The Carson Springs Trilogy: Stranger in Paradise, Taste of Honey, and Wish Come True (113 page)

“No, just human.”

I could fall in love with you.
The thought came swooping down out of the blue. She’d had crushes before this, but none that had come on so quickly or with such force.
Was
she becoming like Miss Finley, or was it just that the circumstances had made her more vulnerable? She’d read somewhere that it was normal in situations like these.

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask about his wife, but she didn’t want him to think she had an ulterior motive, so she asked instead, “Shouldn’t we be getting back?” No one would miss her, but there was a roomful of people waiting on him.

“Beth can handle it,” he said, referring to Dr. Meadows. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

A lightness in her belly spread until her whole body felt buoyant. Didn’t that prove she was special? Then the voice in her head scoffed,
Don’t be ridiculous. He’s only doing his job.
Ignoring it, Anna turned to him. “Define okay.”

“Okay,” he said, smiling in a way that let her know she wasn’t alone, “is what you pretend to be until you can start to believe it.”

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Guess What?

Dear Monica,

I got a job!!!! Its just cleaning rooms at a motel but like my ma always said it beats a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. I admit i didn’t believe it when you told me it would happen but i didn’t give up. When i get down i think about how a famous person like you cared enuf to write back and i think maybe i can do this after all. Yesterday at the early bird AA meeting, i got my 3 mo. chip. It felt good even tho I still have a long way to go. My parole officer says if i stay out of trouble there’s a good chance I can get my kids back soon. I miss them so much!!!!! Brianna’s birthday is next week. Thanx for the gift certificate. When i give her the Barbie bake shop I’ll tell her it’s from both of us.

Bye for now,

Krystal

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

RE: Guess What?

Dear Krystal,

Hooray! That’s great news about your job. But the main thing is you’re clean and sober. That’s the best gift you can give your kids (though I’m sure Brianna will love the Barbie bake shop!). I’m sorry it took so long to answer your last e-mail. There’s a lot going on right now. Most of it good but, like with you, it’s not always smooth sailing.

I’m praying that this job will lead to bigger and better things. And that soon you’ll have your kids back. Believe me, that’s a way bigger deal than being famous.

Love,

Monica

It had taken Anna the better part of a week to weed through the letters and e-mails that had piled up while she was away. She’d lugged home the computer from her office and made a makeshift desk of the kitchen table, where she sat now, smiling at Krystal’s news. It seemed a good omen somehow, for in many ways her struggle mirrored Anna’s.

In the ten days since family week Anna had lost five more pounds. Even the “thin” pants in her closet were baggy. More important, her eyes had been opened to the ways in which she’d allowed herself to become a doormat. The day before yesterday, when Althea Wormley called to urge her to join the altar guild, she’d replied, “Thanks for thinking of me, Althea, but I really don’t have the time.” Whereas not so long ago, she’d have given in, or at the very least promised to consider joining. There’d been a long silence at the other end—Anna didn’t know who had been more taken aback, her or Althea—but after she’d hung up she began to laugh giddily.
That wasn’t so hard,
she’d thought. No one had died, and she wasn’t going to hell (though Althea might have other ideas).

Anna turned her attention to the message that had popped up on her screen—another of Monica’s regulars, whom she knew only as Hairy Cary. He e-mailed several times a week wanting such personal information as Monica’s shoe size (a foot fetishist?), her favorite foods, and what kind of perfume she wore. As she scanned the latest, Anna felt goose bumps swarm up the back of her neck.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: A word to the wise

I worry about you, my dear. Walls aren’t enough to keep people out. You of all people should know that. Look what happened to John Lennon, and that actress, I forget her name, whose face was all cut up. If you want those of us who CARE about you to sleep better at night, please, PLEASE, watch out. There’s a lot of nuts out there.

YOUR BIGGEST FAN

How had he known that the security system wasn’t foolproof? Intruders occasionally sneaked onto the grounds, but as far as she knew those incidents had never been publicized. The last one to make the newspapers was several years ago when a man had been apprehended as he was climbing through an unlocked window, clutching a gift for Monica—a diamond engagement ring, as it turned out. Because crime in Carson Springs was almost unheard of and her fans mostly harmless, Monica didn’t let it worry her too much. Anna would speak to her about it when she got back. The gardener, Esteban, had seen signs of a trespasser not too long ago. Hairy Cary? Or a kid on a dare, like the Sullivan boy, who a few months before had sprained his ankle scaling the wall. Either way, there wasn’t enough for Anna to go to the police.

When she glanced up at the clock, it was half past eleven. She jumped up, and moments later was waving good-bye to Edna and her mom on her way out the door. If she didn’t hurry, she’d be late for her appointment at Shear Delight.

It had been Laura’s idea; she’d put an end to Anna’s excuses by giving her a coupon for a free haircut. Supposedly it was a birthday gift, though Anna’s birthday wasn’t until March. But Anna was grateful nonetheless. If nothing else, it was nice just to get out. The sun was shining, and as she rattled her way along Old Sorrento Road, leaves drifted from the white oaks overhead. The surrounding fields that in recent months had been saffron and purple with goldenrod and lupine were now tawny with the onset of winter. The air blowing in through the window was cool against her face, its grassy scent reminding her of when she used to wander these fields as a child gathering wild blackberries and eating most of them on the way home. It occurred to her that until just recently she’d have felt guilty leaving her mother with Edna to do something that didn’t involve work or chores, something that was just for herself. But now all she felt was a warm glow of anticipation.

Edna’s right. We’d all be better off with Mom in a home.

Last week’s scare had been the final straw. They’d been shopping in Safeway; Anna hadn’t turned her back for more than thirty seconds, and when she looked around, Betty was gone. After several frantic minutes Anna had found her wandering about the parking lot, none the worse for the wear. Even so it was becoming increasingly clear that her mother was more than she, or even Edna, could handle.

What had once been unthinkable was beginning to seem like the only reasonable course of action. They’d been lucky so far, but the next time Betty could be hit by a car or fall down and break a hip. Even at home, you had to watch her like a hawk to make sure she didn’t burn the house down or electrocute herself.

You have your own selfish reasons; admit it.

Anna frowned.
Okay, what of it? Don’t I deserve to be happy too?
She’d spent half her life looking after her mother; when was it going to be her turn?

She began to shiver, and rolled up the window. It was a moot point. Nothing would change unless Monica agreed to foot the bill. And that was a tall order.

Liz had been right about one thing: Monica kept her on a tight leash, which would be harder for her to do with their mother in a nursing home, where all Betty’s needs would be met. It would take some convincing, or browbeating if necessary, to get her sister to do the right thing.

Anna was reminded that by this time next week she’d be on her way to pick up Monica. What would she find—the lady or the tiger? Only the thought of seeing Marc again kept her from dreading it too much.

Anna hadn’t stopped thinking about him. She’d hoped the feelings she’d had at family week would fade, that the bond she’d felt was merely that of someone drowning toward her rescuer. But this …
thing,
whatever it was, had a life of its own. At odd times throughout the day, she’d find herself wondering what he was doing, if he was wearing the wrong color socks, or drinking coffee out of that silly cow-shaped mug. She knew it was too much to hope that he thought of her apart from the sea of family members who washed in and out like a tide, leaving the flotsam of their angst and fears, but in daydreams anything was possible.

Well, at least those fantasies weren’t as pathetic as they might once have been. Lately, she’d noticed men giving her the eye. And the other day in Orchard Hardware, when she’d been hunting for a hinge to replace the broken one on the screen door, which Hector had volunteered to fix, she’d realized that the clerk who was being so attentive was actually flirting with her. He wasn’t in Marc’s league, of course, but it was nice to be noticed.

She arrived at Shear Delight with minutes to spare, pulling into the driveway of a neat white-frame house shaded by a large chestnut tree several doors down from Tea & Sympathy. Even if she hadn’t seen the sign, she’d have known she was in the right place from Laura’s mud-streaked green Explorer parked behind Sam’s red Honda. Clearly, her friends weren’t leaving anything to chance.

Anna mounted the steps to the porch, where wind chimes tinkled and a cat napped on a cushioned wicker chair. The door was open a crack, and she stepped into a narrow foyer that smelled of hairspray. To the right was an archway onto the living room, which had been converted into a salon. All she could see from where she stood was a pair of crimson-nailed feet in cork-heeled espadrilles propped on a footrest. They belonged to Gerry Fitzgerald she saw when she rounded the corner; she lay tilted back with her head in the sink while a pretty, light-skinned black woman washed her hair.

“We thought you could use some company,” Laura said, rising from one of the easy chairs along the wall.

“In other words, she was afraid you’d chicken out,” Sam said with a laugh. She sat with her feet in a tub of soapy water in preparation for a pedicure, the latest issue of
Parents
magazine open on her lap.

Norma Devane, dabbing dye onto a foil-wrapped head from which clumps of wet hair trailed like spaghetti, turned to smile at her. Anna recognized the head under all that goop as Gayle Warrington’s. She and her husband owned Up and Away Travel, with its posters of the exotic locales that always made Anna slow her steps when walking past. “Watch out,” Gayle warned. “Norma’s a hair Nazi—she won’t take no for an answer. What
she
wants is what you get.”

“I have my reputation to think of. Can’t have you walking out of here looking like somebody else’s warmed-over mistake.” Norma snorted, giving Gayle a playful nudge before toddling over in her spike heels, which, along with her sheer rhinestone-studded black blouse over a black bustier and skintight capris, gave her the look of an overage gun moll. Lifting the hair off Anna’s shoulders as if it were a dead mouse, she said, “Honey, no offense, but I oughta be performing last rites. When’s the last time you did anything with this hair?”

Anna gave a self-conscious laugh. “Honestly? I can’t remember.”

“Never mind, sweetie. When I’m through with you, you won’t recognize yourself.”

If anyone could transform her, it was Norma. To hear people talk, she was a miracle worker. Though looking at her, Anna didn’t feel much confidence. At fifty plus, Norma was growing old disgracefully, as she liked to say. Her punk hair, the dark red of rooster feathers, stood up in spikes all over her head, and a pair of silver earrings the size of teaspoons swung from her ears. She wore enough makeup to singlehandedly keep Revlon in business.

“If it weren’t for Norma, I’d look like a sock just out of the dryer,” Laura said, touching the ends of her hair, feathered in a stylish cut that suited her face perfectly.

“Anything would be an improvement with me,” Anna said.

“Relax, ladies. It’s not a boob job.” Gerry was sitting up now, her head wrapped in a towel that made her look like a sultana on her throne.

“Which
you
certainly don’t need.” Sam’s gaze dropped pointedly to Gerry’s chest. It was the kind of teasing only old friends could get away with. And Gerry, with her stretchy top that showed off more than an inch of cleavage, wasn’t exactly hiding her assets.

It was hard to believe that years before, Gerry had been a nun. There were those, like Althea, who saw her as an affront to the church, with her sexy clothes and string of former lovers, but Anna admired her for having the courage to shed her old skin. It wasn’t as easy as changing professions or, in her case, losing weight.

“Have a seat. Be with you in a sec.” Norma gestured toward the easy chair next to Sam’s. On the table beside it were thermoses of coffee and tea, and a plate of bite-size muffins.

The other stylist must have noticed her eyeing them, for she called out, “Help yourself.”

Anna was tempted, but shook her head. “I’d better not.”

“I envy your willpower,” Gerry said. “With all the time I spend at Tea & Sympathy, it’s a battle keeping what’s left of my waistline.” She seldom missed an opportunity to remind people that it was her daughter behind all those mouthwatering baked goods.

“Don’t rub it in.” Gayle groaned, patting her flat stomach. Anna remembered Sam’s telling her that in high school Gayle had been a cheerleader. She still looked as if she could show the current squad at Portola High a thing or two.

Anna lowered herself into the chair. This was nothing like May’s Beauty Shoppe, where twice a month she took Betty to have her hair washed and set, with its old-fashioned hair dryers that always made her think of Elsa Lanchester in
The Bride of Frankenstein.
Norma’s place was homey, with knickknacks scattered about and a pair of thirties mirrored vanities serving as styling stations.