CHAPTER 14

“Something’s going down,” Bella murmured.

I followed her oh-so subtle eyebrow bob across the racks of clothing in the women’s department. Saturday morning and the store was crowded, but I easily spotted a group of six men and women trooping down the hallway that led to the training room and managers’ offices.

They looked like they were definitely on a mission.

“Hey, that’s the slimeball from the convenience store,” Bella whispered. “Owen something or other. Always hitting on me when I go in there.”

“Which one?” I asked.

“The one with the Donald Trump comb-over.”

I spotted him immediately, trailing along at the back of the group. I figured him for late forties, short, soft looking, and kind of pudgy. Not exactly the kind of guy you’d imagine Asha—half his age—having a fling with. Owen must have had something going for him that wasn’t readily apparent, though, honestly, I didn’t want to think too hard about what it might be.

“See that old guy in front? The tall one?” Bella said. “He owns the furniture store.”

He was old, all right. His snow-white hair was combed straight back. He wore a crew-neck sweater and what I’m pretty sure was a leisure suit. He’d completed his look with two gold chain necklaces and a pinkie ring. He was either mobbed up, or stuck in the seventies—or maybe both.

“You ask me, that place is a drug front,” Bella told me.

I spotted Carrie in her bakery uniform. Dena was behind her. I didn’t know the other man, but guessed he ran the cigar store.

None of them looked happy.

“What’re they doing here?” Bella asked.

“This can’t be good.”

I wound my way through the racks of clothes, Bella on my heels, and watched as all of them disappeared into Jeanette’s office.

“Something is definitely going down,” Bella said.

Jeanette’s door closed with a thud.

Not a good sign.

“At least it’s not those people from corporate,” Bella offered.

I cringed slightly as Ty flew into my head. I pushed him out.

“What’s going on?”

Sandy appeared next to us.

“The owners of the stores in the shopping center just crashed Jeanette’s office,” Bella said.

“Maybe it’s a surprise party for Jeanette,” Sandy said. “You know, for her birthday.”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“That would be cool, wouldn’t it?” Sandy said.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not a surprise party,” I said.

“My birthday is next week,” Sandy said. “Jeanette and I could have been born on the same date.”

I gave up.

“What are you doing for your birthday?” I asked.

“That boyfriend of yours better be planning something special for you,” Bella told her.

“Actually, he is,” Sandy said.

Bella and I shared a this-is-seriously-doubtful look.

“Really, he is,” Sandy insisted. “He already told me. He’s taking me out to dinner, someplace nice. It’s going to be romantic, I just know it.”

Honestly, I wasn’t convinced. Sandy’s boyfriend was a world-class jackass as far as I was concerned. He treated her terribly. I really hoped he’d come through for her on her birthday. She deserved it—and a lot more—for everything she’d put up with from him.

“You’ll see,” Sandy told us.

I hung around the women’s department pretending to straighten the clothes so I could keep an eye on Jeanette’s office. Whatever was going on in there couldn’t be good—and it was taking a long time. Finally, the door opened and the center’s business owners trooped out again.

Nobody looked any happier than they had going in.

I waited, thinking Jeanette might come out and I could just happen to see her and ask what was up. She didn’t show. I was tempted to go ask her flat-out—I’m not good at holding back—but I heard an announcement over the PA system paging the assistant manager on duty to Jeanette’s office. Apparently, she needed backup for whatever was going down.

Really not a good sign.

Bella appeared next to me looking grim and said, “Now what’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

But I was sure we’d find out sooner rather than later—and it definitely would not be good for us employees.

* * *

When my shift ended at Holt’s, I headed out the 210 to my parents’ house to give my mom the bracelet I’d bought for her. I hadn’t heard from Juanita or anyone in the family with reports that Mom was still upset over the Miss California Cupid gossip that was making the pageant rounds, so I figured I could be in and out quick—always the best way to visit my mom.

Besides, my big date with Liam was tonight and I had a ton of things to do. Marcie was joining me for a mani and pedi. Even though we’d discussed the outfit I’d selected, my accessories, and how I’d do my hair and makeup, we would, of course, have to cover everything again—which was half the fun of going on a big date.

We were both still speculating on what the evening really meant. Liam hadn’t told me where we were going, only that I should wear something dressy, which I interpreted as expensive and romantic. Was I right? Did he want a spectacular setting to discuss our relationship, or to break some big news to me? Or had he simply found a fabulous place to dine that he wanted to share with me?

I was feeling pretty darn good about life as I exited the freeway, wound through the hills, and parked in the circular drive outside my folks’ home. Juanita met me at the door, looking somewhat grim.

“Your mother, she’s in that room again,” she told me.

I waved away her comment. No way was I getting mired down in any sort of situation. I had too much to do.

I headed through the house, fishing the gift-wrapped bracelet from my tote—a terrific Prada—planning a quick drop-off and an even quicker escape. After all, I had a mani and pedi appointment. Mom, of all people, would understand.

The lights were dim when I walked into the media room. The television wasn’t on. No music played.

Mom sat on the sofa wearing a—oh my God, she had on her bathrobe.

Now, granted, it was a La Perla silk robe that my dad had purchased for her last Christmas to the tune of five hundred bucks from Neiman Marcus, but if my mom was still in her bathrobe in the middle of the afternoon, something was definitely wrong.

“Mom?” I walked closer.

A few seconds passed before she looked at me.

“Oh, hi, sweetie.” She managed a small smile. “You look so nice today.”

I had on my Holt’s-wear, jeans and a crappy sweater. And Mom thought I looked nice?

“Did you hit your head, Mom?”

Her gaze drifted away and finally returned to me.

“You know, Haley, I was always so disappointed in you,” she said.

I just looked at her.

“You remember how you never liked dancing or singing or modeling?” she asked.

Like I could ever forget those nightmares she’d put me through?

“All those lessons I took you to when you were little,” Mom said. “I tried so hard to find something you were good at.”

Jeez, how many more hurtful things could she hurl at me?

Mom shook her head. “I was so hoping you and I could connect, that we could share a love for those things. I wanted us to be close.”

Okay, this was totally weird.

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head, Mom?” I asked.

“I wanted us to do mother-daughter things.”

“Shortness of breath, maybe?”

“I wanted us to share a special bond,” she said.

“Weakness on one side?”

“But we didn’t,” she said. “Still, you turned out so wonderful.”

Mom grew quiet and gazed across the room. A few minutes passed before it finally sunk in that, after her initial comment, she’d said a really nice thing about me.

“I brought you something,” I said, and held out the gift.

She looked up at me, then at the gift. “Oh my goodness, what a delightful surprise.”

Mom patted the sofa and I sat down beside her. She took her time opening the package, then lifted out the bracelet.

“It’s . . . it’s beautiful.”

She burst into tears.

Oh my God, what was going on? I went into semi-panic mode. Something was majorly wrong with Mom—she was crying while she had on silk.

“Things don’t always turn out how we think they will,” she sobbed. “Or the way we want them to.”

I rifled through my tote, found a travel pack of tissues, and stuffed all of them into her hand. She drew in a ragged breath and choked back her tears.

I had no idea what was going on but thought this was a great time to move the conversation in a different direction.

“You must be excited about your European vacation,” I said, and forced a big see-now-we’re-happy smile.

“I’ve rethought the vacation,” Mom said, and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I’ve decided we should move.”

“Oh, well, okay,” I said. “You know, I’ve always imagined you living in Bel Air, or Beverly Hills. Hancock Park, maybe.”

“I’m thinking of Montana.”

“Montana?” I’m sure I said that kind of loud.

Mom nodded. “Or Sri Lanka, maybe.”

Sri Lanka? I wasn’t even sure Mom could find Sri Lanka on a map. Why the heck would she want to live there?

Obviously, something else was going on with her, something that had nothing to do with a European vacation, moving out of state or leaving the country, or my dislike for singing, dancing, and modeling lessons as a child—which meant, thank goodness, none of this was my fault.

“Okay, Mom, you have to tell me what’s really going on,” I said.

She pressed the wad of tissues to her lips and turned away. I thought I was going to have to pry it out of her, somehow, but then I realized she was looking at the Back to the Future movie poster again.

Was that the problem? Did she want to go back in time?

We all did, at some point. Who didn’t wish they could change something in their past? Maybe not stay so long at a bar and drink too much wine, then wake up the next morning in a strange bed, unable to remember maybe having hot, sweaty, jungle—

Oh my God, I was thinking about Jack.

Mom sniffed, bringing me back to the moment.

Was she missing her pageant days? The competition? The camaraderie backstage with other contestants when she was young, when she had no husband or children, no responsibilities?

Then it hit me.

“This is about that Miss California Cupid pageant, isn’t it?” I said.

My question seemed to galvanize her. She gave her nose on final swipe and sat up straighter.

“Of course not,” she insisted.

No way did I believe her.

I always tried to be Switzerland where Mom was concerned and not get involved or take sides, but I couldn’t remain neutral on this one. She had totally flipped out and had gotten worse every time I saw her. Something had to be done.

I couldn’t imagine my aerospace engineer dad digging up pageant dirt, or my student/model sister knowing where to begin to look. My brother, even if he weren’t in the Middle East, would be useless.

That meant it was all me.

I was going to find out just what the heck had gone on at that beauty pageant, and put an end to the gossip.