Dreaming in Technicolor (40 page)

“Pheebs?” The voice on the other end was muffled.

“Who is this?”

“M-Mary Jo.” An indistinct sound, almost like a sob, escaped my friend.

“Mary Jo? What's wrong?! Are you all right?” I gripped the receiver. “Uh, physically, yes. But, I, um, can you come over? I really need to talk to someone.” More indistinct sounds muffled her words. “I-I'm really struggling with something, and I need your help. I don't know what to do.”

Mary Jo needing my help? That's a first. Maybe I'm more of a spiritual
giant than I think.

“I'll be right there.” I threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and sped off into the night.

Seven minutes later I knocked on her back door. “Mary Jo?”

She opened it, her head hanging, a wadded-up tissue clutched in her hand. I'd never seen her so down in the mouth. Actually, I couldn't even see her mouth, since most of her face was obscured by her curtain of hair.

“Mary Jo, have you been crying? What is it? What's wrong? Is it one of your horses? Your sister? Something with Ian?”

She shook her head and didn't answer, just turned her back to me and headed toward the living room.

I caught up to her and put my arm around her shaking shoulders. “Good idea,” I said in my most soothing tone. “You go and sit down. Just let me put the kettle on . . .”

Her shoulders shook even harder.

“Okay, never mind the kettle right now. We can do that later. Let's just get you into the other room where we can be comfy and talk.” I pushed open the door and steered her through.

A chorus of shouts assailed my eardrums. “Happy Birthday!”

My mouth dropped open at the sight of wall-to-wall people. I swiveled around to look at Mary Jo, whose head was no longer down and whose shoulders were shaking with laughter. She no longer needed the tissue to cover the grin she'd been hiding.

“An Beebee, An Beebee!” I felt a tugging on my jeans. Looking down, I saw Lexie sporting her Princess Di tiara and a dazzling smile. “Did we supwise you?”

I scooped her up in my arms and nuzzled her cheek. “You sure did, you little pumpkin. You really got me good.”

She clapped her hands in delight. “We got An Beebee good, Daddy, an I din spoil de supwise.”

Jordy relieved me of his daughter and gave her a big kiss. “That's my good girl.”

The rest of my family crowded round for hugs and birthday greetings.

It seemed like the whole town of Barley was in Mary Jo's living room.

Thank goodness I helped her rearrange the furniture.

“Happy birthday, Phoebe.” Norm Anderson, holding Betty Martin's hand, enveloped me in a crushing bear hug. “And thanks for that picture of Tiddles the cat. Sure brought back some fond memories.”

Betty giggled. “See, honey. I knew you liked cats.”

All the people I'd worked with on the Save the Bijou campaign were there, as well as Bruce and Sylvia Ann, who gave me a sparkly bag filled with shampoo and nail polish and a coupon for a free haircut. “You could use a little trim, honey,” Sylvia whispered.

Christy and Bob Sharp proudly presented me with a pair of Big Ben salt-and-pepper shakers, and everyone crowded around, munching on hors d'oeuvres and chattering.

I shook my head, unable to take it all in.

Mom came up to me and squeezed my waist. “Having a nice birthday, daughter?”

“I'll say. You guys really went to town. And it's not even a milestone one either. Not like the big three-oh or forty or anything.” I chuckled. “Actually, thirty-two seems like kind of a nebbish age to me.”

“Nebbish-schmebbish,” Gordon said, appearing at Mom's side. “There's nothing about you that will ever be nebbish, Phoebe.” His eyes sparkled as he squeezed my mother's shoulder. “I'd like to give you my present now. Okay?”

I nodded.

He reached down to pull off a silky cloth that was covering a bulky object on
Mary Jo's coffee table. Beneath the cloth stood a gleaming black, ancient Royal typewriter. “I thought you might like this,” he said. “It was Esther's when she first started working at the paper.” He shook his head in fond remembrance. “Even though we had electric typewriters by then, she preferred this old thing. Said it kept her from getting lazy.”

Esther, old girl, are you giving me a sign?

“I couldn't have asked for a better present, Gordon.” I hugged him tight. “Thank you so much.”

“I have a surprise for you too, daughter,” Mom said. “But you have to close your eyes. And no peeking!”

Dutifully, I shut my eyes. I heard a door opening and then sounds of rustling and whispering around me.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

Ashley and Elizabeth stood in front of me, grinning from ear to ear as they held up a big white sheet. “What?” I gave my mother a sideways look. “Is this turning into a toga party now?”

At a nod from their grandma, the girls giggled and dropped the sheet, saying, “Ta-da!”

“Lindsey!” Tears sprang to my eyes, and I hugged my best friend. “What are you doing here, you silly girl? You're supposed to be on your honeymoon!”

“We got back from St. Thomas last night—and had a
wonderful
time.” She gave me a wicked grin. “But there was no way I was going to miss my best friend's birthday.” She frowned. “Unfortunately, my
husband
—I love saying that!—returned to a work fire he had to put out, so he couldn't come.” She smiled. But he did send you this.” She pulled a silver framed photo from her purse—a goofy shot of the two of them behind prison bars at Alcatraz.

I giggled, remembering our day with Alex in San Francisco and all the fun we'd had. Lindsey pulled me to one side and whispered, “I have another little surprise too.” Her eyes sparkled. “Guess who's not dating you-know-who anymore?”

The tiniest of flutters started to kick up in my stomach, but I squashed them down. “That's nice, Lins. But he's there and I'm here, and we both have totally—”

“Hey Louise! Think fast.” Mary Jo tossed me an orange-and-yellow foil-wrapped package that looked and felt remarkably like a can.

It was a can.

Of neon-green English mushy peas. I threw back my head and roared. “Nice one, Thelma.”

Lindsey raised her eyebrows.

“Louise, I mean Phoebe, hates peas—the whole texture thing,” Mary Jo explained.

“I know.” Lindsey turned to me. “I take it this is MJ, your traveling companion?”

“Oh, sorry. I thought you two had met.” I inclined my head. “Cleveland best-friend Lindsey, meet Barley best-friend MJ—I mean Mary Jo.”

They nodded at each other. Then Mary Jo got a good look at Lindsey's frosty face. And proclaimed, “I think it's time for a little karaoke.” She crossed over to the corner of the room, where a rented karaoke machine stood proudly. She started with a little Aretha just to warm things up, belting out “Chain of Fools.”

Then she handed me the mike. And I'm no Aretha—or Mary Jo, for that matter—but who could resist? I called up
both
of my best friends for backup on “It's My Party (And I'll Cry If I Want To”). Lindsey still looked a little miffed, but she didn't protest. And with both her and Mary Jo doing their sixties girl-group thing, we brought down the house.

Ashley and the girls quickly got into the act, and we all jammed on “I Will Survive” followed by “YMCA,” with a thawed-out Lindsey teaching the hand motions to Mary Jo.

In the midst of forming the
M
over my head, I caught sight of a familiar face at the door. And completely forgot about the song.

“Delia!” I squealed and made my way through the crowd, MJ close on my heels. As we drew nearer, I saw that Delia wasn't alone.

“
Grace!”
I moved to enfold her in an exuberant hug but stopped myself just in time. I stretched out my hand to Delia and Alex's elegant mother and dialed it down a notch. “How lovely to see you again.”

She laughed and grabbed me in an all-American bear hug. “Happy birthday, Phoebe! I'm so glad we could be here to celebrate it with you.” She released me and embraced Mary Jo next while Delia and I swapped hugs.

I looked from mother to daughter. “Just what does bring you here? I know you didn't come all the way from England just for my birthday party.”

“No, but we would have,” Delia said. “Right, Mum?”

Grace smiled and nodded.

“Actually, I had to come over on business. And now that Dad's been given a clean bill of health,” Delia said, “Mother decided to come along too and visit some family and friends. Of which you are one.”

“Fantastic!” I turned to Mary Jo. “Isn't this a great surprise, MJ?”

“Uh-huh. For
you
.” She shook her head at me. “Someone had to give them directions.”

I punched her on the arm just as Lindsey, my mom, and the rest of the family joined us. Introductions were made all around, and Mom and Grace immediately started chattering away.

I pulled Delia aside. “So what's really up? You're absolutely beaming.” My eyes gleamed. “Is it a guy?”

“No. Well, in a manner of speaking, I suppose it is. Dad, with a little help from Mother, has finally seen the light and come through with my promotion.” She shot me a triumphant look. “He's made me chief financial officer of the firm. Alex is going to be CEO, and Dad's going to take it just a wee bit easier and just chair the board.”

“That's great!” I hugged her again. “I'm so happy for you. No one deserves it more.” I narrowed my eyes. “How'd Alex take the news?”

“He was thrilled. Both for me and him.” She lowered her voice. “Although George was a little less so.” Her voice rose again in excitement. “So anyway, in my new role, Dad thought it would be good for me to visit some of our stateside papers. Which is why I'm here. I thought I'd start with the
Bulletin
and get to see you and Mary Jo at the same time.”

She looked around for Mary Jo, who was laughing at something Lindsey had said. “Speaking of which, I have a little gift for her that my mate Ian asked me to hand-deliver . . .”

Seeing Delia so excited about her new job gave me fresh resolve. I'd made my decision about the new job. But I needed to tell my family.

Okay, God. I can do this. But I'm going to need You to hold my hand.

I rejoined my mother, who was deep in conversation with Grace. “Well, you two look like long-lost friends.”

“I was just telling your mother what a fool my son was to let you get away,” Grace said.

“And I was agreeing with her,” Mom added.

I waved my hand. “Ancient history. Besides, my life is a man-free zone right now. Time for me to figure out some things on my own, without any romantic distractions.” I tilted my head. “Or Hollywood fantasies.”

Grace smiled. “Sounds like a good place to be.” She sighed. “Although I still hope that someday . . .”

“You never know what God will do. And speaking of what God's doing, do you mind if I steal my mother away for a few minutes?” I linked arms with Mom and shepherded her toward the kitchen, whispering, “I need to tell you something.”

“Why,
that's fine, daughter. Actually I have something to tell you too.”

Looking around for Jordy and Karen, I signaled them with my eyes to join us. Gordon, too. When the kitchen door shut behind us all, I cleared my throat and gave a nervous laugh. “You're probably wondering why I called you all here. I, uh . . .”

And I caved. I couldn't get it out. “Mom, didn't you say you had something to tell us?”

Mom's hands fluttered to her throat. “Well, yes,” she said with an apologetic smile and a glance at Gordon, who patted her arm and gave her an encouraging smile.

“You see, Gordon and I have been spending a lot of time together lately, and we've decided to, um . . .”

Was she really saying what I thought she was saying? I looked over at Karen and Jordy, and they looked as gobsmacked as I felt.

“You've decided to do what, Mom?”

Mom's face flamed. “That is, we think, um . . .” She lifted her chin. “The thing is, I just want you to know that Gordon and I, we . . .” Another encouraging nod from Gordon. “What I'm trying to say is we've decided to go steady. In other words, I guess I'm saying that Gordon is my . . . boyfriend!”

She didn't say it with quite the same intensity as Cloris Leachman's Frau Bleucher in
Young Frankenstein
, but I'm sure I heard horses whinny in the background.

Jordy, Karen, and I exchanged glances, then burst out laughing. “Gee, Mom. We hadn't figured that out,” my brother said. “Guess we'll have to alert the media.”

Gordon reached for Mom's hand and held it to his chest. Mom blushed but laid her head on his shoulder. “But Phoebe, didn't you say you had an announcement too?”

This was it. My practical self and my moral voice-of-reason self and all my other selves, even the silly, selfish ones, were all yelling,
Go
for it!

I cleared my throat again. “Well, my news isn't as romantic as Mom's, but equally exciting, I think.” I took a deep breath and rushed on. “I—I've been offered the most amazing writing job in Southern California . . . and I've decided to take it.”

I ducked my head and held my breath, waiting for the protests.

Instead, the room erupted in applause.

“Gee, if I'd known you didn't want me around, I'd have left a lot sooner.”

“Phoebe, the editor's a friend of mine,” Gordon said. “She called and told me she was going to offer you the columnist job—a job that's tailor-made for you, by the way. And ever since she did, I've been waiting—we've all been waiting—for you to tell us about it.”

Mom took my hands between hers and smiled. “Daughter, you came back and helped when I broke my arms. You've stayed and helped ever since. And I appreciate it. I appreciate
you
.” Her thumbs stroked the backs of my hands. “But God has something for you beyond Barley. He's calling you to use the gifts He's given you. You don't need to tie yourself down here—not when God has a big, wide world out there just waiting for you. I want you to go and follow your dreams. We all do.”