Authors: Pamela Grandstaff
“There’s as many types of Christians as there are fish in the sea,” Kay said. “And chances are you couldn’t get even
two of us to agree on what we believe. If Marigold believes the Lord wants her to run for mayor, then bless her heart, I won’t disabuse her.”
“Are you worried about her?”
“Not too much,” Kay said. “It’s one thing for her rich friends to put up with Marigold for a couple of hours so they can play bridge with the rest of their friends, but quite another to think of her running the whole town and lording it over the rest of them.”
“Gigi O’Hare was in here this mor
ning,” Claire said. “She won’t kowtow to Marigold.”
“No,” Kay said. “They’ll much more enjoy the period after she fails, bringing it up at every possible opportunity, sympathetically, of course. They won’t let her forget about it.”
“Still, she’ll have plenty of campaign funds.”
Kay shrugged.
“Do you need some money?” Claire asked. “I promise there will be no strings attached. I mean, I will expect more cookies to be delivered every Tuesday for the rest of your term, but other than that ...”
“Claire, my darling,” Kay said. “You’re a good friend, and I appreciate having someone I can confide in during all this insanity, but I will not take a penny of your money. Thank you, though, all the same.”
“I’ll do anything to help,” Claire said. “You can put up posters in here.”
“You might lose half your customers,” Kay said. “Political races tend to get nasty, and turn friends into enemies.”
“I don’t need their money,” Claire said with a shrug.
“But this is not actually your business, though, is it?” Kay said. “Maybe you better ask Denise first.”
Kay was right. Claire knew she needed to either purchase the Bee Hive or let it go. She brought Kay up to date on that issue.
“I don’t know what to do,” Claire said. “I don’t have to work but I want to work. I’d be too bored not working.”
“So open up your own salon,” Kay said. “It doesn’t have to be this one. There are plenty of empty buildings in Rose Hill.”
“I don’t even know if I want to keep doing this,” Claire said. “And you know how much I love my parents, but their house is too little for all of us. I also need to figure out a place to live.”
“The Davises would sell you their house in a heartbeat,” Kay said. “It’s been on the market for over three years. It’d be perfect for you, right next door to your parents.”
“Yeah, but Phyllis is living there,” Claire said.
“Phyllis Davis needs to stop mooching off her parents and grow up,” Kay said. “She’s still living like she’s twenty-five when she’s forty-five.”
Phyllis Davis had been a wild child as a teenager, and her development had also been arrested somewhere around that same period in time.
“You’re trying to make too many decisions all at once,” Kay said. “Just focus on the job thing first, and then when that’s settled, work on the house thing.”
“I’ve enjoyed taking care of Denise’s customers for the past couple months,” Claire said. “But do I want to do it for another twenty-five years?”
“Think of it as the next thing and not the final thing,” Kay said. “Is having a steady gig really so bad?”
“Maybe not,” Claire said. “I just hate being pressured into making a decision.”
“Why don’t you lease it for a year and then decide?”
“Because Denise has a cash buyer who’s given her a deadline of this Friday.”
“You’re a romantic; that’s your problem,” Kay said. “You don’t want to settle for plain old normal and say no to all the other glamorous possibilities.”
“You’re right,” Claire said. “I’m afraid whatever I decide will be a mistake.”
“Unfortunately, my darling,” Kay said, “you’re too old to dither. You also need to find yourself a decent fella and have a kid before it’s too late. Consider my life a cautionary tale.”
“You have an awesome life,” Claire said. “I aspire to be as independent and empowered as you are.”
“I’m happy enough. I like being the only boss of me. I also enjoy my independence, but it doesn’t keep me warm at night,” Kay said. “Don’t leave it until it’s too late. I understand you and Ed Harrison are getting pretty chummy. Running together, playing games in the Rose and Thorn every evening …”
“We’re just friends,” Claire said.
“He’s one of the few decent single men left in this town,” Kay said. “If I were ten years younger, I’d be on that like spots on a ladybug.”
“I like Ed,” Claire said. “But he doesn’t give me butterflies in the stomach, you know?”
“Passionate romance is for teenagers and movie stars,” Kay said. “In the real world there’s a lot to be said for friendship and shared goals.”
“Let’s change your hair color,” Claire said, to change the subject. “I’ll do a complete makeover on you, no charge. Then you can find a man to keep you warm at night.”
“Oh, my dear, you’re so sweet to offer,” Kay said. “But I’ve got no illusions about who I am or how old I look. As far as men go, I don’t kid myself about things like that. When Matt Delvecchio married Deidre, he took away my only chance at that kind of happiness.”
“That’s pretty romantic thinking,” Claire said.
“That’s how I recognize it in you,” Kay said. “I may not be perfectly happy, but I’m fine ninety percent of the time. I’ve got a lot to be thankful for. I’m going to adopt a really sweet young girl, I’m going to be a really good mayor to this town, and I’ve got great friends like you.”
“How is Grace doing?”
“She went to Disney World with Tommy, Elvis and Elvis’s mother. You met his mother, I think, after Grace’s grandfather’s funeral. Jane Johnson.”
“That will be fun for Grace and Tommy,” Claire said. “They’ve probably never been on a vacation before, either of them.”
“Ed’s paying for Tommy’s part,” Kay said. “See what a nice man he is?”
Tommy had been Rose Hill’s only paper carrier for many years, so he and Ed were close. Patrick’s girlfriend Melissa had raised Tommy from a baby, but Ed was appointed his guardian after Melissa went to prison for kidnapping baby Tommy from his drug dealer parents’ house, previous to it blowing up in a meth lab accident. Evidently
, Ed and Melissa had a short fling, but that was before Claire’s cousin Patrick realized how much he cared for her.
Tommy’s friend Grace was recently orphaned when her grandfather died. Kay was supposed to only be her temporary foster mother, but they had quickly formed a devoted relationship. Claire wondered if she would ever have that kind of relationship with a child, either one of her own or an adopted child.
Just then, she was overcome by a wave of fatigue and nausea.
“Claire,” Kay said. “You just got so pale. What is it?”
Claire leaned against the counter and blotted the cold sweat from her face.
“What’s the matter, honey?” Kay asked. “Here, you sit down here and I’ll get you a cold wet cloth.”
Claire’s mouth was watering and she felt as if she might throw up. She took some deep breaths until the feeling passed. The cool wet cloth felt good on her face, but it smeared her makeup.
“Thanks,” Claire said.
Kay watched, amused, as Claire did a quick repair job in the salon mirror.
“You don’t need all that, you know,” Kay said. “You’re pretty enough without it.”
“But I love it,” Claire said. “It’s like face art. Plus, I’m good at it.”
“What happened just now?” Kay said. “I thought you might pass out.”
“I’m having these spells,” Claire said, and went on to describe them to Kay.
“It’s probably menopause,” Kay said. “I started around your age. All the more reason to hurry up and start a family while you still have time.”
“Great,” Claire said. “Just what I need.”
Ed came by as Kay was leaving. He stood outside chatting with her while Claire covertly studied him from inside. There was no doubt he was one of those men who only improved with age. His features were strong but not chiseled. He had kind blue eyes with crinkles at the corners that indicated good humor. His bald head had a nice shape; Claire could hardly remember what he looked like with hair. Had it been reddish?
Ed was a few inches taller than Claire, which meant when she had on her heels they stood eye to eye. He usually wore jeans or khakis, a plaid shirt from LL Bean, and athletic shoes or hiking boots. Dressed up for Ed probably meant brown loafers and a crumpled corduroy jacket that had once been his dad’s. Claire imagined any ties he might own would be thirty-years-old and plaid.
His reading glasses, old-
fashioned, round wire rims, were always hooked in the neck of whatever shirt he was wearing. He sometimes wore a ball cap. He always smelled like toothpaste and fabric softener sheets.
He was thoughtful, articulate, and polite. He was intelligent, well-read, and used analytical thought processes to make decisions. A history buff, he was passionate about politics and environmental causes. Claire could not imagine him planning out or perpetrating even a slightly evil deed.
‘He’s like the trusty sidekick to the hero of the movie,’ Claire mused. ‘He’s the moral center.’
Morally
centering sidekicks usually got killed off in the first third of the movie, or as a sad twist in the last third, thus providing motivating angst to the reluctant hero. At the very least they never ended up with the romantic female lead. Claire still considered herself romantic lead material, and was looking for her hero, not a sidekick.
Ed was holding a bag from the diner. He had delivered her lunch every day for the past several weeks. Should she put a stop to that? He sometimes flirted with her but he never gave a serious indication of any interest beyond friendship. If she made a big deal out of the lunch thing she’d be the one to look foolish for thinking it was romantic when it wasn’t. Men and women could be friends, couldn’t they? She thought of
Frieda’s Tarot cards. In romantic comedies the men and women who were friends sometimes ended up together, so it wouldn’t be that unexpected if she ended up with Ed.
‘As if
Frieda could tell the future, anyway,’ she thought.
“I hope you like pesto,” he said as he came in.
“Love it,” she said. “Unfortunately, I feel like I might be coming down with something, so I probably shouldn’t risk it.”
“You’d better eat my chicken sandwich, then,” he said. “I’ll be brave and try the goat cheese ravioli with sundried tomatoes and pesto.”
He was looking at her very oddly.
“What?” she said. “Do I have something on my face?”
“I was just wondering if you were waxing or bleaching this morning,” he said. “Whatever it was it worked; your upper lip is as smooth as a baby’s behind.”
Claire swatted at him but he backed away, evading contact.
“There is supposed to be a discreet veil drawn over the mysteries of a woman’s toilette,” Claire said. “If you were a true gentleman, you would forget anything you saw this morning.”
“That’s going to be kind of hard to do,” Ed said with a grin. “Some things you just can’t unsee.”
“Shut up,” Claire said. “And give me that sandwich.”
“Are you ready for the game night?” he asked.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Claire said. “As long as the questions are about 80s sitcoms, pop music, or movie trivia.”
“I thought I might spring for a pizza beforehand,” he said. “You interested?”
Claire didn’t respond, as she was distracted by the appearance of Farmers Market Frank, pulling off his jacket and tie as he came through the door to the Bee Hive. He nodded at Ed as he took off his shoes and socks, and exchanged them for his muddy boots. Claire introduced the two men and they shook hands. Ed seemed to know Frank, but he didn’t seem particularly glad to see him.
“How’d it go?” Claire asked Frank.
“Great, I think,” he said. “Amy said my credit score was good enough, and my debt-to-income ratio was acceptable, so they may be able to reduce the down payment requirement because of that.”
“Frank’s looking to buy the
farmers market,” Claire explained to Ed, who didn’t seem too interested.
“She’s going to present it to her boss tomorrow and then let me know what the board says,” Frank said. “I should know something by the end of the week.”
“That’s great,” Claire said.
Frank handed her Patrick’s shoes, her dad’s tie and socks.
“It’s all because of you,” Frank said. “If I get this loan, I’m taking you out to lunch, my treat.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Claire said.
“She fixed me up,” Frank told Ed. “Made me look presentable for my loan application appointment.”
“I see,” Ed said. “How kind of her.”
“Yep,” Frank said. “I couldn’t have done it without her.”
To Claire’s consternation Frank grabbed her up in a big bear hug and then kissed her cheek. His neck smelled like potting soil and patchouli.
“No problem,” Claire stammered. “I would’ve done the same for anyone.”
Ed coughed and then cleared his throat.