Authors: Pamela Grandstaff
“That’s our Claire,” he said. “Always rescuing strays.”
Frank let go of her and Claire’s feet hit the floor. She felt flushed and flustered, and then embarrassed at not being able to hide it. Heat rolled over her upper body in a wave, and she broke out in a sweat.
She wanted to declare, ‘this is not passion, it’s a hot flash,’ but she wasn’t sure that was the message she should be broadcasting if she ever hoped to attract a man.
“Well, you let us know,” she said instead. “I’m sure it will be good news.”
“Thanks, again,” Frank said, and flashed a smile that Claire knew he probably kept for just such occasions, when a woman has gotten him out of some jam because he charmed her into it. It was as if he had high-fived himself.
“No problem,” she said as she waved him away.
Ed was trying to look nonplussed but Claire could tell he was disturbed.
The whole time Frank had been in the salon, Ed kept looking at Frank and then at Claire, with knitted brows.
“Quite a fella,” he said after Frank left. “Big fella, too.”
“Yeah,” Claire said. “I felt sorry for him.”
“Kinda makes me wish you felt sorry for me,” Ed said, and then smiled at Claire as he left.
Claire’s next appointment was with a woman named Candace, nicknamed Candy, with whom she had gone to school from kindergarten through high school. In kindergarten her hair had been white
blond; now it was a mousy brown with dated-looking frosted highlights. Candy squealed and hugged Claire as soon as she saw her.
“When I heard you were back
, I just couldn’t believe it,” Candy said. “I’m so sorry it took me so long to welcome you back, but Bill and I took Caitlyn on a cruise to the Bahamas for her graduation present, and then we had orientation at LSU, where she’s going this fall, and then Billy had soccer camp, and after that a Grand Canyon trip with the Eagle Scouts, so what with all that’s been going on I just didn’t have time to stop by and see you. How are you? I can’t believe it’s been twenty years! You look just the same. Although I think you had red hair then, and maybe you were a little heavier, but whatever! You look great now!”
Claire took a deep breath and smiled so hard she sprained a cheek muscle. Before she could respond Candy took a quick breath and continued on.
“Anyhoo, I always ask your mom how you are when I see her. I was so sorry to hear about your dad, by the way. That’s just heart-breaking. I said to Bill, I said, ‘That’s just heartbreaking.’ To think how he used to be chief of police and drove our kids’ school bus and now … well, anyhoo, it’s just so sad. So your mom has kept me up on where you were and what you were doing. You worked for some famous Hollywood actress, I guess …”
“Sloan Merryweather.”
“She’s the one who was in that film about the prostitute? Directed by her husband? And he left her for the actress who played her daughter? I didn’t see it; I don’t support films that portray women in such a demeaning way, but I guess she won the Oscar for it? And her dress fell off at the awards show or something?”
“That’s the one,” Claire said.
“Well, anyhoo,” Candy said. “Your mother told me all about all the exotic places you went and how well you were doing, so I just couldn’t believe it when I heard you came back here. I said to Bill, I said, ‘Rose Hill will seem awfully boring to Claire after her glamorous Hollywood career.’ I guess you did hair and makeup, like on film sets or something?”
“Yes,” Claire said. “That’s what I did.”
Claire actually did whatever menial task Sloan asked her to, whether that meant going out at three in the morning, in a country where she did not speak the language, to find the exact brand of mineral water Sloan had to have; or lugging a mountain of heavy baggage up a rocky footpath to the Italian Villa Sloan had rented, because the driveway had washed away in the last rainstorm.
No matter what outrageous thing Sloan would ask of her, Claire would grit her teeth, remember the huge paychecks she received, and find a way to make it happen. Sloan was so routinely rude to service people that Claire knew how to say, “I’m so sorry,” in seven different languages, and always carried a pocketful of local currency with which to soothe their bruised feelings.
“Well, Rose Hill probably seems mighty dull to you after that,” Candy said. “While you were gallivanting around the world the rest of us just kept on living our boring little old lives.”
“I don’t think your life is boring,” Claire said, but Candy rushed on as if she hadn’t heard her.
“Bill and I got married right after college. I was a Tri Delta? At Penn State? You didn’t go, did you? I could swear I remember you were there. No, that’s not right. You didn’t go to college; you quit high school and went to beauty school, instead.”
“I got my GED and worked at the Thorn for awhile before I went to beauty school,” Claire said. “I wish I had stayed in school and gone to college. I would have loved being in a sorority.”
“Anyhoo, we got married right after graduation, had a fabulous honeymoon in the Cayman Islands, and then Bill went to work for his dad at the insurance agency. We had Caitlyn and then Billy, and our lives pretty much revolve around them. Just boring old family stuff, you know.”
Since Candy didn’t seem as if she was going to take a breath long enough so that Claire could speak, Claire walked backward toward the shampoo bowl. Candy followed her there, and sat down, still talking.
“We just went to Hawaii for our twentieth anniversary, can you believe it? Twenty years. Where does the time go, right? It really was paradise, just like they say,” Candy said. “I’m sure after the places you’ve been and the things you’ve seen that must seem really tame, but it was the trip of a lifetime for little ole me.”
“Sounds like a wonderful way to celebrate such a milestone,” Claire said.
“We’re building a house, out in the new housing development off Pine Mountain Road? Eldridge Point? Near the new golf course? It’s going to be a gated community, very exclusive; home-owners association and everything. No clotheslines in anyone’s backyard, no cars up on blocks in the driveway. What with the lower-class element, the college students, and tourists, Rose Hill has really gone to the dogs since you left.”
“Surely it’s not that bad,” Claire said.
“It used to be if you lived on any street above Rose Hill Avenue it was all right, but now there are student rentals on every block. The tourists are buying up anything they can get their hands on, and then renting them out to anyone with cash.”
Claire, who had grown up on a street below Rose Hill Avenue, felt the familiar sting of the thoughtless snobbery that seemed to prevail everywhere. No matter how small or large the pond, there were always big fish looking down on the little fish.
“At Eldridge Point there will be a community center, an Olympic-sized swimming pool, and regulation-sized game fields, all for the exclusive use of the residents,” Candy said. “There will be a guard on duty at the gatehouse twenty-four-seven, so no one who isn’t a resident can get in without permission.”
“It sounds perfect for you,” Claire said.
“Oh, it will be,” Candy said. “I can’t wait to be there.”
“That’s great,” Claire said. “I’m so glad for you.”
“Anyhoo, I’m pretty active in the PTA, and Bill’s president of the Rotary; we both do Pine County Boosters, and although I don’t have to work I do sell Elegance 42. Have you ever heard of it? It’s mostly tote bags and jewelry and home décor items. I’ll leave you a catalog.”
“Great, thanks,” said Claire.
During Candy’s virtual soliloquy, Claire had washed her hair, moved her to the hydraulic chair and now met her eyes in the wall mirror.
“What are we doing today?”
“Just a trim,” Candy said. “Nothing fancy, no big Hollywood hairdo. Just a plain old boring trim of my plain old housewife haircut. I said to Bill, I said, ‘I might come home looking like a movie star,’ and that rotten egg, he said that was fine by him.”
“I like your haircut,” Claire said. “Denise is an excellent hairstylist and she did a great job. I’ll just trim it up for you.”
Claire began to work, and while she did so Candy told her all the gossip about every person they went to high school with, starting after high school graduation right up to the present. The prevailing theme seemed to be who had done well and who had failed, with all outcomes narrowly defined by Candy’s stringent social standards. By the time Claire had finished Candy’s hair she felt like she knew way more than she ever wanted to know about everyone she had ever known.
“So, we need to get together sometime,” Candy said as she paid. “I’m so busy right now, what with the kids and the committees, and building this house is just like a million decisions that have to be made every day, you know? What with the window treatments and tile to pick out, you know?”
“When things settle down, then,” Claire said.
“Sure!” Candy said. “Anyhoo, it was great seeing you, and welcome back! I’m just so, so glad to see you and I’m sure your mother is thrilled to have you back home.”
She hugged Claire and when she let go, Claire was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
“Heartbreaking!” Candy said. “It’s just heartbreaking about your dad.”
Claire handed her a tissue and Candy wiped under her eyes.
“My dad,” Candy started, and then was overcome with emotion and had to stop.
“What’s going on?” Claire asked, and handed her another tissue.
“He’s got cancer,” Candy said. “Prostate cancer. He’s not … well, he’s just not doing well. The treatments they tried didn’t work, and then he had surgery, then radiation, but he’s not getting any better.”
“How’s your mom holding up?”
“She’s being strong for everybody, you know her,” Candy said. “She puts on a brave face and does her best to keep positive, but I know she’s struggling. We all are. If it weren’t for our faith
, I don’t know what we’d do. I said to Bill, I said, ‘I know God has a plan for us so we just need to put our trust in Him and be thankful.”
“I’m so sorry to hear about your father,” Claire said. “You just never think your parents will get old or sick.”
“I know,” Candy said. “And we will, too, right? I’m just so glad I have such wonderful children to take care of me when I’m old, just like we’re taking care of Dad.”
“That’s a blessing,” Claire said.
“Oh, look at me, boo-hooing like a baby and my mascara probably everywhere,” Candy said.
“You look fine,” Claire said. “You look great.”
“Well, I’m off,” Candy said. “Places to go, things to do; it just never stops, right?”
“Take care,” Claire said. “Call me when you have time for lunch.”
After Candy left, Claire stood for a while, looking out the window, just thinking. Twenty years ago, when she left Rose Hill, everywhere she went she had looked for the place where her real life would begin; “real life” meaning having someone to love, to make a family with, to work together toward a secure future. Now she wondered if while she ran around in circles all over the globe perhaps she’d missed out on her real life right here in Rose Hill.
Chapter Three - Tuesday
Late in the afternoon Claire’s cousin Hannah came in, holding a tiny black kitten with big blue eyes.
“No, Hannah,” Claire said.
“He’s not for you,” Hannah said. “I’m just killing time until I can take him to the new owner; she won’t be home until five.”
“In that case let me hold him,” Claire said. “He’s so cute.”
“He looks just like you,” Hannah said. “Black hair and blue eyes.”
“My hair is not black,” Claire said. “It’s Mysterious Nightfall and Wing de Raven with just a hint of Hot Caramel.”
“Well, pardon me,” Hannah said. “I guess that makes mine Mysterious Mouse with just a hint of Head de Bed.”
The kitten was very tiny and mewed pitifully as Hannah transferred it over. Claire cuddled the tiny ball of fur up against her chest and rubbed his neck and head. He began to purr and squeezed his eyes shut at her.
“He likes you,” Hannah said. “Too bad he’s spoken for.”
“He’s so sweet,” Claire said. “But I don’t want one, and don’t you bring me one, Hannah. I mean it. I have enough to worry about without adding another dependent.”
Her cousin sat in the second hydraulic chair and spun it around a few times. Then, without asking for permission, she rooted around in Claire’s handbag until she found an energy bar. Hannah was tiny in stature, but her ferocious metabolism gave her the appetite and energy of a man three times her size.
“This tastes terrible,” she said with her mouth full. “Don’t you have any candy?”
“No candy,” Claire said. “But Kay brought cookies.”
Hannah spit out the bite of energy bar into the trash can, and tossed the rest of it in as well. Claire handed her the plastic container of cookies.
“Excellent!” Hannah said. “Kay makes the best cookies. That’s reason enough to vote for her. She’s asked me to run for city council, you know.”
“Are you going to?”
“Sure,” Hannah said. “She promised to bake for every meeting.”
“Are you campaigning?”
“Don’t have to,” Hannah said. “I’m pretty popular, you know; kind of a local celebrity, really. I’ve been known to do some pretty heroic things in the name of justice and the American way. Around these parts I’m known as the Masked Muttcatcher.”
“Ah, yes,” Claire said. “I’ve heard many a tale of your daring do.”
“Plus all the women want to be me and all the men want to sleep with me,” Hannah said. “Or vice versa.”
Hannah had close-set hazel eyes and a prominent nose, and did nothing to improve her appearance with makeup. She was dressed in her usual summer uniform of faded Rose Hill
T-shirt, khaki shorts, wool ankle socks and work boots. Both her arms and legs were deeply tan with a light dusting of fine golden hair on them. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail anchored by a ball cap that had “Noodleheads” printed on it under a noodle-shaped cartoon character. Noodleheads was Hannah’s new favorite fast food joint, which had just opened up near the interstate north of town.
“I’ve probably done something for every long-term resident in this town,” Hannah said. “If I haven’t removed a raccoon from their attics
, I’ve found homes for their kittens or rounded up their lost dogs.”
“You shouldn’t have any trouble then,” Claire said.
“It’s in the bag,” Hannah said. “What’s up with you, pussycat?”
“The usual craziness,” Claire said, as she sat down opposite her. “Plus my father now thinks my mother is having an affair with Doc Machalvie.”
“It could be true,” Hannah said. “Doc Machalvie is a silver fox.”
“You know it’s not true,” Claire said. “It’s just a new phase of his dementia. The trouble is he really believes it, and he’s obsessing about it.”
“If he mentions it to me, I’ll set him straight,” Hannah said.
Police Chief Scott Gordon came in, took one look at Hannah, and pretended he was going to leave. He always put Claire in mind of a minor league baseball player; at least that’s how she had cast him in her imaginary movie. He had caramel- and gold-colored hazel eyes with long, thick curling lashes, and although his auburn hairline was receding, he had strong enough facial features to compensate for it.
Today he had on his summer police uniform, which consisted of a navy blue Rose Hill Police Department T-shirt, khaki pants and work boots. His muscular arms were tan, and he had a scruffy five o’clock shadow that made him look a tiny bit wicked. There was something about a man wearing a holster with a gun in it that just got Claire’s blood moving. She was imagining him with his shirt off when she caught herself. Ashamed, she reminded herself that he was engaged to her cousin Maggie.
“You’re not still mad,” Hannah said. “I said I was sorry.”
“You’re a menace,” he said, pointing at her. “You disturbed my peace, with malice aforethought.”
“What did you do?” Claire asked Hannah.
“She got somebody to call Maggie, pretending to be Sister Mary Margrethe,” Scott said. “She said June dates were filling up fast, so Maggie needed to reserve the church for our wedding.”
“That’s just wrong,” Claire said to Hannah. “You should never poke a bear.”
“The joke’s on all of you,” Hannah said. “That was Sister Mary Margrethe and she went along with it. She got a huge kick out of it.”
“How mad was Maggie?” Claire asked Scott.
“On the face-flush scale she wasn’t quite up to code red scarlet, but it was close,” Scott said. “I had trouble convincing her I wasn’t somehow involved.”
“If you leave it up to her
, she’ll never set a date,” Hannah said. “What we need to do is plan a surprise wedding, and then trick her into showing up.”
“I would prefer not to have to trick somebody into marrying me,” Scott said.
“Give her an ultimatum, then,” Hannah said.
“Because that’s worked out so well in the past,” Scott said.
“What’s the hurry?” Claire said. “Aren’t you happy with things the way they are?”
“I’m fine,” Scott said. “I’ll take her anyway I can have her. I’m in this thing for as long as we both shall live, with or without Father Stephen’s blessing.”
“She needs to get it over with,” Hannah said. “The trouble is she’s stewing about it.”
“That’s not good,” Claire said.
“Get it over with, huh?” Scott said. “That’s just great.”
“It’s not you who’s the problem,” Hannah said. “It’s Maggie thinking about dealing with her mother, who will want to control everything; it’s having a father in a wheelchair who will be too drunk to escort her down the aisle; it’s having to go up in front of a church full of people looking at her, judging her, and not being able to give them all the finger; it’s the five hundred decisions she’ll have to make and the five hundred people who will all have opinions about whatever she decides.”
“I can see why she’s reluctant,” Claire said. “Sorry, Scott.”
“I offered to elope,” Scott said. “She said no.”
“You would think Maggie would be the perfect candidate to elope,” Hannah said. “But she doesn’t want anyone to think she’s ashamed to marry Scott in a church in front of God and everyone. Because she isn’t, Scott. That’s the truth.”
“Thanks, Hannah,” Scott said. “I feel a little bit better.”
Hannah’s phone played Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl.”
“Hello,” she said as she answered the call. “You have reached Hannah Campbell, Animal Control Professional, at your service. You gotta pup, I’ll be right up; you gotta cat, I’m where it’s at; you gotta raccoon, I’ll be there soon.”
Claire rolled her eyes at Scott and stroked the kitten, which had rolled up into a ball on her lap.
After a series of “uh huhs,” Hannah said, “Be right there,” and ended the call.
“I gotta run,” Hannah said. “There’s a cow loose, apparently, and it’s got traffic stopped just above town.”
“Do I need to go?” Scott asked.
“Frank’s the one who called,” Hannah said, referring to one of Scott’s deputies. “He’s already up there.”
“What about the kitten?” Claire asked.
“I guess I could put him in one of the holding pens in the back of the truck,” Hannah said. “I don’t have a crate with me.”
“No, don’t do that,” Claire said. “You’ll scare the poor thing to death. I can keep him here a little while; how long do you think you’ll be?”
“Thirty minutes, an hour tops,” Hannah said. “It’s Dink Bartlett’s cow, Evangeline. She knows me. There’s a piece of fence down near the creek, and when the water’s low she likes to go on a bit of a walkabout.”
“Just don’t forget to come back,” Scott said. “We know how you are.”
“Don’t you get too attached to that cat,” Hannah said to Claire. “He’s a birthday present for a little girl.”
“Don’t worry,” Claire said. “The last thing I need is a cat.”
Hannah sailed out, calling, “Toodeloo.”
“You just got yourself a cat,” Scott said.
“You heard her,” Claire said. “This cat is a present for a little girl.”
“When have you ever known Hannah not to have a cat crate?” Scott asked. “She has a truck compartment full of them.”
Claire started to protest but stopped.
“I’ve been played, haven’t I?” she said.
“By the master,” Scott said.
Hannah, of course, did not come back later, and would not answer Claire’s phone calls. Claire fed the kitten some chicken left over from her lunch, and gave it som
e water to drink out of a sawed-off paper cup. She went to the supply room to look for something out of which to make a litter box, but when she returned she found the kitten had made use of the sand in her counter-top Zen garden, which had been a welcome home present from Maggie.
“Nice,” Claire said, as she poured the contents into the trash. “You obviously have no regard for my spiritual development.”
The kitten stuck its back foot straight up in the air and commenced to wash its bottom.
“Lovely,” Claire said. “No modesty either. You’ll do well in porn.”
The kitten squeezed its eyes shut at Claire and then resumed its bath.
After the kitten was finished
bathing, Claire put some clean hair towels down in her voluminous handbag and settled the purring kitten in there, where it curled right back up and went to sleep. Claire performed her end of the day clean-up, and that’s when she noticed the tote bag sitting next to the garbage can by the front door. There was no doubt to whom it belonged, but Mamie didn’t answer Claire’s call and no answering machine picked up; her phone just rang and rang.
“Crap,” Claire said. “Now I have to go up there.”
Claire hung her handbag over her shoulder, thereby waking up the kitten, which peeked out to see what was going on.
“Stay right there,
Junior,” Claire said. “We have errands to run.”
The kitten backed down into the handbag, kneaded the towels for a few seconds, and then curled up again.
Claire hung Mamie’s tote bag over her other shoulder, turned out the lights, and locked the door behind her as she left. Mamie lived up on Morning Glory Circle, the highest street in Rose Hill. It was only three and a half blocks away, so Claire walked.
June was the beginning of the very short summer in this mountain town. The temperature hovered in the seventies during the day, and dropped into the fifties at night. The summer so far had been very mild except for the occasional rainstorm. Today it was sunny and clear, and at seven-o’clock it was still bright daylight outside while the air was pleasantly cool. After hiking three blocks uphill
, Claire was a bit winded but not breathless. Even better, her stomach had settled down.
As she turned right down Morning Glory Circle toward Ma
mie’s house, which was a dark, Gothic monstrosity dominating the east side of the street, she saw two people standing on Mamie’s porch, having what looked like a heated discussion. As she neared the house, she could see it was waitress Phyllis Davis, her parents’ partying next door neighbor, and Trick Rodefeffer, the Realtor brother of Knox, the former bank president. It looked as if Trick was trying to calm Phyllis down.
When they saw Claire approach
, they both flinched as if startled, and she heard Phyllis say, “Great, just what we need.”
Phyllis dressed much like Claire’s mother-in-law
Frieda, with very tight jeans and a low cut, revealing top, but Phyllis was thirty years younger than Frieda, and had blue-black hair, teased up very big. Instead of the high heels you would expect, Phyllis wore thick-soled white tennis shoes for her work as a waitress at the Mountain Laurel Depot.
Trick Rodefeffer had thinning
blond hair and an orange tanning bed tan. He wore a pink polo shirt with the collar popped, khaki shorts and boat shoes. He looked Claire up and down, and smiled in what she knew he thought was a sexy way.
He jerked his head up slightly and pursed his lips, which was his way of saying, “Hello, potential sex partner. Would you like to engage in some flirtatious behavior that may escalate into extramarital intercourse?”