The Year Everything Changed (25 page)

“Then you’re going to be ecstatic when you get ready to leave for Oregon.”

She put her hand over her chest. “Be still my heart.”

“I’m going to remind you of this.”

She hit the light switch. “I have no doubt.”

Chapter Thirty-nine
Ginger

Ginger finished her stretching exercises and went to the living room window to look outside before leaving for the track. Seven-thirty at night and heat waves still undulated throughout the city. She tried to remember if it had been this hot a September ago, but to her weather was like the new crop of sitcoms promised for the fall lineup—easily forgotten. She’d had it with the sunshine that had baked the hills surrounding San Jose a crusty brown and turned the air a smog-laden gray. Even knowing their potential destructive power, she missed the dark menacing rain clouds that rolled across the plains of Colorado and Kansas.

In California it didn’t rain in the summer. Couldn’t. Too many crops would be ruined. She imagined an army of elves stationed offshore that beat the rain clouds into fog before they could reach land. Four more months and she could go home. All she had to do was figure out where home was. Her mother was pushing for Denver, on the good days reminding Ginger how much she loved to ski, on the bad ones finding reasons to mention how old she and Ginger’s dad were getting. Ginger recognized the gentle coercion for what it was and rarely commented. Love traveled a convoluted path in the Reynolds household.

Not up to hearing pseudo-sympathy or, worse yet, jubilation, Ginger still hadn’t told her mother about Marc. She needed distance and a little objectivity before she could answer the questions that would follow the announcement. Besides, she’d given Delores enough turmoil that summer with exposed secrets and unimagined wealth.

The phone rang. Ginger knew before she picked up that it was her mother. It seemed all Ginger had to do was think about talking to her mother lately and she called.

“Hi, Mom.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“I was channeling you.”

“What?”

Ginger laughed. “Nothing. What’s up?”

“Are you busy? You’re not in the middle of dinner, are you?”

“Just getting ready to go running.”

“Did you know running is hard on your knees? Bicycling is supposed to be better.”

“You’ve been reading again.”

“I read all the time. It wouldn’t hurt you to pick up a magazine now and then.”

“I know this isn’t why you called.”

“I’ve been thinking about Jessie and what was on those tapes. Maybe I’ve been too hard on him.”

Ginger sat down on the sofa and put her feet on the coffee table, settling in for the duration of the call. “In what way?”

“Men were different back then. They weren’t expected to know anything about raising kids, and most women wouldn’t put up with having them try. Nowadays you think nothing of seeing a man in a grocery store pushing a cart with a child in it. Back then everyone would have stopped and stared. It could be that Jessie didn’t give you up because he didn’t care, but because he didn’t know how to take care of you.”

It was as close to a speech as Ginger had ever heard her mother make. “What brought this on?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s that I don’t feel as threatened as I did six months ago.” Delores paused, but it was obvious she had more to say. “I know it sounds corny, but a heart has room to love a lot of people. What I’m trying to say is, it’s all right with me and your father if you love Jessie, too.”

She thought she did, at least a little, but it was nothing like the love she had for the man and woman who had raised her. “You’re always surprising me.”

“That’s nice to hear. I’d hate to be old and predictable.”

“You’re never predictable.”

Delores laughed. “Just old, huh? I’ll have you know your father signed us up for six weeks of ballroom dancing.”

“Dad did that?”

“Just yesterday. He was at his investing seminar and saw a notice on the bulletin board.”

“Investing seminar?” she repeated, fearing what was coming. Every dime her parents had managed to put away had been spent on college tuition for her and her brother Billy. They didn’t have any money to invest. “Is Dad studying to become my financial adviser?” she joked halfheartedly.

“He just wants to make sure you don’t get taken.”

“Tell him to study hard. I’m going to need all the advice he can give me.” It wouldn’t be her investments he would have to keep an eye on, but his own. She knew it wouldn’t be easy to get them to take any of the money, which was why she was waiting until she actually had it before she said anything. But like it or not, her parents were only months away from becoming millionaires.

Delores laughed. “He’s going to like hearing that.”

“Maybe this will convince him he needs a computer.” Ginger got up and went to the window to look outside again, checking the progress of the sun. She liked to time her run to get back before it was completely dark and she had to walk home looking over her shoulder. She started to turn away when a movement caught her eye. It was a car coming into the complex. A Mercedes. Red. She didn’t have to see the personalized plate to know who was behind the wheel.

“Mom, I’m sorry, but if I don’t get out of here I won’t get back from the track before dark.”

“Just think about what I said about Jessie.”

“I will. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Ginger hung up, tossed the phone on the sofa, and stood to the side of the window so Marc wouldn’t see her. He got out of the car and reached into the backseat, withdrawing an enormous bouquet of white roses.

He’d come to the condo twice since the night she broke up with him, called her at home daily, and sent flowers to her office six times. So far she’d avoided talking to him, hoping he would simply give up. Plainly he had more stamina than she did.

She met him at the door. “What are you doing here?”

“Just give me five minutes. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

The condo manager waved from the mailbox stanchion. Ginger smiled. She either let Marc in or became fodder for gossip. “All right. But just five minutes.”

He came in and tried to hand her the roses. She refused to take them. “They’re your favorite,” he said.

“Not anymore.”

“Kind of petty, don’t you think?”

“Get on with it, Marc. You don’t have much time.”

“I’ve left Judy.”

Shit
. It was the last thing she wanted. “Why?”

“You made me realize what a fool I’ve been. No matter how hard I tried, there was no way I could make everyone happy. I finally saw that I had to make a choice, and the choice I made was you.”

“You forgot one thing. I didn’t choose you.”

“But now that I’m free—”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“How can you say that? You love me. I love you.”

Did she love him? Was what she’d felt really love, the same kind of love that had seen her parents through forty-five years of marriage? Or was Marc an addiction fed by her fear of growing old alone? “Whatever I felt for you, it’s over.”

“Is it the money?”

At first she didn’t understand. And then it all made sense. He was trading Judy and his children for her inheritance. Somehow he’d discovered how much money Jessie had left her.

“Because if it is,” he added, “I’m willing to sign a prenup. I know Jessie Reed left you a lot more money than you admitted. He had to. I don’t understand why you lied to me, but I know you must have had what you thought was a good reason. We can work this out, Ginger.”

She stared at him, speechless. If there had been one small corner of her heart where she still harbored love for him, one part of her mind where she wondered if she’d made a mistake, one corner of pride that wanted to convince her she really wasn’t the world’s most poorly paid prostitute, it was gone. “Go back to your wife.”

“I can’t. I told her about us. I wanted to show that I was ready to commit, and it was the only way I knew to convince you. I had no right to ask you to wait as long as you have. I’m ashamed to admit that I thought you’d always be here for me, that it didn’t matter how long it took me to come to my senses.” Again he tried to hand her the roses. “Give me a chance and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

She folded her arms across her chest. She couldn’t stop thinking about Rachel and Jeff and how Rachel must have felt when she found out about Jeff’s affair. “Don’t you care that you broke Judy’s heart? What could she possibly have done to deserve what you’ve done to her—what I’ve done to her?”

“You know that as well as I do. She’s a leech. She’s sucked me dry for years with her neediness. I can’t take it anymore. Not even for the kids. If it weren’t for you, I would have left a long time ago.”

“Wait a minute.” In her mind’s eye she saw him with his arm around Judy, smiling, kissing her. “Are you admitting you went back to Judy because you knew you could have me on the side?”

“You’re twisting my words.”

“Then straighten them out.”

“I went back because of the kids. You knew that. You even agreed they had to come first.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Why aren’t they first anymore?”

“I lost you.”

“So now I’m first?”

“You always were.” He took her hand. “It took this to make me see it. I can’t face a future without you.”

She pulled free. “You’re full of shit.”

In a flash of anger he tore the green tissue from around the roses and reached inside, digging through the stems until he found a small, velvet box. He held it out to her. “I wanted this to be special—the whole nine yards. I was even going to get down on my knees to give this to you. I have a reservation at LaHarve’s—and you know how hard it is to get that, especially on short notice. The best champagne.
Whipping cream
.”

She stared at the box, knowing what was inside, thinking of all the times she’d dreamed of this moment. She was tempted to look, to see what he believed it would take to impress her. A carat? Two? Three would border on ostentatious but wasn’t out of the question. She could tell him she would take it but only as a gift, not an engagement ring. Then she could donate it to the SPCA auction.

She pushed his hand away. “I’m not interested.”

“You don’t even want to see it?”

“Nope.”

He either didn’t believe her or thought she would fold once she caught sight of the ring. He opened the box and shoved it at her. “It’s the largest stone available on the West Coast.”

It looked like a faceted golf ball. “My God, I can’t believe you actually thought I would wear something like that. Go home, Marc.”

“I am home.” He took the ring out of the box and held it up for her to get a better look.

“You’re making this too easy.” She bent to retrieve the flowers, then handed them to him. With his hands full, she took his arm and shoved him out the door. Super-heated air surrounded them, a cloying embrace that quickly turned suffocating. “Good-bye, Marc.”

“I’ll give you a couple of days to think about it.”

“I’m not going to change my mind.”

He stopped on the first step and turned to look at her. “You still love me, Ginger. I can feel it.”

“If I do, I’ll get over it.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Give it up, Marc. It’s not going to happen. Take the ring back to where you bought it and see if they’ll—”

He tossed the roses onto the sidewalk, grabbed her, and kissed her, grinding his mouth hard against hers, his tongue demanding what she refused to give. “Remember that when you’re all alone in bed tonight.”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m good at being alone. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

It was his last card. The game was over. Still, he couldn’t simply walk away. “You know my number.”

She’d put on a good show, let him see exactly what she wanted him to see, done everything she could to convince him she didn’t care anymore. And he’d believed her because he’d measured her feelings with the ruler he used for his own. He would only look back with regret when he thought about her money. She would be easy to forget—and to replace.

Abandoning the idea of running that night, Ginger went inside and poured herself a large snifter of Grand Marnier, then put on a Bonnie Tyler CD and skipped to the song “Holding Out for a Hero.”

Never again would she settle for anything less.

Chapter Forty
Elizabeth

Rachel raised her glass of iced tea. “Here’s to the third installment of Jessie’s Girls.”

“What did you call it?” Christina asked, looking up from some papers Lucy had dropped off with the usual envelope of tapes.

“Jessie’s Girls.”

“I like it,” said Ginger, raising her glass in return.

Elizabeth didn’t—not only wasn’t she a “girl,” she didn’t like being claimed by Jessie even if he was gone. But she went along. She touched her glass to the others and tried to catch a glimpse of what Christina was reading. Christina caught her.

“It’s a preliminary injunction,” she announced.

“You found your movie,” Ginger squealed. “Congratulations.”

“Tell,” Rachel said. “We want details.”

“I knew he would enter it in a festival. An unknown needs the buzz that comes from winning festivals to get a distributor interested. He probably figured Grants Pass was safe because it’s small.”

“If you can prove the film is half yours,” Rachel said, “what difference does it make whether you catch him now or later?”

“The more successful a film becomes the more people show up claiming they were cheated out of a part of it. If I let Randy make all the decisions about which festivals to enter and who to sign distribution deals with, that gives him priority and makes it look as if he has a bigger claim. Besides, I might not like the deals he wants to make.”

“And the injunction will keep him from doing that?” Rachel asked.

“Which is why I want to serve him as soon as I can find him.”

“You’re not thinking about doing it yourself?” Ginger said.

“She’s not,” Elizabeth said. “I’m going with her.” Ginger and Rachel whipped around to look at her.

“No way,” Ginger said.

Christina made a long-suffering face. “Lucy wouldn’t take me as a client unless I promised I wouldn’t go alone.”

“And you picked
Elizabeth
?” Rachel said, incredulous. “Sorry, Elizabeth, no offense, but you don’t look the martial arts type. If it were me, I’d be looking into hiring a couple of those washboard-ab guys at the gym.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Christina said. “When I serve him it’s going to be in a public place with plenty of witnesses.”

“And I’m taking a can of pepper spray just in case,” Elizabeth added.

“You’re what?” Christina said.

“It was the only way I could talk Sam into letting me go.”

Rachel tipped her glass to them. “So, when is the big day?”

“October fifteenth.”

“Aren’t we supposed to meet on the seventeenth?”

Christina stood to clear the table. “We’ll be back in plenty of time.”

“Anyone else have any news?” Ginger asked. “I’m thinking about moving back to Kansas City when this thing with Jessie is over. Or maybe Denver.”

“Why Denver?” Christina asked.

“It’s where I grew up.”

“I’ve lived in California all my life,” Elizabeth said. “I can’t imagine being anywhere else. I love it here.”

“You’ve been here forty-eight years?” Christina said.

“Forty-nine actually. I had a birthday last month.”

“Happy birthday,” Ginger said. “We’ll remember next year and do something special.” They all stared at her as if she’d planted a flag in the middle of the table and laid claim to it and the surrounding chairs. “What?”

Christina was the first to say something. “You’re not even going to be here—and you’re assuming we’re still speaking to each other a year from now.”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“Why
would
we?” she shot back.

Ginger put a perfectly manicured hand to her throat and looked at Elizabeth and Rachel. “Do you feel that way, too?” When neither answered, Ginger pushed her chair back and stood. “Guess I went off on one of my Pollyanna trips again. Maybe we should get to the tapes so we can get out of here.”

She’d been rejected and her feelings were hurt—the last thing Elizabeth expected from someone like Ginger. “I think it would be nice if we stayed in touch,” Elizabeth gave her.

“Me, too,” Rachel added. “I just didn’t think any of the rest of you felt that way.”

“Don’t look at me,” Christina said.

She’s not as tough as she pretends
. The realization came to Elizabeth the same way she innately understood Christina’s need to hold everyone at arm’s length. Rachel and Ginger were insulated from the kind of abandonment she and Christina felt. Jessie had never known them. They hadn’t been tested and found lacking. Elizabeth only had to look at Christina to see what she would have been without Sam.

“Sorry,” Elizabeth said to Christina, “but if we want to send you birthday and Christmas presents and drop by for unexpected visits at your Beverly Hills mansion, we’re going to. And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

“You go, girl,” Ginger said raising her hand for a high-five.

Christina smiled in spite of herself. “Try, and I’ll have you arrested.”

“Like that’s going to happen,” Ginger shot back. “I can see the headlines now. Big Hollywood producer has sisters arrested for attempting to visit.”

“
Prominent
Hollywood producer,” Christina corrected.

Rachel added her plate to those Christina had gathered. “I hate to be pushy about this, but could we get to the tapes now? I’d like to be back before five.”

“She has a date,” Ginger said. Rachel sent her a silencing look. Ginger ignored her. “With Jeff. It’s the third one. Isn’t that great? And I get to watch the kids.”

“I’ve tried to imagine what I would do if I found out Sam had cheated on me,” Elizabeth said. “It seems obvious in the abstract. I hope you can work it out, if that’s what you want.”

“Six months ago I was convinced it wasn’t possible. Now I’m not so sure.”

Rhona came in from the kitchen. “Leave that. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

“Lunch was incredible,” Elizabeth told her.

“I normally don’t like salmon,” Rachel said, “but that was amazing.”

“Your father liked simple things prepared in interesting ways,” Rhona said.

“If you’re ever looking for a job,” Rachel said, “let—”

“I’m going to buy a flower shop as soon as you don’t need me anymore. Jessie knew it was a dream of mine, and he left me the means to make it come true.”

Elizabeth was incredulous. “You’ve stayed here all this time because of us?”

“No, ma’am,” she said gently. “I stayed here for your father.” She shooed them out of the kitchen. “Go listen to him some more. You need to hear why he was so beloved by all of us who knew him.”

Jessie’s Story

Denise tied Lizzy to her apron string with a knot I was never allowed to mess with. As far as she was concerned, she’d given me a son. Frank was mine, Lizzy was hers. She fed me and Frank in the morning and saw us off. The rest of the day was hers and Lizzy’s. Most days I dropped him off at school, did what needed doing at the office, and picked him up in the afternoon. He spent the rest of the day with me doing his homework at a desk I had set up behind mine or bouncing around in the truck when I had things to do or people to see.

Then when Lizzy was four Denise hit a telephone pole with the Oldsmobile I’d given her for her birthday and wound up in the hospital for two months. Lizzy had been asleep in the backseat and came through without a scratch, but she had a real hard time adjusting to being with me every day. She wouldn’t say, but I think she was afraid of me. Then one evening her loneliness overcame her fear and she crawled into my lap, staying there until bedtime. Just like that, we were friends.

It didn’t take long to learn she had a stubborn streak longer and wider than the Central Valley we lived in. Her stubbornness was a pain in the butt when it came to getting her in a dress she didn’t want to wear and a blessing when Denise came home and wanted to take up where they’d left off. Lizzy wouldn’t have it. She’d made her way to the outside of the bubble her mother had put her in, and she liked what she saw. Denise never forgave me. As soon as she was well enough to travel, she left for Texas and took Lizzy with her. They stayed the summer and half the fall.

I found out later that while she was back there she ran into the boy she’d been seeing while I was off fighting the war. I don’t know that it was anything more than friends getting together, but she was different when she came back.

Me and Frank met them at the train station. He was about to turn ten and had taken off growing while they were gone. Instead of fitting under my arm, he was shoulder high and anxious to show off. Denise was so caught up in making sure her luggage made it off the train, she never noticed how he’d changed. I think it was the last real chance he gave her. After that she could have gone to every one of his basketball games or gone out of her way to understand and accommodate his passion for fishing and it wouldn’t have made any difference.

I was sure Lizzy would come home with the bricks put back in the wall Denise had built between us. But she came running at me, never doubting my arms would be open wide, knowing without being told that I’d missed her as much as she’d missed me.

It might have worked out with Denise and me if I hadn’t bought that land down in Anaheim back when the money from the wells started coming in. I still believed in land over banks for my money, and I’d heard a rumor that Walt Disney was thinking about building an amusement park. I looked at places I thought it could go, places I could get to first. Just like dumb luck, sometimes you’re the windshield, sometimes you’re the bug. This time I was driving the car, not outside flying around.

I walked away from the deal with too much money to keep locked up or put into land. Or at least that’s what I told myself. Maybe if I’d stopped to think about what I was doing I might have realized where it could lead me, but I doubt it. I was years away from being that self-aware. Some men work to have money and some see money as the barometer of their success. For me it was a game where playing and winning were more important than the prize. I didn’t so much care what the final numbers were when I sold the land, only that the amount was proof I’d guessed right.

I was looking for the next game when I met Joe and Charles McKinney. They were movie producers with talent and connections but no backing. There’s an expression in the wine industry—the way to make a small fortune is to start with a big one. It’s the same in the movie business. I was starstruck and having too much fun to care about the bottom line. Like a gambler convinced that all it would take to get back in the game was one more hand, I watched movie after movie struggle to move into the black, believing the next one would be the runaway hit and make back everything I’d lost and then some. A good part of my life has been spent wondering how I could be so right about some things and so wrong about others.

Denise disliked Bakersfield, but she hated Los Angeles and refused to join me there. I spent more and more time away, and when I was home it seemed she was either yelling at me over something that didn’t matter any more than who was running for Congress, or not speaking at all. Finally Denise gave me an ultimatum—stay home or stay away. I came home every weekend for the next year—until Denise told me she’d found someone else and wanted a divorce.

I looked at her and tried to remember a time when she’d looked back at me with love instead of hatred. “Is it because you think I’ve been unfaithful?”

“I don’t think, Jessie. I know.”

“You’re wrong.” I knew she hadn’t believed me when I told her I came home alone from the parties I went to in L.A., and maybe it would have made a difference if I’d cared enough to try harder to convince her. Instead I let her suffer in her belief because she did it with such enthusiasm.

“I have pictures of you with that singer.”

“She’s a friend. And she’s half my age.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t care anymore. I found someone who makes me happy. After putting up with you all these years, I deserve some happiness.”

“What about Frank and Lizzy?”

For the first time she seemed unsure of herself. “What about them?”

“Frank’s old enough now that he could live with me. And Lizzy could—”

“The lawyer told me you would try something like this.”

“You talked to a lawyer?”

“He said there’s no way a judge would give you custody.”

“How long have you been planning to leave me?”

“Since I came back from Texas,” she admitted.

“Why did you come back at all?”

“My father made me.”

What could I say after that? I took Frank and Lizzy to dinner, then dropped them back at the house and headed to Los Angeles.

Against the advice of the lawyer I hired, I gave Denise the oil rights and most of the cash I had in my personal accounts. In exchange she agreed to let me see Frank and Lizzy one weekend a month and three weeks in the summer—no holidays or birthdays.

Frank was sixteen, old enough to bridge the twenty-eight days between visits with phone calls. Lizzy was twelve and carrying a burden her brother didn’t have—her mother. Denise fought with Frank and filled Lizzy’s head with real and perceived injustices, all involving me. I saw that I was losing her, more with every visit, but didn’t know how to keep it from happening without filling her head with my own form of poison. I decided I’d rather lose her than do that.

I needed something to distract me, something to keep me from hating Denise for doing what she was doing. I was ready for anything when Joe and Charlie stumbled across a project floundering for lack of financing—bestselling book, compelling script, Academy Award–winning director, A-list stars already signed on. If ever there was a movie guaranteed to do big box office, this was it.

It wasn’t our normal kind of project. For the most part we were B-list producers with a couple of pictures the critics loved that were financial failures. We were ready for something big.