Much Ado About Mother (9 page)

A knock on the front window startled them all. The morning was typical foggy coastal; no one could see who the phantom was on the other side of the glass. Lizzy started crying and Piquant ran around the bookstore, barking at shelves. Eric put his coffee mug down, jumped off the counter, and went to the front door. Even above the din of baby and dog, Suzanna and Virginia could hear that Erinn was at the door.

“I didn't think Erinn would be here until tomorrow,” Suzanna said. “She just finished that shoot in Cambria last night.”

Suzanna noticed Virginia visibly light up.

“She must have come straight here instead of going home,” Virginia said, grabbing a sniffling Lizzy from Suzanna.

“Lizzy! Your auntie Erinn is here!” she said. “Let's go! Piquant, come meet your auntie Erinn.”

“She isn't Piquant's aunt, Mom,” Suzanna said to no one in particular. “Erinn would be his sister.”

Suzanna stayed on the countertop, feeling like an idiot. Who cared what Piquant's relationship to the family was, anyway? Watching Virginia and her entourage leave the room, she took a sip of Eric's coffee, which was now cold. But the cookies were still warm! Maybe she could eat just half of one....

Eric came back into the room, a scowl on his face.

“What's the matter?” Suzanna asked.

“We really need to keep the Rollicking Bun and Book Nook free of any controversy,” he said.

“Am I being controversial?” Suzanna asked.

“Not you, Beet, your mother,” he said, looking out toward the foyer, where they could hear Erinn and Virginia cooing over Lizzy.

So her mother taking sides did bother him! “She says she's just gathering facts!”

“I know that's what she says. But if she's thinking about getting pictures taken of the tree . . . well, that doesn't sound impartial to me.”

“I know. But that's her generation. She always said revolt and bolstering the underdog is in their DNA.”

“That's fine,” Eric said, as he headed into the back office. “But she needs to keep that out of here. We have a business to run and we are
not
taking sides.”

As Suzanna listened to Piquant's yapping in the hallway, she thought there were two ways of looking at everything. She could be grateful that the dog wasn't a shedder or she could be irritated that her mother, without asking, had brought along a dog the size of a hamster with a bark as loud as a bear's. She could be thankful that Eric cared so much about his adopted city or she could be upset that it seemed more important than making her mom happy. She could be proud to have a sister who rushed to the tea shop as soon as she could. Or she could be annoyed that Erinn had just dropped in when it was finally convenient for her. She could be happy that her family was so close that everyone was delighted to see everyone else, that they were not one of those sad, estranged families. Or she could be hurt that her mother had raced off at Erinn's beck and call, apparently forgetting that it was Suzanna who had done all the heavy lifting.

CHAPTER 10

ERINN

W
hy,
Erinn wondered,
do I slip right into the old patterns of childhood when I'm around my mother?
She had gone to say hello at the tea shop before she had even stopped at her own house!

Erinn reviewed the visit as she drove up Ocean Avenue, to her own home, the home she got absolutely no points for having bypassed this morning.

It had started well; her mother ran into the foyer of the Bun with Lizzy on her hip and a startlingly small dog at her heels.

Erinn of course knew about Piquant's existence; she had just forgotten about him. He was eminently forgettable, in her opinion. But not when he was barking, which appeared to be always. Then you couldn't forget about him if you tried.

Her brother-in-law left the happy gathering early to deliver books to a box or some such thing, leaving the Wolf women to their own devices. They sat in the tearoom, still an hour or so before the shop opened, drinking tea and eating cookies.

“I joined a photography group,” Virginia said, breaking off a piece of cookie and feeding it to Lizzy.

“Mom,” Suzanna said in a strained voice, “we don't give Lizzy cookies.”

“Don't be silly, Suzanna,” Virginia said. “It's oatmeal.”

“It's refined sugar,” she replied, pulling a plastic container of hideous-looking green things out of a nearby sideboard and plopping it down in front of her mother.

“Here,” Suzanna said, prying off the lid. “Give her these. She loves these.”

Virginia poked and sniffed at the crackling green stuff.

“What is it?” Virginia asked.

“It's dried kale.”

Virginia burst into laughter.

“Honey,” she said to Suzanna. “Trust me, she does not love kale.”

“How do you know?” Suzanna bristled.

“Well, dear,” Virginia said, giving Lizzy another snippet of cookie, “because nobody really likes kale. They'll eat it, but they don't really like it.”

In order to prove her point, Erinn guessed, their mother dropped a piece of kale on the floor for Piquant. The dog circled it, sniffed at it, and looked at Virginia. All three women stared at him—there was a lot riding on this moment. Which Wolf woman would emerge triumphant?

“Go ahead, Piquant,” Suzanna urged. “Try it.”

Piquant looked over at her and then sniffed at the kale again. He took a bite and started to chew as he continued to lock eyes with Suzanna. Suzanna's mouth twitched into a small smile. Then the dog gagged and threw up. They all looked at the dog in horror. Lizzy clapped. Piquant started his little dog palsy shake and went to lie down at the victor Virginia's feet.

“I'll clean that up,” Suzanna said, heading off to the kitchen.

Erinn tried to get the conversation back on track.

“So, Mother,” Erinn said. “Tell me about your photography class.”

“Oh, you don't want to hear about that,” Virginia said. “I mean, you just got back from being a
real
photographer.”

“Then why did you bring it up?”

“I thought Suzanna might find it interesting.”

Except for the oatmeal cookies, the visit really had been a bust, Erinn thought, as she pulled into her driveway. Her mother just didn't seem comfortable with her. She could imagine Suzanna berating her for not having enough patience with their mother. Well, maybe not today, not after the kale incident.

She unlocked the trunk of her car and was startled by her cat, who leaped into the trunk and was glaring up at her. Was he angry at her for being gone several days? Erinn used to travel for business on a regular basis and the cat had always been fine. Had it been so long that he'd forgotten?

She reached down to pat him, but Caro yowled and shot out of the open trunk. As he skidded under a rosebush, Erinn looked at him in annoyance. What kind of homecoming was this?

“At least I don't feed you kale,” she said to him as she lugged her gear to the front step.

Caro meowed accusingly as Erinn struggled to let herself into the house. The front door lurched open and Cary stepped onto the landing, closing the door behind her. She wore an expression that Erinn couldn't read but whatever it was it didn't look like good news.

Maybe the deal with
Red, White, and Blu
has fallen through. Bad news for Cary, but I could live with it!

“Oh!” Erinn said. “I wasn't expecting you. Am I to assume Blu is ensconced within?”

“Blu's moved in, if that's what you mean,” Cary said.

Erinn tried to move past her, but Cary had her handle on the doorknob. Short of tossing her off the porch, which even Erinn knew to be bad form, she wasn't sure how to get inside. She was gorilla-tired and just wanted to relax in her own bedroom and take a steaming bath in her own tub. She heard the cat let out another growl and thought,
And make nice with my cat. What is wrong with him?

Erinn stared at Cary, who finally swung open the door. She struggled in with her gear and dropped it in the front hallway. She stood staring into her once beautiful living room. All her antiques, her overstuffed Morris chair, the rich tapestry drapes were gone. Her books were gone! The only thing that remained was her 27-inch LED monitor and keyboard, but instead of sitting on her mahogany claw-foot desk it was perched on a stainless-steel monstrosity that glinted in the harsh sunlight that was streaming through windows without any drapes. Instead they had some sort of scarflike pieces of gossamer fabric draped ridiculously over the frames.

Erinn stumbled into the room. Her Oriental carpet was gone, replaced by faux hardwood flooring. She walked around, touching the new furniture. Every single piece was a sacrilege. A sofa, pink and shaped like lips, faced the fireplace, one side flanked by a standing lamp shaped like a woman's legs.

“I'm assuming you don't love this,” Cary said.

Erinn studied the coffee table in front of the sofa, which was some sort of statue of a man on all fours, with his pants pulled partway down over his rump. He grinned up coyly through the glass top of the table.

“Where did you get this?” Erinn asked. “A proctologist's office?”

“We needed to make this place look like Blu lived here,” Cary said. “And she hated everything.”

“But Blu doesn't live here. And I hate all of this! Where is my stuff?”

“In storage, of course. You know when a production company leases a place they can stage the house any way they like.”

“I thought Blu was just going to move into the guest room.”

“Well, you were misinformed,” Cary said, not budging.

Erinn didn't want to fight. Cary was her most constant employer, and even though Erinn obviously hadn't read the fine print, she was getting a fair amount of money for the
Red, White, and Blu
project. She felt a little thrill when she thought about the junk-food-wine-pairing footage she'd have for Cary in the morning.

Blu appeared out of nowhere. She was wearing impossibly short shorts and a thin cotton T-shirt that slid off her bony shoulders. She didn't appear to be wearing a bra, but her breasts still didn't move an inch.

Ah. They're
that
kind of breasts.

She was standing in the doorway with what appeared to be part of a mop in her hand.

“Cary!” Blu said, her breathy voice coming in gasps. “My hair extensions came out.”

“Darling, you look divine,” Cary said. “Don't worry about them. Just put them in a drawer or something.”

“I do not look divine,” Blu said. “I look gross. You need to call Elliot and get my extensions put back in.”

Blu noticed at last that Erinn was in the room and looked at her.

“Don't I?” Blu asked Erinn. “Don't I look gross without my hair extensions?”

Erinn caught Cary's warning look and ducked the question.

“It's been a really long day and I'm ready for a bath. So, if you'll excuse me, I'm just going to feed Caro and go up to my room.”

Erinn saw Blu's eyebrows flutter. What could that mean? Then she looked at Cary, who had the same expression on her face that she had had at the front door.

“I appear to be missing something. . . .” Erinn started.

“Ya think?” Blu snorted.

“Blu, darling, go to your room,” Cary said. “I need to talk to Erinn.”

“But what about these?” Blu shook her fists full of hair violently. Her breasts didn't move an inch.

“I'll call Elliot in a minute; now please go upstairs.”

Blu shot Erinn a withering glare and tromped up the stairs. From the entrance to the living room, Erinn saw her walk into the master bedroom and close the door. It struck her that if Blu was taking over the master bedroom, she was taking over the en suite bathroom as well. Along with making any sense of what was going on, the dream of a steaming bath started evaporating as well.

“Wait, Blu, that's my . . .” Erinn stopped and looked, openmouthed, at Cary. “You gave that cretin my room?”

“Now, Erinn,” Cary said. “Look at this realistically. If this is Blu's house she can't be in the smaller bedroom, now, can she?”

“I feel the fool, you know,” Erinn said. “The complete and utter fool. You sent me to Cambria so you could do your bidding with my house.”

“Oh, Erinn, lighten up. We did what had to be done to make it seem real. Relax! I mean, your furniture is safe. Nobody died.”

“ ‘To me, the thing that is worse than death is betrayal. You see, I could conceive death, but I could not conceive betrayal.' ”

“Wow. That is heavy. I can't believe you just said that.”

“Well, I didn't. Malcolm X said it. But if he hadn't, I would have.”

Caro suddenly streaked through the foyer into the kitchen and back again, yowling the entire time. Erinn tried to catch him, but the cat flew up the stairs. At the top of the landing, he stared down at Erinn.

“My poor cat,” Erinn said. “He's so confused by all of this.”

“Oh,” Cary said. “That's not what's wrong with your cat. Have you been out back yet?”

Erinn had completely forgotten about Dymphna, but she couldn't imagine anything being worse than having her house taken over by Blu Knight.

“What's going on out back?” she asked Cary, who threw up her hands.

“I have to call the hairdresser for Blu. The backyard is all yours, although I have to say, Erinn, I don't know what you were thinking.”

Erinn threaded her way through the kitchen—thank God they had left that room alone—and let herself out the back door and onto the porch.

The ancient Roman poet Virgil wrote, “Each of us bears his own hell.” And Erinn never really knew what he meant until this very moment. Against the garden wall now stood ten rabbit cages, each containing a large creature that looked like an unwieldy cotton ball with ears and teeth. Erinn tried to make herself take a step toward them but found herself rooted to the porch. She snapped back to life as Caro streaked through the backyard in a frenzy and ran back into the house. The sound of feline distress brought Dymphna from the guesthouse. Dymphna was wearing a large sack slung over her shoulder that looked as if it weighed more than she did, and she was walking a furry creature on a leash. Dymphna and Erinn locked eyes.

“It's good that you're home,” said Dymphna. “You can help your cat adjust to the rabbits.”

“Those are rabbits?” Erinn pointed at them from the safety of the porch. “They're the size of Volkswagens!”

“Better for harvesting wool,” Dymphna said serenely.

She started to shovel a small trowel full of grayish-green pellets from her sack into each cage, talking softly to each rabbit as she went.

“Why aren't they in Malibu?”

“The sheep were in Malibu. I traded them in for rabbits, which I can raise at home.”

Erinn wanted to say that Dymphna was raising the rabbits in
her
home, but she realized that logic wasn't really flying today.

“I'm not sure . . .” Erinn started. “Are you even allowed to keep thousands of rabbits in a backyard?”

“There are ten of them,” Dymphna said. “And you need a permit.”

“Well, I don't have a permit!”

“No. But I do.”

“This is not going to . . .”

Dymphna put her index finger to her lips.