Authors: Pamela Grandstaff
“That’s easy,” Claire said. “Done.”
Claire was amused by how fast he turned back to his computer screen, before she was even out the door. It was great to see all these people in town doing things they loved to do, and having a blast doing them. It also made Claire wonder what it was she could do that would feel like that, like she was doing the thing she loved most, and having a ball doing it. She had felt like that several times while working for Sloan, especially after Sloan got famous, and her roles became more prestigious. The accommodations got better, the travel was more exciting, and the food was definitely better. Ultimately, however, the bad moments had outweighed the good.
As Claire reached the corner of Rose Hill Avenue and Pine Mountain Road, the main streets that intersected in the center of town, her cell phone rang.
“The packages you thought might need to be taken to the airport are in my backroom,” Maggie said.
“Did you get ahold of Elbie?”
“He’s on his way,” Maggie said.
Claire ran back down the hill to the newspaper office and told Ed if he wanted to interview the spa staff he had better come with her. Ed grabbed his small digital voice recorder, and together they ran up the hill and down the
alley to the back door of the Little Bear bookstore.
In the backroom of Maggie’s store sat the massage therapists and the Reiki Master. They looked scared. As soon as they saw Claire
, they all started talking at once.
“Wait, wait,” Ed begged. “One at a time, please, and give me your names and phone numbers.”
Claire put the names and phone numbers into the contacts list of her phone. As Ed interviewed each woman, others chimed in with more details and related incidents. The gist of their complaint was how the seminar participants were being treated, and how emotionally damaging it was to their psyches. They were also privy to quite a bit of staff complaining and infighting, which taken together, painted a picture of a brain-washed crew working too many hours on too little sleep, and paying for the privilege.
Claire was impressed by the questions Ed asked. By the time Elbie arrived with the church van in the back alley, Ed had broken into a sweat, and Claire could almost see the gears whirring in his mind. Maggie,
Claire, and Ed helped the spa staff members load their luggage onto the church van, and then waved as Elbie pulled away. Ed turned to Claire.
“I need more time!” Ed said.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Claire asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Email those contact names and numbers to me. I have to go now.”
He left at a run. Claire went back inside, collapsed onto a chair, and began doing as Ed requested.
“You know,” Maggie said from the doorway. “Anne Marie gave me a reading, or whatever you call it, right after she left rehab. She was very religious at that point. She got in a fight with a little kid over a Harry Potter book in my children’s section. I had to call Knox to come get her.”
“What was that like?” Claire said.
“She had this wild, crazy look on her face,” Maggie said. “And then it turned into a hundred-yard stare; you know what I mean. She told me my sin was pride, which, pardon me, but anyone who has ever met me could tell you that. She also said I should watch out for a snake disguised as an angel.”
“What was that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know,” Maggie said. “I dismissed it at the time; and I still think it’s all hokum. But then Gabe came back, and he had a snake tattoo on his arm.”
“And Gabriel is an angel’s name,” Claire said.
“A coincidence, I’m sure,” Maggie said. “I think what’s scariest about Anne Marie is that she really believes she’s getting information from an infallible source, and that makes h
er more dangerous than if it were all a con. Con artists know they’re doing wrong; they just don’t care. But Anne Marie actually believes everything she does is God’s work here on earth.”
“Who would have thought she and Marigold Larson would have so much in common?”
“And yet each would think the other was the crazy one,” Maggie said.
Claire’s cell phone rang as she left the bookstore. It was Pip’s mother,
Frieda.
“You’ve got to come,” she said. “He’s in a horrible way; I think he may do himself harm.”
“I’ll be right there,” Claire said.
Claire ran home, got the family car, and then drove up Peony Street to the library, where a left took her onto a rutted gravel road known as Possum Holler. As she drove slowly up the road, she could see the orange spray-painted graffiti that had been scrawled on every house. Most of it was crude and profane, but some of it was downright evil. It clearly illustrated a willful, depraved ignorance, the kind that feeds race
, sexual, and class prejudice. She was appalled that there were young people in Rose Hill capable of writing such awful things on their neighbor’s homes.
Frieda
’s home had not been spared. “White trash” was prominently featured across the front façade of her ramshackle home, and a crude drawing had been left on her door. Claire picked her way through the rusted detritus that littered Frieda’s driveway, past the car up on blocks with a tarp that was meant to cover a broken windshield, but was instead flapping in the breeze.
‘I judge her for this, myself,’ Claire thought. ‘I look down on
Frieda for her dirty house and her junky yard. If I’m such a hypocrite, then maybe the only difference between me and Jumbo is a can of orange spray paint.’
She let herself in the back door, into the kitchen, where Pip was sitting at the kitchen table with his face in his hands, sobbing.
Frieda was seated to the side, smoking her ever-present cigarette, and shuffling Tarot cards, a glass of wine on the table. Claire felt the years slide away, and it might have been 21 years ago, when Pip had been fired from yet another job, and this was the scene that greeted her when she came home from a day of attending beauty school.
Pip looked up and saw Claire, and she was taken aback by the pain contorting his pretty features. His swollen eyes were bright red, and his upper lip was fat from crying. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He was much more like a child to her now than an ex-husband. He sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
“They killed my girlfriend,” he said to Claire. “They took everything I had and now I have nothing and nobody.”
Claire thought, but didn’t say, that of course Pip had made this all about what he had suffered, with no thought of what Courtenay had lost.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Claire said.
Frieda
snorted with derision.
“What am I supposed to do now, Claire?” Pip said. “I can’t go back to that house. She’s haunting that house, Claire. The cards told Mom. I can’t go back there.”
“Sloan may not like that,” Claire said. “You still owe her quite a bit of money.”
“You could pay her, Claire,” he said. “You cheated me out of half that condo money and you know it. You should help me out, Claire. Why can’t you ever help me out?”
Claire thought of all the help she had given Pip over the years. All the times she’d purchased tools that he swore he needed for a new job, the same tools he would later pawn for drug money; the bail money she paid when he got yet another DUI; the loans she co-signed so that he could start yet another business that quickly failed, the get-rich-quick schemes; the endless amounts he stole from her purse, or the time he purchased a condo in her name, with her credit information, through a crooked mortgage broker Sloan hooked him up with.
“I paid all th
e mortgage payments,” Claire said, “while you screwed my boss behind my back. You signed the divorce agreement. I don’t owe you anything.”
“But it’s not fair,” Pip whined. “Everything bad always happens to me, and nothing
bad ever happens to you. Why do you always end up with everything and I always end up with nothing? We were married. You should have to help me.”
Claire felt dizzy with a combination of the old anger and the endless frustration of trying to make sense of his delusional thinking. Somehow his sorry life was all her fault. Always. What could she do to make him see that his decisions, his actions, were the reason everything bad seemed to happen to him?
Claire thought Pip would be a great poster child for Anne Marie’s particular brand of new age voodoo. Pip really did draw a multitude of calamities to himself, through sheer idiocy and poor impulse control. However, he hadn’t killed Courtenay, and she probably had been helping him get his life together. What would he do now? What he needed to do was buck up, knuckle down, and get back to work. He was more likely, however, to feel sorry for himself and sabotage any opportunity he had, at least until the next stupid woman came along who was willing to take him to raise.
Just then Claire had an epiphany.
“I don’t have to do this,” she said.
Both Pip and his mother looked up at her.
“You’re not my responsibility, and we’re not married anymore,” Claire said. “I wish you both good luck, but I’m done.”
Frieda
snorted again and shook her head.
Pip started with, “But Claire …”
“Shush,” Claire said. “Save it for someone who cares.”
She spun on her heel, and slammed the door so hard as she left that the windows rattled in their peeling frames.
‘This feels good,’ she said to herself, as she made her way back to her car. ‘Why didn’t I do it ten years ago?’
Claire backed out onto the narrow
road and pointed her car toward town. Halfway there she spotted Farmers Market Frank walking along the side of the road, pulling a wagon filled with what looked and smelled very much like manure. He waved, seemed overjoyed to see her. Claire stopped, rolled down her window, and he came over.
“I’ve been meaning to stop by,” he said.
The stench of his body odor and the manure combined to make Claire’s eyes water.
“Whatcha got there?” she asked.
“It’s cow manure from Hannah’s place,” he said. “My truck’s in the shop but I need to get this on my garden before it rains again. What are you doing tonight? I’d like to take you out for dinner but I’m a little broke right now. Do you like couscous? I’m a pretty good cook. Maybe you could bring the wine? Unless you’d like to treat me to dinner this time and I could get the next one. The bank board wants to see a business plan. Seeing as how you own your own business, I thought maybe you could help me write one.”
Claire looked at his handsome face, but all she saw was the broken down truck, the money shortage, an improbable business plan, and another grown man looking for a rich mother. She didn’t need another epiphany; the latest on
e would work just as well here.
“No thanks,” she said. “I’m not interested.”
He looked more surprised than disappointed.
“Maybe s
ome other time, then,” he said.
“No, I won’t be interested then, either,” she said.
“But good luck.”
As she rolled up the window
, he said something else, but she just waved and drove off.
“I’m two for two,” Claire said. “That’s not bad for one afternoon.”
Chapter Nine -
Saturday
When Claire arrived back at her parents’ house, Maggie was already there, holding Sammy in her arms, and talking to Ian. Maggie turned to let Claire know she saw her, but kept her attention on Ian.
“I think I’m going crazy,” Claire’s dad was saying. “I don’t know what to do about it.”
“What does Doc say?” Maggie asked him.
“I can’t trust him anymore,” Ian said. “He’s trying to steal my wife away from me.”
“I don’t think Doc’s wife would allow that,” Maggie said. “Doris is pretty fond of her husband.”
“She might not know,” Ian said. “I may have to tell her.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Maggie said. “I think you and Delia can work it out.”
“I sure hope so,” Ian said. “I love her, Maggie. I just love her so much.”
He began to cry, and Claire’s heart ached for him.
“Ian’s crying,” Sammy said
to Claire. “Why’s Auntie Dee make him so sad?”
Maggie looked to Claire for help, but Claire knew anything she said would just provoke him. She felt so helpless. Claire’s mother came into the room, surveyed the situation, and took a deep breath.
“Maggie, why don’t you and Claire start getting ready?” she said. “Sammy and I will go up to the store to buy some frozen fruit bars.”
“Uncle Ian’s crying
,” Sammy told Delia. “Why’s you make him so sad?”
Delia took Sammy from Maggie.
“Your Uncle Ian is worried,” she said. “Sometimes when people worry too much it makes them sad.”
“You don’t love me anymore,” Ian said. “You want to leave me.”
Claire was amazed at how calm her mother was able to stay. Sammy’s lower lip started to tremble, and his eyes filled with tears.
“Me’s worry, too,” Sammy said. “Me’s sad
, too.”
Claire was on the verge of tears herself.
Delia put one hand on her husband’s shoulder and kissed Sammy on the forehead.
“I love all of you,” Delia said. “And I’m not going anywhere except Delvecchio’s IGA. I’ll be right back.”
“I think I’m going crazy, Dee,” Ian said. “I don’t know what to do about it.”
“Just let Claire and me take care of you,” Delia said.
“And me,” Sammy said.
“And Sammy,” Delia said. “We are all taking good care of you, so try not to worry.”
Melissa let herself in the front door.
“Hey, Chief,” she said to Ian. “Are you ready to play some dominoes?”
“Mandy!” he said, and his whole demeanor switched to delight at seeing her. “Come on in here, gal. Where’ve you been? I haven’t seen you in a week of Sundays.”
Although it had only been hours since he’d last seen Melissa, Claire realized he couldn’t remember it, which meant he was getting worse. They had given up reminding him to call her “Melissa.”
Melissa retrieved the tin of dominoes from the top of the piano and Ian got up to follow her into the kitchen. He had already forgotten how upset he was, and didn’t even acknowledge anyone else was still in the room.
Claire hugged her mom, which meant Sammy got a hug, too.
Maggie, who rarely hugged anyone, put her arms around all of them.
“Hug sammich,” he said to Claire. “Me’s the peanut butte
r, Auntie Dee’s the jelly, and Claire and Maggie’s the bread.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” Maggie said
as she let go.
“We do what we have to,” Delia said.
She retrieved her purse and left with Sammy. Claire could hear Melissa and Ian laughing in the kitchen.
“How do you do it day after day?” Maggie asked Claire.
“Everyone says we shouldn’t take it personally,” Claire said. “But it’s like getting your heart broken every day, only you’re not allowed to be mad at the person who’s breaking it.”
They went down the hall to Claire’s bedroom. Maggie looked at her dress, which was hanging from the top of Claire’s closet door.
“It’s so pretty,” Maggie said. “It’s even prettier than I remembered.”
“I bought you some really good shape-wear,” Claire said, “and a strapless bra that is a marvel of architecture.”
“I’ll need it,” Maggie said. “The girls are not what they used to be.”
The little black kitten tore into the bedroom like the hounds of hell were on his tail, and made a beeline for Maggie’s beautiful dress.
“No!” Claire screamed.
The kitten jumped a foot in the air, and when it landed, it arched its little back and hopped sideways toward Claire.
“Get out of here!” Claire said, waving her arms.
The kitten darted under the bed.
“We have to find it,” Claire said. “If it snags your dress I’ll ring its little neck.”
Claire lay down on the floor and looked under the bed. The kitten had found a tear in the fabric of the box spring and was up inside it. It made a low growling sound in its throat when it saw Claire.
“I can’t reach it,” Claire said.
“Just ignore it and maybe it will come out,” Maggie said.
“Let’s put your dress and veil in Mom’s room just to be safe,” Claire said.
In Claire’s mother’s room, the bridesmaid dresses were hanging from the top of her closet door. Claire’s was obviously the longer, slender version, Melissa’s was the petite, hour-glass shaped one, and Hannah’s loo
ked as if it were made for a child.
“Do you think Hannah minds me being the maid of honor?” Claire asked Maggie.
“She said the position came with too much pressure,” Maggie said. “Plus, she wants to walk out with Sam afterward.”
“I hope this matte satin does
n’t crease too much,” Claire said. “Creased satin looks even worse in photographs.”
“Did you tell Ed not to take any photos during the ceremony?” Maggie asked. “And I don’t want to line up the whole family and pose. And no reception line. Can you imagine? My father and mother would go at it like two cats in a bag.”
“Don’t worry,” Claire said. “We’re not having photos taken during the ceremony, and we’re not doing any formal shots afterward. Ed is just taking random ones at the reception. After the ceremony, you and Scott go straight to the cake area, and we’ll distract your mother somehow.”
“I’m sorry to be such a bitch about everything,” Maggie said. “I just can’t help it. I hate being the center of attention and I don’t want to feel embarrassed.”
“I know, honey,” Claire said, and hugged her. “It’s a good thing I like a challenge.”
When they returned to Claire’s bedroom, she checked under the bed, but the kitten seemed to have vanished. Maggie sat on the bed and looked up at Claire.
“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” she said. “It doesn’t seem real.”
“You’re glad, though, right?”
“Oh, yeah, absolutely,” Maggie said. “Let’s be honest; I’m lucky to have anybody, contrary as I am. Scott and I are so different you wouldn’t think it would last a month. He’s such a romantic, and I’m so not, but that seems to be okay with him. I think we’ll be fine. Better than fine. Great, actually, in the long run.”
“You used to be a romantic,” Claire said. “I remember when you lived with Gabe you went around with stars in your eyes.”
“That was temporary insanity,” Maggie said.
“Come on,” Claire said. “It was romantic. Gabe was a very handsome, passionate man, and tog
ether you two were hot.”
“That was all chemistry and hormones,” Maggie said. “I’ve got the same feelings about
Farmers Market Frank; I just don’t mistake them for anything more substantial.”
“He wants to make me dinner,” Claire said.
“Egad,” Maggie said. “I hope you turned him down.”
“I wasn’t even tempted,” Claire said. “He’s just another version of Pip.”
“Who is just another version of Gabe,” Maggie said. “It’s like a drug, that kind of attraction; just as hard to kick, too.”
“But you really loved Gabe and he loved you.”
“That was all in my head,” Maggie said. “I didn’t really know him. I had this romantic ideal in my head that he slotted right into. Ours was the epic love we had to fight for, us against the world, and he was my knight in shining armor. That was my fantasy, and had nothing to do with who he really was or what was really going on.”
“I guess we all do that,” Claire said.
“Don’t defer your joy,” Maggie said.
“What?”
“That’s what you said to me the night Scott called, after he and I had barely spoken for three years,” Maggie said.
“That sounds like something my mom would say,” Claire said. “I don’t remember telling you that.”
“Basically, you said that if Scott loves me even though I’m bossy and hard-headed, I shouldn’t be the idiot who blows it waiting for some romantic fantasy that’s never going to happen. I was afraid that being in a relationship meant I couldn’t be myself; my horrible, controlling, bitchy self.”
“You’re not always like that,” Claire said. “I’ve seen you be sweet.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” Maggie said, “or I’ll cut you, don’t think I won’t.”
“It’s a good thing Scott’s the romantic one,” Claire said.
“I just find it hard to take him seriously when he gets like that,” Maggie said. “It’s so squishy and embarrassing.”
“It feels so good, though,” Claire said. “I love being swept off my feet by a man who’s a mystery to solve. I want someone to take my breath away.”
“Sounds exhausting to me,” Maggie said. “All that drama, and it always ends in tears.”
“That’s for sure,” Claire said.
“Is this about the flying Scotsman?”
“I’ve been such an idiot,” Claire said. “Carlyle is never going to leave Sloan for me, and what in the world could he do here that would compare to being a famous film actor?”
“I’m not saying you should pursue this, because even though I’ve never met the guy, I think he’s an insufferable idiot, but he’s also a drama teacher, isn’t he?” Maggie said. “They do have a drama department at Eldridge.”
“He wasn’t satisfied doing that at the most prestigious school in Scotland, so why would it be any better here?” Claire said. “Plus it would always be my fault he gave up his big chance at stardom.”
“Sounds like a narcissistic ass-hat to me,” Maggie said, “but you know him best. You say he’s charming and funny, and God knows we all love an accent, but despite all the sweet, clever words the man’s ever said, what has he actually done to prove he loves you?”
“He slept with my boss and then agreed to be her contractual love interest in exchange for better job opportunities,” Claire said. “What was I thinking?”
“I’m sorry, Claire,” Maggie said. “The guy’s a worthless bastard.”
“You’re exactly right,” Claire said. “I just cast him in a role he wasn’t suited for.”
“And then there’s Ed.”
“He’s a really good kisser,” Claire said. “I do have great chemistry with him.”
“He’s also responsible, honorable, and has integrity out the wazoo,” Maggie said. “There’s no mystery about him; you can always count on Ed.”
“In my mind I always cast myself as the romantic lead,” Claire said. “Maybe I’m actually the quirky best friend wh
o settles down with the morally centering sidekick.”
“Don’t kid yourself; you’d be lucky to get Ed,” Maggie said. “In case you haven’t noticed, relatively normal heterosexual men aren’t thick on the ground around here, and we aren’t young enough to be so picky.”
“So tell me, oh contrary one,” Claire said. “How do I give up on my romantic fantasy to be happy in reality?”
“Get over yourself, for one thing,” Maggie said. “Everybody wants to be special, to have some epic emotional story, when there’s absolutely nothing wrong with ordinary happiness.”
“You’re right,” Claire said. “I know you’re right.”
“Happiness isn’t a continual state of bliss,” Maggie said. “If we’re lucky
, we get to have moments in an ordinary life when we feel extraordinary.”
“How did you get so smart?” Claire said.
“You should listen to your own advice,” Maggie said. “What you said to me that night Scott’s mom was so sick made me realize what an idiot I was being.”
“That was so awful, how quickly she died,” Claire said. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s struggling,” Maggie said. “He thought he was being strong, keeping his grief a secret. I finally got him to talk about it, and I think it helped.”
“Everyone has something they’re grieving over,” Claire said. “I feel like my dad is already gone, and we’re taking care of a crazy imposter.”
“What are you going to do?”
Claire told Maggie what Doc had recommended.
“What an awful decision to have to make,” Maggie said. “I don’t know if I could do it.”
“Here’s the thing,” Claire said. “This could happen to any one of us. That’s part of the risk you take when you marry someone. This is the worst case scenario in the ‘for better or worse.’”