Talk of the Town (25 page)
Wait. Here it comes. . . .
I switched to the Mydestiny window, watching as the page materialized, segment by segment, from top to bottom. A name came up on the banner.
David C. Single white male, 40
, followed by two pictures of David in the left center of the screen. Paula was playing a joke on me—sort of a strange joke, but a joke.
Why hadn’t David taken his profile off Mydestiny yet? I’d removed mine months ago.
I flipped back to the IM window and typed in,
Very funny
.
The Mydestiny window scrolled onward, and a third picture came slowly into view. David on the boat with the wind in his hair. He’d just grabbed the mooring line, glanced up at the camera, smiled.
I took that picture. Three months
after
we met.
Acid gurgled into my throat.
You OK?
The cursor flashed at the end of Paula’s question.
OK?
OK? OK?
I couldn’t formulate a coherent thought, couldn’t remember how to type. I stared at the keyboard, unable to join letters into words that would make sense.
The past six months flashed through my mind—David and me on the boat, the two of us around town, hanging out at his apartment, eating at Gregorio’s on his birthday. He was depressed about turning forty, depressed about his life, depressed because his ex-wife had remarried and had two kids within two years.
He asked me if I wanted to get married. I said yes, and he said, “Let’s do it soon.”
The next day, I started making wedding plans. He told me anything I wanted was fine. I left it to him to pick out an engagement ring. He never did.
Now I knew why. He was busy trolling online, waiting to see if something better would come along.
Hitting the Work Offline button, I slapped the computer closed. I didn’t want to think about this. I couldn’t. I had Amber’s shoot tomorrow. I had to stay focused.
How could this be happening?
What if there was a mistake? What if I was jumping to conclusions?
What possible excuse could there be for his keeping a Mydestiny page? For stocking it with a picture I took? For requesting a photo when Paula contacted him?
Would he really do that?
My cell phone rang in my purse. For just an instant, I hoped it was him. I wanted him to make all of this go away, to explain everything. He probably could. David was a consummate salesman.
That wouldn’t make it true.
In my heart, I knew what was true. He didn’t love me. He was forty and trying to talk himself into the idea that it was time he got married again.
I was thirty-four and tired of being single in the city.
It was a lethal combination.
Grabbing the phone, I switched it to vibrate. It was only Paula. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I couldn’t. All I could do was stumble across the room, climb onto the fuzzy bedspread, twist my fingers into the thick artificial fur, bury my head, and cry all over Beulah’s pink satin pillows.
In the morning, I didn’t hear noises in the house and think about Jack. I was busy dreaming of the roller coaster, and I reckon Jack wouldn’t have wanted to wake me up and spoil the ride. He joined me in my dream. Where Avery had been by my side as the Lightning Snake crawled up the first hill, now it was Jack. The sight of him filled me with joy, but I was confused, too, because he couldn’t be there.
“They said you died,” I told him. “They said you were gone.”
He smiled at me, his eyes twinkling the way they used to when I prodded him to reveal what was inside my Christmas packages.
“You look good,” I said. He did look good—like the tall, straight navy gent who stole my heart the first time I saw him.
The coaster made it to the top of the hill, and we hovered for just a minute at the crest. Jack put his fingers over mine on the bar, and even though I could see him touch me, I couldn’t feel it. He lifted up his hand, and I let mine follow. The coaster started down the hill, and we threw our arms in the air and laughed and laughed.
I woke up sometime before the ride was over, and for a minute, I just laid there thinking about it. My first roller coaster ride with Jack. If the Anderson boys hadn’t talked me into stopping by the fair last night, if Amanda-Lee and I hadn’t made that pact to get on the roller coaster, it never would’ve happened. I couldn’t have ridden the roller coaster with Jack in my dream, because I wouldn’t know what the roller coaster felt like. Because I’d gathered up my courage and tried something new, it was like Jack got to do it, too.
It hit me that I hadn’t been much fun to be with this past year—moping around the house every night, not wanting to get out of bed in the mornings, turning down my sons’ invitations to go along on family trips and whatnot. I hadn’t been showing Jack’s memory a very good time since he passed on.
Throwing off the covers, I made up my mind that I would start doing better. Today was the beginning of it. Helping Amanda-Lee get Amber and the filming crew into the fair would be an adventure, for sure. Jack would love every minute of that.
Slipping into my housecoat, I crossed the room to shut the door, so as not to wake the Anderson boys while I was moving around getting dressed and puttering about the place. The old wood floor squeaked under my feet, and down the hall, one of the boys caught a breath and sighed, the bed squeaking as he turned over. That was Avery, probably, down in Jack Junior’s room. Either Andy or Amos was snoring like a little old man in the bedroom across the hall. I stood in the doorway for just a minute, listening to the sounds and remembering the days when every inch of our house was full—full of kids, full of chores to be done, homework to be checked, dirty laundry needing washing. Full of life. It felt good to have the house alive again.
Once this adventure with Amanda-Lee was over and school let out for summer, I’d invite all the grandkids up for a long visit. That would be fun. It was high time I opened the house for company again.
The phone rang, and I hurried to close the bedroom door and grab the receiver before the noise woke everybody up. Donetta was on the other end, and I knew right away something was up.
“GiGi, we got a problem,” she said. Her voice was low, like she didn’t want anyone to hear. “You still got the Anderson boys over there?”
“Yes, I do.” I couldn’t imagine why me having the Anderson boys would be a problem, since their granddad was probably still laid out somewhere, after a long night hugged up to a bottle. “The kids’re sleeping. We went to the fair last night on the way home. I rode the roller coaster. Three times.”
“I heard about that.” Donetta didn’t sound as surprised as I thought she would. “Betty Prine’s already been on the phone this morning, telling everyone about you cozying up to the Anderson boys because their sister’s gonna be famous.”
The hackles rose on the back of my neck. Darn that woman.
She could make a sow’s ear out of a silk purse. “Oh, let her talk. I don’t care. Betty Prine’s not worth my time. Those boys and I had fun. They’re real sweet children—grateful, and polite. Betty Prine can just—”
“I ain’t got time to talk about Betty Prine this morning,” Donetta said. “We got bigger fish to fry. Is there anyone out in your front yard?”
I sat down on the edge of my bed, scratching my ear through the nest of roller-coaster hair. “Donetta, did you slip and hit your head in the shower again? Why in the world would there be someone in my front yard? It’s just me and the boys here, and they’re all still asleep.”
“Just check, GiGi. Just check if there’s anyone in your front yard. Don’t let them see you looking.”
“Donetta, what—”
“Just check. Go look out the window.” Netta was in no mood to mess around. When Donetta Bradford takes that tone, you get up and go look out the window if that’s what she wants.
I stood at the curtain and pulled it aside, just a little. The yard looked quiet, all the way down to the front gate, and Hamby, my across-the-pasture neighbor’s big cow dog, was lounging out under the oak tree. “Not a sign of anyone outside. Hamby’s there under the tree. If there was someone around, he wouldn’t just lay there like that.”
Donetta blew out a quick sigh. I pictured it tinted with Rumba Red #5. “Good. They didn’t find their way out there. Imagene, you got to stay at your house, and whatever you do, don’t come to town.”
“Donetta, what in heaven’s—”
“Just listen. I don’t have much time. Lucy’s out front cussin’ at people in Japanese. She’s pretending she don’t speak English.”
“Donetta . . .”
“Listen,” Donetta hissed, and I stepped back from the window. The last time Donetta got that sharp with me was when she came to make me get out of bed for Jack’s funeral. “There’s reporters and TV people, folks with cameras, and I don’t know who else all over town. They’re in the café, the hardware, the grocery, down at the Baptist church, and just now when Lucy opened up out front, they come bustin’ in here, saying they knew
American Megastar
was here, and did we have Amber Anderson hidden upstairs? Forrest and Buddy Ray are headed over from the jail to come get these people out of here, and then I’m gonna lock the door and not let anybody in, except regular customers.”
“Donetta, what . . .” My mind started spinning like the Tilt-AWhirl at the fairgrounds, and my peaceful morning whiffed right out the window quick as a puff of smoke. I looked out at the front yard again, checked the bushes and the trees, and tried to see behind the stone pillars at the gateway. “How in the world? How could all that happen overnight?”
“Don’t know. From the sounds of it, Verl hit half the watering holes in the county after he finished up here yesterday. He was at it pretty hard, and his tongue a-waggin’ the whole time about how Amber was in the Final Five, and there was people from
American Megastar
in town, and he was gettin’ rooms fixed up at the Daily Hotel for the rest of the crew, and Amber’d called him last evenin’ saying she’d be home Saturday morning with a big surprise.” She paused, and in the background I heard Forrest hollering, at least a half-dozen voices chattering back, and Lucy yelling in Japanese. “Lands, Imagene, there’s no tellin’ what that old fool said, and to who, but word’s out. They’re after it like hounds on a cottontail. They’re lookin’ to stake out anyplace Amber might come to and anybody she might plan to see. They’re lookin’ for Verl, they’re lookin’ for Amber’s brothers, and they’re lookin’ for the
American Megastar
people.”
“Oh mercy,” I said, and Donetta added a quick
amen
. Pacing back and forth beside the bed, I tried to think. Somehow, we had to get this mess under control before Amber, Amanda-Lee, and the filming crew got to my house later this morning. “All right, DeDe, listen. I’m getting an idea, but it’s gonna take some help.”
“Whatever we got to do for Amber, you know we’ll do it.” Donetta would, too. Anytime anyone ever needed help, she was right there. She’d be the first in line with a shovel at a ditch diggin’.
I sat on the edge of the bed and started jotting down notes. The call waiting rang on my line—probably one of my boys checking on me, but I didn’t answer it. “First of all, get that darned Betty Prine and lock her in a closet if you got to, but shut her up about the Anderson boys being with me last night. If the reporters track us down, everything’ll be ruined. I got to tell you something top secret, DeDe. Promise me you won’t tell a soul. Nobody. I mean it.”
“GiGi, this ain’t the time for games.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise. You know I’d never tell a secret.” That wasn’t exactly true, because anyone who talked as much as Donetta had spilled a secret or two, but never with the intention to hurt anybody.
“All right. The
American Megastar
crew is coming here later this morning. They’re coming straight to my place from the airport, with Amber. They’re gonna film her seeing her family again, and then we’re gonna load her in a horse trailer and take her to do a concert at the fairgrounds. You can’t tell
anybody
.”
It took Donetta a minute to answer. “Imagene, you experiencin’ any blurred vision, any headache, numbness in your extremities, any disorientation this mornin’?”
“I ain’t havin’ a stroke, Netta.” It was aggravating that she didn’t believe I was involved in the
American Megastar
plan. “Now hush up and listen. I called down the road last night and got a pickup and a horse trailer on loan from my neighbor who’s been keeping old Magnolia for me since Jack died, but there’s still things to do—we need someone who can drive the pickup, for one thing, because my neighbor’s tied up this afternoon. Now, on top of that, we got these reporters to worry about.”
I continued on, not giving her time to interrupt. “You call over to the café and tell Bob to keep them reporters busy as long as he can. Tell him to be slow with the food—get the countertoppers to brew up some wild stories about where Amber might be and when she might come in—anything that’ll send them away from the fairgrounds and away from my place. Pass the word around town. Also, call Miss Lulu at the RV park and tell her that if she’s still got that spiky-haired lady or her crew out there, go out and lock the park gate and pretend she’s lost the key. That lady reporter sure enough knows where the Anderson place is, and we don’t need her going out there and catching Verl half sloshed this morning—if she hasn’t already.”