Marrying Daisy Bellamy (18 page)

“O
ne more time on Pirates of the Caribbean,” Charlie begged, his face alight with enthusiasm. “Please.”

The Technicolor chaos that was Disneyland swirled around Daisy's small son. She traded a glance with Logan, knowing they would both be in agreement. A trip to Disneyland didn't come around every day, and they were determined to make the most of it.

“Tell you what,” she suggested. “You guys go together, and I'll take your picture.”

“Cool,” said Charlie. “Come on, Dad.”

These were not the kind of pictures she usually took, but the wild activity, with its color and light and frenetic movement, inspired her. She captured both father and son laughing, their heads thrown back, the two of them completely overtaken by surprise and delight.

“Good call, Logan,” she murmured under her breath, “this is a perfect way to celebrate Charlie's fifth birthday.”

Logan had never been one for half measures. When Daisy agreed they should tell Charlie they were going to live together, Logan had suggested they deliver the news
right after his birthday. They didn't want to tell him
on
his birthday. That might send the wrong message.

In his usual larger-than-life way, Logan had organized a three-day adventure. He insisted it had to be Disney
land
, not Disney World, because nothing was ever as good as the original. While they were away, a local moving company would bring Daisy's belongings to Logan's house. Not all of them, she corrected herself. There was a box of things Julian had given her—mementos, pictures, little gifts, her engagement ring—she had stored at her mother's house. She couldn't let go of them, but neither could she bring them into her new life with Logan.

The comparisons had to stop. The loss of Julian would forever be an ache in her heart, and she would never replicate what they'd had. In a tiny corner of her heart, she recognized that she and Logan didn't share the grand and breathless passion she'd found with Julian. Theirs had been a once-in-a-lifetime love, and she knew better than to search for it with someone else. Her relationship with Logan was quiet and secure, a bond forged by their mutual love for Charlie. She had to stop thinking about what she'd lost and focus on what she could have. When they arrived home, they would all be living under the same roof. A family.

At last.

The prospect filled her with a sense of purpose. She had not agreed to this blindly or impulsively. She'd committed to it, and so had Logan, and they were both determined not only to make it work, but to find a new kind of happiness together, the three of them. Logan offered comfort, security, stability, safety. And relief—Lord, sweet relief from the dating. She'd known him all her life, and his friendship had helped her through her grief.

She could see a future with him. Logan would never break her heart…because he'd never owned her heart, not the way Julian had.

She and Logan were going into this with eyes wide open. Neither of them assumed it would be a cakewalk. Starting a serious relationship felt a bit like moving to a foreign country. She had to learn a new language, a new culture. She was ready, though.

While waiting for them to finish being pirates, she photographed some of the details of Disneyland. The August day in Anaheim was blindingly hot, and the park was crowded with excited kids and families. There was a peculiar beauty in all the artifice—the pristine, geometrically laid-out gardens, the pinwheels of coordinated color everywhere she turned. Unsightly features were camouflaged by clever plantings and facades, rocks made of resin, and glossy, giant-headed characters.

There was one section of fence where the sprinkler system had apparently failed. The hedge there had died, leaving only the skeletal remains of a few shrubberies. Beyond that, she could see a chain-link fence and a parking lot crammed with touring coaches and marigold-colored school buses. As she watched, a bus pulled to the curb and disgorged a tumble of excited kids, mostly black-or brown-skinned, all of them wearing school T-shirts.

She zoomed in on a little girl who was so excited, she spun in pirouettes on the sidewalk, her multiple braids flying outward.

Then Daisy noticed the lettering on the side of the bus—Chino Valley Unified School District.

That was where Julian had gone to high school. He'd never had much to say about Chino, California, only that he'd gotten in trouble there, and it was nobody's fault but his own. He'd said this with a smile on his face, long
ago, adding, “If I hadn't been a juvenile delinquent, I never would have been packed off to Camp Kioga that one summer. Never would have met you.”

Thoughts of him often sneaked up on her like this, despite her resolve to focus on the future. Many times since he'd died, she been told by well-meaning friends, “At least you have your memories to cherish.”

She did have memories, and she definitely cherished them, but they offered small comfort when she contemplated all that was lost at the bottom of the ocean. She and Julian simply hadn't had enough time together. They'd had shared dreams, fantasies, aspirations. Not enough time. Never enough time.

“Yo, Daisy-Mama,” Logan yelled at her, using a pet name she wasn't completely in love with. He was carrying Charlie on his shoulders and grinning from ear to ear. “You wandered away. I thought we'd lost you.”

She lifted the camera to her face and snapped their picture. “I'm right here,” she said.

 

The airport in Anaheim didn't have a direct flight home, so they had a long layover in Las Vegas. To make matters worse, mechanical difficulties grounded the aircraft, and passengers were offered generous premiums for giving up their seats on subsequent overbooked flights.

“Let's do it,” Logan said suddenly. “Let's give up our seats and have a night in Vegas.”

“Yeah! Vegas, baby,” Charlie said, though he clearly had no idea what the city was about.

Daisy hesitated. “But—”

“Please,” they both said in unison.

She laughed at their pleading expressions. Then she called and left a message with Olivia, who was
taking care of Blake. Afterward, she caught Zach at the studio.

“No worries,” he said when she explained about the delay. “There's nothing on the schedule until Friday night.”

“Thanks, Zach. Tell everyone I'll see them on Tuesday.”

“Will do. Vegas, eh?”

“Yeah, we've got a day to explore the city. I've never been to Vegas before.”

“I've heard you can get into a lot of trouble there.”

She laughed. “We'll do our best. Right now we're working on getting a cab.”

“Okay. Well, don't do anything too wild.”

“
Moi?
Never.”

Logan managed to corral a cab. They could have waited for a hotel shuttle, but it was sweltering hot, and Charlie was hungry and cranky.

In the taxi, Logan studied the voucher he'd been given by the airline. “Airporter Express,” he muttered, crumpling up the slip of paper. “You know what? I've got a better idea.”

“Now what?” She regarded him suspiciously.

“We've got one night in Vegas. We can do better than the Airporter Express.”

“I don't understand.”

He leaned forward to the driver. “Take us to the Bellagio.”

“What's the Bellagio?” Charlie asked.

“It's kind of like Disneyland, only for grown-ups.”

Logan hadn't been exaggerating. In fact, all the artifice of Disneyland dimmed in comparison to the incredible light show that was the Vegas strip. Charlie momentarily forgot his hunger as he stared out the window, slack-jawed with amazement.

“Hey, Momdad,” he said. “Look at all the people.” He pressed his face to the taxi window, watching street performers, winos, tourists and hookers against a backdrop of massive casino hotels. “What is this place?”

“I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto,” Daisy said.

“Cool.”

“Does the hotel have a swimming pool?” Charlie asked, focusing on the only feature that mattered to him.

“I don't know. Logan, is there a pool?”

Logan laughed. “Is there a pool?”

The Bellagio had much more than several pools. It also boasted a huge singing, dancing fountain that erupted in time with the music. They stood in front of the massive water feature, gaping like the tourists they were. People gathered at the figured concrete railing to watch. Logan bought hot dogs from a vendor for himself and Charlie, to hold them over until dinnertime. No fewer than three newlywed couples stopped for pictures. Daisy was not in work mode, but she appreciated the brides' bubbly happiness and the way the water feature exemplified their soaring joy.

As one couple walked into the lobby ahead of them, she overheard the groom asking, “Now, what was your name again?”

“I want to wear my Mickey Mouse ears,” Charlie said. At Disneyland, a giant Mickey had shaken his hand. The ears had instantly become a sacred object to him.

“No problemo,” Logan said, and approached the front desk. While he registered, Daisy and Charlie explored the lobby. It was beautiful in an overly designed, aggressive way. There were fabulous art pieces, blown glass, paintings by old masters, sculptures in lit alcoves. Shops
filled with sparkling jewelry, colorful fashions, sumptuous gifts, bags and luggage lined the hallway. The glittering artifice made Daisy feel as if she'd landed in some alternate universe. Faintly, behind everything, she could hear the sounds of the engine that drove the entire city—the electronic pings and burbles of the slot machines and games emanating from some unseen casino.

“It's incredible,” she said to Logan in the elevator on the way up to their room. “I'm blown away.”

“Me, too,” said Charlie.

“We haven't seen the room yet,” Logan pointed out.

It was on the top floor. Daisy held her breath as he opened it with the key card. He swung the door wide, and she gasped aloud. The room was flooded with sunlight filtered through the sheerest of drapes.

A balcony overlooked the heart of Vegas. There was a seating area with a bar and a wide-screen TV. The vast king-size bed was draped in rococo glory. Charlie raced to the window and pressed his nose against the glass. “I love Las Vegas,” he declared.

Laughing, Logan hoisted him up. “We're going to make the most of our night here, okay?”

“Can we go swimming now?”

Logan nodded, and Charlie ran to his suitcase, digging for his swim trunks.

“I didn't pack with this layover in mind,” Daisy said, retrieving his still-damp swimsuit from a plastic bag.

“It's okay, Mom,” he said. “We'll get wet in the pool, anyway.”

Wrinkling her nose, she said, “What's worse than putting on a clammy bathing suit?”

“I have a great idea. You go down to the lobby shops and buy a new swimsuit. And a dress, too. Buy a really nice dress for tonight.”

“Oh. I don't think—”

“Come on, humor me. Look, they gave me a twenty-percent-off coupon at one of the lobby boutiques when I checked in.”

“I don't need—”

“Go for it, Daisy. It'd make me happy. Charlie and I will meet you at the pool.”

“Way to twist my arm,” she said. “I'll make it quick.”

 

The shop with the coupon was called Lola's, and the sign in the window bore the slogan, Whatever Lola Wants, Lola Gets. The collection leaned toward tropical prints, gold lamé and plus sizes. The only other person around was the woman at the counter, who was middle-aged with skin that had seen too much sun, and her hair was dyed, fried and flipped to the side in a style that had gone out of fashion in the eighties.

“Welcome to Lola's,” she said in a smoker's voice. She had a nice smile that didn't quite mask a kind of loneliness Daisy could relate to.

“Er, I came in to see if there was a swimsuit,” she said, feeling a bit trapped by all the metallic fabrics.

“Ah. Your husband called me.”

“My husband—”

“Mr. O'Donnell. Suite 3347.”

Daisy immediately thought of Charlie. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all. He wanted to make sure you get everything you need here, and that the bill goes to him.”

Logan loved making grand gestures like that.

The shopkeeper chuckled, gesturing at the crammed racks. “You're a lucky woman. Go ahead, knock yourself out.”

“Thanks,” Daisy said, knowing now she would never get out of Lola's without buying something from the inventory of gypsy-colored garments. “So much to look at,” she said diplomatically. “I really just need a swimsuit.”

“Let me see what we have in your size. You're a bit smaller and younger than my usual clients. I probably shouldn't say that.” With expert precision, she snapped through a rack. “These might be the only two I have in a small.”

The options were a leopard-skin bikini and a shiny silver garment, more space suit than swimsuit. Daisy thought about her clammy red maillot and wished she'd settled for that.

She hadn't said a word, but the woman read her mind. “Let me see if we have anything in the back in your size.”

Daisy contemplated making a break for it. How had a simple, single-layover flight home become so complicated?

Turning from a family of two into a family of three had its challenges, and she knew she would be discovering new ones every day. She reminded herself that it also had its rewards, and that was what she would stay focused on.

She flipped idly through the dresses to see if something jumped out at her. What did one wear to dinner in Vegas? Apparently, something made with feathers, metallic fabric or crushed velvet. A couple of the dresses had all three—a trifecta of bad taste.

She knew her suitcase would yield a more tempting option, even if that meant she had to iron something.