Too Far Under (16 page)

Elisa listened and then spoke quietly in what
I’ve come to know as her I’m-totally-serious-about-this voice.
“Cleo, I’m advising you again to back away from this. I know you
like to help people, and I know you believe Angelica needs you, but
take my word for it, Judith Demar is not an enemy you want to
make.”

“She’s full of herself and pushy, but I’m not
afraid of her,” I said dismissively.

“Listen Cleo, I have first-hand knowledge of
her nastiness.” Elisa said, grimacing. “A couple of years ago she
got pissed off at a couple of her graduate students who wanted to
be listed as co-authors on a paper she was writing that included
some of their research. I knew one of them pretty well from work we
were doing together at Democracy for Colorado. Anyway this student
told me that Judith planned to give them credit in a footnote, but
not to give them author credit. They asked to be co-authors, but
she refused, insisted all the original work was hers.”

Elisa leaned forward, the pitch of her voice
rising to incredulity. “I couldn’t believe it. They took their case
to the chair of the Sociology department, but Judith managed to
turn the whole thing around, and the students wound up getting
kicked out of the program. I tried to talk to the department chair
myself in their behalf, but he’d closed his mind against them. That
Judith is one powerful bitch.”

“I’d agree with that,” I said. “I’ve seen her
in action. She can be cruel and controlling. Thinks the world
revolves around her, and if you don’t agree, she’ll make your life
miserable. But, like I said, I’m not afraid of her. I can push as
hard as she can if I need to.”

Elisa refilled my glass and hers, then said,
“Let’s move this conversation out to the kitchen. We need to eat if
we’re going to keep guzzling this wine. Jack said we should go on
and eat and keep him some for later.” She stood up and went over to
the refrigerator where she began getting food out and tossing it on
the counter.

I followed her and sat on one of the high
stools at the center island. Her kitchen is sleek with granite
counters and stainless steel appliances, but also has warm touches
like custom cabinets with glass fronts and open shelving. Elisa
loves to cook and she does it with such ease that watching her is
like poetry. That night she was fixing a dish of spicy rice with
shrimp and peppers, and a spinach salad with oranges and
almonds.

As she chopped and sautéed the peppers, and I
peeled and separated the segments of the oranges, we talked more
about Judith. “You’d think she’d be a little more in the
background, since it’s been only a few months since Mirabel died,”
I said. “But she’s front and center, taking over the family, trying
to run their lives. Plus, her overall attitude to Lacey and
Angelica is just plain rude.”

“I think she’s marking her territory,” Elisa
said. “She plans to marry Derrick and she wants her claim to be
clear. So she’s asserting her authority as a substitute
parent.”

“I suppose Derrick’s an especially good catch
now that he’s inherited Mirabel’s money,” I said. “Although from
what Shane told me, a lot of her money will be going to the Church
of Scientology.” I dumped the pre-washed baby spinach leaves out of
their plastic bag into Elisa’s bamboo salad bowl and added the
orange segments.

“I know Mirabel was pretty deeply involved
with Scientology,” Elisa said as she dropped shrimp into oil
sizzling in a wok. She tossed the shrimp expertly, adding garlic
and spices as they browned. She continued talking as she cooked,
raising her voice a bit so I could hear over the spitting oil.
“After Kari died, Mirabel used to talk to me about how awful she
felt about missing the seriousness of Kari’s anorexia until it was
too late. But once she joined Scientology, she stopped talking
about Kari. When I brought her up once, she said Scientologists
aren’t supposed to talk about any of their problems to anyone
except their Scientology auditor. Good grief! Not only do people
who join that cult cut off their friends, but I’ve heard they pay
huge amounts of money to discuss their problems with the
auditors.”

“I guess she thought they were worth it,” I
said as I added nuts and dressing to the spinach and tossed the
salad. “Shane thought Derrick had convinced her to make a new will
that left the Scientologists out, but apparently no one can find a
new will so it looks like she chose the Scientologists over
him.”

Elisa stirred the sautéed peppers into the
spicy shrimp along with cooked rice, cilantro and chopped green
onions. We filled our plates with the shrimp dish and salad,
refilled our wine glasses and took it all over to a small table in
the family room overlooking the city below. Great view. Great food.
Great wine. I felt pampered and snug. So I took a risk and threw
out another tricky topic.

“Thinking of Scientology,” I said
tentatively, “you’ll never guess who I ran into the other day who
is now a Scientologist. Totally blew me away.”

“I don’t even have a hunch,” Elisa said. “So
spill it. Who?”

“Remember Brian—the guy I was involved with
about ten years ago, after Pablo took off for Mexico? Pablo and I
ran into him last weekend at Faye’s gallery. Turns out he’s been
back in Boulder for a year. He said he’d been planning to call me
to let me know he was back, but he hadn’t gotten around to doing
it. Anyway, according to Faye, he’s a Scientologist now.”

“Whoa, whoa! Hold on a minute.” Elisa put
down her fork and waved her hands in front of my face. “I remember
Brian. Short, stocky, dark-haired guy. Right? I always thought of
him as super stud. His default was set at schmooze. Hard to picture
him as a Scientologist, but I guess if it works for Tom Cruise, it
can work for Brian.”

“I agree that he came off as a stud. But no
false advertising there. He was great in bed. Just what I needed at
the time. Totally took my mind off Pablo. But if you remember,
Brian had a wandering eye that led him off to be great in beds all
over town. As I recall, you got good and sick of listening to me
complain about his bed-hopping before I finally broke it off with
him.”

Elisa laughed. “Right. I was cheering you on
to get rid of him. So where’s he been all these years?”

“California as far as I know. At least that’s
where he said he was going after we broke up. He’s a graphic
artist, so L.A. looked like the land of opportunity. Now he has his
own graphic design business here in Boulder. He gave me his card so
I could call him.”

“Are you going to?”

“I wasn’t, especially after Faye told me he’s
been trying to convert her to Scientology. But there’s more. He
knew Mirabel Townes. In fact, he came to the gallery to see
Angelica’s work. And later I found out from Angelica that a
Scientologist named Brain used to visit Mirabel at home. So I’m
thinking I might call him and get together to see if I can pump him
for some information about how she was getting along with the
Scientologists before she died.”

Before Elisa could start in telling me what a
mistake it would be to talk to Brian about Mirabel, we heard
Elisa’s husband Jack from the front hall. “Hi, I’m home,” he
yelled. “And whatever you’re eating smells amazing.” He headed out
to us, gave Elisa a big kiss, me a big hug, and went straight to
the kitchen to fill a plate with food.

Jack is a lanky, sandy-haired man, easy-going
and sociable. I love him like a brother. He and Elisa got married
in their early twenties and had their daughter, Maria, right away.
I met them through a friend who told me they were looking for a
part-time nanny. I was a twenty-three-year-old struggling artist,
so I applied and got the job. We’ve been like family ever since.
They’re both forty now and I’m thirty-seven, so it’s been a
while.

“Hey, Jack,” Elisa said. “Cleo’s been
spending some time with Mirabel Townes’ kids and she says a huge
chunk of Mirabel’s estate is going to the Scientologists. Have you
heard anything about that from Derrick?”

Jack brought his plate and a wine glass over
to our table, sat down and took a few bites. “Tastes as good as it
smells,” he said with a smile. “Sorry to be so late. Had some very
indecisive clients. Anyway, about Derrick. I haven’t seen him in a
while. But from what I hear, it’s no secret that his business has
had some big losses. His financial picture isn’t pretty. If he
doesn’t inherit most of Mirabel’s estate, he could be in
quicksand.” He went back to his food and Elisa jumped in.

“I agree. Derrick must be fit to be tied if
he’s not inheriting the majority of Mirabel’s money,” she said.
“From what I’ve heard, he’s always needed it, which is probably why
he never divorced her even though he’s been involved with Judith
for years.”

“But why didn’t she divorce him?” I asked.
“Didn’t she know about Judith?”

“I don’t know. She never said anything and I
never asked her. We mostly knew each other from political work and
because Kari and my Maria were such close friends. She didn’t talk
about Derrick. The message I got was that her marriage was off
limits and I respected that. But I figure she did know. It’s not
exactly a secret around town.”

“I wonder why she stayed with him.”

“She was a very loyal person. Steadfast.
Never gave up on a cause. They’d been married over twenty years.
She probably figured he’d come around eventually. And she was an
idealist. Her passion in recent years was for her community work,
political campaigns and environmental movements. I got the
impression her marriage was on a back burner.”

We talked a little more about the Townes
family but none of us had anything new to add and I was eager to
change the subject to escape more of Elisa’s warnings. So we kicked
back, shared some gossip, a few laughs, and more wine. After which,
I slept soundly in their guest room, without any dreams of the
Townes family.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast at
Elisa and Jack’s and a brief stop at my house to change clothes, I
drove over to Shady Terrace to visit Gramma. A week had gone by
since the announcement of the closing, and the nursing home was
bustling with family members—unusual for a Saturday morning. In the
parking lot I saw a couple loaded down with bulky bags and boxes
that they were stacking in their SUV. Looked like the moving-out
process had already started. So much for my desperate hope that
somehow the closing edict would be reversed.

As I entered Gramma’s unit, I noticed Tanya
the charge nurse coming out of Gramma’s room. The
multicolor-flower-patterned scrubs most of the nurses and aides
wear here don’t flatter her short wide figure, but her thick curly
hair and huge brown eyes transform her into a beauty.

She hailed me as I walked down the hall. “Oh,
Cleo, I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Martha is agitated this
morning. Keeps asking for your grandfather, James. This week, even
the confused residents know something’s up. Flora Gypsum refused to
get dressed this morning—you know how she usually likes to get
dolled up with jewelry, high heels and a hat. Right now she’s still
in her nightgown. And Peter Luth got so upset at breakfast, he
threw his coffee cup on the floor. When it smashed, coffee splashed
on Harriett Benesh and she threw a roll at him. It’s affecting them
all. They may not be able to talk about it, but they’re tuned into
the feeling of crisis.”

I felt tears well up at the thought of my
sweet Gramma being upset by cruel circumstances that she couldn’t
even understand, much less control. “It’s so unfair,” I said,
holding back the tears. “Moving will upset them even more. And who
knows where most of them will end up. It’s not easy to find good
places.”

Tanya shook her head in agreement. “Don’t I
know it. All of us on the staff need to find new jobs and it’s slim
pickins out there.”

Of course. The staff would be looking for new
places too. Maybe I could get some leads from Tanya. “Have you
found any places where you think you’d want to work?” I asked.
“Gramma likes you and it would be nice for her to be where you
go.”

“The only offer I’ve gotten so far is from
Easy Living Care Center,” she said. “I’d rather scrub floors than
work there.” She headed off to answer a call light.

I continued down the hall to Gramma’s room,
remembering my own bad impression when I visited Easy Living and
saw aides chatting with each other in the dining room when they
should have been helping residents. Nothing about this move was
going to be easy.

I took some deep breaths to calm myself.
Gramma’s sensitive to my moods and if she was already agitated, I
didn’t want to add to that. I found her in her bathroom trying to
brush her teeth with a cake of soap. “It’s too big for me,” she
complained, waving the soap in my face. “I need a different
one.”

I gently put my arms around her shoulders.
“I’ll get rid of that one for you,” I said, reaching around and
removing the soap from her hand. I gave her a kiss and a hug,
helped her brush her teeth with her actual toothbrush, and eased
her out of the bathroom into her bedroom. I pointed her toward the
comfortable overstuffed chair she usually favors, but she was too
jittery to sit. “Where’s James?” she asked, pacing restlessly
around her room. “He should be here by now.” She looked
worried.

I’ve long since given up telling her that
Grampa is dead. She doesn’t believe me and it’s not something I
want to argue with her about. So I make up reasons why he isn’t
there. Usually she accepts my excuses and quits asking for him. “He
had a lot of meetings today,” I said. “So I came to see you
instead. Would you like to walk down the hall and see the
fish?”

Watching the colorful tropical fish swim
around in the extra-large aquarium worked its usual calming magic
on Gramma, but didn’t do much for me. I couldn’t stop worrying
about finding a good place for her. I wondered if there’d be a fish
tank wherever she ended up.