Things I Want to Say (15 page)

I didn’t know what opportunities for fun were available in St. George. I could return to the outlet mall, but with Cocoa in tow I wouldn’t be able to do much shopping. I saw a sign for Historic Downtown and decided to check it out, though it meant driving the moving truck, not exactly a convenient method of transportation.

Thankfully I was able to find parking in a lot two blocks off the main street, and Cocoa and I set out walking. We amused ourselves window-shopping the boutiques and antiques shops in the restored downtown area.

The sign on a café caught my eye and I had to stop. The Two Sisters was set back from the street a little, with a wrought-iron fence enclosing a patio area with tables for outdoor dining. I studied the menu that was posted on a marquee by the gate.

“We don’t allow dogs inside, but you’re welcome to sit out here on the patio.” A pretty teenage girl looked up from laying out silverware on one of the tables.

It was barely past eleven, but I was hungry, so I opened the gate and led Cocoa to a table in a corner. “What can I get you to drink?” the waitress asked.

“Iced tea would be nice,” I said.

“I’ll be right back with a menu.”

As the waitress was entering the restaurant, a striking older woman, her gray hair in a neat chignon, stepped out. “Are you the bride?” she asked.

I looked around, but no one else had arrived. “The bride?” I asked.

The woman shook her head. “I take it you’re not. We do catering, too, and I’m expecting a bride this morning to go over the menu for her reception.” She checked her watch. “She’s already ten minutes late.”

“No, I’m not her.” I resisted the urge to apologize, though the woman had the kind of schoolteacher demeanor that always made me feel I was guilty of
something.

“I wondered about the dog, but I did do one wedding where the matron of honor was a golden retriever and the best man was a German shepherd,” she said. “I had to make special dinners for both of them.”

“I did flowers once for a wedding where the bride and groom were Lhasa apsos,” I said. “I’m a florist near L.A.”

“Oh, L.A.” She shook her head. “Doesn’t surprise me a bit.”

The gate squeaked and I turned to see another woman coming up the walk. She was older than I was, but younger than the gray-haired woman. Turned out she wasn’t the bride, either.

“Did you remember to call Mr. Anderson about the problem with the drains?” the older woman demanded. “And I hope you didn’t let him put you off until next week. He needs to see to it today.”

“I spoke to him and he’s going to take care of it,” the
younger woman said placidly. She straightened a vase of flowers on one of the tables, a half smile on her lips.

“Did you get those forms we needed from the tax office?” The older woman followed the younger one to another table. “And did you talk to Anthony about working the Wuensche family reunion next weekend?”

“It’s all taken care of. Don’t worry.”

They both went inside as the waitress emerged with my glass of tea, a bowl of water and a menu. “I thought your dog might like a drink, too,” she said, setting the bowl in front of Cocoa, who wagged her tail and began lapping at the water.

“I take it those are the two sisters,” I said, nodding toward the entrance to the restaurant.

“Yes. That’s Karen and Kelly.”

“Have they had this place long?”

“Twenty years, can you believe it?” The waitress grinned. “I could never be in business with my sister. She’s too bossy.”

“Older sisters tend to be that way,” I said.

She left me to study the menu and I thought about sisters. At one time, Frannie had tried to talk me into going to beauty school and joining her at her salon. I’d hated the idea of doing hair and nails for a living and had told her so.

I wondered now if I should have stood up to Frannie more often. It had been easier to go along with most of her ideas, but I wasn’t sure I’d done either of us any favors by being so acquiescent.

The sisters came out of the restaurant again. The older was carrying a pitcher of ice water, the younger a stack of trays, which they carried to a serving station in the opposite corner. “I think you should wear the blue pantsuit to the Chamber dinner,” the older sister was saying.

“That’s your favorite, isn’t it?” the younger sister replied. “Maybe I will wear it.”

I winced at words that sounded too familiar to me. Was this how Frannie and I appeared to outsiders? Silently I rooted for the younger sister to tell her older sibling to back off, that she was capable of choosing her own clothes.

The waitress emerged again. “Mom, we’re almost out of Asiago cheese,” she said.

The younger sister smiled at the girl. “There’s a delivery this afternoon, but thanks for letting me know.”

I could see the resemblance between the teenager and the younger sister now. They both had honey-blond hair and dimples when they smiled.

The waitress was still smiling when she approached my table. “Have you decided what you’d like?”

“I’ll have the Greek sandwich,” I said, handing her the menu.

“Great. It’ll be right out.”

When she was gone, I returned my attention to the women, who were bickering over the arrangement of tables. The gate squeaked again and a good-looking man entered. He was dressed in jeans and a pale pink shirt that stretched across broad shoulders, a touch of gray at his temples. He walked over and kissed the younger woman on the cheek. “Hello, beautiful,” he said. “Wanna buy me lunch?”

The younger sister’s eyes sparkled. “Play your cards right and you can have dessert, too.”

The gate announced yet another arrival. A dark-haired young woman and a harried-looking older one bustled in. “I’m so sorry we’re late,” the older woman said. “We had a fitting at the bridal shop and it took forever.”

“That’s quite all right. Why don’t you come inside.” The older sister led them away. The younger sister and her husband followed, their arms around each other. He stopped in the doorway to greet the waitress, who hurried over with my sandwich.

I smiled to myself, remembering the cozy domestic scene.
Maybe I was wrong about the younger sister. Maybe she didn’t feel the need to argue with her older sibling because she was aware of all her blessings, and didn’t begrudge her sister the illusion of control.

After all, it was just an illusion. No one else can really control your life unless you let them.

Though she still looked pale, the next morning Alice said she was feeling well enough to head for Vegas. We arrived that afternoon and I felt like Alice in Wonderland. Anyplace where the predominant decorating theme is rhinestones and neon and nobody thinks twice about seeing Elvis walk by is not the real world.

“It’s Disney for grown-ups,” Alice said as I followed her through the lobby of the Venetian Hotel, where we’d splurged and booked a room. Cocoa was tucked into an oversize tote bag slung over my shoulder. I could feel her shifting around in there, but she was being quiet. For all I knew, this fancy place allowed dogs, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

The Venetian Hotel was more opulent and definitely cleaner than the real Venice had ever been. From the elaborately frescoed ceiling to the canal winding through the adjacent shopping center and the musicians strolling through the lobby, I felt as if I’d stumbled into an over-the-top Italian restaurant. Just looking at the plastered columns made me hungry for cannoli.

Of course, there was more to the hotel than frescoes and canals. Even at registration I could hear the bells and whistles of the casino, which a brochure boasted was 120 thousand square feet, with twenty-five hundred slot machines.

“What should we do first?” I asked when we were settled
in our room. Cocoa had curled up at the end of my bed and promptly gone to sleep, unimpressed by the grandeur of her surroundings.

Alice grinned. “I feel like a drink. Something fancy, with an umbrella and fruit in it.”

Ten minutes later, mai tais in hand, we stood in the lobby again, looking around.

“Travis and I were married here, did I tell you?” Alice said. “Not in this hotel, of course, but in Vegas.”

“No.” I wondered what had prompted her to mention this now.

“We wanted a quickie wedding and Vegas seemed the right place.”

“A lot different from your Amish honeymoon,” I said, staring up at the elaborate fresco overhead.

She nodded. “Vegas was loud and flashy and exciting. We drank and gambled and generally had a good time, but I think what we were really trying to do was run away from our own guilt.”

She glanced at me. “I thought I’d succeeded for a while, but it never really left, and it tainted our relationship.”

“Because you felt bad about leaving Bobby?”

She nodded. “I loved Travis, but it wasn’t enough. Who would have thought guilt would be more powerful than love?”

Right. Who would?
I took a big drink. “Let’s not think about that now,” I said. “We’re here to have fun.”

“Yes, we are.” She was smiling again, even if the expression was a little forced. “Let’s check out the slot machines.”

For the next two hours we flitted from one machine to the next, trying our luck. I favored the ones that were more like video games, with bonus rounds and lots of action to keep things interesting even when I wasn’t winning much.

Alice was a more serious gambler, lingering at traditional
one-line machines, feeding them quarters and yanking down the handle with robotic precision.

After a while the allure of the machines faded and we headed for the ticket office to try to score seats to a show that night. We quickly learned we’d waited too late, so we settled for tickets for the next night.

We went upstairs to check on Cocoa and sneaked her out a side door to an alley for a potty break. When she was settled once more, I turned to Alice. “What now?” I asked.

“Dinner. One thing about Vegas—you can eat cheap.”

We ended up at a crowded buffet. Alice’s choice, not mine, but I didn’t bother arguing. When I was overweight, buffets were heaven. Everyone expects you to pile your plate full at a buffet, so I never felt self-conscious about the amount I ate. Just remembering those days was enough to help me keep my portions small now.

Alice didn’t take much advantage of the bounty, either. No wonder she was so skinny. I hadn’t seen her eat a complete meal yet.

We found a table next to a family with two children—a boy and a girl I guessed were around eight and six. The whole family was dressed in shorts and T-shirts, with wheat-blond hair and blue eyes. They could have stepped right out of a brochure that advertised Vegas as the perfect family vacation destination.

I was about to say this to Alice when I noticed her staring at the family, a troubled expression on her face. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Do you know them?”

She shook her head and turned her attention back to her plate, but I noticed her gaze kept straying to the table whenever she thought I wasn’t looking.

I ate my sugar-free gelatin and tried not to take Alice’s sudden glumness personally. This wasn’t exactly the glamorous, high-rolling trip to Vegas I’d fantasized about. Where
were the champagne, the gambling winnings and handsome men in tuxedos?

I was probably just tired. I was about to suggest we turn in early when Alice shoved her plate aside and stood. “Let’s get out of here. We’re in Vegas, dammit. We should see the sights!”

After the air-conditioned chill of the hotel, the Vegas night felt soft and warm around us. The liquid colors of blue, gold, orange and green neon spilled onto the street and sidewalk and crowds jostled for position like spectators at a Mardi Gras parade.

“Where is everyone going?” I asked as we were pushed along with the throng.

“Let’s find out,” Alice said.

We found ourselves in front of the Treasure Island Hotel and Casino, pressed against what appeared to be a huge lagoon. “Look!” Alice pointed toward a full-size ship sailing toward us. “Pirates!”

For the next quarter hour we watched, mesmerized, as pirates battled a group of seductive sirens. With music, sword-play and acrobatics, the show had something for everyone.

From Treasure Island, we followed the crowd to the Mirage, where a volcano erupted in a spectacular display of color, light and noise. Definitely the thing to wake me up.

“I’m glad you suggested we get out of the hotel,” I told Alice. “I wouldn’t have wanted to miss all this.”

“Hmm.” She looked up and down the street, distracted.

“Let’s walk down this way,” she said, and headed off at a fast clip.

I rushed to keep up with her. We headed north up the Strip, away from the newer resorts toward old downtown Vegas. Alice walked quickly, cutting through the crowd, never pausing to look left or right. “Where are we going?” I asked, a little breathless.

“There’s someplace I want to see.”

The crowd was thinner at this end of the Strip. We passed fewer families and obvious tourists and more less-prosperous-looking individuals. I noticed more dark corners and shady alleys and began to feel nervous. “Maybe we should turn around,” I said. “I don’t feel safe down here.”

“Don’t worry.” She patted her purse. “I have my gun.”

I didn’t find this as reassuring as she probably intended. I clutched my own purse tightly to my side and kept an eye out for anyone who seemed suspicious. Unfortunately I’d spooked myself enough that everyone looked suspicious, from a waiter taking a smoke break in an alley to a man in a dark suit who was hailing a cab.

Alice slowed as we neared the starlit exterior of the Riviera. She stared up at the sparkling facade. “This is where Travis and I spent our honeymoon,” she said.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. I was beginning to realize that an important part of this whole journey for Alice was revisiting significant places from her past.

We stepped into the lobby. Less opulent than some of the newer super-resorts, the Riviera had a retro feel. It was easy to imagine sixties movie stars and high rollers emerging from the elevators or congregating in the bar.

I glanced at Alice. She was looking around, but I had a feeling she wasn’t seeing the Riviera today, but rather the hotel of her younger days. “Has it changed much?” I asked.

“Some.” She ran her hand along the back of a sofa. “I’d never been to Vegas before then, so everything was impossibly glamorous. Not to mention all I wanted to do when we were here was get Travis upstairs and take our clothes off.”

“He was that hot, huh?”

“Almost
too
hot.” She walked over to a display of photos of past famous guests and studied it. “I think part of our problem was that the whole relationship was based on sex. We couldn’t get enough of each other in the beginning. When
that stage passed…” Her voice trailed off and her expression grew distant again.

She turned away from the photos and started across the lobby again. “I need another drink,” she said. “Let’s go to the bar.”

“Not here.” I grabbed her arm and held on. “Let’s go back to the Venetian.” She’d been drinking all afternoon, taking advantage of the free cocktails the waitresses brought to gamblers. Though she was still steady on her feet, if the liquor really hit her I wanted her close to the room.

“I don’t want to walk all the way down the Strip just to get a damn drink,” she said, trying to break free of my grip.

I wouldn’t let go. “We can take a taxi. Then we won’t have as far to go
after
we drink.”

She saw the sense in this and nodded. “Okay.”

We hailed a taxi and climbed in, and ten minutes later were back in the lobby bar at the Venetian. I ordered a Diet Coke, while Alice asked for a dirty martini.

She drained the first drink with alarming speed and ordered another. I wanted to tell her to take it easy, but was reluctant to start a fight.

When the waitress brought the second drink, Alice took a big swallow. “It’s not that I like them so much,” she said when she noticed me staring at her. “It’s just so much fun to order.” She giggled a little. That’s when I knew for sure she was drunk.

“After this drink, why don’t we go back up to the room and relax,” I said as I followed Alice to a table in a dim corner of the bar. I really was exhausted and figured she was, too.

“Why would you want to do that?” she said, her tone belligerent. “This is Vegas. Party city. No one goes to bed early here.”

“I guess I’m just not much of a party person,” I said. “All the noise and lights and…and the artificialness…are getting to me.”

“Don’t be silly. The night is young.” She took a sip of her drink, then her face crumpled. “The night is young, but I’m not anymore.”

Then she started to cry.

I stared at her, unsure what to do. I leaned toward her, my voice low. “Alice, honey, please don’t cry.” I took her hands in mine and squeezed them. I hated to see her in such distress. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Maybe I can help.”

She shook her head. “No one can help me. I screwed up my life and it’s too late now.” A new wave of sobs overtook her. “I never should have left Bobby.”

“Oh, honey.” I squeezed her hands again. “Does he know you’re still in love with him? Maybe if you told him—”

“No! I told you I don’t care about him anymore.”

I drew back. “I remember you said that. And that you were going back to California to ask his forgiveness. Maybe once you’ve done that you can let this go.”

“Not
his
forgiveness.” She shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with a cocktail napkin, smearing her mascara.

“Then whose?” I asked, puzzled.

She choked back another sob. “I need to ask my
children
to forgive me.” She buried her face in her hands and rocked back and forth in her chair. “I don’t see how they ever can.”

I stared at her, my stomach heaving. “Children?” Alice had never mentioned children before now. “I…I didn’t know.”

“I don’t have the right to call them my children. I gave that up when I walked out on them to go with Travis.” She shook her head, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “Can you believe a mother could be so cold? I abandoned my babies to chase after some man.”

I stared at her and tried hard to regain my equilibrium. “How old were they?” I whispered.

“Tina—Bettina—was eight. Clark was six.” She sniffed. “I haven’t spoken to them in almost ten years.”

“Why not? Why didn’t you call?” I took a deep breath, fighting a surge of anger.

“I was too ashamed. I know they hate me. I don’t blame them. I hate myself.” She buried her head in her arms on the table and cried.

I stared at her, torn between sympathy and disgust. How could Alice do such a thing?

Then I thought of things I’d done that were wrong, mistakes I’d made and words I’d said that I wished I could take back. I reached over and patted Alice’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” I said.

“It’s not okay.”

“No, what you did wasn’t okay, but it’s done. You can’t change it now. All you can do is go back and tell them how sorry you are and work on building a relationship with them. It’s not too late for that.”

She raised her head and stared at me, hope grappling with despair in her eyes. “How do you know that?”

“I don’t. Not really. But I know you’re a good person at heart. You could be a good friend to your children.”

“How can you say that after I’ve told you what I’ve done?”

“We’ve all done bad things,” I said. “The hardest part isn’t asking others to forgive us. It’s learning to forgive ourselves.”

I got Alice up to bed, where she all but passed out, then I took Cocoa out again. I watched the little dog sniff around the trash cans in the alley. My earlier exhaustion had fled, leaving me too wired to sit still, but I didn’t want to return to the lights and noise of the casino.

I took out my cell phone and tried to call Martin, but was only able to reach his voice mail. I hung up without leaving a message. What would I say?
I’m lonely and depressed and I
need you to cheer me up?
I didn’t want him to know I was that needy.

I looked at the dog. “Want to go for a walk, Cocoa?” I asked.

She wagged her tail wildly at the familiar word and we set out in search of fresh air and some kind of peace, both rare commodities on the crowded streets of Sin City.

We walked down the sidewalk and I looked for some likely retreat. The neon-lit hotels were too bright and gaudy, the casinos too noisy. Everywhere I turned I saw people who were smiling too brightly and laughing too much, trying too hard to have a good time.