through this bedroom, whispering its dark memories into my ears, it almost drifts into my mind, like a dream. It’s amazing how quickly these things can flash through one’s mind, unbidden yet unrestrained, simply because one is too tired to hold them back.

I’d just turned thirteen at the time that life seemed to change for my family. My mother had recently gotten a job in town. Now, besides taking in laundry, she worked in the bakery as well. Not out in the front with the sweet rolls and pies, where the girls wore pink and white checked aprons and crisp white hats. No, my mother, in her ugly, old day dresses, worked in back where no one could see her. She worked the night shift, leaving the house about the same time that Violet and I went to bed.

This was a relief, because I didn’t relish the idea of her being spotted on the street in daylight as she walked back and forth to the bakery in her ugly, worn-out shoes. Her job was to operate the big dough machine and bake the loaves of bread that were sold each morning.

Naturally, my father hadn’t been happy about this new development. He said she only took the job to embarrass him.
And naturally, he used his anger as an excuse to go off on his binges even more regularly than before. Part of me was relieved at his absence because life grew calmer, but another part of me missed his humor and wit.

Despite my father’s shortcomings, the man knew how to liven a party. After the first few weeks of Mother’s new job, we fell into something of a routine. Violet and I helped out around the house a little more, and Mother rewarded us with a bit more spending money. Not much, of course, since it was still the Depression, but enough to buy a soda or see a movie. And that in itself was enough to make me feel a bit hopeful. I thought things were truly changing for us.

One night, my father seemed to confirm that good things were ahead. He came home in a jolly mood, whistling. I knew this probably meant he was drunk. But at least he was a happy drunk. It was pretty late, and I’d just gotten up to get a glass of water. I was about to turn off the light and tiptoe back to bed when he came into the kitchen.

At first I expected to be scolded for being up so late, but he simply smiled and told me he’d gotten a job at the car dealership in town. He was so excited that I felt excited too. He said that things were looking up for us and that Mother could quit her job at the bakery soon.

“I’ll be changing oil and doing tune-ups to start with,” he told me. “But in time I can work up to a sales position and make some good money. Old man Parson promised me a promotion by summer.”

I told my father congratulations and that I was happy for him. And I really was happy. This seemed to be the beginning of a new era. Then my father did something that surprised me. Our family had never been demonstrative, and we rarely displayed any form of physical affection. But that night, my father hugged me. And as he hugged me, he sort of swayed and danced with me, humming for quite some time.

We were still in the kitchen, and I remember my bare feet got cold on the wood floors, since it was winter, but I didn’t complain. I danced with him anyway. Finally I told him it was a school night and I should go to bed. But once in bed, I replayed the scene I’d just participated in.

On one hand, I felt very special… I’d been the first one to hear my father’s good news, and he actually danced with me. But another part of me felt uneasy and confused…and I wasn’t even sure why. Of course, by the next day I didn’t really think of it at all. By then we’d all heard about my father’s new job.

He actually made us breakfast, laughing and joking as he flipped oversized hotcakes on the big cast-iron skillet. Even my mother, who looked weary from a long night’s work, appeared slightly hopeful. It seemed we had truly turned a corner, and we were all happy that morning. Although there was no dancing in the kitchen.

My father had been working at Parson’s Pontiac and Oldsmobile for about a week, I think. I’m sure we were still on pins and needles, wondering if this job might really last; he rarely stayed employed for more than a week or two. I know I
continued to feel hopeful. I imagined how nice it would be to have a father who worked regularly and brought home a paycheck. I envisioned us living like “normal” people and perhaps even getting ahead. I imagined walking around town holding my head high, being proud of my family and what we’d become. I’m sure Violet felt the same, and consequently, we were all doing all we could to keep this thing rolling smoothly.

It was Friday and my father had taken Violet and me to the theater. We’d seen
Mr. Deeds Goes to Town
, and I imagined that Mr. Deeds, played by Gary Cooper, was the sort of person my father was transforming into. A generous and caring man—a man who enjoyed a good time, occasionally drank too much…and a man who also just happened to come into a whole lot of money.