Shem Creek (33 page)

“So what are you gonna do about your trip?” Mimi said, reaching over with a fork and helping herself to a bite.

“Mmm. This is so good! I’m gonna talk to Louise and work it out, I guess. Here, take all you want.”

“Thanks. I am so thrilled that you’re going to get such a great price for your house,” she said. “Fred would die if he knew.”

When she spoke about Fred like that, I wanted to reach across the table and kiss her! Wasn’t that awful too?

“Then let’s tell him!”

“You’re bad,” she said.

“I know.”

We chatted for a few minutes, devouring the chili. The burgers arrived and we proceeded to devour them too.

“I haven’t been over to Sullivan’s Island hardly at all since I got here,” I said. “This place is getting packed! Is it too cheap?”

“No!” Mimi said. “It’s too good! And, darlin’, you’ve got burger dripping down your arm.”

“Oh, great. Think it would be gross to lick it off?” I used my napkin and my sister looked at me in utter disgust. “Sorry. Anyway, I’ve just been too busy to do anything and now I have to go back to New Jersey and move out of there whatever I want to keep and sell the rest.”

“Well, check out storage because you have two girls who are going to have their own apartments soon.”

“Bite your tongue!”

“Well, it’s true! Do you think Lindsey is going to want to stay in a dormitory forever?”

“When she finds out what it costs to rent an apartment in Manhattan? Yes!”

“Well, it won’t be long and I wouldn’t throw away anything you might be able to recycle. Besides, she might find a place in Brooklyn. Who knows?”

“Brooklyn? Lemme tell you something, rent in Brooklyn is about the same as the city. Everyone commutes by subway and—”

“Doesn’t the thought of Lindsey going down in a subway all by herself scare the turkey stuffing out of you?”

“Yes, it does and thanks for bringing it up.”

Sometimes my sister said the most insensitive things. Did I worry about Lindsey being in New York City by herself? Was she kidding? My face must have transformed into the reflection of maternal frustration and resignation to a life of futility, anxiety, despair and all the other charms of motherhood because she piped up.

“Oh! I didn’t mean . . .”

“Mimi? If you had one daughter in New York on her own and the other one was like Gracie, you’d be looking for a liver donor.”

“And a wig maker! You said it. Gosh, it’s got to be a terrible source of stress for you. . . .”

“If I had the time for the luxury of a nervous breakdown, I would have had one years ago. You know what I do? I don’t think about it. I pull a Scarlett. If I worried about everything there is to worry about concerning their safety, I’d never sleep. And, I don’t sleep that much as it is. Or well. Pass the ketchup. Please.”

“Well, darlin’, there’s always me. I don’t have kids to worry about, so why don’t you let me take over for Lindsey. I’ll say a novena every day.”

“Okay, deal. Perfect. Lindsey is now officially your cross. But while you’re on your knees, say two for Gracie. She’s enough for ten women to fret over.”

“Momma always said she could raise one hundred sons for the strength it took to raise one daughter.”

“Half the planet says that! How would she have known? She only had us! Anyway, back to Brad . . .” I squirted a puddle of ketchup on my plate and dunked my burger in it, and to my sister’s horror I took a bite large enough to satisfy a starving gorilla and continued talking. “So, apparently Amy lost her job when Brad’s enemy took control of the firm and then, when she found out that Loretta got her head cracked open like a coconut . . .”

“You do have the most delicate way of putting things,” Mimi said and giggled.

“
Wha evah!
So, she follows him down here and is staying with some friend of hers—probably another little slut—and now she’s looking for a job.”

“What do you care?”

“You know what? You’re right! I guess I just feel protective of him like everyone else in the restaurant does. I’m sure we’ll all relax when he gets all his blood work back. He’s awfully young to have anything serious the matter though, don’t you think? Anyway, the problem is that she calls him all day and she wants to push her way into his life. I mean, his son’s not ready for another woman hanging around, especially considering her age. She’s only twenty-two! Anyhow, I
know
Alex! He’s sensitive . . . what?”

I looked up to see that Mimi had stopped eating and was grinning from ear to ear. My face was turning bloodred; I could feel it.

“What?” I said again.

“I theenk my sustah ees a leetle beet beetten by the looove buuug!”

Her Spanish accent needed work.

“That’s absurd. That’s positively absurd.”

“Girl? It ain’t absurd at all. Look at you! You’re as red as every Chanel lipstick and nail polish on the cosmetic counter at Saks Fifth Avenue!”

“I’m just embarrassed, that’s all.”

She started to giggle and I could feel the beginning rumbles of a temper tantrum coming on. I sat up straight, took three sips of my tea and took a deep breath. I felt better then, knowing I was back in control.

“Okay,” she said. “You don’t like him one little eyedropper full, you and your Tell Tale Heart Burger. You’re just pals.”

“He’s my boss, Mimi. Can you think of anything more pitiful than getting involved with your boss?”

“Yes, I can. Watching someone you love with a stupid girl closer to his son’s age than his own as she occupies all his free time, convinces him he’s a God, and screws him so wildly, madly and frequently that he winds up in the emergency room—that, my dear sustah, is pitiful. You may not know it and you may never know it but you are dead in love with Brad Jackson and I can see it all over you—not just your face. It’s in your words, your eyes, your complexion and even your mannerisms change when you talk about him. You’re a dead duck, honey chile. So, you gonna let that common whore just have him without a fight?”

“Mimi! You are so off base here, you don’t even know it!”

Was my sister losing her mind?

“Tell me your sad story when Amy walks by you sporting a diamond from Crogan’s as big as a kumquat! I love you but you’re in denial. When is the last time you had to compete for anything?”

“I don’t know. I . . .”

“That’s what I thought. Linda, I love you. You know that. But besides taking Gracie off your hands so that you can race back to New Jersey and transport the family heirlooms ready to take their rightful place in the paradise all around us, I’m gonna tell you something you might not like to hear.”

“Do I have a choice?” My appetite disappeared.

“No,” she said and leaned forward across the table so close I could smell the artificial sweetener from her tea on her breath. “In all my life I have never seen you fight for anything except to make a good home for your daughters. What in the world are you afraid of? Do you really imagine that this little tart has one half to offer him of what you do? She hasn’t lived long enough to learn anything except that by lifting her skirt she can get some attention.”

“Well, bully for her.”

“Listen to me. You and I were not brought up that way and yes, the world seems to have gone crazy sometimes with everyone having sex like it’s the same thing as a hello, how are you. I don’t behave that way and neither do you—and if you do, you shouldn’t. . . .”

“Don’t worry. The closest thing I’ve had to a sexual encounter lately was the PAP smear I had before I left Montclair.”

“Good Lord! Anyway, anybody can screw like a little tramp these days. All you have to do is watch one episode of
Sex and the City
and you can learn everything you need to know. But with a young girl like her, she wants to be taken care of. Women take care of men, not the other way around. Believe me, from what you’ve told me about Brad and Loretta, he’s never had a real woman in his life to take care of him. He’s got a son and a business and he needs a woman, not a tramp.”

“That’s probably why he loves Louise so much.”

“And why you love Louise too. You’re all in love with the same person. Brad Jackson. Now we just have to get Mr. Jackson to realize that he’s in love with you.”

I was eyeing a passing plate piled high with nachos. Me in love? It was time to start eating neurotically.

“Let me ask you something. How come if you know so much, you’re still single?”

It was time to change the subject. I knew that was not the nicest thing to say to my very well intentioned and only sister, but it just slid right out. Mimi, to her credit once more, let my zinger pass over her like a breeze.

“Because when your ex-husband gives you enough money to live, you don’t get off your fanny to meet anyone, number one. Number two, it’s a heck of a lot easier to see what to do to fix someone else’s life than your own. And, last but not least, I have another date with Dr. Wonderful tonight. I’m cooking him dinner.”

“Well, good for you! What are you cooking?”

“Roast beef stuffed with garlic, mashed potatoes, gravy . . .”

“Man trap!”

“You got it! Onions, carrots, string beans, biscuits . . .”

“Your biscuits will make the man cry for his momma.”

“I hope not! And my pound cake with lemon glaze for dessert.”

“No appetizers for cocktail hour?” I was joking, of course.

“Think I should make something else? Cheese straws?”

“I think you should get your legs waxed and change the sheets! Now, about me going back to Montclair . . .”

We decided that as soon as I could find a palatable fare that I would fly to Newark and rent a car. When I could figure out what I was bringing back, if anything, then I could arrange for it to be shipped. We estimated three days for the trip if I left early and returned late. I had an attic of things to sort through and a cellar too and although I had been moaning that it was all junk, it still needed to be sifted through. Mimi agreed to take care of Gracie in my absence and she even offered to help at the restaurant once again.

“I’ll tell Louise and make sure she has your number.” I knew Louise would never call Mimi unless a plague ripped through our ranks, but then I had an idea. “Are you thinking you might like to work? I mean, have a job?”

“Heavens, no! Well, that’s not entirely true. I would like to have something to do that would give me some pin money. . . .”

“You mean shoe money?”

“Lord, isn’t it the truth? I could shop for shoes all day long! Anyway, I don’t know. You work, everyone works, you know what I’m talking about? I worry sometimes that I’m getting a little dull.”

“Make Louise and Duane a cake.”

“What? Is it their birthday?”

“No, it’s not their birthday. Make one with lemon glaze and the other one with your caramel glaze. And let’s see what happens. I guarantee you that you’ll be making pound cakes for the restaurant in the time it takes them to swallow one bite. Heck, it’s what you like to do anyway, right? Look, Louise and Duane can cook like nobody’s business, but they can’t bake for beans. Their pies all come from some nasty distributor and they’re worse than Little Debbie.”

“I love Little Debbie and Hostess and all that stuff.”

“Oh, so do I but they don’t taste like what comes out of your oven. Not even close.”

“Well, there
is
a difference. Maybe tomorrow. I’m cooking for Dr. Taylor tonight.”

“Well, it was just a thought.”

Maybe Mimi making pound cakes for the restaurant was as convoluted as me being in love with Brad. I didn’t believe that I was even in the remote areas of that kind of risk. As long as I kept my distance, I was safe.

YEARS of fiscal constraint, the politically correct way to say I had been a tightwad by necessity, had taught me many valuable lessons in life. One of the tenets of any shopping expedition was that I never spent a dime that I did not have to spend. So when I began my search for a low fare back to New Jersey, I did not book the flight until I was sure I had come away with the least amount of bloodletting to my wallet. When you’re willing to leave at an ungodly hour and return on a late flight, there were still a few bargains to be had. My next step was to clear it with Louise.

Monday morning, bright and early, I met Lupe at the Piggly Wiggly and picked up Alex. While he was getting out of her car and into mine in the Chinese fire drill mode of our carpool, I lowered down my window to say hello.

“Hey, Lupe! How’s it going?”

That was a dangerous question and one that could have kept us there until Christmas if I didn’t stay on guard.

“Good, good! Mr. Brad ees fine and I’m just doing God’s work. And you? Everything ees good?”

“Yep! I’d better get going or they’ll be late. See you soon!”