Losing Penny (30 page)

Looking from the food to Allen’s smiling
face, she felt ill. He was crazy. He drugged her and kidnapped her
then expected her to enjoy an evening meal with him.

“And that’s not all,” he pulled a bottle of
champagne from the wine cooler. “And—“ he reached in his pocket and
Penny held her breath, expecting a weapon.

Sarah McLachlan. Music flooded the room when
Allen pulled out an IPod.

“You like her, right?” Allen looked puzzled
by Penny’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Allen—I love Sarah Mclachlan, tiramisu, beef
Wellington and gerbera daisies.” She mentioned the flowers before
he point them out. “The problem is I don’t love you.”

Allen sat down on the bed beside her, his
weight shifting her toward him. She scooted away and folded her
knees under her body.

“I know that’s true now, but just wait,
you’ll grow to love me again. Like you used to.”

“We were just friends.”

Allen shook his head, a frown settling on his
lips. “No, you are the love of my life.” He stood up abruptly and
walked over to the food trays. “Bearnaise sauce?”

And because she didn’t know what else to do,
she shrugged and took the plate he handed her. She swallowed
without registering the taste, and she tried to smile at Allen to
appease him. She glanced out the dark window at the glowing Space
Needle. Eventually Allen would need to leave the room, if only to
use the restroom, and when he did, she’d simply walk away. Until
then, why not enjoy the tiramisu?

“For all who trespass these waters, a toll
must be exacted.” The monster did not speak, but Hans heard the
voice, fierce and terrible, ringing in his head. He knew he had to
move with caution and speed, but as the water churned and the
clouds roiled overhead, the only stillness he could find was in his
own mind and heart. There he imagined Ingrid, her pale skin
incandescent in the flickering firelight. Her laughter rang in his
heart and filled his head, drowning out the serpent’s thundering
growl.

From
Hans and the Sunstone

“Pull around to
the back entrance,” Drake instructed Trevor. “This is the only
difficult part of the plan.”

“It’s not so difficult,” Trevor said.

“Why? Do you think the staff at the Strand
will just hand us uniforms and room service carts?” Drake
asked.

“They will for the right price,” Trevor told
him as he navigated the car down the back alley and parked beside
some trash bins.

Drake’s heart sank as he climbed from the
car. Why did everything have to come down to money—the one thing
that he didn’t have? A heavenly odor floated from the open door of
the hotel’s kitchen.

“I have some cash,” Malcolm said, coming to
stand beside Trevor and Drake beneath the streetlamp.

“That’s all right, my dad gave me seven
thousand dollars.” Trevor pulled a bulging wallet from his back
pocket.

“Seven thousand dollars?” Drake’s voice
cracked.

“It’s all he had on him at the time,” Trevor
explained. “I think he saw something like this coming.”

“Then why isn’t he here?” Drake’s dad asked
through tight lips.

“He—” Trevor hesitated, “he tries to fly
beneath the police radar.”

Mia pressed her lips together, but Drake’s
dad looked pleased.

“The police radar? He’s not beneath anyone’s
radar,” Drake said. “He’s got his name on malls, schools, and
theaters. I know. I wrote the book on him.”

“That doesn’t make him well-liked, just
well-known,” Trevor said. “I’ll go and talk to the staff.”

Malcolm raised his eyebrows at him. “I told
you money can be useful.”

“But it obviously can’t buy you love,” Drake
replied, watching his mom blush.

Health benefits of being love include less
stress-induced acne, lower blood pressure, a better sex life, and
an increased immune system.

From
Losing Penny and Pounds

Penny almost spit
out a mouthful of champagne when Drake rolled a room service cart
into the room.

“Room service,” Drake called out. Melinda
followed, pushing a similar looking cart, but obviously with more
difficulty. Moments later Penny saw why when Mia and a man Penny
didn’t recognize tumbled out from beneath the curtained tray.

“What is this?” Allen asked, standing up and
throwing his linen napkin down on the table.

“You ordered room service,” Drake said. He
kicked his cart. Nothing happened. He kicked it harder. Trevor and
Andrea climbed out, both looking flushed and sheepish. Drake folded
his arms and scowled at their bruised and red lips.

Melinda laughed. “Excuse me, Andrea, did you
know you have my brother’s watch caught in your hair?”

“Mmm, I wonder how that happened?” Mia asked,
smiling as Andrea focused her attention on straightening her
clothes and Trevor looked out the window.

“Thank you for dinner, Allen,” Penny stood
and set down her napkin and fork. “It’s been lovely to see you
again, but I this is my ride home.”

Allen braced his shoulders. “Penny, you don’t
understand. I’m not letting you go.”

“You can’t keep her here, Allen,” Drake said,
trying to sound calm.

“I’m not letting her go,” Allen repeated and
he pulled a pistol from his pocket and waved it at all of them.

Mia gasped, Melinda screamed, and Trevor
turned on Drake.

“You said he was fat and harmless!” Trevor
said.

“Well, I was half right,” Drake said, slowly
raising his hands.

“You said I was fat?” Allen’s face turned a
mottled red.

“Allen, please. Put the gun away,” Penny
said.

Two tears rolled out of the corner of Allen’s
eyes and ran down his cheeks. “I can’t live without you, Penny.”
The gun shook in Drake’s face. “If I can’t have you, no one
can.”

The gun exploded.

The tide pulled and tossed his lifeless form
like a lost vessel. He was nothing more than flotsam on a dark and
angry sea. Blue, gray, and green bubbles swirled before his eyes,
clouding his vision.

The sea spat him onto shore and there he lay
while shifting sand filled his eyes, mouth, ears, and nose. A goat
came to inspect him and snuffled through his hair. Han’s lifted one
weary eyelid to see Ingrid tripping down the beach. “You have come
to save me from my loneliness,” she said. But Hans knew that she
had saved him.

From
Hans and the Sunstone

He was alive. And
unhurt. Drake opened his eyes. Penny stood beside Allen, handing
him pillow to staunch the bleeding in his hand. She turned to the
doorway, her eyes blazing and furious. “You had me
Watchdogged!”

Drake turned to watch Richard stride into the
room.

“And good thing too,” Richard said, hotel
security on his heels. Richard tucked his gun back into his
pocket.

The two security guards pulled Allen from the
room.

“Now will you come home?” Richard asked.

Penny folded her arms across her chest. “No!
I’m sick of people telling me where to go and what to do. From now
on and I’m going to go where I want and do what I want.”

Richard lifted his eyebrow. “Oh? And where do
you want to go and what do you want to do?”

Drake watched conflicting emotions run across
Penny’s face. After a few minutes, she squared her shoulders and
said, “I’m going back to the beach house with Drake. We’re
collaborating on a book.”

“We are?” Drake asked, immediately aware that
he’d said the wrong thing.

“A Viking diet cookbook,” Andrea spoke up.
“My idea, by the way.”

“A Viking diet?” Richard asked, sounding
skeptical.

“It’s brilliant,” Andrea told him. “Lots of
fresh fish and produce.”

Richard shook his head at her. “I’m sorry,
it’s really hard to take you seriously when you’ve got a Rolex
hanging in your hair.”

Andrea frowned at him, pulled at the watch
and turned to Drake. “It’s a really good idea.”

But Drake had all of his attention on Penny.
Any idea that involved Penny and the beach house had to be a good
one.

One year later

Dress sizes come and go but wedding pictures
are forever. Penny smiled at the contrast of her creamy skin with
the barely blush pink silk.

Rose smiled at her from across the room.
Because of all the mirrors lining the walls, Rose came in
quadruples. Rose’s dress reminded Penny of a lampshade, but Penny
didn’t care. She was so happy that Rose could come to the wedding
dressed in gorilla suit and Penny still wouldn’t care.

“It’s a little loose.” Rose folded her arms
and frowned at Penny’s quadruple reflections.

“Harrumph,” the woman at Penny’s feet said.
Because of all the pins in the seamstress’s mouth, it surprised
Penny that the seamstress could say anything at all. Rose
understood tailor-speak, but Penny didn’t.

“I know,” Rose sighed. “She’s absolutely
gorgeous, even if she insists on wearing her mother’s 1970s wedding
gown.”

“Harrumph,” the woman retorted.

Maybe the seventies styles were generally
hideous with its bold colors and patterns, but Penny wanted to wear
her mother’s dress, which was anything but hideous.

“At least we were able to get rid of most of
that awful lace,” Rose said. She pinched the silk and tugged the
dress slightly lower.

“I’m looking for Penny Lee,” Drake’s voice
came from the next room.

Ignoring pins, Penny quickly slipped out of
the dress.

“Hey,” Rose complained.

“Harrumph!” the seamstress said.

Penny gave them an apologetic smile. “I’m
done. I don’t care what I look like as long as I’m with Drake.”

Rose raised her eyebrows as Penny threw on
her clothes and hurried out of the fitting room.

She headed toward Drake and her brand new
life.

“A lemon that’s been squeezed too many times
ends up in the compost pile…” I started out strong, but my words
faded away when I noticed Savannah Everett’s father staring at me.
He stood beside a cart filled with vegetables, grinning, as if he
had caught me in my lie.

Pretending I didn’t see him, I cleared my
throat and studied the citrus, as if I could possibly find navel
oranges and limes more interesting than him. “I have to go,
Grammy,” I mumbled into the phone and dropped it into my purse.

“Good morning, Miss Emma,” he said, standing
by the potatoes and onions.

“Good morning, Mr. Everett.” I snuck a quick
glance into his cart, but it couldn’t tell me what I really wanted
to know. Grocery cart contents say so much about a person. Nothing
screams immaturity as loudly as Captain Crunch, and the brand of
yogurt in a cart can reveal the health of a dietary tract. I knew
he wasn’t a vegetarian and that he ate a lot of ready-made meals,
but what I really wanted to know wasn’t at all obvious. He had a
retro Robert Redford look, with startling dark brown eyes that
contrasted with his blond hair. He looked like he belonged on a
sunny California beach with a volleyball, not in the produce
section of the grocery store.

Hiding my flushed face, I scooped up a bag of
grapefruit and hurried away without the red onion that I wanted and
with way too many grapefruits. I would never be able to eat all of
them before the last one spoiled. Living alone is like a race
pitting appetite against ripening produce.

Maybe my answer to that day’s column would
have been different if I had been standing in another aisle. Maybe
if I had been looking at cleansers instead of citrus I would have
come up with something lauding the benefits of bleach. Maybe if I
hadn’t bumped into Mr. Everett I could have had onions on my
hamburgers.

But it didn’t matter; once the lie spilled I
was doomed to slip in it. That’s the problem with lies, they bleed
and they can make a big mess, even when you think they’re
contained. Sure, things could be mopped up, but if it wasn’t done
right, the stickiness would stay, attracting dust, dirt, and
lint.

Not that I was attracted to Mr. Everett.

***

I love dogs, but I believe that they should
have their own space. An art studio is not a dog space. It may be
fine if the studio is private and the dog is your own, but there
really isn’t any reason to bring a Cocker Spaniel to work.
Especially if you work with children and your Cocker doesn’t enjoy
children. It’s not okay to surround your kid-hating Cocker with
fifteen children armed with backpacks full of snacks and loaded
paint brushes.

The clock struck four. I shot O-Toole,
Artie’s Cocker, a behave or die look, smoothed down my smock,
picked up a marker, and headed for the board at the head of the
class. Table top easels perched on the scarred and paint-splattered
tables. Tall windows let in the winter’s dying sunlight. The
children stood on the cement floor behind their easels, pencils in
hand, waiting for me.

I greeted the students and tried to ignore
Mr. Everett standing at the back of the room, but his deep laugh
rumbled and rattled my insides. He stood in a knot of mothers, like
a regal goose in a gaggle of hens. The women twittered and he
replied in a deep low hum. I willed them away. It was time for the
class to start and I didn’t want an audience. Why were they still
here? Several of the women wore tennis skirts. Didn’t they have a
match to play?

I didn’t
really
mind that some of the
parents chose to stay during the after-school program, but Artie
called them helicopter parents. She didn’t say that about Mr.
Everett, because she never had an argument with a handsome man. But
since that same man overheard my lie and prevented my onion
purchase, I minded him. A lot.