The van stopped at a discreet parking area near the bungalows. The driver stepped out and spoke to another young man wearing a matching uniform. Two more young men appeared and removed their luggage from the back of the van. The driver opened the passenger door and offered up a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Ladies, welcome to the Pink Palace.” It was so dramatic that, as one, the women burst out in laughter.
B
efore she could change her mind, Abby dialed Chris’s cell phone number. She hadn’t seen him in ages, and she was sure he’d want to see her mom while she was in town. As far as excuses went, it was as good as any. She had a rule. No matter how much she wanted to see Chris or talk to him, she never called without a reason.
“Chris Clay,” he said.
“Whatever happened to hello?” Abby teased.
“I’ll be damned, you do come out of your cave once in a while, don’t you?” Chris said. Abby heard the laughter in his voice, could imagine the twinkle in his sexy blue eyes. Damn, she shouldn’t be having these kinds of thoughts. Then again, why shouldn’t she? She wasn’t a nun.
She laughed. “I do, and if Rag has anything to say about it, I’ll soon be looking for another place to hide. He’s put the paper up for sale, and rumor has it he’s found someone stupid enough to buy it. While it’s just a rumor, there is usually a kernel of truth in most rumors, especially when they concern Rag.”
Chris was quick to say, “I heard that rumor.”
“News travels fast, but that’s not why I called. You won’t believe this, but Mother and my three godmothers are in town. They’re staying at the Pink Palace. I plan on having dinner with them tonight at the Polo Lounge. I thought you might like to join us.”
“I think I can manage that. I haven’t seen Typhoon Toots in a while myself. Want me to pick you up?”
Abby pondered the offer for a few seconds. Her car was dirty, Chester had slobbered all over the windows, and she hadn’t cleaned them yet. Probably wouldn’t look good to the valet parking guys at the Polo Lounge. “Sure, pick me up. The ride will give us a chance to play catch-up without Mom hovering over us. Is six o’clock too early? By the way, which movie star are you dating this week?” she asked bluntly. She was glad Chris couldn’t see how childish she was with her crossed fingers.
“Six o’clock works for me. I’ll see you then, and thanks for the invitation. No stars this week. My hair is starting to fall out; that might be the reason they’re losing interest.” He laughed at his own witticism before he broke the connection.
Abby looked at the phone for a long minute as she congratulated herself for getting Chris to accept her invitation. She knew his reputation with the ladies, and it was a rare night that Chris Clay wasn’t seen escorting a female star to any number of LA’s hottest nightspots. She’d had the opportunity more than once to write a story about him; but, as family, he was totally off-limits, no matter who graced his arm. She’d missed a lot of stories because of her loyalty to family.
Abby could just imagine her mother soaking in her giant Jacuzzi with a glass of wine and a tall stack of tabloids. If she ever came across a story about Chris, she would’ve fainted right on the spot simply because her mother considered him to be as much her son as Abby was her daughter. Her mother would never allow anyone to trample on their reputations, warranted or not. And if anyone did, Abby knew there would be hell to pay. She laughed as she visualized her mother, the transplanted Southern belle, kicking ass and taking names later.
With time to spare and the fact that she would be out for the evening, Abby decided to take Chester for a long walk. Chester, all ninety-seven pounds of him, came leaping off the sofa and raced to the front door. “Come on, boy. We need some fresh air.”
An hour later, Abby and Chester returned home, both energized from their long walk. Chester’s tongue lolled to one side as he followed her to the kitchen, where his water bowl was full of fresh water. It only took him a minute to lap it all up. Thirsty herself, Abby reached for a bottle of water and chugged it down. Glancing at the clock on the stove, she saw she had an hour to shower and dress before Chris arrived.
Not one to waste time, Abby sprinted to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stepped beneath the spray. She washed her hair with grapefruit-scented shampoo, filled a mesh shower sponge with a gardenia-scented body wash, scrubbed down, then stood under the spray, letting the soap bubbles spiral down the drain.
Turbaning her wet hair in a towel and wrapping another around her body, Abby stepped inside her closet to find something appropriate to wear for the evening. She spied a black Versace sheath dress, a birthday gift from her mother last year. Removing it from the hanger, she draped it in front of her, then stood in front of the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door. Not bad, but Chris might view her as prissy and uptight in a dress like that. A good-girl dress. She tossed the dress on the bed. A good girl she was not, at least not tonight. She didn’t want Chris to think of her as his sassy-ass little stepsister. She wanted him to look at her as though she were one of those starlets who clung to him all the time. Just not in a
bimboish
way. Damn, what the hell was she thinking? She was preparing to have dinner with her mother and godmothers, and here she was worrying about what she should wear. Actually, the black dress was perfect. She’d wear her pearls and open-toed high-heeled sandals. The decision made, Abby made fast work of blow-drying her hair. For once, she went full glamour girl and applied makeup with a professional hand. When she’d finished, she stepped back to admire her handiwork. Her coworkers often said she was a mirror image of Meg Ryan. Bullshit. She made Meg Ryan look like an old warhorse trying to play an ingenue.
T
oots decked herself out in a teal skirt with a matching blouse and silver sandals. She piled her thick chestnut hair on top of her head and clipped a pair of diamond studs on her ears before adding a touch of cover-up to hide the circles forming beneath her eyes. She finished up by dusting blush across her high cheekbones. She looked at the shimmering bronze lipstick, then smacked her lips in satisfaction. The mirror told her this was as good as it was going to get. At the sterling age of sixty-five, she felt like she had traveled into another time zone. She didn’t expect to look like Kate Hudson; well, maybe her mother, Goldie Hawn. She promised herself she would try to sleep in tomorrow but knew her biological clock wouldn’t care if it was two in the morning or not. Didn’t matter. She was here where she wanted to be, surrounded by those she loved most.
Mavis, Sophie, and she had spent an hour getting a massage and a facial. Ida had opted to remain behind, cleaning and disinfecting everything in the room. She’d called room service twice, asking them for fresh sheets and towels. Toots tried to convince her the ones on the bed were clean, but Ida wouldn’t back down. When Toots had returned from her massage, she made a point to call the front desk, where she spoke to the manager and explained Ida’s problem. While she hated to betray her friend, Toots was afraid if she didn’t explain Ida’s obsessive compulsive disorder, management would get fed up and throw Ida out of the hotel or have her carted straight to the nearest loony bin.
The manager had been more than gracious, saying Ida could have all the fresh linens she needed, and if she wanted to watch while they were being washed, she was welcome to do so. Toots hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Toots picked up her small, sparkly clutch purse, which was supposed to be one of the current fashion trends in Los Angeles, and left the bedroom. The Polo Lounge! How wonderful was that?
Toots took a deep breath and looked around, really seeing the decor for the first time. Her bungalow was elegantly decorated in greens and pinks. The furniture throughout her suite had been custom-made, or so said her housemaid, who came with the package. She had her own private entrance, a formal living room and dining room, a wood-burning fireplace that she was sure had never seen a fire, a kitchen large enough to satisfy anyone with a love of cooking. The appliances were all top of the line, the dishes exquisite. Her bathroom had double sinks, a large Jacuzzi, and the shower was pink Grecian marble. Plush pink towels and luxurious terry bathrobes with matching slippers were in an armoire just waiting to be used. Amenities were placed neatly on the marble countertop. Bath gel, shampoo, and conditioner, along with hand and body lotion. There were even pink toothbrushes and toothpaste with a pink fluoride mouthwash. Pink everything.
The Beverly Hills Hotel was lavish, and so were its prices, but again, she had more money than she knew what to do with, so if she wanted to plunk out five thousand bucks a night, she could.
Times four,
she thought as she stepped out into the courtyard.
Sophie was waiting for her outside of her own bungalow. “I’ve never seen such luxury. Pinch me. I can’t believe this is real.”
Toots laughed and linked her arm through Sophie’s as they strolled to Mavis’s bungalow. “This is the land of make-believe, remember?”
“I do, and I can’t thank you enough. No one would ever suspect I have a husband at home on his deathbed.” Sophie looked off in the distance.
Toots knew where this was headed. “Sophie, don’t start laying a guilt trip on yourself. I know where you’re coming from, trust me. Guilt does terrible things, and I don’t need to remind you of all the ‘terrible things’ you’ve been through the past thirty years. It’s me, Toots, remember? I want you to relax and enjoy your time here. Who knows when you’ll have to race back to New York to take care of Walter’s final arrangements.” She removed a tissue from her tiny purse and handed it to Sophie.
“I know, but I can’t help thinking about him lying there just waiting to…die. He’s so feebleminded and old. All those years of hard, fast living and the drinking aged him before his time. He was a mean old bastard, wasn’t he?” Sophie asked, tears glistening in her warm brown eyes.
“Yes, he was, and that’s one more reason why I want you to put him out of your mind. At least for tonight. It’s been a long and tiring day for all of us. I think we’ve earned a night of fun. Abby’s bringing Chris with her. I can’t wait for you and the others to meet him. You want a cigarette?”
“I’m dying for one,” Sophie said. Toots removed two Marlboro Lights from her purse, lit them, and gave one to Sophie. How classy was
that?
Toots burst out laughing.
They continued down the private walkway, the path quiet and tranquil. Surrounded by lush tropical gardens, heavenly scented early-evening air, and glowing from an hour of pampering, Toots wanted to wrap her arms around the moment and hold on tightly for fear it would disappear and she would never experience such bliss again. And there wasn’t a man in sight. Her happiness at this very moment was so great, tears filled her eyes. She took another tissue from her bag and blotted her own eyes.
“Look at you! Crying like a baby. Your mascara’s running.” With her cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth, Sophie took the tissue from her hand and wiped the black streaks off Toots’s face. “There. Now let’s stop bawling like two babies. Look at her, would you?” Sophie pointed to Mavis waiting outside her own bungalow. She hurried to greet her.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so…stunning! My God, your hair and makeup are perfect. Well, maybe when you were eighteen! You don’t look like the Mavis I know, you look like a movie star!” Sophie grinned.
Clumsily, Mavis twirled around, showing off her new hairstyle and makeup. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I do kind of feel like Cinderella. I know I’ve said that a hundred times, but I really do feel that way. When I saw myself in the mirror, I wanted to cry. Coco hardly recognized me. I haven’t felt or looked this good in twenty years. I can’t wait to exercise. My housemaid is going to show me the gym tomorrow. She said someone had arranged for me to work with a private trainer. I can’t imagine who would do such a thing.” Mavis’s clear blue eyes sparkled like two shiny sapphires. She looked at both women. “I had no clue they made such nice clothes for fat women. I feel…” She tipped her head, blushing. “Sexy.” The last word was barely a whisper.
“You are the sexiest retired English teacher I’ve ever seen. The dark green looks fabulous on you,” Sophie commented, then ground her cigarette out on the sidewalk. She picked up the discarded cigarette and stuffed it in her skirt pocket. Toots blinked. When in Rome. Her discarded cigarette went into Sophie’s pocket, too. “We have to think about giving up these things. No one smokes anymore. We’re pariahs.”
“You
think about it, and
you
quit. Don’t include me,” Sophie said sharply.
“Yes, ma’am,” Toots replied meekly.
Mavis ignored the two old friends’ dialogue. “Liz, the woman at the dress shop, knew what would and what wouldn’t work for me. I’ll be forever in her debt.” Mavis wore a deep green tunic top with wide-legged hostess slacks that trimmed at least thirty pounds from her frame. Her new caramel-colored hair and peachy makeup complemented her fair coloring. Toots could see the transformation taking place already.
“Well, I think you both look fantastic.” Toots looked at the slim diamond watch on her wrist. “Let’s see if Ida is ready to venture outside her Clorox cocoon. I don’t want to keep Abby waiting.”
The threesome, dressed in the latest casual finery, promenaded through the winding path leading to Ida’s bungalow, which was situated between towering palm trees and bright pink floral blossoms.
“I’ve never seen such gardens,” Sophie said in awe. “In New York, the only flowers I see are at Joanne’s Market. I’m sure they’re at least three days old when she gets them; she’s an old tightwad if ever there was one. She repackages old meat. It was in all the papers. I wonder if that’s where Ida’s Thomas got hold of that tainted meat that killed him?” Sophie continued to stare at the landscaping. “I wish I had my camera.”
“I’m sure we can purchase one of those throwaways in the gift shop,” Toots offered. “And I can’t see Ida shopping for her own groceries, so I think we can safely rule out Joanne’s Market as the source of Thomas’s poison even though it sounds good. Whatever you do, don’t mention it to Ida. We have enough going on tonight without setting her off.”
Sophie shrugged but promised. Sophie was known to break most of her offhand promises. Toots tried to squelch the prickle of alarm she was feeling.
“Poor Ida. I wish there was some way I could help her,” Mavis said out of the blue. “I want her to feel as good about herself as I do right now. I’m being realistic here.”
“She will. It will just take some time and patience on our part. Now,” Toots said in a low voice, “let’s try to focus on Ida’s positive attributes tonight.” Toots had a mean thought; what exactly
were
Ida’s positive attributes? They’d never been as close as she, Sophie, and Mavis. Dear departed Jerry, the dud, had always stood between them.
Sophie rapped lightly on the door. Toots and Mavis stood behind her. Sophie was more successful in dealing with Ida than the others for some reason. Another light knock.
“Ida, we know you’re in there. Open up, or I’m going to spit in my hand and force you to hold it,” Sophie snarled.
“Well,
that
should certainly convince her to open the door,” Toots hissed.
The door opened barely an inch. One blue eye peeked out. “I can’t go. Tell Abby I’m sorry; just go without me.” Ida closed the door. They heard the lock engage.
“It’s her loss,” Sophie stated as she whipped around. “I’m not going to force her to do anything she’s not comfortable doing. At least not yet.”
“Getting her out of New York was a major hurdle, so let’s give her a little more time before we lower the boom on her. She’ll come around,” Toots said. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving.”
Proudly, Mavis declared, “I’m not the least bit hungry.”
“You have to eat, dear. We’re just going to make sure what you put in your mouth is healthful.” Toots would give anything for a big bowl of Froot Loops, but she’d wait until breakfast. Somehow she couldn’t see asking the waiters at the Polo Lounge for a bowl of cereal as her entrée.
In her usual no-nonsense-straight-to-the-point way, Sophie said, “I am frigging starving. Can’t you two walk any faster?” she hollered as she raced ahead of them. Mavis plodded along as quickly as her bulk allowed, with Toots trailing closely on her heels. Toots scanned the walkway, making sure no one could see her before she gave Sophie the finger. Mavis laughed at the juvenile display.
When they reached the entrance to the restaurant, Toots entered first since the reservations were in her name. At the hostess stand, she was greeted by a beautiful young Latina with hair as black as night. When she spoke, her accent only added to her dark, sultry beauty. “If you will follow me, please.”
Mavis whispered to Sophie, “I bet she’s a movie star.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “I don’t think so. If she were, she wouldn’t be working here.”
“Maybe it’s for a role.”
“Mavis, get real. Actresses don’t practice for their roles working at the Polo Lounge. I’m sure they work here hoping some bigwig movie producer will spot them and make them Hollywood’s next big star. Or they’re looking for rich husbands.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “You need to start reading the tabloids like Toots. Just don’t get addicted.”
“Wasn’t Lana Turner discovered that way?” Toots tossed over her shoulder.
“I think she was drinking a Coke at a drugstore,” Mavis offered.
They followed the hostess outside to the patio. White wrought-iron tables with forest green cushions and color-coordinated tablecloths were placed closely together across the brickwork. Giant urns held bright pink azaleas. In the center, an old Brazilian pepper tree shadowed several groups of diners. The friends were seated right in the center, where they had a bird’s-eye view of anyone entering the patio. They’d just been seated when Toots saw Abby and Chris heading to their table.