FINDING ZELDA

A Zelda Bowen Novel

By

Sue Ann Jaffarian

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“The biggest adventure you can take

is to live the life of your dreams.”

Oprah Winfrey

CHAPTER 1

My crocodile-like jaws snapped down on the marshmallow Peep as if it were an unsuspecting waterfowl invading my turf. I had stuffed it into my mouth whole, the yellow sticky chick filling every bit of my oral cavity, leaving me with serious chipmunk cheeks and the inability to speak. Which was a good thing for all concerned. With my mouth gummed up, I was less likely to tell my two sisters and their husbands to stick a chocolate bunny where the sun doesn’t shine.

Easter Sunday. Another holiday. Another mine field of frustration and insanity. Only this year Easter had been complicated by the disappearance of our father. Well, I’m not sure disappear is the correct word. Seems dear old Dad found the bimbo secretary at the car dealership where he worked more appealing than my mother and took off with her. Considering the tension in the house right now, I’d have to admit I’d rather be eating ham with them. The problem is, they didn’t invite me. We don’t even know where they are. By the time we’d realized he was gone for good, my father had quit his job, cashed out his 401k, and hit the road. Okay, so I guess disappear would be appropriate.

“So, it’s settled,” my older sister Norma said with self-proclaimed authority. “Zelda will put on the bunny suit.” Her husband Kyle agreed. So did my youngest sister Beatrice and her husband Tony.

Damn. At the time I devoured the Peep, I hadn’t realized they would take my silence as consent. “Not on your life!” I said through the sticky goo. It came out “Mut un ur rift.” Grabbing my nearby coffee mug, I threw down the still warm dregs, hoping the heat would melt the marshmallow faster. “No freaking way!” gushed forth after I finally swallowed.

They stared at me as if I’d just screamed the N word at a NAACP meeting.

Norma found her voice first. “Calm down, Zell. No need to scream at us.” She turned to the others with a slow shake of her head, as if confirming something they already knew. “She’s always been the drama queen of the family.”

Residue marshmallow was threatening to lock my jaw again. I stuck a finger into the right side of my mouth and pried it open. “Ha!” I finally shouted. “This from the woman who told the entire neighborhood she was pregnant by a Catholic priest because Mom and Dad wouldn’t let her go to a concert.”

“Oh, please,” Norma whined with great dramatic flair. She was named for Norma Desmond, the long-forgotten silent screen star played by Gloria Swanson in the movie Sunset Boulevard, and it suited her.

“Please wear the outfit, Zelly,” pleaded Beatrice, better known as Bea.

Bea was the negotiator of the family, our own personal mini-U.N. She was the sister who tried to keep peace between Norma and me and sometimes between Mom and Dad, often putting herself in near mortal danger. She never took sides, always claiming she could see the valid points in both sides of the argument. In other words, she was as wishy-washy as a politician up for reelection, but I adore her and we’re close. If anyone could finagle me into doing something, it would be Bea.

“The children would just love it.” Bea looked at me with her big brown eyes and I felt myself crumbling like a French pastry.

Speaking of children, I looked around, glad I couldn’t see my two nieces and nephew anywhere. They didn’t need to see their favorite auntie dissing the Easter Bunny. “Where are the kids?”

“With Mom,” answered Bea. “In the den.”

“That’s child abuse,” I exclaimed in mock horror.

Norma picked at a jelly bean nestled in the cellophane grass of one of the kid’s Easter baskets. “Don’t worry, Zell, they can blame us later when they’re in therapy on their own dime.” She popped the jelly bean into her mouth, no doubt mentally adding up the calories and subtracting it from her daily allowed total. Knowing Norma and her obsession with calories, carbs, and fat grams, that jelly bean probably accounted for twenty percent of her daily food intake.

I looked across the table at my two brothers-in-law. Kyle was as prissy as Norma and just as thin. Between them there wasn’t enough body fat to fry an egg. They had one child, a six-year-old boy named Brandon. Tony, on the other hand, was short and roly-poly, like Bea. They had two girls, four-year-old twins named Mona and Marie.

“So why can’t one of the guys wear the costume?” I asked. “Dad always wore it, not Mom. I think it should still be a guy so there’s no gender confusion for the kids.”

“For one thing,” pointed out Norma, “Tony is too fat and short to wear it.”

Bea bristled at the slam against her hubby. She may be a coward on most things, but I had to give my baby sister credit for her fierce loyalty to her dumpy and often dull husband. “Tony is not fat,” she insisted. “He’s beefy.”

“More cheesecake than beefcake, if you ask me.” Kyle threw out the insult sharp and quick, like a solid swing at a piñata.

“No one is asking you ... you ...,” stammered Bea. She pointed a stumpy finger at Kyle. “You androgynous beanpole.” Red-faced and exhausted by her rare outburst of anger, Bea slumped back in the dining room chair, leaving the rest of us, including Tony, to stare at her with open mouths. I don’t know about the others, but I was more shocked by her vocabulary than her passionate display. Androgynous wasn’t a word I realized my baby sister knew, let alone could use correctly.

I turned to Norma, wanting to get the attention away from Bea before Norma came out swinging in defense of her own spouse. Norma’s verbal punches could be vicious and hurtful. “And what about your husband? What’s his excuse for not donning the rabbit gear?”

No flies on Norma. She had an excuse so handy, it sounded rehearsed. “Someone needs to take video of the kids meeting the Easter Bunny. That’s always Kyle’s job.”

“I can take the video,” I offered. “It’s not rocket science.”

“But then Brandon will think it’s odd if his father’s missing,” Norma countered.

“The kid is six,” I threw back. “He goes to school. If he doesn’t realize by now that it’s just a tacky costume, he has some serious issues.”

Now it was my turn to get the open-mouthed stares.

Norma turned-up her nose and sniffed. “Obviously, you know nothing about children.”

There IT was. The slam about my singlehood and childlessness. It came out every holiday and sometimes was trotted out just for fun at other times. I’d turned thirty in early March. Both of my sisters had married and given birth in their twenties. My mother had had all three of us before she’d turned twenty-eight. Even though by modern standards I was far from a spinster, if there were still such things, in my family I might as well be an old crone with a hunchback and a wart. They had closed ranks, becoming a private club denying me membership.

They were also hitting a sore spot.

For all my heroic stand about being single and not giving a damn about marriage, I really did want someone special in my life – marriage or not. My last boyfriend had been three years ago. I’ve dated since then, but no one special. I was going through a drought with no rain on the horizon. Even my vibrator had lost interest in me.

“It’s not Zelly’s fault,” chimed in Bea, coming to my defense now that Tony was no longer the target. “She’s not around kids all day like we are.” She started to put an arm around me to show compassion, but a glance into my eyes changed her mind. Good thing, too. My favorite sister or not, I might have bitten it, treating the pudgy arm like an oversized Peep.

Just as I was considering tossing the dining room table and making a grand exit from the room, my mother poked her head around the door from the kitchen. “Would you hurry up with the damn rabbit get-up. The kids are restless for their baskets and my grandmotherly patience is on its last thread.” She rubbed her temples. “I need my medicine.”

By medicine, my mother did not mean prescription drugs or even an over-the-counter pain reliever. She meant pot. Weed. Grass. Ganja. Shortly after California made medical marijuana legal, my mother obtained a medical card for the stuff. We’re not sure what she told the doctor to get one, but we’re pretty sure it wasn’t our family physician who prescribed it. Even with recreational pot now legal in the state, she was still pretending it was her medicine.

Norma slapped the table. “Mother, I’ve told you I don’t want you doing that in front of Brandon.”

“It shouldn’t be done in front of any of the kids,” I added, glaring at Norma, letting her know I did know something about rugrats.

Our mother waved us off with a flick of her bony wrist. “I wasn’t planning on lighting up in front of the kids. I’ll go into my bedroom.” When Norma shot her a dirty look, Mom amended her statement, “Okay, I’ll do it in the garage like some mangy dog. Just hurry it up.”

Mom turned back to the den, muttering something about being treated like a criminal in her own home. As soon as she was gone, four sets of eyes turned to me in accusation. Obviously, it was my fault things were taking so long that Mom needed a toke.

I found the rabbit outfit hanging in a plastic garment bag in the closet of my old bedroom. The house was a four bedroom ranch located in one of the hundreds of bedroom communities making up Los Angeles County. The cities were all the same, bleeding one into the other like a series of wounds, with only the occasional sign or city-constructed landmark to indicate where one left off and the other began. When we were young, we shared the house with Mom’s mother. Grammy died when I was six and Mom inherited the house. It wasn’t a bad house, but needed more care than my parents could afford. Over the years it has been patched and painted to look respectable, but it still needs a lot of work. It sits at the end of a cul de sac. There used to be an open field behind our house. Now there’s a freeway on-ramp.

The bunny suit consisted of a light gray fleece adult size onesie with a concealed zipper up the front from crotch to chin. It also came with matching gloves and booties, and a fully stuffed headpiece. The bottom half of the face and the chest were white, the golf ball size nose pink. Beneath the nose was a smiling mouth with a red felt tongue and two protruding upper teeth made of stiff white felt. The eyes were two high arches of black net lined with blue. As a kid, the ears were my favorite part of the costume. The front of each was lined with pink and the fabric was stretched over wire so that they could be posed. Currently they were both straight up. After studying the head, I bent the left ear at a rakish angle.

My father wore this costume every year as long as I could remember. Even when we were surly teenagers, on Easter Sunday he would put on the suit and hand us fancy baskets as we rolled our eyes. When the grandkids started coming, he couldn’t wait for Easter. Funny, he never dressed up as Santa Claus, only as the Easter Bunny. After Easter he’d have the suit dry cleaned and stored it away.

I poked a finger through the breathing hole in the mouth. Dad would sip beverages from a straw slipped into the hole. Mom told us it was orange juice. At some point, we kids realized vodka was mixed with the OJ. He’d keep the suit on for a couple of hours, long after the candy had been handed out, and when the head came off Dad would be halfway down the rabbit hole. His face would be flush and his thinning brown hair plastered to his head like he’d just taken a shower. Today would be the first Easter in memory I wouldn’t see him wearing it. I wondered if the bunny costume had crossed his mind at all, wherever he was.

A rap on the door brought me out of my melancholy. “You taking a nap in there?” It was my mother. She opened the door and poked her head in.

“No, Mom, I’m putting on the bunny suit.”

“Good, the kids are gonna throw a fit if they don’t get their baskets soon.” She started to withdraw, but stopped, her eyes latching onto the head of the suit. Her mouth became a tight knot and her eyes drooped. I was sure she was thinking about Dad, too.

“You know, Mom, maybe we shouldn’t do the rabbit thing anymore, or at least not this year considering ... well, everything. We could start a new tradition for Easter.” I hesitated, trying to come up with something fun that could replace the Easter Bunny. Partially, this was to spare the family any more reminder of Dad taking off. The other half of my agenda was to get out of wearing the stupid costume. “We could hide the baskets in the house,” I suggested, “or in the back yard and let the kids hunt for them.”

Mom considered my proposal for a moment, her mouth loosening from the tight knot into a slip knot. “No,” she finally decided. “Your father is not ruining our family traditions. Whether he’s here or not, we go on.”

She had a point. Just because Dad’s a fugitive from marriage, doesn’t mean we should sit around wearing sackcloth and ashes. I gave her a nod of agreement and resigned myself to wearing the costume.

After Mom left, I stripped down to my bra and panties. Stepping into the suit, I pulled it up and slipped an arm into each sleeve. It was heavier than I’d expected. Grabbing the zipper pull, I yanked it up. It traveled the length of my torso in a series of fits and starts like an ancient car engine. I smoothed down the placket covering the zipper and looked into the mirror above my old dresser. Norma had been right, Tony would never have fit into the costume. It was long and slim, like Dad. Except for being a bit baggy around my knees and ankles because I wasn’t quite as tall as my father, it fit me well. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on the matching booties. They were white furry slippers with thin rubber soles and were too big for me. Next came the gloves, which were also made for a man, but as long as I didn’t have to do detailed hand work, like sewing or putting together a car engine, they should work fine. Lastly, came the head.

After pulling my long brown hair back and securing it with a clip, I lifted the large bulky stuffed head until the neck opening gaped at me like a hungry mouth. I thought about calling my mother back in to help, but wanted to spare her the shock of seeing the Easter Bunny rising from the dead. She was going to have to see it eventually, but I’d rather it be in a room of people who may or may not come to my rescue should Mom decide to take a fireplace poker to the spot between my jolly ears.

After one last look at my own face in the mirror, my head disappeared into the bowels of the stuffed headpiece. It took me a minute to orient myself, align my eyes up with the eye holes, and get used to looking at the world through the fine black netting. It was stuffy and hot inside the head and smelled faintly of old socks. My mouth found the small air hole. How in the hell did my father stay inside this suffocating trap of foam and fleece for hours at a time? Or was it his refuge – a womb-like suspension from the unhappiness and disappointment of his life? Was he that unhappy? Apparently so since he took off without saying goodbye to any of us. He never appeared angry or emotional over anything, except when fighting with Mom. Maybe his even keel way of handling everything else in life and his silence were his cry for help. His red flag of discontent.

Looking through the eyes of the costume, I studied myself again in the mirror. I had more of my father’s temperament than my mother’s, but Bea was the most like him. Norma was like Mom, through and through – tough, opinionated, and controlling. Her way or the highway might as well be embroidered on her panties. When Norma and Mom butted heads, the earth shook on its axis. I was somewhere in the middle, like the third bowl of porridge in Goldilocks and The Three Bears. I was neither too hot nor too cold. But I wasn’t sure I was just right, either. Like my father and Bea, I hated conflict, but from time to time I raised my voice in protest. Whether it did any good was another matter entirely.

With caution I made my way from the back bedroom to the living room. I felt bulky and slow, like a full-suited astronaut taking those first tenuous steps on the moon. Ahead of me I saw the excited faces of my nieces and nephew as they caught sight of me. High pitched squeals seeped into my headpiece, muffled by the cotton batting.

Waddling over to the largest chair in the room, I took a seat as I’d seen my father do in Easters past. The costume was surprisingly comfortable in the seated position except for the big furry blob on the butt. Rising up, I gave the material a yank upward until the softball size tail rested at the small of my back. On a table next to me were the colorful baskets filled with small toys and coloring books and a moderate amount of candy.

The twins hopped up and down begging to be put on my lap. One by one, I accommodated them while Kyle recorded everything with his camera. The kids were cute, even Brandon who can sometimes be a royal pain like his mom and dad. He exclaimed he was too old to sit on the Easter Bunny’s lap, but humored his parents by having his photo taken with me.

“Thanks, Grandpa,” Brandon said to me after I handed him the brightly colored basket.

Arctic air blasted the room as all the adults froze. Almost in unison, we turned to watch my mother. She was on the other side of the room staring at me like I was evil incarnate, a goblin come to life as a gigantic rabbit with thinning fur. Through the netting of my eyeholes I saw Kyle point his camera at Mom, then Norma giving him a slight kick. He gave a little yip and lowered the camera.

“Mom,” I ventured. “You okay? It’s me, Zelda.” My voice sounded loud inside the confines of the big head, but I wasn’t sure she heard me.

Before Mom could answer, our doorbell rang, the chimes bringing everyone out of suspension. She shook off her stupor. “Norma,” she said, lowering her eyes from the offending rabbit head, “will you see who’s at the door?”

I started to take the head off, wanting to show my distraught mother it was me and not my runaway father, but Bea stopped me. She stuck a hand in front of my eyeholes and pointed toward the kids. They were sitting on the carpet a few feet away, digging through their baskets and negotiating trades, oblivious to the tension in the room. Bea wagged a finger in front of my eyes, indicating a beheading of the Easter Bunny would not be the best thing at the moment. She was probably right.

Voices came from the entry. Whoever was at the door was being shown into the living room. I prepared to make a getaway, but only managed to get to my feet before Norma said, “Zelda, you remember Luis Alvarez from across the street, don’t you?”

I froze like a bunny caught in headlights on a country road.

CHAPTER 2

Luis Alvarez. I slapped the side of the stuffed head to make sure I’d heard correctly. I hadn’t seen Luis since he left for college. In school he was in Norma’s class and a star on our high school football team. A hunk slobbered over by all the girls, including both of my sisters. I had slobbered in private, nursing my crush on him in silent angst from the ranks of the nerdy school newspaper and English Literature Club.

I turned to face him, trying to see with my limited vision if he had changed much and hoping he had. I wanted him to be fat and bald. Toothless would be a plus. But no. He was still gorgeous. His black hair was thick and glossy. His light brown face ruggedly handsome with just the hint of lines at the edges of his eyes. His nose, once straight and as regal as an Inca god’s, appeared to be crooked. Broken maybe on the college football field. I sighed. It only made him look more sexy.

He leaned the top half of his six foot plus frame in my direction, and peered through my eyeholes. “Zelda, is that you?” He was holding back a laugh. Norma, her arm linked through his, oblivious of her husband standing nearby, was tittering. I wanted to run. Maybe take a cue from Peter Rabbit and hop along down the bunny trail to hell.

Instead, I fluttered my thick furry fingers at Luis. “What’s up, Doc?”

Everyone laughed, including my mother. I relaxed, seeing she was once again clear it was me and not my father inside the costume.

“Cute outfit,” Luis said, flicking my pink bulbous nose with the end of an index finger.

“For the kids,” I explained.

Luis stared at me a moment before gently disengaging himself from Norma’s grasp. He approached my mother. It was then I spotted a large envelope in one of his hands. “I didn’t mean to intrude, Mrs. Bowen, but thought I’d drop off the paperwork you requested and save you a trip to my office.”

My mother took the envelope. “Thank you, Luis. That was very thoughtful of you.” She turned to the rest of us. “Luis is an attorney now,” she announced. She held her head unnaturally high, as if standing before a firing squad waiting for the bullets to fly. “He’s handling my divorce.”

The tension in the room hung heavy again. Why, I’m not sure. It would be natural that Mom would want to move on after Dad took off. But even as an adult, the finality of your parents’ failed marriage can rock your world. She looked to be steeling herself against any complaints from us. She received none.

Luis gently placed a hand on my mother’s arm. “Take your time to look it over, Mrs. Bowen. No rush. Just call me when you’re ready to discuss it.”

“Please call me Judy.” Mom gave him a big smile before putting the envelope down on the coffee table. “Won’t you stay, Luis? We’re having dinner soon and you’re welcome to join us.”

Who was this woman? She was never gracious when speaking to us. Or with Dad.

Norma and Bea perked up, eager for a new addition to our Easter dinner. Their husbands shuffled from foot to foot. The kids were still lost in their baskets of loot.

“Thank you,” Luis answered, “but I must get back. I’m taking my mother to my brother’s for dinner. It was nice seeing you all again. It’s been a long time.”

He smiled at each of us, but I could have sworn his eyes lingered on my netted eyeholes a bit longer than on the others. Nah! It was probably my imagination. A hallucination brought about by spending too long in the stuffy rabbit head. Oxygen deprivation can do that, I’m told.

From behind, my mother nudged me. “Where are your manners, Zelda? Walk Luis to the door.”

Obeying, I walked with him the few feet to the front door. At the top of the porch steps, he turned around and tossed me a wink. “Catch ya later, Bugs.”

When it was time for dinner, I was finally given permission to take off the costume. I’d spent two hours in it and was feeling claustrophobic, not to mention every now and then my mother stared at me like I was a rabid dog that needed putting down. I went into my bedroom and immediately slipped off the head. My hair was matted to my skull. My ponytail limp and damp. My face was flush and I smelled faintly of dry cleaning fluid. No wonder Dad drank when wearing it.

After taking several deep cleansing breaths, I tackled the zipper. It went down an inch or two, then jammed. I swore under my breath. I tried again, bringing it back up to the top, then slowly back down. It snagged again. Up. Down. Up. Down. The zipper traveled those two inches of metal tracks in tiny masturbatory jerks without a happy ending.

I poked my head out of my bedroom, but the hallway was empty except for the smell of ham and pot. “Can someone help me here?”

“Hurry up, Zell,” Norma yelled from the dining room. “Before it gets cold.”

Headless or not, I needed assistance and it didn’t appear anyone was coming to my rescue. Not only was I hungry, but in the not too distant future I would need to pee. I squared my shoulders and started for the dining room.

Bea was the first to notice me. “Zelly, you can’t come to the table like that. The kids.”

The kids had abandoned their Easter baskets and were fidgeting in tiny chairs arranged around an equally tiny plastic table next to the big dining table. Young Brandon spoke the truth, “Aunt Zell, you look weird.” 

Mona and Marie were preoccupied with the apple sauce their father was spooning onto their plastic plates adorned with cartoon princesses. Brandon’s place setting was covered with dinosaurs. Norma was placing the carved ham on the table.

“Really, Bea,” I said, one hand on the faulty zipper, “I think the kids will live.” I walked over to Kyle, the only one not occupied with kids and food. My mother was nowhere in sight. “The zipper’s stuck,” I told him. “How about giving it a tug for me?”

My brother-in-law grabbed the zipper tab and worked it up and down as I had. He got the same results. “I think it needs some lubricant,” he finally said. “You have any household oil around?”

Bea spoke up, “There might be some under the sink.” She went into the kitchen to check and came back with a bottle of olive oil. “There wasn’t anything under the sink, but how about this?”

Kyle took the bottle. “Oil is oil.” He dribbled a bit on the zipper track.

“Careful, Kyle,” cautioned Bea. “You don’t want to stain the suit.”

“Don’t worry,” I told her. “It’s going to the dry cleaners this week.”

Oiled up, the zipper track was still unforgiving. “Why don’t you sit down and eat, Zell,” Norma suggested. “By the time you finish, the oil will have had time to penetrate the zipper teeth.”

“And what am I supposed to do about going to the bathroom?” I asked. “This thing doesn’t have a trap door in the back.”

Norma cut some ham up into small pieces and put several on each kid’s plate. “I’m sure you could hold it until we finish eating and the oil has had a chance to work.”

Bea followed up Norma’s work with the ham by serving each kid a small scoop of mashed potatoes with gravy. Mona went into hysterics when Norma added baby carrots to her plate. As soon as Bea removed them, the crying stopped like a faucet jerked into the off position. The men were seated, waiting for dinner to begin, craning their necks to watch some sports event that blared from the TV in the living room. Mom emerged from the back. One look and I could tell she was baked. A growing headache delivered a left hook behind my right eye.

Dinner was chaotic. The kids were out of control at the small table. Brandon made Mona cry by putting his carrots on her plate. Marie threw mashed potatoes at her cousin in retaliation. The adults were sullen and preoccupied. The reality of the divorce hung over the table as thick as the gravy in Brandon’s hair. Seated at the far end of the table, I tried to pretend I was invisible each time my mother glanced my way. She shoveled food into her mouth on autopilot, saying nothing, wondering, I’m sure, why in the hell a headless rabbit had come to dinner.

“You know,” Tony said, breaking the silence. He pointed his fork at me, a piece of ham impaled on the end of it. “If we can’t get that old zipper to move, we may have to cut the suit off of you.”

My mother looked at him in horror, then at me. Her fork fell from her hands. “Why don’t you just cut out my heart along with it!” She screamed the words at the light fixture overhead.

“Mom,” I said, trying to calm her down. “It’s okay. The zipper’s just stuck. That’s all. Even if we cut the zipper to get me out, we can have it replaced.”

“Sure,” added Bea, kicking into negotiator mode. “A new zipper is easy to put in. I’m sure I could do it in a jiffy.”

My mother picked up a table knife and pointed it at me. “I hate that damn rabbit suit, Zelda. You wore it just to torture me, didn’t you? You blame me for your father leaving.” She collapsed into sobs, hiding her face in her hands, her elbows resting in the food on her plate.

Norma went to our mother’s side and clucked comforting words to her. She shot me daggers. “How could you, Zell? We told you wearing that thing was mean and spiteful.”

“Me?” I jumped up so fast, my chair fell backwards. I glared at my older sister. “Wearing this thing was not my idea and you know it. As I recall, I was the only one voting against it.”

Bea whispered something to Tony. He got up and started shuttling the kids out toward the backyard with promises of popsicles. In the heat of the moment, the rest of us had forgotten about the three little pairs of ears and eyes just a few feet away.

Bea stood up and faced Norma and Mom. “It was something we all agreed on. We thought it would be nice for the children.” She sat down immediately, her confrontation quota for the week all used up.

I looked down at my mother. Her hands still covered her face. “I told you we shouldn’t do this, Mom, but you insisted on carrying on the tradition.” She upped the volume on her tears.

Norma wiped mashed potatoes from Mom’s elbows, got her to her feet, and started to guide her back to her bedroom. She glanced over her shoulder at her husband. “Kyle, get our stuff packed up. I want to go home. Now.”

“Anyone home?” a man’s voice called from inside the house. It sounded vaguely familiar.

“Out back,” I answered as I rummaged through the gardening tools my mother kept on shelves on the far side of the patio.

Through the back screen door came Luis Alvarez. “Did you know your front door was hanging wide open?” he asked with concern. “I noticed it when I dropped my mother off. Thought I’d come over to make sure everything was okay.”

“Everything’s hunky dory, Luis. Thanks.”  My hopes soared as I located a pair of pruning shears.

“Somehow I don’t believe you. You’re still wearing the bunny suit and you’re dancing from foot to foot. Got ants in your pants, Bugs?”

I held the pruning shears up. “I’ve been in this damn suit for hours and I’m about to wet myself. The zipper’s stuck like rush hour traffic and I couldn’t find scissors.”

He looked around. “Everyone gone?”

I nodded, hoping I wouldn’t sneeze before I got the suit off. “Yep. Divvied up the leftovers in record time and lit out of Dodge. Mom’s in her bedroom passed out.” I aimed the shears at my collar but couldn’t see what I was doing.

“Here,” Luis said, taking the pruning shears from me. “Let me help before you slice your jugular.”

“Just hurry or we’ll both be standing in a large puddle.” I held my head up, exposing both the zipper and my neck.

With quick, deft movements, Luis cut through the front of the costume, all the way down the front, unleashing me from my furry prison. Without a second thought, I stepped out of it, letting it drop to the ground. I had forgotten I was wearing only panties and a bra underneath. Luis coughed and turned away, making himself busy replacing the shears on the shelf.

“Thanks,” I told him.

When we were in high school, I had dreamed of being naked with this man. Had even fantasized he’d be the one to take my virginity. My virtue is long gone and years have passed since he was a heartthrob. Tonight I had other things on my mind.

Disappearing into the house, I returned a few minutes later dressed in jeans and a tee shirt and with a very relieved bladder. I held the stuffed rabbit head in one hand, an ashtray and cigarette lighter in the other. With purpose, I set them all down on the plastic patio table.

Picking up the rabbit suit from where it had fallen, I carried it over to the large, round outdoor grill that stood sentry on the lawn just at the edge of the patio. After removing the domed cover and rack, I dumped in the suit and poured lighter fluid over it. “Hand me that, will you.” I pointed to the cigarette lighter on the table.

Luis handed me the lighter. After a couple of fitful flicks, I held a flame to the soaked fur. It went up like a roman candle.

I returned to the patio table and took a seat. “Grab a chair and watch the show with me,” I told Luis. He laughed and took the chair next to mine.

Resting inside the ashtray was a partially smoked joint I had purloined from my mother’s room when I’d checked on her after using the bathroom. I lit it and took a deep drag before handing it off to my mother’s divorce lawyer. “Primo stuff,” I told him after I exhaled. “From my mother’s medicinal stash.”

“Not your stash?” His chocolate eyes danced with amusement.

“Honestly, I hardly ever touch it, but today being a special holiday and all, it seemed fitting.” I studied Luis with narrowed eyes and held the joint out to him.

He removed it from my fingers and took his own deep hit. After he exhaled, he handed it back to me. “Do you still live here?”

I shook my head from side to side, slow and relaxed. “No, but I’m going to stay the night. I don’t want Mom to be alone. It’s been a rough day for her. It’s the first holiday without Dad.”

“Good idea,” he agreed. “Sounds like the split with your father took her by surprise.”

“It took us all by surprise.” I heard my own voice and took note of its dead zone tone. It sounded like I felt – hollow. “Did my father file already?”

“Not that we know of, but your mother wanted to check her options. It’s smart of her.”

“Glad to hear someone in the family is using their head.”

He smiled and reached out to push some of my flattened hair out of my face. “I’ve always liked you, Zelda. You’re smart and funny. And I always enjoyed reading the editorials you wrote for the school paper. They were so full of passion. Weren’t you going to be a writer?”

I turned away, scoffing at the idea. “I’m a manager at a call center. One of the few that hasn’t been shipped overseas.” I looked at him. “And weren’t you going to be a hot shot football player?”

He stretched his left leg out in front of him. “Sidelined by a bad knee injury my last year in college.”

“I feel sidelined by life. Or maybe by my own inertia,” I said, though the words were more for my ears than his.

Luis turned to look straight at me. “It’s not too late to go after your dreams, Zelda.”

I threw him a skeptical look. “Do you really believe that or is it the pot talking?”

“Yes, I do believe it,” he said. “Even after my injury and my failed marriage, I still believe in extra innings.”

“That’s a baseball term, not football.”

“Work with me here, huh?” He laughed. “I’m trying my best.” A smile spread across his handsome face.

“Sorry.” After my turn, I passed the joint back to Luis and he took another hit, this time smaller.

The bunny suit was now fully engulfed. Grabbing the head of the costume, I got up from my chair and headed for the grill, dumping the head on top of the blaze. When I sat back down to watch, Luis offered me the joint again but I shook my head. He snuffed it and set the butt in the ashtray.

We sat in hazy, respectful silence watching the fire slowly take hold of the rabbit head. Without realizing it, I had dumped it with the face pointed toward the patio. It watched us as we watched it. The arched eyes and sassy mouth seemed shocked to find flames lapping at its pink nose and chunky cheeks. Or maybe it was amused to find itself being cremated, like some demon plotting revenge and thinking how silly we mortals were to believe we could kill it.

I nudged Luis and pointed at the flames. “He’s laughing at me.”

“On the contrary, Zelda, he’s laughing with you.”

CHAPTER 3

“George is looking for you, Zelda,” were the first words I heard when I came through the door at Riverdale Financial Services.

I nodded at the receptionist as I headed for a closed side door that led to the bowels of the company. “Thanks, Deborah.”

“He said for you to come see him as soon as you got in.” She pointed toward a corridor on the other side that led to the executive offices of the company, as if that would be enough to motivate me to hop to it. I’d reached my hopping quota the day before.

“Will do.” I opened the door leading to my work area with an exaggerated movement, letting her know in a passive-aggressive gesture that she wasn’t my boss.

“He said it’s urgent,” Deborah pressed, looking over the top of her glasses at me with disapproval. Deborah Holt was a woman in her early seventies, not much bigger than a postage stamp and the same shape. She tried to run the front office like a boot camp and she was the tough as nails Sarge. It came off as a joke to most of us since there were some days she could barely remember her own name, let alone the name of the company when she answered the phones. Deborah had been here since the beginning of the company and saw no good reason to retire. And the company saw no reason to replace her. This last part, I’m sure, was due in part to her being related to the owners. I ignored her and went through the door to my work area.

I was stashing my purse in my desk drawer when Lauri Biegler walked in. Tall and slim, almost to the point of scrawny, she was dressed in skinny black pants and a tight red sweater. On her feet were pointed toed heels high enough to give me a nose bleed. She leaned against the door jamb to my office like a hooker casually waiting for her next John. I half expected her to light up a cigarette. It was easy to forget Lauri had an MBA and was in charge of payroll and personnel. Like me, she’s single. She’s also my best friend.

“You’re late,” she stated in a lazy tone.

I checked my watch. She was correct. I was late. “Hey, you learned how to tell time. Maybe you can teach me one day.”

Discreetly, she showed me her middle finger, keeping it low and close to her body so that no one else could see it. Her long nails were lacquered red. Her right middle fingernail had a black thunder bolt painted across it.

“Love the new manicure,” I said. “Very in keeping with spring. Why go for pastels when you can go for red and vulgar?”

Lauri examined the finger she’d just aimed my way. “I was going to get an arrow instead, but thought it too strong of a statement. Sometimes it’s best to be subtle, don’t you think?” I laughed. If there is one thing Lauri is not, it’s subtle.

I generally start work at eight. It was now nine. Besides staying at my Mom’s last night, there was the little job of disposing of the burnt rabbit head this morning before anyone saw it and was traumatized. “I stayed at my Mom’s last night and had to run home to shower and change this morning.”

“Ah, yes,” Lauri said, slow and drawn out. “The first major holiday without your father. How’d it go?”

I thought about the bunny head staring at me while it burned and felt a shiver run up and down my spine like an unstable electrical current. It had haunted my dreams, making my sleep spotty and disturbing. “The rabbit died.”

Lauri left her lamp post stance and stepped toward me with genuine concern. “Does that mean you’re pregnant, or that you boiled a bunny?”

“Neither. I’ll tell you about it over lunch.”

“Sounds good.” Lauri started to leave, then stopped. “By the way, Kingman’s looking for you. He stopped by my office to see if I knew when you’d be in.”

“So Deborah told me.” I shut my desk drawer with frustration and locked it. A couple of years ago an employee was helping himself to some of the female employees’ purses. He’s long gone, but I was still in the habit of locking up my desk. I never did prior to Mr. Sticky Fingers. “Geez, I called in and told Rosa I was running late. Usually, that’s enough for George. Do you know what’s up?”

Lauri shook her head. “Not a clue, but he looked antsy.” She shrugged. “Maybe his rabbit died, too.”

My office wasn’t much more than a closet with a glass front wall and door. Through it I could watch the employees under my charge while I did my paperwork. Mostly I walked the floor, my feet clad in sneakers not fancy heels, moving between the rows of cubicles listening to my charges answer questions about notices people received from our company, or assisting with more difficult calls. With the door to my office shut, I felt like a display at the Natural History Museum – a stuffed specimen of a modern woman losing her mind and her looks on the road to nowhere. Children on field trips would stare at me through the glass and point at my glassy eyes and bad posture.

North American Loser, Female. Natural habitat – singles bars in suburbs of Los Angeles. Disposition – cranky, especially during menses. Known to bite.

Riverdale Financial Services is a fancy name for a collection agency. You know, those disembodied voices who relentlessly called you night and day telling you to cough up the cash on past due bills. Most of the accounts we handle are for small to mid-size businesses who had failed in their own collection efforts so turned their deadbeats over to us. I started here as a part-time collector right out of high school. I hated being on the phones, but it paid for tuition and books while I pursued a totally worthless college degree in literature. It also paid the bills while I half-heartedly pursued a teaching certificate, but before I ever reached a classroom, George Kingman approached me with a full-time job offer in management. With teachers being laid off all over California, it seemed the best path to continued solvency while I decided what I wanted to be when I grew up.

Natural enemies – time, panty hose, and close family members. Diet mainly consists of fast food, Oreos, and coffee, with occasional alcohol overindulgence.

Luis Alvarez had remembered correctly last night. I had always wanted to be a writer and I wanted to travel. In high school I’d confidently proclaimed that I was destined to write the Great American Novel, which I would pen from the south of France. I would be special, I told them. A young, brilliant voice in a sea of tired middle-aged authors. And all before I was thirty.

So, thirty is in the house and not only have I not written the Great American Novel, I’ve not written any novel. Nor have I been anywhere exotic. There were short trips to Mexico while in college and a week in Hawaii a few years ago, but that has been the extent of my traveling to date. I’ve given the writing a few uninspired tries, but gave up shortly after beginning each project, realizing that writing wasn’t for me. It was lonely and boring, but I came away with a great respect for those who stuck it out book after book. With no other serious interests, I resigned myself to the belief that I was destined to spend my life as a middle management worker bee. Along the way, I would fall in love with someone decent and not too annoying, raise a couple of healthy and hopefully normal kids, and by the time I was old enough to order from the senior page of a Denny’s menu, I would not have tried to off myself a few times.

Isn’t that all any of us can really hope for – not to kill ourselves, or our significant other, while we march like lemmings to a mass grave?

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of my black mood before I headed off to find George. Going out to the floor, I walked up to Rosa Montoya, my assistant manager for the first shift which started at six in the morning. She’d been here four years and was cool, calm, and collected, and very professional when speaking to distraught debtors and dealing with difficult collectors. Nothing rattled her. Being the mother of six kids ranging in ages from seven months up to twenty-two years gave her the perfect training for this job. I was good at my job, but Rosa was better at it. The pudgy dark face broke into a small tight smile when she saw me. I knew that look. It wasn’t really a smile. There was a problem and she was masking it in front of the staff.

“It’s Larry,” Rosa said to me in a whisper, drawing me away from the cubicle of a collector who was on a call. “He’s been getting out of line with debtors, harassing them with threats again. One said they were going to file a written complaint this morning.”

Damn. That’s probably what George wanted to see me about.

Although we had two collectors named Larry working at Riverdale, I knew Rosa was talking about Larry Hawkins. There were very specific rules and laws governing what collectors could say and do and Larry had already been written up a couple of times for crossing the line. He was one of our most productive collectors, but his tactics left something to be desired. He’d been spoken to a number of times and after several complaints even forced to go through retraining, but he still came across as someone who would break a kneecap if you didn’t pay up. The company philosophy wasn’t like that. Its motto was Results Not Harassment. Signs with those words were posted on all four walls so that all collectors could see them no matter how their desks were arranged. Larry Hawkins belonged in some other collection company, not at Riverdale, but his high collections rate kept saving his ass from the chopping block. Specifically, Carroll Owens, the Chief Financial Officer, kept saving his ass.

“I have to go into a meeting with George,” I told Rosa. “It might be about that complaint. Will you please hold down the fort until I’m done?” I looked around but didn’t see Larry. “Where is he?”

“On break,” answered Rosa moving away from me, her attention honed in on one of our staff who was signaling for help with a call.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to go back through reception and by Deborah to reach the executive offices. I headed down a hallway, passed the staff kitchen and the restrooms, and entered through a door at the end. The executive offices of Riverdale were anything but fancy. There were no mahogany desks or marble wet bars. The only difference between my office and these was the size and the windows. They were double the size of my office and the windows faced outside. The mechanics of the company, such as accounting services and payroll where Lauri worked, were also on this side of the building, some desks housed in a bullpen of cubicles similar to the call center. Lauri’s office looked a lot like mine and we often joked we could almost break through the back walls and join them.

Just outside the door to George Kingman’s office sat Marjorie, the executive secretary and another relative, though much younger than Deborah. She gave me a nod, signaling for me to go in. I knocked on the door. When I heard a hearty come in, I entered and found George at his desk working on his computer.

“Zelda,” he said with a smile. “Come on in and have a seat.” Before I took two steps, he added. “Could you grab the door while you’re at it?”

A closed door meeting. Usually that was not a good sign, except at raise time, and raises weren’t given until June – two months away. This had to be about Larry.

I took a seat in one of the chairs across from George’s desk. “I’m sorry I was late today. I had some personal business to take care of.”

George waved a thick hand at me. “No problem. Things come up.”

George Kingman was pushing seventy and was as bald and oval as an egg, reminding me of Humpty Dumpty. He was also a very kind man and I enjoyed working for him. In fact, I liked my job, even if I didn’t like doing collections work in general. The Owens family treated their employees well with picnics, holiday parties, fair pay, and a solid but understanding management style. George was the Chief Executive Officer of Riverdale. He ran the joint personally, taking an interest in everyone and everything. He’d married into the Owens clan when he was in his twenties and had been groomed from the ground up by his in-laws.

“How are things going?” George asked, swiveling in his leather chair to face me. He looked tired even though it was still morning.

“If this is about Larry Hawkins,” I began, “I think it’s time to address that problem once and for all. No matter how good his numbers, he’s a liability and needs to go.”

George rubbed a hand over his clean shaven face. “Normally, I would agree with you. We’ve given him more than enough chances and I received another complaint about him just this morning.” He paused. “But circumstances have changed.”

I sat up straight in my chair and waited for what he was about to tell me, sensing it was big.

“We’re selling Riverdale, Zelda.” He made the announcement in a no-frills manner, the words deliberate and delivered in a hushed, somber tone, like a doctor telling a patient he had cancer.

I froze, letting the news and its meaning sink into my brain. “Why?” I didn’t say to who or when, but wanted to know why they were doing it.

George gave me a half shrug, almost an apology. “I’m tired and no one is left in the family who wants to carry on.”

“What about Carroll?” I asked. In addition to being the head bean counter, Carroll was the grandson of the founder of the company and the last Owens to be actively involved with Riverdale management.

“Carroll has received a very good opportunity in a different field and he wants to pursue it.”

George turned in his chair to look out the window. His office faced the outdoor employee lounge area, which had been tricked out with potted plants and picnic tables. Beyond that was the parking lot. The building itself was located at the far end of an aging industrial park. The windows had been tinted so people could look out but no one could look in. We could see Larry Hawkins sprawled on one of the benches, smoking a cigarette and talking on his cell phone. A couple of other employees were seated at another table taking a break, their heads together, sharing what looked to be a funny story.

“We’re also a dinosaur, Zelda. You know that. Our clients are going to companies with tougher tactics and lower costs.” With a jerk of his chin, George indicated Larry. “Larry is the type of employee those companies value.”

“Who’s buying Riverdale?”

“Global Financing.” George almost spat out the words.

“No, George, not them.” My voice rose a few octaves in protest. Global was known in the industry for hardball tactics that were barely legal. The company had been the target of industry investigations. George was right about Larry. He and Global would be a match made in heaven – or hell.

“They made the best offer and the board approved it. We’ve been looking for a buyer for several months.” George turned back around, his chair giving off a small squeak as it moved. “By the way, Zelda, it’s still not public so you’ll have to keep it under your hat, maybe for a few months. I wanted to tell you personally because except for me and Debora Holt, you’re our longest employee and in charge of the collectors. In about an hour I’m holding a meeting of key people like yourself to tell them. In addition to providing reports and other due diligence information while it’s being finalized, I’ll be needing you all to carry on and show a united front to the other employees. It will be business as usual until the end. Do you understand?”

I nodded. Riverdale, a small fish in a big pond, was being gobbled up by a circling shark. Global had been buying up smaller collection companies for years. I’d always known they’d eventually come for us, but had hoped the Owens family would fight them off.

“What about the staff?” I asked. “Will they still have jobs when the dust settles?”

“Probably not.” George looked genuinely sad. “As you know, Global has their own large facility.”

“Yes,” I said with a nod. “It’s located just outside Las Vegas.”

George gave me an encouraging smile. “You and your experience would be valuable to them, Zelda. How do you feel about living in Nevada?”

After the family drama of yesterday, I was thinking where do I sign? But I also knew I didn’t want to leave home with everything up in the air with Dad, and I definitely didn’t want to work for Global.

“How long before it’s a done deal?” I asked.

“The closing is supposed to be the end of June, but you know how things like this go?”

No, I don’t, George, do tell. “When will we tell the staff?”

“If the June closing date sticks, we’ll be making a company wide layoff announcement at the end of this month. We’re giving employees sixty days’ notice. Lauri, of course, will be an important part of that procedure.”

“Okay.” I didn’t like it, but really didn’t have a choice.

George looked me in the eye. “I’m counting on you, Zelda, to help the transition go smoothly.”

“And we’ll all be left high and dry without a job at the end?”

“Global might make offers to some or to all.”

“Or to none,” I countered.

“Or to none,” he echoed. “Employees will be given a nice severance package if they stay until the end. We’re even giving packages to part-timers. That’s their incentive to stick it out, although I’m sure some will find jobs and leave during that 60-day period.” He shrugged. “As for you, who knows, Global might even cough up a retention bonus if they find they need you to stay longer.”

I looked back out the window. Larry Hawkins was still lounging around like he had all the time in the world. He’d already been away from his desk far longer than his allotted break time. The other people had gone back inside.

“I want one more thing, George.”

“I don’t know if I can offer you anything else not offered to the others.”

“You can give me this,” I assured him, returning my attention to him. “I want Larry Hawkins gone. Today. If you’ve already agreed to sell the company, who cares what his numbers are. In the meantime, I’ll not have him drag down the morale of the staff any more than he has already. Once word gets out, they’re going to be upset enough without his disrespect and antics thrown in their faces.”

George looked out the window and watched the unsuspecting Larry for a minute, then he picked up his phone and punch an extension. “Lauri,” he said when his call was answered. “Please prepare Larry Hawkins’ final check and paperwork. He’s leaving us today.”

CHAPTER 4

Picking up the delicate glass, I downed half my chocolate martini in one very indelicate gulp.

“Easy there, girlfriend,” said Lauri with a laugh. She hoisted her lemon drop. “At least give me time to catch up.” She put her lips to her drink and downed half of it. “There’s, that’s better. Now tell me, what sorrows are we drowning?”

“No sorrows. I’m just thirsty.” The truth was I had something to run past Lauri for her opinion. I had been thinking a lot about my future and what I wanted to do now that my job was disappearing, and I wasn’t sure now was the right time to do it. It was the right time considering I was going to be out of a job soon, but was it the right time regarding my family?

Lauri and I were at happy hour at a bar not far from the Riverdale office. We liked this bar. It had a bright modern but not hip décor, and the music was subdued so you could hear the person next to you. It was Tuesday, Ladies Night with a two-for-one special on martinis. The place was packed with women of all ages, grouped in bunches around tables and at the bar, like patches of giggling wildflowers. Threaded throughout were men in hopeful singles and pairs, weeds in our garden of drunken delight, hoping to get lucky.

“Bullshit.” Lauri took another sip of her drink, then stopped and put her glass down on the square white napkin in front of her. “Ever since George announced the sale you’ve been dragging ass. Hey, we’re all in this together, pal.”

Six weeks ago, sixty short minutes after telling me, George had gathered the department heads together in the conference room and announced the sale and outlined the plans leading up to the closing of the deal. It was still on target for the end of June and the employees had been given notice of their impending layoffs right on schedule. Every day we marched closer to the end of Riverdale, like troops marching to certain death.

It was tough being on the front lines, leading my staff toward the end when none of our hearts were in it. Some employees had already jumped ship, grabbing job offers as soon as they presented themselves. I didn’t blame them. In these shaky economic times, they were choosing a bird in the hand over the severance money chirping in front of them like the bird in the proverbial bush.

I ran a finger around the edge of my glass. “I was just thinking about Larry Hawkins.”

“He’s not giving you any trouble, is he?” Lauri asked with concern. “You know, taking revenge for letting him go or anything like that? He’d be the type to do that.”

I shook my head. “Not at all. I heard he landed on his feet at Global. Moved to Las Vegas and everything.”

“Humpf,” snorted Lauri. “They deserve each other. Both are leeches on the ass of humanity. You did the right thing getting rid of him before all this started.”

Lauri was right. I couldn’t imagine trying to keep morale intact in the face of the sale with his insolence front and center. I waved to the bartender to bring two more drinks, then downed the remainder of my first one. Putting down my empty glass, I dumped my hand into the bowl of mixed snacks the bartender had put down when we first arrived and came up with a fist full.

“Geez,” Lauri said as she watched me. “Are you pretending to be one of those claw vending machines bobbing for stuffed animals? That’s the second dive you’ve made in less than two minutes.” Lauri moved the bowl away from me. “I don’t want to sound like your mother, but you’ve been downing a lot more booze and junk food lately.”

“Oh please.” I leaned forward and snitched a couple of napkins from the pile used by the bartender. I dumped the snacks in my hand on one of them and wiped my hands with a couple more. “My mother would never notice anything like that.”

“She will if you pack on pounds. Isn’t she a thin freak?”

I shook my head. “Happily, that’s not one of her many flaws. It’s my sister Norma who is a card-carrying member of the fat police. She’s always bugging our younger sister about her weight.”

“Well, keep it up and she’ll be bugging you about it, too.”

I was pounding down a lot more calories than usual. My work clothes were still fitting, but my jeans were getting snug in the waist. By the time the Global was complete, my weight and my cholesterol would be through the roof with all this stress eating and drinking. Worrying about my half-baked plans for after Riverdale wasn’t helping.

“Maybe I should follow my mother’s example and de-stress with pot. It’s not fattening if you don’t give in to the munchies. Like my mother, it usually makes me sleepy, not hungry. ”

Lauri pointed a sharp nail at me. Her latest manicure sported purple lacquer with a green star painted on the tip of every finger. “You know what you need?”

“To get laid?” I had coughed out the words not realizing how loud I’d said them. I felt the man seated to my right turn and face me. Glancing in his direction, I saw a nerdy middle-aged guy in his fifties grinning at me, eager to help out with my problem.

Lauri reached across me and pointed a colorful claw in his direction. “As if, buddy. Now turn around and mind your own business.”

The smile fell from his face as if slapped off and I suddenly felt bad for him, but not so bad to engage in banter and get his hopes up. Tonight was not that kind of night. These past few weeks were not those kinds of weeks. Instead, I flipped my hair over my shoulder and turned back to Lauri – the universal bar signal for fuck off.

“So, Yoda,” I said to Lauri, “what is it I need besides sex?”

Lauri put down her drink and gave me a stern look of knowledge. “You need to come with me to the gym.”

“You know I hate those places,” I said. “All those muscle bound people in spandex bouncing around with focused determination. It assaults the slacker in me.” I took another drink of my martini.

“Food is the most widely abused anti-anxiety drug in America,” Lauri announced. “And exercise is the most potent and underutilized antidepressant.”

I swallowed the chocolaty booze in my mouth. “Where did you read that, on the back of a package of rice cakes?”

Lauri tilted her nose up in the air and sniffed in annoyance. “On Facebook, but it doesn’t make it any less true.”

I had been running two days a week, but stopped when I got buried at work trying to juggle my usual duties with all the stuff surrounding the buyout of Riverdale by Global. For the past six weeks, managers like Lauri and I had been gathering reports on productivity, personnel, and projections and handing them over to Global’s representatives, on top of trying to keep our respective departments operating and our employees from committing harakiri.

I took another sip of my drink. “Don’t I need to be a member of your gym to go?”

“I have a pass you can use. It’s good for five free visits, and wait until you meet Clay.”

“Who’s Clay?” I asked with indifference.

“My new trainer at the gym.” She took another slurp of her lemon drop. “He’s dreamy. I’m sure he’ll let you train with us at least one time.”

I was trying to think of an excuse to not go to the gym when to my right I heard, “Hey, Zelda.”

Turning, I found myself staring into the face of Luis Alvarez. He’d wedged himself between me and the nerdy guy and was speaking with the bartender.

“Can I get you ladies another drink?” he asked.

Before I could get over my stupor, Lauri piped up, “Sure, handsome.” Luis placed the drink order with the bartender.

Finally, I found my tongue. “Luis, what a surprise!”

“I’ll say,” he replied with a grin.

I introduced him to Lauri. “Luis grew up across the street from me,” I explained. “He’s also my mother’s attorney.”

He nodded at her, but kept looking at me. “So what’s up with you since Easter?”

Hmmm, I’m losing my job. I’m gaining weight as we speak. I’m on the road to becoming an alcoholic. My father is still missing. And my future is in the toilet.

“Not much,” I replied with a shrug. “How about you?”

“Same old boring stuff.”

Our drinks came and I noticed that along with our martinis the bartender delivered a beer and an appletini.

“That’s quite a combination?” I noted. “You into the sweet and savory combo?”

Luis laughed. “The appletini is for my friend.” After payment for the drinks, he picked up the appletini and the beer and started to move away. “Nice to meet you, Lauri, and I hope I see you again soon, Zelda.”

“Thanks for the drinks, handsome,” Lauri said with a purr while she lifted her fresh drink.

“Yeah, Luis, thanks,” I said.

When he was gone, Lauri leaned in close. “So that’s the guy who cut the bunny suit off of you.”

“Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t have smoked a joint with him,” she said in her best vixen voice, “I would have smoked him.”

I shook my head and watched Luis move through the crowd until he joined a young woman at a tall table. She was petite and dark, with long dark hair and a killer body sheathed in a tight cranberry dress.

“Is that his girlfriend?” Lauri asked.

“I have no idea,” I said, curious myself. “Until Easter I hadn’t seen him in years. Maybe she’s his secretary.”

We both watched as the woman took the appletini from Luis and planted a long wet kiss on his mouth. Luis’ free hand was on her slim hip, almost on her ass.

“Yep,” said Lauri, “definitely his secretary.”

I inhaled deeply, then exhaled until my lungs were flat and loose. “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay the gym,” I said with false enthusiasm. “But not until next week. Let me get through Mother’s Day this weekend, then count me in.” I lifted my fresh drink toward Lauri in a half-hearted toast. “Bright and early Monday morning, come hell or hangover.”

CHAPTER 5

“Are you out of your mind?” My mother stared at the Mother’s Day gift from Norma and her family with wide eyes and a curled upper lip. I half expected her to spit and hiss for good measure.

They had presented my mother with a real dog of a gift. And that was the problem – it was a real dog. The kind that wags its tail and licks its balls, something the animal was doing at this very moment without a bit of embarrassment.

It was mid-afternoon, the Saturday before Mother’s Day. Every year we take Mom out for an early dinner. We never go out on Mother’s Day and we go early because my nephew and two nieces are so young. Well, that’s not entirely true. They are young, but we started celebrating Mother’s Day the day before years before my two sisters got married and started their families. I’m not sure why. Looking back, I seem to recall it starting sometime in our teens. But it was convenient, especially now. On Mother’s Day, my sisters celebrate their own motherhood and pay visits to their in-laws. It has become my habit to sleep in on Mother’s Day, knowing Mom had been fawned over the day before. With everything going on at Riverdale and Monday morning’s date with Lauri and the gym, I intended on sleeping in extra tomorrow, followed by dinner and a concert with a few friends from college.

In addition to treating Mom to a nice meal, there were always flowers and gifts. On the dining table, I spotted a large bouquet featuring stargazer lilies – Mom’s favorite. Bea always sent those. I usually bought Mom a nice piece of clothing she’d hinted about during the prior weeks. Norma loved to give Mom gift certificates to day spas or beauty shops. It was clear that this year, Norma had lost her marbles.

Having finished lapping its genitals, the animal in question sat patiently on the floor of my mother’s living room, turning its head this way and that, following the argument with small, intelligent eyes. It was definitely not a pure bred anything. It wasn’t that large. Nor was it tiny. It looked about the size of a Thanksgiving turkey. It was predominantly white with medium brown markings and had the face and build of a Jack Russell terrier, but the thick, curly fur of a poodle – a toodle. I didn’t know if toodles were a real crossbreed or not, but I did know a labradoodle was a cross between a Lab and a poodle, so why not a toodle?

“I thought,” started Norma. She stopped and with a sweep of her hand, indicated all of us – her family and me. “We thought it might be good for you, Mom. He’d be good company now that you’re here by yourself.”

“And he’d be a great watchdog,” added Kyle. Six year-old Brandon was kneeling on the floor by the dog, petting the little beast with vigor while he followed the conversation with his own eyes. The two of them – the child and dog – looked like they were watching a match at Wimbledon.

“Hey,” I said, breaking into the discussion. “What’s this we business? I knew nothing about a dog until you showed up here with one. What happened? Did you run out of spa ideas?”

Norma put her hands on her bony hips. “We discussed it two days ago, Zelda. On the phone. Don’t you remember?”

I searched my recent memory for the phone call in question. With everything going on at work, I could have easily forgotten the details of Norma’s pompous prattle, but I’d never admit it. I’d also not told the family about the situation at work. With Dad gone, they had enough bad news to grapple with. “As I recall, we discussed taking Mom to a different restaurant today. I don’t remember anything about a dog.”

My big sister wasn’t about to be corrected. She was always right, even when she was dead wrong. It was the law of her universe.

“We talked about Mom needing some company.” She huffed and puffed at my alleged forgetfulness. “I can’t believe you don’t remember.”

“The dog would be great company,” added Kyle, his voice sounding like a used car salesman trying to unload an ugly gas guzzler.

“We discussed Mom getting out more and making new friends,” I insisted. “That’s nowhere close to the idea of getting her a dog.”

Mom inserted herself between Norma and me, her arms crossed in front of her, her brows knitted. It was the same look she gave us when she caught us sneaking in late at night as teens. “You girls quit talking like I’m not here. I’m not dead yet.”

I ignored her, just as I did in high school when I did come in late – frequently – and looked down at the canine in question. “And why this dog?” I asked my sister. “If you wanted to get Mom a dog, don’t you think you should have let her pick it out? It’s not like an ugly sweater she can return or regift.”

“Crankshaft’s not ugly,” insisted Brandon. “And he was free. The man gave him to me.” My young nephew stabbed himself in the chest with an index finger to emphasize his point.

The adults stopped arguing long enough to look down at the kid and the dog.

“Crankshaft?” I asked in disbelief. “That’s the dog’s name?” In confirmation, the dog wagged its tail with enthusiasm and smiled. Yes, he actually smiled. He looked more like a Scruffy or a Rags to me. Or maybe something simple like Chuck or Joe. Who in the hell names a dog Crankshaft?

Brandon stood up and faced his parents. His lips formed a pout. His eyes were scrunched into narrow slits. He looked like he was either going to throw a hissy fit or cry. Sometimes he multitasked and did both. A talent he learned from his mother. “And he’s not Grandma’s dog,” my nephew snapped at his parents in a determined, squeaky voice. “He’s mine. You said we were just bringing him here to show Grandma.”

Norma put a hand on her spawn’s shoulder. “Brandon,” she began in a soft voice. “We discussed this. You and Grandma can share Crankshaft. He’ll live here and keep Grandma company and you can visit him.”

Mom stomped her foot, ready to throw her own tantrum. “I don’t want no damn dog. So when you hit the road, Norma, that mutt better go with you.”

“See,” whined Brandon, shaking off his mother’s hand. “Grandma doesn’t want him.” Following my mother’s example, Brandon stomped his foot several times on the carpet. “Crankshaft belongs to me. You can’t give him away.”

Kyle stepped forward. “Honey,” he said to his wife. “I don’t see why the dog can’t live with us. Brandon loves him and the animal seems well-behaved.”

Norma glared at her husband while I looked at him with uncharacteristic respect. Generally, I preferred Bea’s husband over the usually snide and arrogant Kyle.

“We’ve discussed this before, Kyle,” Norma told her husband, her words deliberate and a bit menacing. “I don’t want some dirty dog in my house, getting his feet all over the furniture and hair everywhere.”

“Why not?” I added, moving closer to edge Mom out of the fray. “It’s not like you do your own housework. Meanwhile, Mom does, so why should she be stuck with the extra work?”

It was the truth. Norma hadn’t lifted a mop or toilet brush in years. Beyond cleaning up after a meal, she left everything to a cleaning lady who came in twice a week. I wasn’t sure of the name of the current maid. I’d stopped asking their names after the first half dozen. Norma goes through household help like panty liners.

“He can stay outside,” Kyle ventured. “He’ll be an outdoor dog.”

After shooting me a death ray, Norma turned to her husband. “If you hadn’t picked up the mangy beast, we wouldn’t be in this situation. You could have at least called me to see if it was okay to bring the animal home.”

“You mean,” I chimed in, not deterred by my sister’s evil eye. I’d grown up with it and was immune. “Like you called Mom first to see if she wanted a dog?” When Norma didn’t answer, I added. “Do you ever remember us having pets growing up? Do you? No. And it wasn’t Dad who had the final say in that decision. It was Mom.”

“Damn straight.” Mom had backed away and was now sitting on the sofa, her hands fiddling nervously as if she were signing. She was in a full-scale snit, which didn’t bode well for our annual day before Mother’s Day celebratory meal. “I never wanted any damn dog or cat running around here. I still don’t.” She looked straight at Norma. “So don’t go getting any ideas about dumping a cat on my doorstep either.”

It was then I heard a small popping sound followed by a strong odor. The smell started out faint, growing in intensity as it reached my nostrils with full force. I slapped my hand over my nose and mouth. “Dear God, what is that stench?”

It was then I noticed both Kyle and Norma had backed several steps away from Crankshaft. Even Brandon had moved away from the animal. His hand was over his mouth, too, but to hold back a fit of giggles.

With my free hand, I pointed at the dog. “What are you feeding that animal, decayed rat carcasses?”

Norma, holding her breath, shot Kyle a dirty look. Kyle turned to me, reluctant to open his mouth, but realizing the explanation fell to him. “Crankshaft seems to have a gastrointestinal problem. Other than that, he’s a great dog.”

I fixed an eye on Norma, who had finally started breathing again. “That’s the real reason you don’t want to keep the dog, isn’t it?”

At that moment the foul smell reached Mom who was sitting a few feet away. “Argh. That’s disgusting.” She followed our example and covered her nose and mouth. “Where is that coming from?” She looked at each of us in turn. We all looked down at the dog. Seeing he was the object of attention, Crankshaft wagged his tail and did a little jig. There was another few pops followed by an odor that made my eyes burn. The toodle had a bad case of the toots.

“He seems to do it more when he’s excited,” Kyle explained as he herded his family a little further away from the dog.

I also moved away, stepping backward until I was next to Mom and the sofa. In the middle of the room sat Crankshaft, cute and bubbly, oblivious to his personal stink. He started toward Brandon, but Kyle put out a hand. “Stay, Crankshaft.” The dog stopped moving and plunked his butt down. “See, Judy,” Kyle said to Mom. “He’s very well-behaved.”

Mom pointed a finger at my brother-in-law and shook it. “There’s no way in hell you’re going to sell me on keeping that mutt, Kyle, so save your breath. I just got rid of one farting bastard. I’m not taking in another.”

The farting bastard Mom was referring to was, of course, my father.

I looked at my nephew. “Why don’t you take Crankshaft out back, Brandon. He might need to pee.”

“If that dog craps on my lawn, someone had better be picking it up,” my mother snapped. “And I’m telling you right now, that someone will not be me.”

His earlier tantrum forgotten, Brandon picked up the leash still attached to the dog’s collar and tugged on it. “Come on, Crankshaft.” As my nephew left the room, I heard him say half under his breath, “Booger heads.” The dog farted in agreement.

Once his son was gone, Kyle turned to his wife. “You’re right, Norma, I should have called, but I knew you’d say no. I thought if you saw the little guy with Brandon, you’d see how happy the dog made him.”

“You didn’t think for a moment I might object to the flatulence?” My sister took a nearby chair, dropping heavily into it to underline her disgust with her husband.

Kyle shrugged. “I did smell something odd, but thought it was some chemical they used at the garage. Crankshaft never passed gas on the way home. How was I to know?”

“There might be something a vet can do for the dog,” I offered. “You know, change his diet or something like that.”

Norma studied her husband while she considered his words and mine. She looked about to bend on the subject. Kyle held his breath in hope. I knew better. Steel train tracks are more pliable and have more heart than my older sister.

“No, and I mean it,” she pronounced like a queen handing down death sentences from her throne. “Take the dog back where you got him.”

Kyle took a deep breath. “Okay, on Monday he goes back to Chester’s.”

“No, he goes back today,” Norma demanded.

Kyle consulted his watch. “But the garage will be closing soon and won’t open again until Monday. And we have reservations for dinner.”

“Chester’s?” I asked with surprise. “You got the dog from Chester’s Auto Repair?” Now the dog’s crazy name was making sense. I knew the auto shop well. My father always took his cars there for repairs and so did I until I bought a new one last year. Dick Chester had run the garage as long as I could remember and was known for being fair and honest. If he said your car was on its last legs, it was. He didn’t try to milk his customers for repairs that would only be short-term band aids. He gave them the straight info and let them decide on the best course of action for them, not his bank account. His son, Stu, had worked there since he was a kid until he joined the Marines. I’d heard that last year Stu had been deployed to Afghanistan.

Kyle nodded in my direction. “When I picked up my car from Chester’s a couple of days ago, Brandon was with me and started playing with Crankshaft. Dick Chester mentioned he was looking for a good home for the animal.” He shot a look at Norma. “Seemed like a great idea at the time.”

Norma cleared her throat. “That dog is not coming home with us, Kyle, so cut the emotional hard sell.”

“Tell you what,” I said, eager to settle the matter and get to the restaurant. “How about we lock Crankshaft up here while we go out to dinner. He can stay in the kitchen. Tonight I’ll take him back to my place and on Monday morning I’ll drop him off at Chester’s. It’s on my way to work. I’m sure Mr. Chester will understand.”

Norma was about to say something when Mom announced, “I’m not going to dinner.”

The dog was forgotten as we three snapped our heads in Mom’s direction. Norma spoke first, “That’s just plain ridiculous. Of course, you’re going. It’s Mother’s Day.”

“No, it’s not.” Mom stuck out her chin in defiance. “Tomorrow is Mother’s Day. Today is just the day before. It’s a second-class Mother’s Day. Always has been.”

“But Mom,” I started, surprised by her outburst. “We’ve been doing it this way for years. You always preferred going to dinner the day before. You said the restaurants were too crowded on Mother’s Day.”

“That wasn’t my idea. It was your father’s. Bill was cheap, saying the restaurants gouged people on Mother’s Day. That and he didn’t want to miss any games on TV.” She shook out her hands before crossing her arms in front of her chest again. “Now that the bastard’s gone, I want a proper Mother’s Day. I will not be treated like a redheaded step-child another moment.”

“Bea, Tony, and the girls are waiting for us at the restaurant,” Kyle pointed out. “We’re already late.”

I whipped around to Norma. “Thanks to you and your lamebrain idea to bring the dog here. Otherwise, we’d be seated right now ordering appetizers and Mom wouldn’t have gotten upset and hatched this crazy idea in her head.” As soon as I said the last portion of my rant, I was sorry. So. So. Sorry.

Mom jumped to her feet. “Crazy idea?” She took a step forward, making sure she had the floor and our full attention. “Is that what you think this is? Just some crazy idea to spend a real Mother’s Day with my family now that my asshole of a husband’s gone.” When we didn’t answer, she pointed her overworked index finger in our faces and filled in the blanks. “Damn straight it is. Just because your father dumped me, it doesn’t mean I’ll allow you to do the same. I want a proper Mother’s Day and it’s high time I got one.”

A familiar cell phone ring pierced the air. It was my phone. I grabbed my purse, pulled out the phone, and checked the display. “It’s Bea,” I told everyone. I answered the call, putting it on speaker so everyone could hear.

“Where are you guys?” my younger sister asked.

“Still at Mom’s,” I told her. “We had a bit of a holdup over Norma’s Mother’s Day gift.”

“Norma,” Bea gasped. “Please tell me you did not try to palm that stinky dog off on Mom. I told you she wouldn’t go for it.”

I looked at the phone in surprise. “You knew she was going to do that?”

“She tried to dump the poor little thing on us first,” Bea answered. “I told her our cats would never stand for it.”

As we talked, Mom tried to slip away. “Mom,” Norma called to her, “where do you think you’re going?”

“I told you, I don’t want to go to dinner tonight.” She rubbed her temples. “I don’t feel well. I think I’ll just take my medicine and stay home.”

Norma and I rolled our eyes at each other knowing by medicine Mom meant she was going to light up a joint.

“Oh, by the way,” I said, returning to the call with Bea. “Mom now wants to have Mother’s Day tomorrow, not today.”

“But we’re taking Tony’s mother out tomorrow.” Bea’s voice was starting to climb as it always did when she got nervous. “His whole family is going.”

“See,” Mom said, pointing at the phone and stepping back toward us. “I’m a second class citizen to my own family.”

Kyle edged away. “I’m going to check on Brandon while you all work this out.”

I didn’t blame him for wanting to cut and run.

I looked at Norma. “And what about you? I have plans tomorrow later in the day, but you and I could take her out tomorrow morning for a nice brunch.”

So much for sleeping in.

Norma shook her head. “You know we always see Kyle’s mother on Mother’s Day for brunch.” She turned to Mom. “I wish you’d said something sooner. It’s simply too late to change our plans now. Let’s just go to dinner and next year we’ll plan to go out on Mother’s Day.”

“Yes,” I joined in, surprised that for once I was in agreement with my older sister. “Next year we’ll do something big. We promise.”

My mother’s face didn’t relax one bit. Instead, her features screwed up in anger. Not only were we in the habit of talking about her like she wasn’t there, when we did speak to her, it was in the voice of a parent to a child, not the tone of an adult child to a parent. Mom was far from a doddering fool. She was only in her late fifties, still very attractive, and, in spite of the weed, held down a job of responsibility – a job she’d had for over twenty years. But she really should have let us know how she felt sooner. Our family was world class when it came to arguing, but knew squat about real communication.

“Forget it,” Mom said with a wave of her hand. “I have my own plans for tomorrow. I don’t need you.”

“Argh.” Norma shook her head in frustration. “Honestly, Mom, if you had plans already, why did you kick up such a fuss about tomorrow?”

Mom put her hands on her hips. I felt we were in the middle of a playground fight and any minute a real adult might step in to break it up. One could only hope. “I made those plans,” she said with emphasis, “because my own family didn’t want to see me on Mother’s Day. It’s obvious that throwaway dogs and early bird specials are good enough for me.”

I wanted to scream with frustration, but forced control into my voice. “But we didn’t know how you felt about our annual Mother’s Day eve dinner. If we’d known, we could have planned something special for Sunday.”

“I have an idea,” Bea called from the phone. “How about next Sunday, Mom? I know it won’t be officially Mother’s Day, but we’ll do anything you want.” Bea, the  family negotiator.

Bea’s idea didn’t budge Mom an inch. “I’m doing what I want tomorrow – on Mother’s Day,” Mom announced with determination.

“And exactly what is that?” asked Norma, her voice displaying her growing boredom with the conversation.

“I’m going to Pechanga for the day,” Mom said, her chin high.

“The Indian casino?” Bea and I said it at the same time, echoing the same amount of surprise.

“Yes,” answered Mom. “It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. In fact, I’ve mentioned it quite often, but of course it fell on deaf ears. I’m told they have a lovely brunch on Mother’s Day.”

I could tell by the change of tone she was about to unload a bucket of guilt. She was always good at shoveling guilt like cow dung, but since Dad left, she’d become a master shit shoveler. You’d think spending time with Crankshaft would be a natural for her.

“Of course,” Mom continued, her face pinched with fake tragedy. “I’ll be the only mother alone.”

Ah, there it was, the knife in the back.

“Are you taking one of those bus tours, Mom?” I asked, changing my direction so not to get sucked into her web. “I hear those can be fun. You might meet some new people.”

“The buses were all full, so I’m driving. It’s only an hour and a half.”

“By freeway it takes that long,” I pointed out. “But you hate driving on the freeway, even for a short distance. It will take double that time by surface streets, providing you could even find a reasonable route.”

Mom had panic attacks when she drove the crowded Southern California freeways. She took surface streets everywhere, even if it took twice as long to get to her destination. Fortunately, her office was just three miles from home. Smoking weed seemed to help her general anxiety, but she could hardly smoke pot and drive a car. Even she understood that. Or at least I hoped she did.

“Then you drive me.” Her words, directed at me and only me, weren’t a suggestion, but a challenge. “Or do you have in-laws I don’t know about?”

“Of course not,” I said, “but I do have plans tomorrow. Tickets to a concert. Friends and I have been planning this for several months.”

“And I’m going to Pechanga tomorrow and that’s that.” Mom turned on her heel and headed again for the back hallway.

“But what about dinner?” called Bea from the phone.

Mom turned just before disappearing toward her bedroom. “You girls do what you want. Just make sure you lock up and take that damn farting dog with you.”

CHAPTER 6

Shortly after Mom disappeared into the back of the house, we girls huddled up to do damage control. It was decided that Norma’s family would still hook up with Bea and her brood for dinner. I would take the dog home with me, as planned, and return it to Mr. Chester on Monday. Bea wanted me to come to the restaurant, too, but we couldn’t leave the dog in the car while we ate and we certainly couldn’t leave him behind. By the time we left Mom’s, the sweet scent of marijuana was drifting from her bedroom out to the living room.

On my way home, I decided to swing by Chester’s to see if it was still open. According to Kyle, it closed at five on Saturdays. The clock in my car said it was five minutes after five.

A few blocks from Mom’s, I lowered the window on the passenger’s side partway so that Crankshaft could stick his head out the window. He was delirious with pleasure, ears bent back, tongue blowing in the wind. Unfortunately, the wrong end was sticking out the window. We hadn’t gone far before I was gagging and hanging my own head out the window on my side.

The doors to the three bays at Chester’s Auto Repair were open, but only one bay held a car. A pickup truck was parked next to the office with the logo of the establishment painted on the side. The place looked deserted, but not closed.

As I pulled up next to the pickup truck, Crankshaft started yipping and hopping around in the passenger’s seat. His short tail wagged so hard, I thought it would fly off and hit me in the face. The little guy knew he was home. With speed, I shut off the engine and climbed out of the car before Crankshaft had a chance to gas me.

I tried the office door, but it was locked. Going into the first open bay I called, “Mr. Chester, you here?” When I received no answer, I put more oomph into it, “Mr. Chester? Dick? Anyone?”

“Be right there,” a man called from somewhere inside.

As soon as he heard the man’s voice, the little dog in my car went berserk, barking and hopping up and down as if on springs. Considering his tummy problems, I wondered if my car would need fumigating.

“Is that you, Crankshaft?” A pleasant-looking, middle-aged man with a slight paunch emerged from inside the car repair shop. He was dressed in blue khakis and a matching blue short sleeve shirt with the shop’s logo over his heart. He gave me no more than a passing glance before trotting over to my car. “Crankshaft!”

The dog popped its head through the window opening, begging for attention. The man patted the animal’s white head and cooed to him. “You came back, boy.” His voice was choked with emotion.

As I approached the car, he turned to acknowledge me, keeping his hand on Crankshaft’s head. The dog lapped it with gusto. “You’re one of Bill Bowen’s girls.” He searched his memory. “Zelda, right? You usually drive an ancient silver Toyota Camry.”

“Yes to Zelda, but I took your advice and got rid of that old car. Replaced it with this Focus. It’s used but in great condition.”

Dick gave me a quick nod of approval. “Good move.” He returned his attention back to the dog and tried to open the car door, but it was locked. He turned back to me. “Can I visit with the little fella a bit?”

I aimed my key fob at the car and unlocked it. Dick yanked it open and released the dog. Crankshaft immediately jumped into his former owner’s waiting arms and slathered his face with doggie kisses. Dick crouched on the pavement clutching the animal like life itself. Norma may have done a bad thing not letting Brandon keep the mutt, but something told me bringing Crankshaft back here was the right thing for all concerned.

“How did you get him?” Dick asked me after disentangling himself from the dog’s attention. “I gave Cranky here to a man and his little boy.”

“That was my brother-in-law and nephew,” I explained. “Unfortunately, my sister wasn’t as enamored with Crankshaft and no one else in the family could keep him.” I moved closer. “We were hoping you could find him another home. I have his food and other stuff you gave them in the back of the car.”

Dick crouched down again. He placed a hand under the muzzle of the little dog and looked into its eyes. The dog’s tongue shot out and swiped his chin. “He’s staying with me.” Again his voice choked. He scratched the animal under its jaw. “Can you forgive me, Cranky?” In response, the dog whined and gave his rightful owner a few more hearty licks.

With a few stiff groans, Dick straightened up again. “I should never have given him away.”

“Why did you? You two seem inseparable.” I looked down at the animal. He was turning and jumping around so much his leash was getting tangled around his legs. Dick bent one more time and released the leash. Crankshaft shot into the car shop and like a blaze of lightning shot back out to where we were. “He seems very happy to be home.”

“I thought giving him away would ease my pain,” Dick said as he watched the dog, “but it only made it worse.”

I looked at Dick Chester with curiosity, wanting to know more, but understanding if he didn’t want to share. It was clear the dog’s homecoming had made him very emotional.

“My wife died last year shortly before my son left for overseas.”

“I’m so sorry, Dick, I didn’t know.” I took a deep breath to stem the tears trying to get out.

“We had no warning. One Sunday she decided to bake my son a cake. She’d barely gotten it into the oven when she had a massive heart attack and dropped to the floor.” He picked up the dog and cuddled it close to his chest. “Then a few months ago, my son was killed in Afghanistan.”

This time I didn’t take a deep breath. I flat out stopped breathing. Stu Chester was dead. He was about my age, or maybe closer to Bea’s, but I remembered him from school. “Again, Dick, I am so sorry to hear that.”

The grieving husband and father stroked the happy dog’s head. “Crankshaft was Stu’s dog. He left him with me when he was deployed. I loved having the animal. He’s good company in spite of his ... ah... little problem.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I think it was that problem that nixed him with my sister.”

Dick looked Crankshaft in the eye. “I don’t know whether to scold you or give you a treat.” He gave the wiggling body another hug before setting him back on the ground.

“Problem was, Zelda, having Crankshaft reminded me too much of Stu. I thought if I found him another home, I could move on with my life a little easier.” He glanced down at Crankshaft, who now had his nose to the ground following a beetle. “I was never more wrong. Without Cranky, the loneliness became almost unbearable. I thought about calling the customer who took him and asking for him back, but the little boy was so delighted to have a dog, I just couldn’t do it.”

Reaching out, I placed a hand on Dick’s arm. “He’s home now, and for good.”

Dick placed a work-worn hand over mine. “Thank you, Zelda.” There were tears in his eyes. I had to turn away so I wouldn’t start blubbering.

Taking a deep breath, Dick turned toward my car. “Let me take Cranky’s things and then you can be on your way. By the way, I haven’t seen your father in quite a while. I hope he’s okay.”

“Um, I really don’t know.”

Dick was grabbing the small box of Crankshaft’s stuff from my back seat when he turned to me in surprise.

“My mother and father split up several months back,” I explained. “No one has seen Dad since.”

“That’s a real shame, Zelda. A real shame. I always liked your folks. I’ve known them a long time.”

“You know my mother?”

“Sure, long before I knew your dad.” He set the box of doggie paraphernalia on the hood of my car. “Back in high school, she dated a good friend of mine. She was quite the looker and high spirited. A real firecracker of a gal. A lot of guys had crushes on Judy back then.” He smiled. “Me included.”

The looker part I could believe, but high spirited? “Yeah, my mother’s a real pistol.”

“You girls make sure you do something special for Judy tomorrow.” His face grew sad and serious. “Always remember to be kind to those you love. You never know when they’ll be taken from you.”

His gentle words hit hard, like one of Crankshaft’s farts, but it was me who smelled like rotten garbage. Mom could have told us what she wanted sooner, but at least she did speak up. Dad was gone. Not dead, that we knew of, but gone just the same, and whether we would ever see him again was anyone’s guess.

“Mom’s dying to go to Pechanga for Mother’s Day,” I told Dick as I made a quick decision. “I’m taking her.”

“Pechanga? Boy, my wife and I loved that place. Used to go several times a year. You two have a great time.” He picked up the box. “Thank you so much for bringing Cranky back to me. Next time you need a little work done, it’s on the house.”

“Why are we stopping here?” my mother asked.

We had just pulled up in front of Dick Chester’s cute and well-maintained home one town over from where my mother lived. Dick had called me the night before, a few hours after I returned Crankshaft. After explaining he’d gotten my number from past invoices, he said he’d found some discount coupons for Pechanga and wanted to pass them along for us to use. He told me to drop by any time the next morning to pick them up.

“Dick Chester said he wanted to give us some coupons to use today. Seems he and his wife belonged to some special club or something.”

“So sad about his wife,” Mom said, her voice genuinely sad. “I heard she died instantly.”

“You knew his wife died?”

“Of course,” Mom answered. “Your father and I went to her funeral.”

“Did you know about his son being killed?”

“Yes, it was in the newspaper. Although I didn’t make it to that memorial service. It happened about the time your father took off.”

I glanced over at Mom. She was all spruced up for her big day at Pechanga. Her hair was done, her makeup perfect, and she was wearing the blouse I’d given her for Mother’s Day. She was even clearheaded and dope free. All along I was thinking Mom was out of touch, when it was really me who was in the dark.

We both got out of the car, but before we made it to the front door, Dick opened it and greeted us. He was dressed in nice slacks and a pressed shirt and wore men’s cologne applied with a light hand. Something told me his efforts were not for my benefit. Crankshaft danced around his feet with his own brand of hello.

“Ladies, so nice to see you.” He beamed at my mother. “Happy Mother’s Day to you, Judy.”

My mother blushed and straightened her shoulders, which perked up her boobies. I hadn’t seen her so animated in years.

Dick invited us in, but I declined for us both. I wanted to get going. Depending on how long Mom wanted to stay at the casino, there was still a chance I might make tonight’s plans with my friends. I’d called to let them know I wouldn’t be at dinner, but might show up later for the concert. Fortunately, Mom had wanted to get an early start.

“Well, here they are,” Dick said, holding out an envelope. “There’s coupons there for some free play, valet parking, and a two-for-one at the buffet.”

“Thank you, Dick.” Mom took the envelope and flashed him a warm, cozy smile. “We’ve never been there. Maybe you’d like to come along and show us around.”

I had to physically stop my jaw from dropping. Mom was wasting no time putting the moves on Dick Chester.

“I’d love to, Judy,” Dick said, “but I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel. It is Mother’s Day, after all.”

It was clear to me who would be the third-wheel and it wasn’t Dick.

“Nonsense,” my mother told him with a soft pat to his upper arm. “In fact, I know Zelda canceled her own plans to take me today.” She turned and smiled at me. “Isn’t she a good daughter?”

Good daughter?

“The best,” Dick agreed. “She brought Cranky back to me.”

Mom latched her attention and charms back on Dick like a heat-seeking missile. “In fact, why don’t the two of us go and let Zelda off the hook.” She turned back to me. “It’s not too late for you to meet up with your friends, is it, dear?”

Dear?

“No, Mom, not at all,” I said, finding my voice, “but I wouldn’t want to impose on Dick like this at the last minute.”

“No imposition at all, Zelda,” Dick assured me. “I’d be honored to escort your lovely mother to Pechanga.” He tossed me a quick wink. “But don’t wait up for her, because we might be late.” Mom giggled.

I felt like I’d tripped headlong into an alternate universe. “You sure, Mom?”

“Of course, Zelda,” Mom told me with a big smile. “You run along and have fun. I’ll be in good hands.”

“Splendid,” exclaimed Dick. “Just let me get my car keys and we’ll be on our way, Judy.”

As I got into my car to leave, I shook myself in disbelief. What just happened was a win-win. Mom got to go to Pechanga and I would make dinner and the concert with my friends. Still, it bothered me a little that my own mother had dumped me for a guy. I hated it when women did that to other women, but I’d get over it.

Glancing over at Dick’s porch, I watched Mom as if seeing her for the first time. She was crouched down, gently patting Crankshaft on his head while she waited for Dick. The little dog’s tail wagged with friendliness. Mom looked younger and carefree. She looked happy, even when she placed her free hand over her nose and mouth.

I wasn’t about to admit this to Norma, but it looked like a farting dog was the best Mother’s Day gift after all.

CHAPTER 7

“Let me get this straight,” said Lauri as she walked the treadmill next to mine at a moderate clip. “Two weeks ago neither Norma or your mother wanted anything to do with that dog, and now the animal is practically a blood relative?”

“You got it.” I picked up my water bottle and squirted water into my mouth before continuing. “Dick booked them on a cruise that leaves the day before Father’s Day. He thought since this would be the first Father’s Day since his son died and Mom’s first without Dad, it would do them both good to get away.” I took a deep breath. Normally, I would run on the treadmill, but slowed my pace today to chat with Lauri, who preferred a fast walk. It was also supposed to be a warm up before our workout, but I was antsy and found running burned that off. “I thought for sure I’d be talked into taking Crankshaft for the week, but Norma actually volunteered. Though I’m sure she received a lot of pressure from Kyle and Brandon on the matter.”

Lauri snickered. “She’s probably kissing ass early on in case this Chester guy becomes your new dad.”

I laughed. “It would be like Norma to plan for an eventuality like that.” A few steps later, I added, “I like Dick, but Mom’s not even divorced yet. I doubt she’s in a rush.”

“Oh please!” Lauri stopped walking and stood on the edge of her treadmill so she could face me. “Judy met this guy two weeks ago and she’s already shacking up with him on a cruise. It hardly sounds like she’s taking it slow and easy.”

“She didn’t meet him two weeks ago,” I insisted. “They knew each other in high school. And why shouldn’t Mom have some fun. Dad never took her anywhere nice.”

Lauri got back in stride with her treadmill. She was wearing a lime green tank top that matched the green zigzag pattern on her black leggings. Under the tank top was a hot pink sports bra. I wore gray leggings and a baggy t-shirt touting a chili cook-off from another decade. “I’ll bet you dinner,” Lauri continued, “that she slept with him the day they went to Pechanga.”

“I seriously doubt that,” I said, kicking up my pace, running away from the thought.

I hadn’t told anyone, but I had my own suspicions about that. I’d called Mom the next morning to see how things went and she didn’t answer. I called her office and was told she had called in ill. I tried her cell again and when I reached her she told me she was swamped at work and would have to call me back later. She hadn’t sounded swamped. She sounded giddy. I didn’t like the idea of my mother having sex – with anyone. No one likes to think of their parents in that way, but since seeing Dick Chester Mom was sporting a nice glow and a renewed bounce in her step.

“And if Mom did,” I said to Lauri with a smirk, “then more power to her. It’s not like either of us have never bedded down with the speed of light.”

Lauri raised her right hand. “Guilty as charged.”

Since Mother’s Day I’d gone four times to the gym with Lauri – twice last week and two times this week. I had one more day left on my guest pass. I hated getting up earlier, but it was doing me a lot of good in dealing with the stress I was under. The gym was near the office. After working out, Lauri and I would shower and head into work. The gym was part of a small chain and had a facility closer to my apartment. If I bought a membership I would be free to use both. It appealed to me to be able to go after work or on weekends without driving across town. I was almost ready to throw down the cash for the membership, but was worried about spending the money considering I might not have a job in a few months. There were also my half formed plans to consider. I still hadn’t mentioned them to Lauri, or to anyone. Some days it was all I thought about. Most days they were in the back of my mind like forgotten food in the fridge, getting moldy over time.

“So what are you going to do for Father’s Day?” Lauri asked. “Light a candle and put it in the window for dear old dad?”

“Hah! More like burn him in effigy.” I slowed down and matched my pace again with Lauri’s. “I’ll probably go over to Bea’s. She always has everyone over for a Father’s Day cookout.”

“I know it’s hardly a cruise, but you’re welcome to drive down to Chula Vista with me. My folks would love to see you and we can hang out Saturday night in San Diego.”

“Thanks, but I’m going to stick close to the family, especially since this is our first Father’s Day without Dad.”

“Looking good, ladies.” Coming our way was Clayton Carlisle, Lauri’s trainer. He’d let me sit in on her last session with him and at the end of the workout I’d been exhausted, sore and spent, but felt fantastic and had gone through the rest of the day with more energy. At the end, he’d said I could sit in again today. I knew he was working to land me as one of his private clients, but I didn’t mind. He was a good trainer and patient and wasn’t a hard sell. I’d been honest, letting him know that while I might join the gym, I didn’t plan on having a personal trainer. He’d been cool with it and hadn’t pressed his services further.

“You two ready to get to it?” Clay placed a hand on my treadmill as he addressed us.

He seemed to be a nice guy and sexy in a rough and tumble sort of way. His face was clean shaven and ruggedly handsome, with a broad nose and a dimpled chin. His smile was slightly crooked and his eyes a startling shade of blue. A thin scar ran down from his left ear to just under his chin. He was wearing a gray sleeveless t-shirt, tight black bike shorts and serious sneakers. Whenever he was around, I found myself sucking in my gut and holding it until it hurt.

Lauri and I hopped off our treadmills and followed him to the area reserved for mat work and free weights. From the look in Clay’s eye, I knew he was going to work us to the bone. While we moved through the gym, I watched his tight ass. Lauri caught me at it and dug into my side with one of her bony elbows. I knew from her look, she’d be mentioning it in the locker room. I wasn’t disappointed.

“So you like Clay?” Lauri asked as she added another coat of mascara to her already blackened lashes. We’d showered and dressed and were at the counter putting on our makeup and fixing our hair. Around us milled women of various body shapes and sizes in different stages of undress. I shrugged and adjusted a bra strap. “He’s okay.”

“You seemed to find his ass more than just okay.”

“His ass is not him.” I ran my brush through my hair. “It’s simply window dressing. A lot of men with nice butts are assholes. You know that.”

“Well then, I guess you don’t care that he asked me about you.” Lauri was staring at my reflection in the mirror instead of directly at me. Her mouth was tight like she was trying to hold back a belch that might pop out.

“He asked about me? When?”

“Today,” she said, “while he was helping me with that new leg torture machine. He asked me if you were seeing anyone. I told him not at the moment.”

“Not at the moment?” I turned to stare at her. “You make it sound like I’m taking a break from a lineup of paying customers.”

She laughed. “I did not.”

“Well, what about you? I thought you liked him?”

“You know I’m involved with someone, Zelda.”

I was about to tread on delicate ground and checked to make sure Lauri wasn’t holding a sharp object. “What I know is that you’ve been seeing a married guy for a year and a half and it’s going nowhere. Why not go out with Clay yourself?”

Lauri took a very deep breath. “Because I love Joel, Zelda, that’s why. How many times do I need to tell you that?”

I reached out and touched her shoulder. Beneath her blouse she was all sharp angles. She was inside too. “I just hate seeing you spend your time alone waiting for someone who is unavailable. You give and give and get nothing in return.”

“I’ve been married and I hated it.” Instead of pulling away, she placed a hand briefly over mine. “Joel gives me exactly what I want right now – love, sex, occasional companionship, and no strings.”

Lauri moved away and started gathering up her toiletries to make room for another woman at the counter. She kept her head down and her eyes away from the mirror. I didn’t believe her speech for a minute and neither did she.

We first met three years ago when Lauri started at Riverdale. We’d bonded immediately, like long-lost twins separated at birth. One night we hung out at my place, got stinking drunk, and shared our life stories. Hers had been much more colorful than my dull history. Halfway through college she’d taken up with one of her college professors and married him. He’d been abusive and controlling, but she didn’t leave him until after he put her in the hospital with a serious concussion three years later. With her parents’ help and support she’d rebuilt her life and went on to grad school. We’d met Joel Sparks during one of our many ladies nights. He reminded me of my brother-in-law Tony. He was kind of goofy and dull but a decent guy and a gentleman. Well, decent if you didn’t count the fact that he was cheating on his wife with Lauri. He treats her well and to Lauri he’s a known and safe quantity. But no matter how much she claims she wants nothing more permanent, I know that’s not true. She’s a couple of years older than me and before she met Joel she often talked about her ticking biological clock and how she’d like to settle down and have at least one child before she turned forty. She never mentions that dream anymore. It’s as if she’s given up on it and has chosen to settle for what’s at hand. It made me wonder if I was doing the same thing, but for a different reason.

We were walking through the gym, going from the women’s locker room to the front door when Clay caught up to us. “Zelda, I see you decided to join the gym.”

“Yes,” I told him. “I signed up right after we finished today. Not the full membership, but the three month trial one. I’m really enjoying it and it’s convenient to the office.”

I glanced over at Lauri to find her walking backwards toward the door. She winked at me. “I’ll catch you back at the office, Zell.” Before I could say anything, she turned and escaped through the door to the parking lot.

I turned my attention back to Clay. “I really appreciate everything you’ve shown me, but I’m still not interested in hiring a trainer.”

“Good.” He flashed me a sexy smile.

His response threw me. “Why good?”

“It’s not good that you’re not getting a trainer, but good that it’s not me.”

“And why’s that? Do I have offensive B.O.?”

“No, not at all,” he answered with a laugh. His smile grew larger. “It’s just that I don’t date clients and I’d very much like to see you, you know, outside of the gym.”

“You’re asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah, I am. How about this Saturday night, dinner and a movie?”

“Um, okay.”

“That answer didn’t sound like you were sure about it, or me.” He looked stricken.

I took a deep breath. I hadn’t been on a date in a while and was rusty on protocol. I gave him a smile of my own. “Yes, I’d like that.”

When I got to my car, my phone chimed, letting me know I had received a text. It was from Lauri. So???

CHAPTER 8

Before entering Golden Haven, I straightened my shoulders and gave myself a pep talk. A family with small children entered before me. They were barely inside when the kids yelled “Happy Father’s Day” and threw themselves with delight into the waiting arms of an old man in a wheelchair who’d been eagerly awaiting their arrival in the lobby. I signed the visitor’s log at the front desk and headed off to the right, tightly clutching the white bag in my hand.

The smell of burgers followed me down the long hall like fluffy exhaust from a cartoon car. Weak eyes followed my progress. Determined noses sniffed the air like a bunch of raggedy-ass coyotes picking up the scent of easy prey. They might be wobbly on their feet and their sight and hearing shot, but there is nothing wrong with the sense of smell when it comes to old people. They knew I was carrying contraband. So did the retirement home staff, but they graciously looked the other way on special days.

After looking both ways up and down the hall, I rapped my knuckles lightly on the door of one of the rooms, half expecting a tiny peephole to open with a beefy man on the other side asking for a password. Without waiting for an answer, I pushed the door open and slipped inside.

My grandfather was in his usual spot in his favorite chair by the window. The chair was a relic from the den in his home – a plaid print of indestructible fabric in the shape of an ancient La-Z-Boy. That recliner has been in the family longer than I have. The room was a studio apartment at Golden Haven, an assisted living facility about ten miles from where I live. Except for the hospital bed tucked into a sleeping area, the room was a tiny slice of my grandfather’s old house on Keller Street. The table and chairs came from his kitchen, the love seat from his living room. He’d even brought along the battered TV tray that stood sentry next to the recliner for as long as I could remember. In spite of its limitations, it was a cheerful room outfitted with a kitchenette and large bathroom designed to help Pops be as independent as possible for as long as possible. He made his own lunch, but took breakfast and dinner with the other residents. The staff at Golden Haven provided laundry and housekeeping services, activities and social opportunities, and monitored his health and medications. He seemed happy here. Well, as happy as a miserable so-and-so can be.

Pops is in his early eighties and still sharp as a tack. He’s even pretty agile with the help of a tripod cane. Without it, he wobbles and bobs like a buoy in a storm-filled sea. After a couple of falls, he made the decision to move here. My father didn’t even have to convince him. One day Pops called us up and announced his plans. He’d arranged everything on his own. There was no discussion, just sharp orders to “come pick over my things like vultures before the bleeding hearts haul it away.”

I wasn’t proud. I took my vulture ass over there that same day and claimed his six-foot sofa, coffee table, and a triple dresser and nightstand that matched the chest of drawers now standing near the hospital bed.

In my grandfather’s spotted hands was a portion of the Sunday newspaper. He held it close to his face, reading with great intensity. He didn’t look up until I was almost on top of him. I’m sure it was the smell of the burgers that attracted him and not the presence of one of his granddaughters.

“Happy Father’s Day, Pops!” I tried to keep my voice upbeat but it sounded as forced as it felt. I’m scared spitless of the old man. So are my sisters. Every time I visit him, which is only a couple times a year – and that’s a hell of a lot more than either Bea or Norma – it takes about ten to fifteen minutes of ugly sparring before we settle into uncomfortable companionship.

Pops pushed his glasses further up his bony nose and turned to me like a hawk surveying a field mouse. “Eh, and which one are you?” When I didn’t say anything, he added, “Hard to tell unless I see the three of you lined up together.”

I swallowed a snort. Like that was going to happen. Norma and Bea had each told me in the past week that there was no way they were making the trip to see Pops this Father’s Day. Visiting him had been a Father’s Day ritual. So was bringing him a Double-Double from In-N-Out Burger. When we were young, Dad would pile us girls into the car, swing by the nearest In-N-Out, and drag us to Pops’ house for a few hours before heading back home for our own Father’s Day festivities. Mom never came with us, saying she was too busy. Pops and our mother have never gotten along. The few times they were forced to endure family functions together, Dad kept them as far away from each other as he could. Even at both of my sisters’ weddings, Pops was not seated at the family table. Our paternal grandmother died when my father was in his early twenties. I’ve only seen a few photos of her over the years and my father never spoke much of her. Pops remarried once when I was a kid, but it had lasted less than two years. Big surprise.

When we got older, Dad had to literally strong arm and bribe us to visit Pops, even after we were adults and our grandfather moved to Golden Haven. We did it for him – for Dad. But this year things were different. Dad’s gone. With him out of the picture, Bea and Norma felt there was no longer a reason to visit our grandfather, a man who’d made us cry when we were little and who pissed us off when we got older.

I stepped closer. “I’m Zelda, the middle girl.” I knew what was coming and wished I held something firmer and more brutal than a bag containing a couple of Double-Doubles. “You know that.”

“Ah, yes,” responded my grandfather with glee. “Zelda. The cock.”

My hand gripped the burger bag tighter. Just once I’d like to visit the old bastard without him making that comment. I was about to say something disrespectful and snide when a knock sounded on the door. I covered the few steps back to the doorway, wondering if one of my sisters had changed her mind, or if maybe my MIA father was on the other side. Instead, I opened the door to the swarthy good looks of Luis Alvarez.

“Zelda,” he said with happy surprise. “I thought that was you I saw walking down the hallway.”

I hadn’t laid eyes on Luis since the night in the bar with Lauri – the night he’d been sucking face with that Eva Longoria look-alike. He was freshly shaven and wearing a suit, making me wish I’d worn something other than denim capris, a powder blue scoop neck tee shirt, and sandals. At least this time I wasn’t wearing a bunny costume, smoking pot, or half drunk.

“Luis,” I said, recovering from my own surprise. “Do you have family in Golden Haven, too?”

In response, he waved the manila file folder clutched in his left hand. “Nope. I’m here to see a client. He’s going to sign a new will and trust and wanted me to explain it to his family when they visited today.”

“But I thought you were a divorce attorney.”

He gave me an easy smile, one as smooth and tasty as guacamole. “It’s a small practice – just three of us – so we have to be all things to all clients.”

“You must be here to see old man Wagner,” Pops said from his chair. “He was bragging all week about some fancy-ass lawyer making a house call today. You him?”

I wanted to shut the door on Luis. Not to shut him out, but to save him from the toxic exposure to my grandfather. Before I could make that decision, Luis stepped inside and crossed the room to meet Pops. I followed to do damage control.

“Not sure about the fancy part, sir,” Luis said with a smile, “but I am a lawyer.”

I put the burgers down on the kitchenette counter and wiped my slick hands on a nearby paper towel. “Pops, this is Luis Alvarez. He grew up across from us. We went to school together.”

With a sigh of regret and a mild tone of apology, I said to Luis, “This is my grandfather, Edward Bowen.”

Luis extended his right hand to Pops, who took it briefly in his thin, bony one. “A lawyer, huh? Guess that makes you a shark or a snake or something like that.” Pops’ lip curled slightly.

“He’s also Mom’s divorce attorney,” I announced.

“Huh?” the old man huffed. “What’s that? Judy’s divorcing my boy?”

“Yes, Pops,” I answered in a curt tone. “In case Dad hasn’t informed you yet, he took off with another woman earlier this year. We haven’t heard from him since.”

He digested the information, his shriveled lips moving as if gumming a piece of tough steak, but the old bugger gave nothing away. I couldn’t tell if he already knew or not. Dad visited his father almost every week, so it was a good bet he’d told him. “Well, good for Judy,” Pops finally pronounced. “Always liked her.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe my ears. Forgetting for the moment Luis was in the room, I clamped my hands together, lest I haul off and strike the old codger. “You’ve never liked my mother. For years you tormented her and called her a gold digger, accusing her of marrying Dad just to get your money, as if you ever had any.”

“Now, now, Cock,” said Pops, “don’t go getting your knickers in a bunch.”

I stamped my foot like a five-year-old. “And stop calling me that.”

“Cock?” inquired Luis, his ears perking up like a cat hearing a can opener.

“That’s what I always called Zelda, from the time she started growing like a weed,” Pops explained with pleasure. “Judy used to line up all three girls in their birth order. Not sure why, maybe for inspection or maybe it was the only way she could keep track of them.”

A groan, deep and foul, like bad gas, escaped my lips. I’d only been with Pops a few minutes and it was already turning into a freaking nightmare, as usual.

“Then one day,” Pops continued, “I think Zelda was about twelve or so, it struck me funny. With Zelda so tall and in the middle, lined up the girls looked like two balls and a cock. The nicknames stuck, I guess.”

“No one calls us that but you and you know it,” I snarled. “And it’s stopping right here, right now.”

“Would you rather I call you the other ‘C’ word?” Pops gazed at me as calmly as if he’d just asked if I preferred to be called by my middle name.

I must have had an edgy, unbalanced look about me, like I was about to lunge at the old guy, because Luis stepped in and placed a firm hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t know why it upsets you,” my grandfather continued, as wide eyed and innocent as his baggy old face could manage. “You’re the cock and the cock is always the star of the show. Balls are just the backup singers.” He looked at Luis. “Man to man, am I right?”

Luis stepped closer to Pops and squatted down so he was eye to eye with the old guy. “Zelda is a nice young woman and your granddaughter, sir. You need to treat her in the manner she deserves. She asked you to stop calling her that disrespectful and inappropriate name, so just do it.” His voice was even and calm, and to the point, like a teacher speaking to a kid with ADD.

“Humph.” The sound snapped off in Pops’ mouth like a dry, broken tree limb. “I thought Mexican kids were taught to respect their elders.”

If Luis bristled at the comment, I didn’t notice. “We are,” he answered calmly as he stood up straight again, “but my grandfather would never say such a thing to one of his children or grandchildren.” Luis looked around the room. “Maybe if you were a bit nicer to your family, more of them would be here today. My grandfather is at my brother’s house right now surrounded by his family, and Mr. Wagner’s family is filling his room as we speak.”

Ouch.

If Pops didn’t feel the sting of those words, I certainly did. Luis Alvarez had just verbally bitch-slapped my grandfather, and he did it without a single swear word and without raising his voice. I needed to take notes.

Pops wasn’t deterred in the least by his spanking. “My family never invites me over.” His small, drooping eyes looked at me with accusation.

“If you remember, Pops, Dad brought you to Bea’s a couple of years ago for Father’s Day. You peed in the inflatable kiddie pool.”

“Humph.” My grandfather turned his eyes away. “Can’t an old man make one silly mistake?”

“The kids were in the pool at the time, Pops. They weren’t much more than toddlers.”

Luis touched my arm. “I should be heading over to Mr. Wagner’s room.” He looked at Pops, but didn’t extend his hand again. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Bowen.” He turned to me. “I’ll walk you out, Zelda, if you’d like.”

I glanced at Pops. He was staring out the window at the small lawn and garden behind the facility’s main building. He looked shrunken and alone, like a raisin left out of the box of cereal.

“Thanks, Luis, but I think I’ll stay a little while longer.”

Pops’ left shoulder twitched at my words. He was probably going to turn in surprise, but his pride stopped his body from doing anything he might regret later.

Luis headed for the door. I followed to show him out. On the threshold, he stood half in the room and half out, as if having trouble making up his mind. “If I wasn’t expected at my brother’s, I’d take you to lunch when I’m done.”

My stomach did a nervous flip and I almost asked about the dark-haired Barbie I’d seen him with at the bar. Instead, I said, “Thanks, but I’m going to have a burger with Pops. That’s our tradition. Then maybe head to Bea’s. My family’s all over there today.” I paused. “Well, all except for Mom.”

Luis’ brows knitted with concern. “Because of this being the first Father’s Day without Bill?”

“Partially.” I lowered my voice. “She’s been dating Dick Chester for about a month now. You know, the guy who owns the auto shop.”

He nodded. “I remember his son. Very sad.”

“This is the first Father’s Day since his son was killed in Afghanistan,” I explained, “and Mom’s first without Dad around, so Dick booked them on a Mexican cruise so they wouldn’t have time to mope about it.”

“Not a bad idea, though I hope she didn’t take her medicine with her.” Luis winked. “What’s legal in California isn’t legal going through customs.”

I shook my head. “I made sure to remind her of that before she left. Besides, since she started dating Dick, I think she’s cut back considerably.”

Luis smiled. “That’s very good news.”

I looked Luis directly in the eye. “Has Mom started divorce proceedings yet?” It was a topic I didn’t dare broach with her. She seemed so happy lately, I didn’t want to bring her down with the topic of my father and their failed marriage.

“You’ll have to ask her that, Zelda. I’m her lawyer, not yours.”

He glanced down the hall, toward someone trying to catch his eye. “That’s Mr. Wagner’s daughter waving to me. They must be ready.”

He motioned he’d be right there and turned back to me, leaning very close. “You know your family’s certifiable, don’t you?” He fought to hold back a grin.

“Me, too?”

Luis pushed a clump of hair away from my left brow. “Not sure yet.” This time he did grin, showing white teeth and a slight space between his two front ones. He leaned closer. “And your grandfather’s right,” he whispered, putting his mouth close to my ear. “The cock is the star.”

Before I could recover my mental balance, Luis headed down the hallway toward the woman waiting for him. I watched him walk away. I remembered that swagger from high school – a jock’s gait, confident and in charge. I was only sorry his suit jacket covered his ass. I was becoming a habitual ass watcher.

CHAPTER 9

After Luis left, I went to the kitchenette where I’d left the burgers. I pressed a couple of fingers against them as if taking their pulse. They were lukewarm.

“Pops,” I said to my grandfather, hoping to lighten the mood. “Do you still want the Double-Double? I can nuke it in the microwave for a few seconds.”

He turned away from the window and looked at me a moment. “You sticking around? I thought you’d hightail out of here like everyone else.”

“I came to visit you, Pops. I brought your favorite food.” I pointed an index finger at him. “But you need to behave. Got that?”

Without answering, Pops grabbed his cane and hoisted himself from his recliner to his feet. He was tall like me and my father, but while we were slender, Pops was now rail thin. In a slow, noisy shuffle, he moved to the table and took a chair. A sure sign he was ready to eat.

“You and that lawyer fellow doing the horizontal hokey pokey?” he asked.

I whipped around. “Is that your idea of behaving?”

“Just asking.”

I turned away and yanked some paper towels off a roll. “He’s just a friend.” I wrapped the burgers in the towels so they wouldn’t dry out in the microwave.

“Looked like more than a friend to me. He defended your honor, like a real man.”

“Does that mean you’ll stop calling me Cock?” I asked, leveling my best stink eye at him.

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

Shaking my head, I put the burgers in the microwave and set the timer. “Actually, Pops, Luis has a girlfriend and I started seeing someone myself a couple of weeks ago.”

It was true. Clay and I had been seeing each other steadily since our first date. There were weekend brunches, movies, and bike rides. During the week we’d sometimes meet for dinner or talk on the phone. In spite of all the time we were spending together, we were taking it slow in the horizontal hokey pokey arena, and that seemed to be his decision, not mine, which was refreshing. If we were still dating in a few weeks, I might, just might, introduce him to the family at our annual Fourth of July cookout. As Luis pointed out, my family is crazy. It has always been tricky introducing someone new to the mix of nuts and bolts.

But I hadn’t come to Golden Haven today to talk about my love life.

“I wasn’t sure if I should bring you a burger today, Pops.” I watched the food rotate on the small glass tray. “I thought maybe you’d already had your burger quota. You know, that maybe Dad had brought you one already.”

My grandfather’s old and crotchety, but he’s no fool. “If you want to know if Bill’s been here, then, dammit, Co...,” he barked, choking back his word of choice. He stamped his cane on the floor as he swallowed it whole. “Just ask, Zelda.”

The timer on the microwave beeped, but I didn’t pull the food out immediately. I stared at it through the glass window while I sorted out my thoughts.

Pops didn’t wait for my brain to fluff and fold my gray matter. “Zelda, did you really come here today hoping to run into your father?”

I pulled the burgers out and put each one on a plate I’d retrieved from a low cupboard. Pops had service for four in plastic dinnerware – lightweight and non-breakable. The simple flatware in the drawer I remembered from his old house.

“Pops, would you like the burger whole or should I cut it in half for you?”

“Go ahead and cut it, Zelda,” he said with thin disgust. “I used to think only dainty ladies and pussies ate hamburgers cut in half, but that was before I got arthritis.” He rubbed his hands together for emphasis.

I brought the two plates over to the table, both of the burgers cut in half. Then went back to the kitchenette to grab a couple of glasses – also plastic. I filled them with an unsweetened herbal iced tea the staff kept made and stored in his mini fridge to give Pops a flavorful break from the monotony of water.

Pops looked at the tea with disdain. “I’d rather have a soda pop. Better yet, an ice cold beer.”

“You know you can’t have all that salt or caffeine. This burger is way over your salt limit as it is. And just forget about alcohol with all the meds you take.”

“The doc said I could have an occasional drink,” Pops informed me. “So next time bring me a beer, but none of that domestic piss. Ain’t worth the trouble.”

I placed a folded paper towel next to him and took a seat on the other side of the table. I watched him study the Double-Double before grabbing one half. Even cut, it was a big sandwich.

“Maybe next year I should only bring a single.” I bit into my own food.

He nearly dropped the burger in horror. “Your imbecile father tried that last year, remember?”

As I chewed, I did remember. Dad had brought a single-size burger because Pops hadn’t had much of an appetite for a few months. My grandfather had had a fit.

“In-N-Out is known for their damn Double-Doubles,” he lectured me, reprising his rant from the year before. “Not their Single-Singles.” He chomped down on the two-patty burger with force. He still had most of his own teeth – a point of great pride.

“It’s the same stuff,” I reasoned. “Just less of it.”

Pops swallowed the food in his mouth, his face flush with indignation. “I don’t give a tinker’s damn if it is the same. As long as I’m above ground, I want a Double-Double, no matter if I can eat it all or not.” He stopped and stared at me. “Is it the money? You want me to pay the difference between a single and a double? Then fine, I will.”

“Okay, Pops, simmer down. No single burgers. I promise. If you want, I’ll even have a truck load of Double-Doubles delivered to your funeral when you kick the bucket.”

He took another bite. “Now you’re talking,” he said with a full mouth.

We ate in silence until both of us had polished off a half each. I pushed my plate away and took a drink of tea. Pops started working on the second half of his sandwich, but only managed one more bite before giving up.

“So,” he said, patting his stomach, “you never answered my question. Did you think I’d forget like some doddering old fool?”

“What question?” Though I knew what he meant.

“Don’t play coy, Zelda.” Pops took a long drink of his tea and wiped his mouth on his piece of paper towel. “Did you come to see me hoping to run into your father?”

I got up and took both of our plates to the tiny sink. “Do you want me to save the rest of your burger?”

Pops waved his hand to indicate it was to be tossed. I scraped the leftovers into the garbage, then washed up the two plates. At the table, Pops fidgeted with impatience. “Well? Answer me, dammit.”

I spun around, a wet plate in my hand. “Yes, Pops, I came here today to see if Dad would show up. Not entirely, but mostly. I have more than a few things I want to say to him.” I tore off another piece of paper towel from the roll and started drying the dish. “You happy now?”

Without answering, Pops got up from the table and ambled back to his recliner. He dropped into it like a sack of bones, which wasn’t far from the truth. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” he asked once he was settled and his feet were up. “Telling the truth, I mean.”

When I finished drying and putting away the dishes, I sat on the loveseat across from him. “Was he here?”

Pops looked out the window when he answered. “Yes, Zelda, he was here. He came yesterday. He thought you girls might show up today and he didn’t want a scene.”

I scooted to the edge of my seat. “Did he say anything about us? Is he ever going to call or see us again?”

My grandfather shrugged. “We’ve never talked about that.”

Angry and agitated, I jumped to my feet. “Damn him. It’s one thing if he wanted a divorce, but he has three daughters. We may be all grown up, but he’s still our father. How could he just throw us away like that? And what about his grandchildren?”

Pops turned his head and watched me while I paced and fumed. “I’m sorry, Zelda, but I think you girls should just get on with your lives and try to forget him.”

“Forget him? Like he never existed?” I stopped pacing and stood looking down at Pops. “Do you know where he’s staying?”

The head moved side to side while the old eyes remained on my face. “No, I don’t. And that’s the truth.”

It was then I noticed Pops’ face was as faded as an old newspaper and splotchy. I became alarmed. “You okay, Pops?”

“I’m fine.”

He started to cough. I plucked a couple of tissues from the box on the TV tray next to his chair and handed them to him. “Should I call someone?”

He shook his head and coughed a little more, then stopped and took a deep breath. “It’s just an old man’s cough.” He took another deep breath, his sunken chest heaving with the intake of air. “Why don’t you run along, Zelda, and let me get my rest. I’ve got nothing more to say.”

I started to say something but he turned away, dismissing me, and stared out the window.

Well, fucking fine!

I was stomping my way toward the front door of Golden Haven when I was seized with guilt. Pops really didn’t look well. Turning on my heel, I walked up to the main desk. An African-American woman with a wide, friendly faced stopped what she was doing and smiled at me.

“I’m Edward Bowen’s granddaughter, Zelda Bowen,” I told her. “My grandfather has a bit of a cough. Has anyone looked at that?”

“I know Mr. Bowen had a little cold a few weeks ago,” she said, “but let me check his records.” After punching keys on her computer, she looked up at me. “Yes, his doctor stopped by to see him a couple of times, the last time was just three days ago. Do you think he’s having a relapse?”

“I don’t think so,” I told her, “but I wanted to make sure someone knew about it.”

“We’ll keep an eye on that cough, just to be safe.” She consulted the screen again. “Do you have a minute, Ms. Bowen? Our administrator is here today and I believe she’s been trying to reach your family.”

I felt my eyebrows arch with surprise as I agreed to wait. A few minutes later I was in the small but well-organized office of Julia Yamato, the head administrator for Golden Haven. Mrs. Yamato was a tiny woman with short black hair and an elfin face. She directed me to a chair opposite her desk and shut the door. The small hairs on the back of my neck stood straight, as if I’d been called into the principal’s office.

“I’m so glad to see you, Ms. Bowen,” she began. “We’re quite concerned about Edward.”

“I was told he’d had a little cold. Is it something worse?” My innards clenched in fear of her answer.

Mrs. Yamato gave me a small reassuring smile. “Edward’s cold is pretty much gone. We’ve been watching him and the doctor looks in on him regularly. For a man his age, he’s in remarkably good health.”

“That’s good to hear.” I sighed in relief.

She folded her hands together and placed them on her desk. “When a guest gets ill, it is our policy to call the family or the person indicated in their records as the emergency contact.”

I nodded in understanding. “That should be my father, William Bowen.”

“Yes, that’s what our records indicate. However, we haven’t been able to reach him and his number appears to be disconnected.” She unfolded her hands and consulted her computer screen. She rattled off my father’s cell phone number and looked to me for confirmation. It was Dad’s number. At least it was until he took off. We’d also discovered it had been disconnected.

“That’s my father’s old number.” I hesitated, wondering how much to tell the prim woman in front of me. “I’m sure he can provide you with his new one the next time he comes in to see my grandfather.”

The hands on the desk folded together again in an origami of efficiency. “Your father hasn’t been in to see Edward in quite some time.”

My breath caught in my throat like a rubber toy with a broken squeaker. “That can’t be right. Wasn’t Dad here yesterday?”

Mrs. Yamato shook her head slowly. “For security reasons, we keep records of everyone who visits our guests.” She looked at the computer again. “The last time Mr. Bowen was here to see his father was the end of February, nearly four months ago.”

“But Dad visits my grandfather almost every week.” The information from Mrs. Yamato wasn’t computing.

“He did until late February, then his visits stopped. In fact, no one has been here to visit Edward since then.” The last remark was laced with a touch of condemnation, just enough to tickle my shame.

I had stopped visiting Pops when Dad disappeared because I was hurt and not prepared to run into my father face to face. Today, my main reason for coming was to bump into Dad, only to find out he’d been a no-show for months. Talk about irony. Poor Pops, caught in the middle, abandoned and set adrift on an ice floe of isolation by both sides.

Mrs. Yamato’s soft rebuke morphed into concern. “I do hope your father is all right.”

Her words raised a new and terrifying question – was Dad okay? We’d checked with his friends and all his former co-workers and no one claimed to know his whereabouts. One buddy, Howard Fresh, only told us he knew Dad was thinking of leaving Mom, so he wasn’t surprised when he took off.

Of course, Howard and the others could be lying to protect Dad. Or they could have heard from him since, and not said anything because we’d stopped asking. But if absolutely no one had heard from him, maybe he’d been in an accident and was in a hospital somewhere with amnesia. Or maybe – I swallowed hard, not wanting to go down the road my mind was travelling – he was even dead.

I quickly pushed the last horrible thought from my mind and concentrated on the immediate issue – why did Pops lie to me and say Dad had visited him? 

“Ms. Bowen,” Mrs. Yamato said, interrupting my thoughts, “would it be possible to put you down as the emergency contact for your grandfather?”

“Ah,” I said, still floundering. I looked up at the professional but kind woman, not envying her job. How many family members did she have to gently paddle for not paying attention to their elders? I didn’t like being on that shit list, as much as I deserved it. I flipped my hair over one shoulder and sat up straighter. “I mean, yes, of course.” I gave her my cell number and my email address.

“There,” she said after typing the information into the computer. “Now that’s covered.” She folded her tiny hands on the desk once again and I knew we weren’t done. I waited like a child bracing for more punishment.

“Your grandfather has been quite depressed lately, Ms. Bowen. It started about the time your father stopped visiting him. We’ve found that when an elderly guest is depressed it often doesn’t take much for minor illnesses to expand into more serious ones.”

“You mean a small cold can become pneumonia or worse?”

“Exactly. It was fortunate Edward’s cold did not get worse and he recovered quickly, but he might not be so lucky next time. His appetite is down and he doesn’t interact with the other guests as much.” She smiled at me. “I can’t tell you how happy we were to see you visit today.”

“Humph,” I said, using one of Pops’ favorite phrases. “I’m not sure how much good my visit did. We argued during most of it.”

The smile tightened but Mrs. Yamato’s eyes twinkled when she spoke. “I know your grandfather can be quite ... um, shall we say a challenge ... but he really needs his family. I do hope you return again soon. Guests who have regular visitors are happier overall. Those who feel they are alone in the world and forgotten tend to withdraw and decline faster. I’d hate to see Edward fall into that group. In spite of his often prickly behavior, he is well-liked by the staff and other guests at Golden Haven.”

Liked? Pops?

“You are talking about my grandfather, aren’t you – Edward Bowen?”

Mrs. Yamato gave me a small, knowing smile, then pushed back from her desk and got to her feet, indicating our time was over. She shook my hand with warmth as we parted.

On my way again to the front door of the facility, it struck me why Pops didn’t tell me Dad was no longer visiting him. Pops had always been a prideful man. To be pitied would kill him. He would have gone to his grave alone and surly rather than admit his only son had cast him off like old junk left on the side of the road.

I pushed the door to the facility open. June heat slapped me in the face, chastising and heavy with blame, underscoring Mrs. Yamato’s words. I hurried back inside to the front desk and approached the woman I’d spoken to earlier.

“Can my grandfather leave the facility for the day?” I asked her.

“Why, yes, of course he can, as long as he checks out and is back by nine o’clock. He can go overnight, as well, as long as we know when he’ll return.” She gave me a small giggle. “We can’t go losing track of our guests, can we?”

Taking Pops out for the day was one thing. Taking him overnight would be like jumping into the deep end of the pool with a concrete block tied to my waist.

I hurried down the hall back to Pops’ room. After a single knock, I opened the door and announced, “Time for a road trip, Pops.”

He was still in his recliner. This time he did look up, then quickly away. As I got closer, I noticed he’d been crying. Not gushing like a little girl, but his eyes were definitely wet behind his thick glasses.

“Road trip? What in the hell is that?” he asked after clearing his throat.

“I’m taking you on a field trip to see your grandchildren and great-grandchildren. It is Father’s Day, after all, isn’t it?”

Before he could argue, I went into his small closet and picked out some slip-on rubber soled shoes and a sweater. “Here, put these on.” I put the shoes on the floor by his feet and helped him out of his slippers. “It’s warm out, but we’ll take the sweater just in case.” I spoke fast, worried I might chicken out of my plan.

“Zelda,” Pops said as I slipped a shoe on one of his feet. “Stop.”

I looked up. “Don’t you want to go?”

“In my nightstand,” he said, not answering my question. “There’s a postcard I want you to see.”

“You need me to see it right now?”

“Please, Zelda. Go get it. It’s from Bill.” His voice was quiet in its demand, so unlike his usual bullying demeanor.

I stood up so fast, I felt a little dizzy. I went to the nightstand that matched the one next to my own bed, and opened the drawer. The postcard was sitting on top of assorted junk. I plucked it out and looked at it. It was a photo of a gurgling mountain stream. I turned it over. The card was indeed from my father.

Pops, it read, I’m sorry. Bill.

That was it – four words in my father’s distinct handwriting, but four more words than the rest of us had received. The description of the photo said the stream was located in Colorado, but the postmark was from Georgia. It was mailed in early May – just over a month ago.

I went from feeling relief Dad wasn’t dead to wishing he were.

Instead of bringing the card to Pops, I tucked it back into the drawer of the nightstand and returned to the recliner.

“I’m sorry I lied to you, Zelda,” Pops said quietly.

I knelt down and continued helping Pops into his shoes. “It’s okay, Pops. I understand.” And I did.

“Bill called me months ago saying he was leaving Judy and going on a trip. That’s the last I’ve heard from him,” he stumbled to explain, “until that postcard. And I’ve heard nothing since.”

“So,” I said, as I slipped the last shoe into place, “You ready for some family time?”

I could tell from the look on his face that Pops wasn’t so sure of my idea. He looked ready to bolt, even if his aging body wasn’t up to it. “What about your mother? I don’t think she’ll jump with joy to see me.”

“Mom’s out of town.”

“And the two balls?”

I shot him a look that promised a slow, painful death if he didn’t cut it out.

Pops quickly amended his comment. “I mean Beatrice and Norma. They’re not exactly big fans of mine.”

“Tough. You’ll be my date, not theirs.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as I helped him to his feet. I was relieved. That small sound meant he was returning to his old self. “Won’t that Luis fellow mind?”

“He’s just a friend, Pops. I told you that.”

“Too bad. I like the shark.”

Yeah, me too.

It was difficult to push Luis Alvarez out of my mind when he appeared in the parking lot just as Pops and I were pulling out of my parking space. He waved and I stopped the car. Luis peered through the driver’s window and was clearly surprised to see my grandfather in the passenger seat.

“You breaking Edward out of here, Zell?” Luis asked.

Pops leaned across me. He’d quickly run an electric razor across his face and brushed his thin, semi-circle of white hair in preparation for his outing. “She’s taking me to see my great-grandchildren.” The excitement in his voice was unmistakable. He reminded me of a puppy going for its first ride in a car with the windows down.

“Really?” Luis looked at me with even more surprise, but collected himself to give me an approving wink.

“Yes,” I answered. “He agreed to not say cock and balls, to not swear, and, most importantly, to not pee in the pool.” I turned to my grandfather and challenged him to deny our understanding. “Isn’t that right, Pops?”

Luis laughed. “Do you need me to draw up a contract to that effect?”

“Nah.” Pops waved him off with a flick of his thin wrist. “No need. I’m wearing Depends.”

CHAPTER 10

Well, it happened, I am officially unemployed.

Global took over Riverdale on June 30th. I wasn’t exactly thrown out the door. As George had indicated, I was given a very nice severance package based on my years of service. That, together with my accrued vacation time, made for a nice parting gift. Global didn’t give job offers to anyone, but did say we were welcome to apply for jobs in their Las Vegas facility.

The weeks following Father’s Day had been especially hectic. I had been shuttled to Las Vegas a couple of times to help integrate Riverdale’s accounts with Global’s. I’d run into Larry Hawkins during those trips. It couldn’t be helped. With his experience with Riverdale’s clients, he’d been tapped to help with the transition and was clearly enjoying having the upper hand over me. After all, he had a job and I didn’t, which he made clear from his sneering and not so subtle remarks. He’d even hinted that he was being considered for a promotion to oversee Riverdale’s clients.

Well, fuck him and the horse he rode to Nevada.

June 30thwas another milestone. It was the day I officially jumped Clay Carlisle’s bones. It had been me who made the move. George had taken several of us out on our last day at Riverdale for an extended lunch, which Lauri and I extended into happy hour. When Clay called me he’d been concerned about both Lauri and I driving so he came and got us. After dropping Lauri off at her condo, I’d thrown myself at Clay like a shameless hussy in heat, which I was. The next morning Clay drove me back to my car. It had been awkward even though we’d had a good time the night before. I was confused by his standoffishness. I mean, it’s not like I’d thrown up on him or anything. When I drove to Lauri’s to take her back to Riverdale where her car was parked, we’d discussed it.

“Maybe he’s gay,” she’d suggested from behind the big dark glasses hiding her red hangover eyes. She took a sip from one of the gigantic coffees we’d picked up along the way.

“Trust me,” I told her. “He didn’t seem gay last night.” I shot her a glance. “Or this morning. It wasn’t until we were in the car going back to the bar that it got weird, almost like I’d been an embarrassing pickup from the night before that he couldn’t wait to be rid of.”

“The gossip at the gym is that he had his heart broken a few months back,” Lauri said between gulps of coffee. “Maybe he’s not over her yet.”

“Funny,” I said, working hard to keep my eyes on the road after that bombshell, “in all the talking we’ve done, he’s never mentioned that. Then again, that in itself could be a sign that he hasn’t moved on.”

“Do you guys have any upcoming dates?” She took another big gulp of coffee. The way she was going at it, she had to be almost done.

“He’s supposed to go with me to my family’s Fourth of July shindig.”

Lauri looked surprised. “Do you think he’s ready to be thrown into that loony bin?”

“I did until this morning,” I said. “I guess I’ll have to see what happens in the next few days. Maybe I should retract the invitation and see how our relationship plays out first.”

It appeared my worry was for nothing. Later that day, Clay called and apologized for his aloof behavior that morning, explaining he’d forgotten about meeting a potential client and was worried about it. He’d managed to salvage the appointment and had reset it for the next morning. Then he asked if I wanted to have a sleepover on the 3rd, explaining we could go straight to my mother’s from his place, which was a bit closer. I may be unemployed, but it looked like my romantic dry spell was over.

We had a wonderful time the evening of the 3rd. Clay took me to dinner and then we went back to his place and danced cheek to cheek to old romantic tunes with candlelight and wine. Still, the next morning I had that feeling you get when you eat something you’re not quite sure is edible. Like eating that last piece of grilled chicken you don’t want to throw away even through it’s well past its prime. Or the tuna sandwich you may have left out on the counter too long on a hot day. You eat it anyway, then wait for telltale signs of food poisoning, sure every gurgle and twinge in your stomach is a precursor to barfing your guts out or turning your intestines into a Slip ‘N Slide – or both. That’s the feeling I had now. Like I was waiting for something horrible and gut wrenching to happen that would turn me inside out. I was waiting for the shit to hit the fan. I didn’t know whose shit or what fan. I just know that when the crap flies, it usually hits me.

I shoved the feeling aside, telling myself it was residue from the last few months at Riverdale, mixed with the anxiety of needing to look for a new job or make a total change, shaken with the copious amounts of wine I’d imbibed the night before. My stomach had been in knots for so long it was the only status it understood anymore. I had not told the family yet about my current lack of employment. I planned to do that today, somewhere between the burgers and Bea’s fabulous brownies. I’d even alerted Clay not to say anything.

Before heading to my mother’s for the day’s festivities, we swung by Golden Haven to pick up my grandfather. That's another reason my stomach was tossing and turning like an insomniac. Not specifically because of my grandfather, but because today would be the first time Clay would meet my crazy family. Pops was just one of the whirring blades ready to sling stink because today would also be the first time in years he and my mother would be thrown together in a social situation. I saw today as pivotal in my going forward to a better and healthier lifestyle. Once I got Pops fully integrated into the family and got over the anxiety of the Riverdale sale, my plan was to focus on getting myself into a calm and better place emotionally. After all, no one wants to interview a potential employee who’s a basket case. My relationship with Clay might be a good part of my new path to a Zen-like lifestyle, providing meeting my family today didn’t scare him off. Maybe I’d even have the guts to resurrect my early plans to travel.

Yep, mixing Pops with Mom and Clay with my family all on the same day might be insanity or genius on my part – shit or sunshine – but it would be over with one yank of the Band-Aid and tomorrow would be a whole new beginning.

Twisting around in the passenger’s seat of Clay’s car, the seatbelt dangerously close to cutting off my air, I tried a little damage control with Pops just to be safe. My scowl was accompanied by a stern warning. “You are planning on behaving yourself today, aren’t you, Pops?” It might have been phrased as a question, but it was really an order.

Pops sat in the back seat, his long, bony frame fastened in place by his own seatbelt. He winked at me. “If I was planning on misbehaving today, do you think I’d be foolish enough to tell you ahead of time?”

From the driver’s seat, Clay bit back a laugh. He'd met Pops last week when we’d gone to Golden Haven for a visit, so he knew better than to encourage my grandfather's bad behavior. To do so was like encouraging the class clown and bully. Clay kept his head straight, his eyes on the road, but I could see the corners of his mouth twitching. He finally lost control and let loose with a short belch-like laugh.

With a sigh, I straightened in my seat and stared out the windshield, watching the familiar streets and buildings whiz by. If there's one thing I should have learned over the years, it's that no amount of warning, planning, threatening, or cajoling could make my family behave within socially accepted parameters. The more I tried to control the situation, the more often chaos showed up and kicked down the door with the force of a well-armed SWAT team, usually with me under it.

"The shark's gonna be there," Pops said, excited.

"The shark?" asked Clay.

"He means Luis Alvarez," I explained. "He grew up in the house across the street from us. He's a lawyer now. Hence, shark. Specifically, Luis is my mother's divorce attorney."

I turned to look at my grandfather. "No, Pops, I don't think Luis will be there. I'm sure he has plans of his own."

"Little you know." Pops sniffed the air. "I asked him and he said maybe."

My eyes bulged with surprise, like I was one of those dolls you squeeze to make their eyes pop. "When did you talk to Luis?"

"Just last week, smarty pants."

If my eyes popped anymore they would be in Pop's lap. “Last week?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Pops snapped. “Didn’t you clean your ears this morning?”

“I’m just surprised, is all.”

“You’re not the only one who can have friends, you know.” Pops sneered at me like a playground rival. “He does a lot of legal work for the old geezers at the home and stopped by to say hello.”

I studied the withered old codger in the back seat, wondering if Pops was changing his will in the wake of my father’s desertion. The old guy wasn’t Bill Gates, but he wasn’t poor either. My parents used to make comments about Pops having more money than brains and being tight-fisted with his cash. They often said Pops would take it to hell with him, if he could. One thing I did know for sure was that Golden Haven wasn’t cheap, especially that large private suite Pops enjoyed. Worried that Dad had also left his father high and dry financially, I’d once asked their business office if Pops’ account was okay. With a gracious smile, the administrator told me not to worry, that it was taken care of until the day Pops left them or this world.

“Is Luis doing legal work for you these days?” I asked.

“Maybe.” Pops stuck his nose in the air like a snotty little girl. “But if he is, it’s none of your beeswax.”

“You’re right, Pops. And if Luis is doing any work for you, I know you’re in good hands.”  

I turned around and looked out the windshield again. Pops was right, of course, it wasn’t any of my business. If he was removing my father from his will, or any or all of us, it really wasn’t my concern. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit my brain was buzzing with curiosity.

“He and his girlfriend broke up, you know,” Pops announced out of the blue.

“How do you know that?” I asked, whipping my head back around. In spite of my new relationship with Clay, my interest was heightened. I’d had a crush on Luis for so long, my ears naturally shot skyward with any mention of him.

“He told me,” Pops said, smug and coy.

I eyed Pops with suspicion. “Out of the blue, Luis told you that he and his girlfriend had broken up?” I held up a hand. “No, don’t tell me. Luis came by Golden Haven because he needed a shoulder to cry on.”

Clay and I exchanged amused looks.

“No, smart ass,” Pops replied. “When I asked him to come over today I told him he could bring his girlfriend. That’s when he told me he was flying solo these days. He didn’t say why and I didn’t ask.” Pops sniffed the air again.

“You got a cold, Pops?” I asked, knowing full well he didn’t.

When we arrived at Mom’s, I helped Pops out of the car while Clay pulled the soft drinks and other items I was assigned to bring out of the trunk. Pops looked the house over before moving up the walk. “It’s in better shape than I thought it would be,” he pronounced. “With your father gone, I expected it to be more run-down.”

Mom’s house was in need of repair ever since I could remember. My father hadn’t been much when it came to hammers and wrenches, so his presence didn’t really make a difference one way or the other in its appearance. Mom had quit nagging him about it years ago. But since Mom started dating Dick, she’d found a renewed interest in the house. Maybe it was because Dick’s house was neat as a pin without so much as a flake of loose paint. Or maybe it was because Mom had slowed down on the pot smoking and now could see her surroundings without her vision filtered through a haze of cannabis. Whatever the reason, she’d been in makeover mode for the past month or so and the old place was looking great. Dick was helping her with a lot of it. He was not only a great car mechanic, but quite a handyman. The outside had been newly painted a soft yellow and the shutters, posts, and doors were done in bright white. Inside, the living room and dining room had also recently received fresh paint, and I knew Mom had plans to freshen up the rest of the rooms. For the first time since she’d started the cleanup, I took a good long look at the place. Then it struck me that Mom might be slapping cosmetics on the house, much as she’d spruced up her own appearance with a fresh hairdo and some new clothes once she started seeing Dick. She’d gotten a new man and lifted her spirits with a makeover. Maybe she was hoping the house would find a new owner, even though she hadn’t said anything about selling the house and moving in with Dick. Or it could be she was trying to rid the house of Dad’s lingering presence, like exorcising a disturbing spirit. But Mom, like Pops, was never good about sharing her plans with the rest of us, so again, I had to remember it wasn’t any of my business. It was her house and neither I nor my two sisters had any interest in it.

“Hi, Judy,” Pops greeted my mother. “Thank you for having me over today.” His tone was courteous and sincere, a nice change from his usual snarky tendency. He held out a hand to Mom. She took it. Instead of shaking it, Pops clasped it between both of his. “You look wonderful and so does the house.” Again, it sounded sincere, and I could see Mom’s shoulders relax. In spite of the good reports from my sisters about Father’s Day, Mom had been bracing herself for the worst, as had I, knowing Pops could be unpredictable. Dancing around their feet was Crankshaft. The dog and Pops had met on Father’s Day at Bea’s and got along famously. Pops didn’t seem to mind the dog’s flatulence problem. Maybe that’s because Crankshaft didn’t seem to mind Pops’.

“Thank you, Edward,” Mom said with a tight smile. “Being without Bill agrees with me. He should have left years ago.”

I held my breath. Pops was behaving, but Mom was not. Yes, Dad was the elephant in the room, or at least on the back patio where we were standing, but she could have said a simple thank you and let it be. Instead, she chose to throw the first punch, perhaps to see if the old man was going to pick up the gauntlet or let it go.

Much to my amazement, Pops gave Mom’s hand another affectionate squeeze and said, “Perhaps you’re right about that.” I saw Mom flinch with surprise as Pops turned to greet Dick Chester.

The three of us were the first to arrive. I’d wanted to get there early to get Pops settled in a comfortable chair in the shade before my two sisters arrived with the kids and all the chaos began. I also wanted Mom to meet Clay first. When I introduced him, he shook her hand and flashed her a winning smile, which she returned. So far, so good.

My sister Norma was the next to arrive. She entered the back gate holding a large bowl of fruit salad. Behind her trailed her husband Kyle carrying two large canvas bags by their handles, and six-year-old son Brandon wearing shorts and a t-shirt, accessorized with swim goggles and flippers. He walked slowly, taking wide, long strides to keep from tripping. My older sister was all about appearances, even when it came to her young son, so I was surprised Norma had allowed him to put the flippers on before they got in the back yard and away from any imaginary prying eyes. Thanks to Kyle’s good job, they had a big house and lived well, but Norma often acted like they were celebrities escaping paparazzi.

“Hi, Aunt Zell,” Brandon waved. “Look what I got for my birthday.”

I knelt down in front of my nephew and gave him a hug. “Those are great, but your birthday isn’t for another two weeks.”

“Kyle’s parents gave him those,” Norma explained with a roll of her eyes. “We had them over this morning for brunch. They’re off to Europe tomorrow for three weeks and wanted to give Brandon his birthday present before they left. He begged and pleaded to bring them to show Bea’s girls.”

Kyle put down the bags on the kid sized picnic table Dick had set up and patted his son on his head. “He’s already put them to good use in our pool this morning. Didn’t you, sport?”

Norma looked at Brandon. “Now take those off and put on your sneakers before you break your neck. Mona and Marie aren’t even here yet. You can put them back on when they get here.”

“Come here, Brandon,” Pops called to him. “Show your old great-grandpa those webbed feet of yours.”

Happy to have an excuse not to comply with his mother’s orders, Brandon made his awkward way over to Pops, who had taken up residence in a padded patio chair out of the direct sun. When we were young, Pops wasn’t all that nice to my sisters and me, his only grandchildren, but he seemed determined to turn over a new leaf with his great-grandchildren.

“Bea called a few minutes ago,” my mother told us. “They’re going to be a little late. Something to do with stopping by Tony’s office first.”

“Is that a new grill?” Kyle asked Mom as he eyed the shiny new Weber gas grill Dick was manning.

“Yes,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at me in accusation as she spoke. “Seems someone burned something in the old grill and only half-assed cleaned it after. I had Dick trash it.”

“But that grill was Dad’s baby,” noted Norma with a pout.

“Yes,” Mom answered again, still not taking her eyes off me. “Seems someone sent two messages in one.”

Before any more questions arose, I called Clay over to meet Norma and Kyle. Shortly after I introduced him to them, a hinky feeling rose up in my gut, reminding me that the day was far from over and shit and a fan could still be planning a rendezvous. The feeling, however, was not originating with Pops and his possible antics, or his interaction with my mother, but with the way Norma was eyeing Clay.

“Very nice to meet you, Clay.” Kyle shook Clay’s hand with boys’ club confidence. “It’s not often Zelda brings anyone to these family outings, so you must be pretty special. You play golf?”

Norma and Kyle practically lived at their country club, sucking down cocktails and spending hours playing games involving balls of one kind or another. Asking about golf was Kyle’s first level of vetting. If you played golf,  you had potential. If you played golf at a country club where you were a dues-paying member, you were accepted, no questions asked. It didn’t matter if you embezzled from your company, had a prison record, or were on the sex offenders’ list. At one family event in a galaxy far, far away, a guy I was dating answered the golf question with a sneer, saying golf was for wussies and that real men did rock climbing and BASE jumping. Then he proceeded to show the family his various scars from injuries and resulting surgeries. Come to think of it, that was the last time I brought a guy home.

“Yes, a little,” Clay answered. “When I have the time.”

Kyle tossed a smile my way, letting me know Clay had passed his first test of the day. Hopefully, by the time Kyle got to his questions on religion and politics, we’d be eating and Clay would have his mouth too stuffed with a burger to answer. Or I’d be too drunk to care.

With the golf question out of the way, you’d think my gut would settle down, but it hadn’t. I still felt there was a rotten tuna sandwich in my future. Usually Norma left the interrogation of new people to Kyle, thinking, I’m sure, it was beneath her. But my older sister continued to study Clay as if he were a germ capable of wiping out mankind. I watched the two of them and noticed his eyes scanning her in between answering Kyle’s questions.

I wagged an index finger between my boyfriend and my sister. “Do you two know each other?”

Kyle stopped pontificating on the benefits of private golf clubs and looked at his wife. “Honey, have you met Clay before?”

“Noooooo,” Norma answered, stuttering enough to turn the two-letter word into several syllables. She looked Clay directly in the eyes. “But your name seems so familiar.” Her comment did not come off as a query as much as an accusation.

Clay looked uncomfortable under the scrutiny. I’d given him a heads-up on my nutty family, so he knew a little of what to expect from each of the players. “Lots of Carlisles in this area.”

“What do you do, Clay?” Kyle asked, moving on to his next set of questions.

“I’m a personal trainer,” Clay answered, still keeping his eyes on Norma as if she was a cherry bomb with a short fuse.

“That’s how we met,” I interjected. “I’ve been going to the gym with my friend Lauri. Clay is her trainer.”

Clay shot me a smile, but it looked forced. By my family’s standards, the embarrassing stuff hadn’t even started and he was already looking like he wanted to bolt. I turned back to Norma. She was still studying Clay, but curiosity had been replaced with barely concealed rage. For a minute, I worried she was going to throw a punch at my boyfriend. Kyle seemed oblivious, having moved on to praise his own trainer at the country club.

What in the hell was going on?

My thoughts of delving deeper into the mystery were interrupted when Clay abruptly asked, “Where’s the bathroom?”

“I’ll show you,” I told him.

“No, Zell,” Norma said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness, the kind that gave you cancer, “let me. I have to go to the kitchen anyway.” With her purse still slung over her arm, she turned to Clay and flashed a big smile, a hungry crocodile smile. “Follow me.”

CHAPTER 11

I was about to protest when Mom came out of the back door juggling a large tray holding miscellaneous condiments and a gigantic bowl of chips with her special 5-layer dip. On each of her arms plastic bags containing ice hung like saddle bags. Mom didn’t believe in making several trips when you could load yourself down like a pack mule once. Over the years, trays had been dropped, food spilled, and glasses broken, but she still insists on going for a world record in how much crap she could drape from her small frame at one go.

“Zelda,” Mom called to me, “can you help me with this stuff? I’m sure Kyle can keep your guest occupied. Norma, you’d better get those vegetables of yours prepped and ready before everyone else gets here.”

Before I could say anything, Mom dumped the heavy tray in my arms and off loaded the ice onto Kyle. Without a word, he took the ice to the ice chest and started dumping it in while I watched Norma move toward the back door with Clay in tow. Normally, I was sure Clay would have hopped to the rescue of fair maidens and muscled both the ice and tray handily into place, even if he had to pee. But at the moment, he was whispering something to Norma, and if it was a joke, no one was laughing. My sister’s face was stony. As she walked away, I took note of her stiff posture and determined gait. She looked ready to go postal, a grenade just aching for its pin to be pulled. She’d also forgotten to take the canvas bags of vegetables they’d brought. You can hardly prepare food in the kitchen when the goods are still on the patio.

Familiar name, my ass. She damn well knows Clay and for some reason hates him.

I dumped the tray on the table and glanced over at Kyle. Done with ice duty, he was talking to Pops and helping Brandon with his flippers. My brother-in-law seemed clueless of the tension that just presented itself like one of Crankshaft’s stinking farts.

Grabbing the grocery bags, I headed for the kitchen.

“Where are you going, Zelda?” Mom asked. “I need you to put the sodas and beers you brought in the ice chest.”

“Norma forgot her veggies.” I held up the bags as evidence.

“Don’t worry, Judy,” Kyle said. “Brandon and I can put the drinks on ice.”

I glanced at my brother-in-law, giving him a quick nod of thanks. He could be a pompous pain in the ass, but he was a really good father to Brandon and often thoughtful, especially when not being browbeaten by Norma.

The kitchen was empty when I came through the back door, but I could hear low voices coming from the direction of the living room. The bathroom was down the hallway on the other side of the living room. Norma could be pointing him in the right direction, but this sounded more like a heated discussion than directions. I quietly put the canvas bags down on the kitchen table and tiptoed toward the voices, glad I was wearing tennis shoes and not sandals that would slap against the tile floor.

I slipped into the dining room and took refuge behind the partial wall that separated it from the living room. I still couldn’t see Norma and Clay, but their voices were clear.

“Trust me, I had no idea,” I heard Clay say.

“Give me a break,” Norma snapped. “You hooked up with Zelda just to cause trouble.”

Huh? A cold, unseen hand stroked my spine as I moved as close as I dared without being detected.

“I swear I didn’t.” Clay’s voice was strained. “I had no idea who she was.”

So they did know each other. I thought back to when I’d made introductions. It was clear Mom and Dick hadn’t met Clay before today. Neither had Kyle. My quick summation told me only Norma had met him and from the exchange it wasn’t a pleasant acquaintance. But where? Had she hired Clay as a trainer and didn’t like him? A fenderbender maybe? I could see my sister hitting someone’s car, then paying them not to report it. She’d done it before.

“I don’t believe you for a hot minute,” I heard Norma say.

I really wanted to barge in and demand to know what was going on, but was afraid they would both seal their lips. Whatever had happened between them, I needed to know if it was a deal breaker to my relationship with Clay. If Norma had encountered him and it was just her usual snotty attitude that caused her to dislike him, I could live with that. What I couldn’t live with was the possibility that rose up in my throat like a silent scream.

“Believe what you want,” Clay said, standing his ground. “It’s the truth. I really like Zelda and I didn’t know.”

There was a short silence during which I almost showed myself, then Norma spoke. Her voice was even but menacing. “What would it take for you to leave now and disappear forever?”

“You mean cash?” Clay asked.

“That’s exactly what I mean you slimy, iron-pumping Romeo. How much for you to walk out that front door, get in your car, and crawl back under your rock? I’ll write you a check this minute if you’ll agree never see or contact Zelda again. Or anyone else in this family. You can go back outside and make your apologies, then leave. Say you received an emergency call. Something like a house fell on your mother. I don’t care. Just do it now.”

The unthinkable possibility had made its way from my throat into my mouth and was dancing on my tongue. I burst into the room and pointed at Clay. “Did you have a freaking affair with Norma?”

Both jumped in surprise at my entry. Clay was about to say something when Norma answered for him. “Yes. We had an affair.”

Speechless, I turned my attention from Clay to Norma. Clay was also staring at her.

“It was quite a while ago,” she admitted, “and it ended badly. Kyle knows nothing about it and I want to keep it that way.”

For someone whose infidelities were just uncovered, Norma seemed pretty cool and collected. Mad as hell, yes, but not a bit ruffled.

I turned back to Clay. His square jaw was tight and the muscles in his neck thick like ropes on a ship. “I had no idea you were her sister, Zelda. Honest.”

“I told you I had a sister named Norma,” I said to him, not sure if I should be angry or crushed. “It’s not an unusual name, but it’s not that common. And I told you her husband’s name was Kyle. Did you not put the pieces together, or didn’t you two exchange personal information during your horizontal halftimes?” Before he could answer, I turned to my sister for input on the last part.

She looked me in the eye and shrugged. “We didn’t spend time on details.”

I wanted to throw up at the picture those words painted. Ready to fold, I sat down on the arm of the sofa and tried to take everything in and think about what to do. I really liked Clay, but could I stay with him knowing he and Norma once had something going? And if we did continue, would we be flirting with disaster being around Norma and Kyle? Would it eventually come out as most family secrets tend to do, especially when people were angry and taking verbal swings at each other. Especially Norma who, like my mother, had only two speeds – off and angry. And if I did keep Clay in my life, how would Norma handle it? Would she stop coming around if Clay were here? Would she stop speaking to me? Would she put a hit out on my boyfriend to make sure there would be no slipups? Except for the last possibility, they all seemed manageable with a little effort. Okay, a major effort.

I looked up at the two of them. They were waiting on me to say something. Clay looked unhappy but hopeful. Norma glared at me with a look that dared me to defy her. I didn’t know what to do. I finally find a boyfriend I really like and leave it Norma to screw it up.

She and I have never gotten along, not even as small kids. My father liked to tell the story of how one day, when I was about six months old, Norma dragged me outside and left me by the garbage can at the curb. Fortunately for me, our next door neighbor saw her do it and brought me back to the house immediately. My mother hadn’t even noticed I was missing. She’d been in the midst of a big knock-down, drag-out fight with her own mother, who lived with us at the time.

Yeah, Dad thought it was a big joke to tell that story at gatherings, especially if there were new faces. Sometimes I wish the garbage man had found me and taken me home to be raised with his family.

“Norma,” I said, finally finding my voice. “Let’s just get through the day and deal with this later. I’m sure Clay won’t say a word about it to anyone.” I turned to him. “Will you?”

Clay shook his head back and forth. He looked at Norma and made the sign of locking his mouth with a key, then throwing it away.

“No!” Norma screeched at him. “You’re gone and you’re gone now! Right now!”

“Shut up,” I snapped at her. “Do you want Mom to come in here and find this out? Or Kyle?”

“You don’t understand, Zell,” Norma said, her face getting red. “This ass needs to leave right this minute.”

Norma grabbed Clay’s arm and started to tug him toward the front door. “Leave right now. Go out the front and don’t look back. Zell and I will make your apologies to the family.”

I grabbed Clay’s other arm and held onto him. “He’ll go when he’s ready to go.” I looked at him. “Are you ready to leave yet?”

He looked straight at Norma and grinned. “No, I’m not. I like Zelda. What you and I had is over. Maybe you haven’t dealt with that yet, but I have.” 

Clay yanked his arm out of Norma’s grasp and turned to me with a concerned face. “Besides, if I leave, you and your grandfather won’t have a ride home.”

“I’ll take them home,” snapped Norma.

I got between the two of them and faced my sister. “Just calm down. I really don’t see why Clay has to leave. Again, let’s just get through the day and sort this out later.”

“No!” yelled Norma into my face. I could smell remnants of the mouthwash she used this morning.

“Listen.” I took a step forward, causing Norma to back up a few steps. Even though I usually don’t let her use me as a doormat, as she does most people, I also don’t openly challenge her. But today was special. “Just because you cheated on your husband doesn’t mean I have to suffer. I like Clay and he goes when I say so or when he wants to.”

“You tell her, babe,” Clay said from behind me.

“Shut up!” Norma told him over my shoulder. Then to me, “You don’t understand, Zell. This guy is a predator. I’d bet money he knew who you were all along.”

“How much money?” Clay shot back at her.

“Five hundred dollars,” answered Norma.

Clay scoffed, “That’s all?”

“A thousand.” Norma pointed at the front door. “I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you walk out that front door right now and never contact Zelda or anyone else in this family again.”

“You and your husband seem pretty well off,” Clay told her. “What with the country club membership and all. That’s not cheap and neither am I.”

I turned to him in disbelief. “You’re joking, right?” I couldn’t read his face to see if he was.

He shrugged. “Hey, the lady wants me gone, but how badly does she want it?”

“Two thousand,” Norma told him, upping the ante while I stood there with my mouth hanging open. “My purse is on the dining table. I’ll write you a check right now.”

Clay sneered at Norma. “And stop payment tomorrow morning?”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “Hey, you two, just back this bus up.”

“No,” said Norma, ignoring me. “I won’t stop payment because I want you gone for good.”

I grabbed my head with both of my hands. It felt heavy, too much for my neck to support. “What in the hell is going on here?”

Norma went into the dining room where she’d left her purse and returned with her checkbook and a pen. “I’m just protecting the family, Zelda, that’s all.”

“We aren’t the Soprano family, Norma. You don’t just pay people off to make them disappear.”

Norma started writing out the check. “If we were the Sopranos, Zell, I’d be writing this check to a hit man, not to this slime bucket.”

Clay leaned forward. “That’s Carlisle,” he said to Norma. “C-A-R-L-I-S-L-E.”

“I’m making it out to cash, you moron.” Norma ripped the check out of her checkbook and held it out to him. I intercepted it before he got his hands on it.

“This has gone far enough,” I announced. “Clay, you are not taking my sister’s money. And you, Norma, compounding infidelity with a bribe – really? Frankly, this seems extreme, even for you. Are you going to offer money to every man you cheat with?”

“Norma didn’t sleep with Clay. I did.”

CHAPTER 12

The announcement had come from the doorway to the dining room. More to the point, it had been voiced by Beatrice, my round, fluffy, good-natured baby sister.

Clay, Norma, and I all turned to face her. Clay with a smile, Norma in horror, and me with my mouth hanging open, yet again, as if my jaw had become unhinged.

Bea came forward a few steps, but not very close. She stared at Clay with surprise and a little fear. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s nice to see you, Bea,” Clay said. “I’m here with Zelda. We’re dating now.”

“Over my dead body,” snapped Norma. She snatched the check from my hand and held it out to Clay. “He was just leaving. For good!”

Clay held up his left hand. “I swear I didn’t know Zelda was your sister.”

“It’s your right hand you’re supposed to raise, stupid.” Norma shook the check at him.

“Where’s Tony?” I asked, worried he’d stumble into the mess.

“Outside,” Bea answered, not taking her eyes off of Clay. “Clay, you need to leave and right now. Please.”

Clay studied Bea, the sneer aimed at Norma a second ago melting away to reveal a vulnerability I’d not seen in him before. “I miss you, Bea,” he said to her. He tried to step forward, but both Norma and I, finally united, blocked his progress. “I wanted to see if you were really happy.”

“Wait a minute,” I barked. “You wanted to see if she was happy? That means you did know she was my sister.”

“Of course, he did,” said Norma. “I’ve been trying to tell you that. After she broke it off, he was following her around, stalking her. He probably knows everything about her and the rest of us.”

“I am happy, Clay,” Bea said to him. “Our relationship was a mistake. A big mistake. You need to get on with your life and leave me alone.”

Norma held up her right arm, her hand in a fist. “As God is my witness, the next step is a restraining order.”

While Norma was playing Scarlett O’Hara, I was Alice dropped head first down a rabbit hole.

Clay stared at Bea with soft mushy eyes. “But I love you, Bea.” His voice cracked as the words came out.

I wanted to die on the spot. The man I’d been dating, the man I’d slept with the night before, just told my younger married sister that he loved her. Forget the rabbit hole, I was in Hell, the deepest level of Dante’s Inferno.

Pushing us out of the way, Bea stepped forward to stand directly in front of Clay. “If you do love me, you will let me go and get on with your life. We have no future together. I’ve told you that. I love my husband. What we did was a mistake.”

On TV this is when the psycho grabs the girl and puts a gun to her head, crying if he can’t have her, no one can. An hour ago I would never have thought that possible of Clay. Now, I wasn’t so sure. He’d had an affair with my baby sister and lied about knowing who I was. He’d orchestrated our relationship to get near her. At this point, Clay’s head could spin around and spiders gush from his mouth and I would not have been surprised.

And why was I the last to know about all this?

We heard someone come through the back door, then a voice called from the kitchen, “Where is everyone?” It was Tony, Bea’s husband. We all froze, except Clay, who had no idea who was about to appear.

Tony wandered in from the kitchen, through the dining room, and joined us in the living room. He put an arm around Bea’s waist and addressed us all in his good-natured way. “Your mother’s wondering if you all took off.”

As tall and rugged as Clay was, Tony was the opposite. Like Bea, he was pudgy and short. He wasn’t stupid, but not the brightest bulb in the marquee. But, unlike Norma’s husband, he didn’t have a pretentious bone in his body. Tony liked almost everyone and almost everyone liked him, or at least didn’t mind him.

Slack-jawed, Clay gawked at Tony. If he had planned for this face to face moment, he hadn’t planned well, or at least forgotten his plans. Tony returned the stare with a smile and held out his right hand. “You must be Zell’s new boyfriend.”

We all held our breath as Clay awkwardly took the offered hand and shook it. “Clay. Clay Carlisle.”

“Nice to meet you, Clay.” When no one said anything, Tony asked, “What’s going on? You all look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I jumped in. “Clay just received a call,” I lied. “He has to leave. His ...” I hesitated.

“My mother just had an accident,” Clay said, finishing the sentence.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Tony responded with genuine concern.

“Nothing major,” I quickly added. “She’s fine but a bit upset, so Clay has to leave.”

“I certainly understand.” Tony turned to me. “Does that mean you’re leaving too? Or Pops? I didn’t see your car out front.”

“No, not at all,” chimed in Norma, finally finding her voice. “We’ll take Pops and Zell home.”

“Tell you what,” said Tony, being helpful. “We live closer to Pop’s place than you do. We’ll take Pops and you take Zelda. No sense you going so far way out of your way.”

That all settled, Clay turned to me. “Zelda, I’m really sorry. About everything.”

“Don’t worry,” said the still clueless Tony. “The family has lots of get-togethers. I’m sure we’ll see you again.”

Next to me, I felt Bea stiffen. “Honey,” she said to Tony, “why don’t we get back outside before Mom sends out another search party.”

After the two left, Norma shook the check at Clay again. I stood by silently, praying he’d leave without taking it. Hoping he wasn’t a total creep and had enough ethics and pride to simply walk away without the cash. I had to believe his love for Bea had temporarily rendered him a douche and that it wasn’t his usual state of being.

With a broken heart, I watched as Clay Carlisle grabbed Norma’s check and left through the front door without another word.

In shock, I slid to the floor, my back against a nearby chair, and stared at the carpet. “My stuff,” I finally said to the carpet. “My stuff is in his car.”

“What stuff?” asked Norma. She’d gone out the front door to make sure Clay went directly to his car and took off without making a last minute run down the driveway to the back of the house. Now she was standing over me.

“My overnight bag.”

She dropped my bag on the carpet next to me. “The asshole threw it in the street as he drove off.”

I put a hand on the designer knockoff duffle I used as a weekend get a way bag, touching it as if for the first time. The fabric was scratchy, not soft and supple like the fabric used in the expensive ones. I had priced those first and decided I preferred eating over authenticity. Norma would have known the instant she picked it up that it was not the genuine article. Just as she had known Clay wasn’t real. I, on the other hand, knew nothing. Nothing about luggage. Nothing about men. Nothing about life. Unlike my two sisters, I wasn’t married. I didn’t have my own home. Didn’t have children. Didn’t have goals. Did Clay sense I might be an easy target for his duplicity? I never considered myself desperate. I’m barely thirty and I like being single. I don’t love it enough to embrace it for the rest of my life, but always thought I was doing a good job at being independent. Now I wasn’t so sure. Maybe I gave off desperation like a mild bad breath that others could smell and I could not.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to curl up into a tight fetal cinnamon bun and suck my thumb and sob until I withered from dehydration. I wanted to go home and be miserable in solitude, with a bag of Oreos in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other. Instead, I sat on the carpet with spread legs, like I was about to play a round of jacks, and caressed my cheap overnight bag like a newborn kitten.

“What are you doing?” Norma asked.

“Throwing myself a half-assed pity party.”

“When it’s over, pull yourself together and freshen up. Then come out and join the rest of us. No one else knows about Bea, only I did, and now you. Let’s keep it that way.”

Not a single world of comfort. But this was Norma’s way. And it wasn’t just because we didn’t get along that well. My eldest sister’s compassion for people in general was in short supply and protecting Bea had put her into the red zone of empty for the day.

“You know what really pisses me off?” Norma asked.

“That Clay had the nerve to try that stunt?” I suggested.

“No, that you immediately bought into the idea of me cheating on my husband.”

Of course Norma would have to make this about her. No drama would be complete without that. Again, another trait she learned at my mother’s knee.

“You said you did,” I reminded her, still stroking the cheap material of my bag. It was comforting in a slightly unbalanced way. “How was I supposed to know you were lying? Most people lie about not sleeping with someone.”

“I thought you knew me better than that.”

“I thought I knew Bea better than that. Of the three of us, she would have been the last person I would have suspected of ever cheating on anything, especially her marriage.” I looked up at Norma. “Do you know why she did it?”

“Not a clue and I don’t want to know. I just know it cost me two thousand dollars.”

“I’m sure Bea will pay you back when she finds out what you did. I’ll chip in and help so Tony doesn’t ask a lot of questions about the money.”

“Good,” Norma said. “If Kyle asks what that check is for, I’ll tell him I gave you a loan.”

If it took me forever to find a job, that lie might become true.

Quiet hung over us as if we were taking a moment of silence. And maybe we were.

“I’d like to have a few minutes alone, Norma. If you don’t mind.”

“Just don’t take too long.” She turned to leave. “We have to keep up appearances or they’ll know something’s up.”

CHAPTER 13

I heard the door open but didn’t move. “Here you are.”

I didn’t need to turn my head to know the speaker was Bea. After Norma left me, I’d crawled a few feet on my hands and knees before attempting to stand. I had been blown off course by the events of the day and it took me a few minutes to feel steady on my feet, like returning to land after a long day at sea. From there I stumbled into my old room next to the bathroom, threw myself onto my old double bed, and finally had my cry. It didn’t last as long as I’d expected, but it had been forceful and I’d smothered the sound with a pillow, leaving mascara and lipstick smudges on the pillowcase. By the time Bea found me, I was on my back staring at the ceiling, all cried out.

Bea closed the door and crawled onto the bed next to me. I scooted over a few inches to give her more room as she laid her head on the other pillow. We’d spent a lot of time as kids like this, especially when Mom and Dad were fighting. Bea had hated their fights most. She’d leave her room and slip into mine, getting under the covers with me. The more they fought, the tighter she held onto me until she finally fell asleep.

I pulled a joint from my pocket, lit it, and took a deep hit. Without a word, Bea held out a hand to me. I slipped her the joint. She took her own deep drag from it. After she exhaled, she said, “Is this yours or Mom’s?”

“Mom’s. I don’t have any.” A short strangled laugh escaped my lips. “I never smoke weed except when I’m here.”

“Me either,” Bea admitted. “Says a lot, doesn’t it?”

Bea handed me back the joint and I took another pull. After I’d had my cry, I’d cleaned up my face and gone into my mother’s bedroom looking for her stash. The last few months Dad was around, Mom was stoned all the time except for when she was at work. The minute she crossed the threshold in the evening, she’d light up. She didn’t do it when we were kids. It was something she’d started up in the last few years.

“I don’t think Mom’s getting loaded as much,” I reported. “Do you?”

“No. Dick has been good for her,” my sister agreed.

We still were not looking at each other. She handed me back the joint and I took another hit.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Clay, Zell,” Bea said in a quiet voice. “If I had, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

“I’m surprised you told Norma and not me.” If I was honest with myself, it was really that which hurt the most. Bea and I were always close. She’d come to me most of her life with her problems. I was the fix-it sister. “Is it because you thought I wouldn’t understand because I’m single?”

“No,” Bea said with emphasis on the response.

I passed her the joint again. “Were you afraid I’d judge you?”

She started choking on the exhale. “Absolutely not! If anyone is going to judge, it would be Norma.” 

She passed the weed back to me and I stubbed it out in a small ashtray I’d also snagged from Mom’s room. I turned on my side to face her. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

Bea turned on her side toward me. She was wearing a cute full skirted sundress, pale pink with yellow daisies. Something neither Norma or I would be caught dead in, but which suited Bea perfectly. The skirt got tangled in her legs when she rolled to her side. She straightened the fabric and settled in, her nose no more than a foot from mine.

“I didn’t want you to think I was like Daddy,” she confessed.

“So you were afraid I’d judge you.”

She shook her head. “No. It’s just that since Daddy took off with that woman, you’ve been so brave and strong for all of us. You’ve kind of taken over for him as the head of the family, and have done a much better job at it than he ever did.”

Her response surprised me. I never thought of myself as the head of the family, and I’m sure Norma would object loudly to that line of thinking. “I don’t think I’ve taken Dad’s place. It still doesn’t explain why you felt you couldn’t tell me.”

A tear ran down Bea’s round cheek. I reached out and wiped it away with a couple of fingers, just as I had done when we were kids.

“You’ve taken on so much responsibility, Zelda. You take care of Pops. You take care of Mom. Since Daddy left, you’ve made sure our lives are as normal as possible, especially for the kids. I just didn’t want you to feel you had to take on this burden too.”

She turned over on her back again. “Tony and I went through a rough patch about the time Daddy left. We’re fine now, but at that time we were both sure we were heading for a divorce. He even moved out for about two months.”

I propped myself up on an elbow and stared down at her. That was only four or five months ago. “Tony moved out?”

She nodded. “We didn’t tell anyone. Not his parents. Not Mom. No one. During that time I started going to the gym by our house and that’s where I met Clay.”

Of course, the workout facility close to my office – my former office – was also close to Bea’s house.

“I didn’t mean to get involved with him,” she continued. “It just sort of happened. I guess because I was so confused and lonely. It didn’t last long. Just a few weeks. As soon as Tony and I decided to get back together and go to counseling, I broke it off, but Clay didn’t want to break it off and started following me around. I was sure he’d go to Tony, so I told Norma. She called him and made some pretty nasty threats and he stopped. We both thought he was gone for good.”

I swallowed hard. “Until today.”

She nodded.

“He’s gone now,” I told her. “Norma paid him off. She gave him two thousand dollars to leave.”

Bea sat up like a corpse rising from the dead. “What?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Turns out he was a real scumbag, not just a lovesick psycho.”

She fell back hard on the bed. “What a stupid ninny I am.” Bea covered her face with her hands while I fired up the joint again. I took another hit, then held it out to her.

“That makes both of us, Bea,” I said after exhaling. “Norma’s been saying since we were kids that she’s the smart one. Guess she was right.”

Bea uncovered her face to reveal fresh tears. She waved off the offer of the joint. “I can’t. I’m already a bit buzzed.”

I laughed. “I think today calls for getting totally baked, don’t you?”

After a brief hesitation, she took the joint, taking several short hits in a row before returning it to me.

“By the way,” I said, after I took another hit and snuffed the joint out again. “When you and Clay did it, did he hum or something during ... you know ... the climax?”

Bea had been holding her breath. When she let it go, sweet smelling smoke shot out of her mouth along with a snort. “Oh my god! Yes! It drove me nuts. But I don’t think it was humming, it was more like num num num. You know, like the sound you make when you’re feeding a baby.” There was a pause, a long cottony, billowy pause. Then we both started crying and giggling at the same time.

“Please promise me, Bea,” I said, “that you’ll never hesitate to come to me when you have a problem. I don’t care what I’m doing or how big your problem is, please tell me.”

“I promise, Zelly. I hated keeping that secret from you. Really, I did.”

“And you’re sure you and Tony are okay now?”

She nodded. “Yes, we’re fine, and we’re working hard to stay that way.” She looked me in the eyes, searching for the truth. “And how about you? Are you okay?”

“I will be,” I answered honestly. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I meant it. The shit had hit the fan and covered me with disgusting, stinking slime, but I would shake it off and keep moving. It’s what I did. It’s what I had to do. Just like losing my job at Riverdale, I would put it behind me and move forward. I wouldn’t be going back to that gym ever again, but I would be just fine.

I kissed my baby sis on her forehead and got up off the bed. “Now come on. Let’s go grab some food. I’m starving.”

Out in the backyard the kids were playing on the grass. Bea’s girls were squealing and running around in circles trying to escape the “monster” – Brandon wearing his flippers and walking like the Frankenstein monster. Crankshaft was chasing them all. The men were standing around the grill like homeless people around a burning barrel on a cold night. They had pulled up a chair so Pops could join in on the male bonding. Each held a beer, including Pops.

“Pops,” I said, approaching the gathering, “remember what you were told by the doctor, just one beer, no more.”

“What are you now,” Pops said, waving his beer at me,  “the booze police?”

“Don’t worry, Zell,” Tony assured me. “We’ll keep an eye on him.”

On the grill were burgers and hotdogs and chicken thighs and drumsticks. I was ready to grab one of each, done or not. Dick Chester waved a set of long tongs at me. “Hey, Zelda, sorry your friend had to leave. I hope his mother is okay.”

“She’ll be fine,” I said, after taking a few seconds to remember what lie we were telling to explain Clay’s sudden departure. I pointed at the grill. “Those gonna be done soon?”

“Soon enough.” With the tong, Dick shifted some of the hot dogs around.

Mom and Norma were sitting in the shade, each with their own beverage – Mom with a beer and Norma with unsweetened iced tea. Mom was munching on carrot sticks and celery. I went over to the cooler and grabbed two beers. I tossed one to Bea. She opened it, letting out a small spray of foam, and drank down half in one gulp. Norma eyed us with suspicion.

“Slow down, Beatrice,” my mother said. “You’d think you were a truck driver just coming off a long haul.”

Bea wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and let out a belch loud enough to cause the men to turn and stare. “Excuse me, everyone.” She burst into giggles.

“You okay, honey?” asked Tony.

In response, she blew him a kiss. He winked at her and went back to talk of sports.

Norma got up and herded us away from Mom. “You two are stinking high, aren’t you?” The question was whispered and coated with disapproval.

“It’s a coping mechanism,” I responded in a louder whisper. “Just ask Mom.” Bea giggled again.

Norma was about to get nasty when Luis Alvarez ran down the driveway into the backyard. When he saw me, he stopped short. “Zelda,” he said with obvious relief, “thank goodness you’re safe. When I didn’t see your car, I got worried.” He ran a hand through his thick hair.

“It’s the shark,” said Pops with glee. He stood up with his cane and started shuffling over to Luis. “I knew you’d come.”

Luis gently put both of his hands on my arms. “How bad is it? Do you know yet?”

I looked into Luis’ deep brown eyes – eyes the color of the chocolate shell on a Dove Bar. I shook my head to focus on something other than his eyes. And his lips.

“How bad is what?” I asked. “Why did you think I was in danger?”

“You haven’t seen the news?” he asked with surprise. “No one has called you about it? I tried calling, but you didn’t answer.”

In a stony haze I looked around for my purse and located it where I’d tossed it when I’d first arrived, on a side table by a lounge chair. While I dug through my bag, Pops said, “So that’s where that music came from. We kept hearing a piano, but wasn’t sure what it was.” He was referring to my ring tone, recently changed to scales on a piano. When I located the phone, I saw that I’d missed four calls, all in the last hour. I flipped through my phone’s recent history. Three of the calls had come from Charles Sanford, my neighbor and landlord. One was from Luis.

I listened to Charles’ first message. It told me to call him ASAP. I listened to the second. It was more frantic. The third continued to rise in hysteria. The warm fuzziness brought on by the pot left my head as quickly as a hypnotist snapping his fingers to bring me out of a trance.

“Oh my god!” yelled my mother. The sound came from the kitchen. “Zelda, get in here quick.”

Forgetting Charles for the moment, I ran into the kitchen where Mom, Kyle, and Norma had fled to check the news. They were hovered around Mom’s small kitchen TV. On screen was a news story about a local fire. Kyle pointed at the screen. “Isn’t that your apartment complex, Zell?”

In disbelief, I stared at the TV and watched flames lick at the collection of sweet vintage bungalows I called home. I’d been lucky to find such a treasure. These groupings of one bedroom cottages dotted communities throughout Southern California, but vacancies were rare and snapped up quickly. I’d lived in mine over four years. With trembling fingers, I called Charles back and moved into the dining room so I could hear better.

When the call was finished, I discovered everyone had filed back outside and joined those who hadn’t stampeded into the kitchen to watch my life go up in flames. Literally. Dick was still manning the grill. Bea and Tony were preparing hotdogs for the kids, who were seated at the kiddie picnic table, oblivious to the day’s drama. Everyone else was in a tight group, like a bunch of bananas, whispering among themselves. The talking stopped when I approached. The only sound was traffic noise from the off ramp behind the house.

“So what’s the scoop?” asked Pops.

I took a seat at the grown-up picnic table and put my head in my hands, too numb to cry. The shit didn’t just hit the fan, it had been shot at me with a cannon. Luis sat down across from me. Bea took the seat next to me, leaving hot dog patrol to Tony. She put an arm around me and held tight. The rest hovered, waiting for the verdict about my home. Food was coming off the grill but no one was eating except the kids.

“According to my landlord,” I reported, “the fire was started by a couple of kids in the next building. It was an accident. They were firing off rockets and one landed on one of our roofs. He told me there’s nothing I can do tonight. The fire’s out now but no one is allowed in, so I should stay away and come by tomorrow.”

“The fire’s out?” asked Mom. “But we just saw it.”

“That was probably filmed earlier,” Luis noted.

“Are they sure it was started by some kids?” asked Norma with raised eyebrows.

I knew what she was thinking, that mentally unbalanced Clay might have set it in revenge. I turned to Bea and read the same possibility in her eyes.

“Charles said the police have the kids and they confessed.” I looked at both of my sisters. Bea was noticeably relieved at the news. Norma still looked skeptical.

“Are we missing something here?” asked Luis, much more adept at picking up on nuances than any of the men in our family.

“No,” Norma snapped with bear trap speed. Luis didn’t look convinced, but he let it drop.

“Part of my bungalow burned,” I continued, my voice tinny and robotic, “but mostly there’s a lot of water damage. The one next to mine was destroyed. Charles said it would be awhile before anyone will be allowed to live there again.”

“You’ll just have to live here until then,” said Dick.

I looked up, finding it funny, weird funny, not ha ha funny, that Dick, my mother’s boyfriend, was the first to offer me a lodging solution. But then, he’s normal. Give him time.

“Of course, you’ll stay here,” Mom jumped in, soon enough after to be seen as in full agreement, but lagging enough to make me, Norma, and Bea look at her with a united front of glares.

“What about your car?” asked Luis.

“That’s the good news, if there is any.” Tony put an open beer in front of me. I took a long swallow before continuing. “The fire did not reach our carport. All the vehicles are safe and sound. I should be able to pick mine up tomorrow.”

“Will your office mind if you need to take a few days off?” Mom asked.

“I’m sure they’ll understand,” Bea said, giving me a tight squeeze. “It’s something that couldn’t be helped.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I took a deep breath and continued in a shaky voice of defeat, “Riverdale was sold. I’ve been unemployed as of July 1st.”

A hush covered the back patio like a canvas tarp. Even the kids were quiet for a change. Again, the only sound came from the traffic traveling the freeway ramp behind the house. People going about their business, while my family and I were shell-shocked.

I felt Bea squeeze me even closer. Luis reached out a hand and touched my arm. Even my mother stroked my head, something I don’t remember her doing since I was five.

It was Norma who broke the silence. “Well, it’s a good thing you have your overnight bag.”

CHAPTER 14

Say what you will about my family. Okay, say what I will about my family, but the weekend after the 4^th of July they came out in full force to help Lauri and me with the cleanup of my apartment and the moving of my things. Dick Chester couldn’t make it because his shop is its busiest on Saturday, but he loaned us his truck.

My complex is configured in a U with three very large one bedroom bungalows on each side, facing each other with a small grassy courtyard in the middle. Two round plastic tables with chairs resided in the middle of the courtyard. The bottom of the U was an unconnected building that housed the laundry room on the front and the carport on the back. The front of the complex opened like a hungry mouth to the street. My place was third down on the left. The rocket that caused the fire had landed on the roof of the middle left apartment, destroying it and causing extensive damage to the two apartments on either side of it. It would take months for our places to be habitable again.

Charles had lived in the front unit on my side with his husband Evan. They were now living with Evan’s daughter while this was sorted out. Charles had owned the property for decades, originally buying it as an investment, then moving into it when he and Evan retired. They kept the place immaculate and the rents reasonable. Charles said as soon as the place was fixed, I’d have first dibs, but he didn’t know how long that would be.

I knew I’d never find anything so charming and cheap again. And even if I did, there was that little problem of being unemployed. Landlords frown on that. I was also going to miss my neighbors. Charles had a good eye for spotting good renters. Two from across the courtyard had come over when we arrived this morning to say how sorry they were about the fire. One had brought us coffee and homemade muffins. They’d been allowed back into their undamaged homes a few days after the fire.

Everything in my place that was not in cabinets and cupboards was soaked and dirty with soot. Everything salvageable would be put in a storage unit I’d recently leased, with my clothing and other items taken to my mother’s for me to sort through. Mom and Norma were tackling the kitchen, boxing up my dishes and pots and pans. Kyle, Tony, and Bea were tackling the living room while Lauri and I were going through my bedroom. All three kids had been parked with Tony’s parents for the day.

“You know,” Lauri said, opening a drawer in my chest of drawers and pulling out sweaters. “You’re welcome to stay with me.” She’d already packed up most of the stuff in my dresser and night stand and I was almost through my closet.

I looked up and smiled. Lauri had cancelled a date with Joel to help today. “Thanks, but Mom has lots of room and it hasn’t been that bad.” I paused, then tacked on. “At least not so far.”

“Well, pal, if you need to escape, even for a night, you know where I am.”  She held up a sweater and sniffed it. “All this stuff is going to have to be washed several times to make it wearable again.”

I nodded. Everything I owned, except for the clothes on my back and in my overnight bag now smelled of a forest fire. The morning after the blaze, Lauri had taken me shopping for basics like underwear, tops, bottoms, and toiletries, including a cheap suitcase to put it all in. I felt like a refugee.

“The clothing is going to stay on the patio until I wash it,” I told Lauri. “Just make sure to mark the boxes so I know what’s in them.”

“I already have,” she assured me.

Bea came in. “I’m afraid your sofa and chair are a total loss, Zelly. They are both soaked and smelly. What do you want to do with them?”

“Charles told me he’s having someone come this week and cart off everything that has been left behind.”

“Well,” said Norma, entering with a dish in her hand, “it’s not like they were new. Wasn’t that sofa from Pops’ house? And that chair looked pretty beat up too.”

I pointed at my bedroom furniture. “My big dresser and nightstand came from Pops’ house, too. I got the chest in a secondhand shop. But they look okay. A good polishing and hopefully they’ll be good as new.”

Norma shook one of my dinner plates at me. “Speaking of not new, isn’t this the set of dishes I gave you to give to that charity a few years back?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, but I needed dishes and I liked them. Besides, charity begins at home.”

Norma shook her head with disgust. She was wearing school bus yellow rubber gloves. We all were. Norma had brought lots of them. “Besides clothing and food, do you ever buy anything new?” she asked.

“My mattress was bought new a year ago.” My voice was laced with defense. What I didn’t mention was that until then, I’d slept on my mother’s cast off. “Of course, it’s now shot unless I can dry it out properly.”

“Your vibrator,” Lauri chimed in. “You bought that new. I remember because I was with you.”

I snickered. Bea reddened as she did her best not to laugh. Norma’s mouth puckered like an asshole in disapproval.

My older sister glared at Lauri. They didn’t like each other and neither did much to hide it. They were the same age, just a couple of years older than me. It was Bea’s theory that Lauri had taken over the job of my big sister and Norma resented her for it. Frankly, I think it was because each represented what the other abhorred. Lauri was free in her thinking and attitude, and rather slutty in her appearance. Norma was conservative and judgmental and dressed like the head of the PTA of an exclusive private school, which, in reality, she was. The two would never share a martini, not even at my memorial if I got hit by a bus. As much alike as Norma and my mother were, Mom genuinely liked Lauri. Maybe it’s because, as rigid as she was, my mother wasn’t pretentious, and the two had shared many a joint over the years while talking trash about men.

“Don’t bet on it,” Norma said, ignoring Lauri and turning her nose up at the sight of my soggy queen size bed. “There will always be the worry of mold and mildew. Toss the box springs and mattress.”

“Your books are pretty ruined, too,” added Bea. “But we can pack them up and put them out in the sun and see if they can be salvaged. Tony said, if you want, he’ll take your laptop and printer home and try to save them, or at least save what’s on the laptop.”

I shook my head, not in disagreement, but in disgust. My life was a mess. A big soggy mess that no amount of sunshine was going to fix anytime soon. I plopped down on the wet bed and put my head in my hands.

“Zell, that’s soaked,” cautioned Norma.

Even before she said anything, I could feel the water soaking through the cheap, thin shorts I’d picked up the day before. I didn’t care. I dragged a rubber glove across the tears on my face. The glove smelled toxic. With any luck, it would bring on a blackout.

“Come on,” Lauri said, gently grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet. “Let’s take a break. We’ve all been working for hours.”

“There’s a cute coffee shop down the street,” Bea said. “We can grab lunch there, then finish up after.”

“Nothing in this neighborhood looks suitable to me,” sniffed Norma.

“Hey, ladies!” Tony poked his head into the bedroom, a big grin splashed across his sweaty face. “Come see what the cat dragged in.”

We all filed out of the bedroom behind Tony to find Pops standing in the middle of my living room balancing on his cane. My mother joined us from the kitchen.

“Wow,” Pops said, taking it all in. “What a dump!”

“It wasn’t a dump before the fire,” Bea told him, coming to the defense of my abode. “Zelly had it fixed up real cute.”

It had been cute. It was my haven. My safe place. Just last year, I’d gone to great pains to paint the living room walls exactly the colors I’d wanted them – soft blue green and a gentle brown. I’d seen the combination in a design magazine. The bedroom had been done in the same green and a blue gray. The soft green had also been used in the bathroom and kitchen with white. I loved finding good used furniture and accent pieces, cleaning them up, and blending them together into a livable shabby chic environment. Norma thought it was just shabby.

Pops pointed at the sofa. “Wasn’t that mine a hundred years ago?”

“Yes, Pops,” I said, stepping forward. “It was. Why? You want it back?”

He laughed. “I didn’t want it years ago.”

“How did you get here, Edward?” my mother asked.

“The shark brought me.”

“Luis brought you?” I needed to clarify the information since it wasn’t computing.

“Yes,” Pops answered with a curled lip. “Since none of you bothered to include me, I called him. He had an appointment this morning but was free this afternoon.”

“Pops,” I said, moving to the door to peep out. “This is heavy, dirty work. There isn’t much you can do here.” Sure enough, Luis Alvarez was in the courtyard standing next to one of the tables on which were several small gray cardboard boxes. Kyle was arranging the chairs around the tables.

When Luis saw me, he waved. “Come and get it while it’s hot.”

One by one, we stripped off our gloves and wandered outside, me in the lead. My mother took Pops by the arm and helped him follow us.

“What is this?” I asked. As I got closer, I could smell the heavenly scent of hot burgers.

“Your grandfather bought lunch,” Luis announced.

Sure enough, the boxes contained about two dozen burgers and orders of fries. There was also an assortment of milkshakes and sodas. I turned to Pops. “Did you have Luis go to In-N-Out?”

“Where else?” Pops took a seat in one of the plastic chairs next to a table. “If you didn’t want my muscle power, at least I could buy lunch. Besides, I don’t want to wait until the next Father’s Day to get my burger fix. Did you know you have an In-N-Out just a few blocks from here?”

“Yeah, Pops,” I said. “I know. I know all too well.”

My grandfather swept his hand over the scene. “Everyone have a seat and dig in. There’s plenty.”

Kyle did a head count, then pulled a couple of my kitchen chairs out of the back of Dick’s truck so everyone would have a seat. After a quick washing up at a garden hose, Norma and Lauri got busy passing out the food while Bea handed out the drinks. Mom was in charge of napkins. Pops reigned over everything like a benevolent king. Everyone started eating as soon as the food fell into their hands. Bea laughed when Tony tried to get her to bite the fries sticking out of his mouth.

I stood watching the jovial scene from the edge of the circle of tables, like a kid watching a birthday party in progress through a window. Over everything hung the smell of a campfire. It was that smell, the smell of disaster, of loss, of despair, that took my appetite away. I’d probably never be able to enjoy the smell of a wood fire again.

Without excusing myself, I dashed inside my ruined apartment. I heard my mother and Bea call after me, but I didn’t turn. I made my way through the living room, down the short hallway to the bathroom just outside my bedroom and shut the door behind me.

A few minutes later, someone rapped on the bathroom door. I didn’t answer. Another knock came. This time the person on the other side turned the knob and opened the door a couple of inches. “You decent?” asked Luis.

When I didn’t answer, he opened the door wider and stepped in. I was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet with a wad of toilet paper the size of a softball in my hand. He entered and closed the door behind him. Without any electricity, the only light came from the window high above the tub.

“I was sent to make sure you weren’t slitting your wrists or downing pills.”

“Can’t,” I explained. “Lauri already packed up the bathroom, razors and all.” I glanced up at the medicine chest set in the wall. The door was open, showing its emptiness. “Though I suppose I could break the glass and use the pieces to cut a vein.”

“Good thinking. I admire resourcefulness.” Luis sat on the edge of the tub and pointed to my hands. “How did that toilet paper escape the fire hose?”

I studied the large wad I was holding. It was soggy from my tears. On the counter was a dry nearly full roll. “It was in the cabinet under the sink. About the only thing that didn’t get wet.” I didn’t look at him. “Is my family too busy eating to check on me? Or did they feel I might need legal help?”

Luis chuckled and reached over to take my hands, tearsoaked tissue and all. “Your family loves you very much, Zelda. Your mother and Bea were both on their way here when your grandfather stopped them and sent me.”

In spite of my misery, a small smile escaped my dry lips, but I still didn’t look up. “I think Pops is trying to play matchmaker. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. I’m not,” Luis said. “I was happy that he called. And happy to help today.”

I raised my eyes to look at him. Luis wasn’t grinning, as I had expected, but looking at me with the pointy accuracy of a laser. His mouth was clothesline taut. I didn’t read disappointment in his face, more like regret. As for me, I added confusion to my growing list of imploding emotions. Before I knew what I was doing, I slipped one of my hands out of his and caught him behind his neck, drawing him closer. I planted a big wet kiss on his lips, then just as quickly broke it off. I tore my other hand from his and leaned away from him, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, looking back down at the tissue in my hand.

“Again, I’m not.”

When I looked up with surprise, he caught my face between both of his hands and kissed me hard. I melted into it, but just as soon as I had, he backed off. Two quick forceful kisses and neither of us seemed to have the balls to make them stick.

Luis stood up. “I’m sorry, Zelda. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why? I started it.”

He ran a hand through his thick hair, the gesture exposing a bit of tight midsection between his t-shirt and gym shorts. Family a few feet away or not, I wanted to jump his bones right then and there based on that bit of skin.

“We’re both involved with other people.” He looked as frustrated as I felt.

I shook my head and looked down again. “Not me. Like my apartment, my relationship with Clay went up in smoke on the 4^th of July.”

“What happened?”

I glanced up again. “He turned out not to be the person I thought he was.”

“Yeah,” Luis scoffed. “There’s a lot of that going around.” He leaned against the wall next to the door.

“Did the same thing happen to you? Pops reported that you were single these days.”

“I was, but it’s sort of back on again.” He didn’t look happy at the announcement.

“Is it the girl I saw you with at the bar that night?”

“Yes, but it’s complicated. Too complicated to explain right now.” He sat back down on the edge of the tub and held my eyes with his. “If not for her, I’d kiss you and never stop, but I can’t drag you into my mess.”

I looked around my once cheerful bathroom. “I think I have the monopoly on messes these days.”

“Trust me, Zell, you aren’t even close.”

Before I could question him on the comment, he stood up again and held out a hand. “Come on. The burgers and fries are probably cold by now, but you still need to eat so we can finish up and get out of here. No matter how bleak it all looks right now, you have a new life waiting just outside that door.”

I didn’t take his hand. Instead I yanked open the door and glared at him. “If you ever drop another asinine, feel-good motivation quote on me again, Luis Alvarez, I will gut you with a spoon. Of course, it will have to be one of my mother’s spoons.”

CHAPTER 15

Job hunting was not going well. But I wasn’t exactly giving it my all. I spent much of a very hot July going through the boxes of things salvaged from my apartment, washing and cleaning them, throwing away what couldn’t be saved. I repacked things I wouldn’t need right away and put them in storage until I got a new place. In early August, I started sending out resumes and contacting headhunters, but there wasn’t much out there. Lauri was finding a similar problem. Both of us were told that even with the sluggish economy things should open up more after Labor Day when people in charge returned from their summer vacations. Lauri, experienced in HR, confirmed that was often the case.

Financially I was okay. I’d received six months of severance pay due to my longevity at Riverdale. I also had a big chunk of unused vacation time topping it off, along with my 401k and savings as cushions. But I really didn’t want to dip into those unless I had to. When I offered to pay Mom for room and board, she’d waved it off, telling me not to worry about it and to use the money to get back on my feet. I had few debts and now with no rent or utilities, save for my cell phone, I could make my severance stretch much longer than six months if the need arose. There was also some insurance money coming from the fire once it was thoroughly investigated. Funny thing about the renter’s insurance, I’d never had any until about a year ago when my father harped on it after reading about a fire in an apartment complex in Pasadena that wiped out all of its tenants’ belongings. He nagged me until I finally caved and bought some.

Thanks, Dad. Who knew you were clairvoyant? Did you also foresee leaving us?

In all, I didn’t lose much seeing that much of my furniture was used, but the biggest blows were my mattress and computer, both of which were fairly new and deemed a total loss. Tony tried but could not bring my laptop to life. He’d even taken it to a friend of his who was a tech geek. In the end, it was pronounced D.O.A. Fortunately, I’d had the good sense to have most everything on it backed up on one of those cloud services. Staying at my mother’s, I didn’t need a new mattress right away, but the computer was a different story. As soon as my old one was pronounced terminal, I bought myself a new fancy laptop, and put it to use right away helping me to find a new job. I hoped the job hunting, once in full swing, wouldn’t take forever since I was already going batty with boredom. My position at Riverdale might not have been the most stimulating job, but I liked the people and the security. I also really enjoyed the problem solving side of it. Now I had no home and no job. I had been kicked out of my comfort zone on the end of a steel-toed boot and was mentally and physically floundering. In return for no rent, I set out to clean Mom’s house, top to bottom, including all the closets she’d been meaning to get to for years. We’d also talked about me painting the bedrooms. I’d even taken over most of the grocery shopping and cooking. In less than a month, I’d become a housewife, without the wife part.

“While you’re at it, Zelda,” Mom said over dinner one evening, “why don’t you clean out Bill’s closet?”

The fork of grilled chicken I was about to shove into my waiting mouth hung in midair. I put my fork down on the table. It was a new table. Smaller than our old one and made of clean pine. Mom had gotten it recently, part of her out with the old, in with the new campaign. It took up much less room in the kitchen than our old one with the scratched Formica top. Mom looked at me, then at my fork. The look was an order to get my fork off the new table and place it on my plate or the placemat like a civilized person. We never used placemats with our old table. “Clean out Dad’s stuff?” I squeaked out.

Mom took a sip of wine. “Yes, box it up and put it in the garage or, better yet, give it to Goodwill. I don’t care, just get it out of here. I need the space.”

“I’m actually surprised, Mom, that you haven’t done that yet.” I picked up my fork, bypassed the placemat, and stuck the chicken straight into my mouth and chewed.

“I started to, but ...,” her words drifted off.

Getting rid of Dad’s stuff seemed drastic to the daughter in me, but as a woman, I knew it was high time to tackle it. Like burning the bunny costume, it would move along what was already in progress – the exorcism of my father’s presence. If he did come back, things would never be the same, not between him and Mom, or between him and us girls. He’d screwed the pooch. Not with his leaving, but with his silence since his departure.

“Okay,” I said after I swallowed.

“Empty his drawers, too, and everything of his in the bathroom. And do that before you start any painting.” She took another sip of wine. “The painting can wait. Cleaning out Bill’s stuff cannot.”

“Consider it done.” I paused, fiddling with the brown rice on my plate with the tines of my fork. “Mom, are you thinking about selling the house?”

She looked up at me with surprise. “Why would you say that?”

“You’ve been fixing it up for the past few months. I was just wondering if you were considering selling it. You know, and maybe move in with Dick.”

With an open mouth, Mom looked at me like I’d just said the dumbest thing possible. “Why in the world would I move in with Dick? I just got rid of one ball and chain. I’m hardly anxious to acquire another so soon.”

“Don’t you like Dick?”

Mom took two more bites from her plate and chewed each carefully before answering. You would have thought I’d asked her the meaning of life. Finally, she pushed her plate aside and pulled her wine glass closer, like it was a bedtime stuffed animal. “I like Dick Chester very much. He’s smart and fun and decent and has been wonderful to me. I might even be falling in love with him.” She shrugged. “But I was married a very long time and most of that time I was miserable. If not for you girls, I would have taken off long before Bill did.”

I felt like I’d been punched. Both of my parents had wanted to take off. Was our family life really that miserable? “I’m sorry, Mom.” I took a big slurp of wine, fighting the urge to kick it all back in one gulp.

“Don’t be, Zelda. You girls did not make me unhappy. In fact, you and your sisters were the bright spots that kept me going. The marriage was tolerable when you were growing up because I was preoccupied with taking care of you. When you got older and left home was when things got really ugly between Bill and me.” Picking up the bottle of wine, she refilled my glass and hers.

What she said made sense. As kids, the fighting between our parents had been awful and each of us could not wait to leave home. After we left the nest, Dad took to drinking more and Mom took up weed. We girls had discussed it on several occasions, but decided it was their business. None of us were willing to stick our head into the lion’s mouth. We weren’t that surprised that one of them called it quits, just surprised by the way it was done. All three of us viewed Dad’s midlife disappearing act a display of irresponsible cowardice. I took another big swig of my wine.

“Your father and I should never have married,” Mom said after sucking down more wine. “But that’s what you did in our day when the rubber broke.”

The wine in my mouth shot across the kitchen table, hitting my mother directly in her boobs as accurately as if she’d been wearing a target. She didn’t bat an eyelash. She’d expected shock and surprise, and what’s a little white wine on a blouse between mother and daughter. Especially when the mother was hurling hand grenades of family secrets at the dinner table.

I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “You were pregnant when you and Dad got married?”

She nodded. “I was about three months along with Norma on our wedding day.”

“But that can’t be,” I protested. “Norma was born in November and you and Dad were married on Valentine’s Day.”

Mom looked directly at me. “Zelda, have you ever in your life seen our marriage certificate?”

I dug through my brain. “I’m sure I have.”

“Really? When?”

“But I’ve seen your wedding photo. You eloped to Las Vegas, just the two of you. Grammy was against the marriage.”

“That part is correct. My mother hated Bill. It’s one of the reasons she and I fought so much. We did elope to Vegas, but not in February.”

Mom got up and disappeared out of the kitchen. Taking that as a sign dinner was over, I got up and started clearing the table. She returned a few minutes later holding an eight by ten black cardboard folder, the kind that held awards and diplomas. I’d never seen it before. She held it out to me. I wiped my hands on a dish towel and took it. Inside was a marriage certificate – my parents’ marriage certificate. It was dated May 20th – six months before my sister Norma’s birthday. Either Norma was a serious preemie or my mother had been knocked up before marrying Dad, as she’d admitted.

“Does Norma know this?” I asked, still looking at the certificate in my hand with disbelief.

“No, just your father and me.” She paused. “And Edward.”

“Pops knows about this?”

“Of course, even if the old bastard hadn’t been as smart as a fox, he could count.”

I took a deep breath and looked at my mother in her wine stained blouse. “That’s why he never liked you, isn’t it?”

“Edward always thought I’d trapped Bill into marrying me.” She sat down at the kitchen table, picked up her half full wine glass but didn’t drink. “I wanted to give the baby up for adoption or have an abortion. Bill wanted to marry me. As much as my mother disliked Bill, she was dead set against either of my choices. She offered this house as a bribe. If I married Bill, we could have the house when she died. If not, I was cut off – immediately. Being homeless and pregnant with no job and only a high school education was not very attractive. I had no money for an abortion, and even then I would have found myself out on the street. I had no other family to turn to. My only other relatives were all in the Midwest and we weren’t close. And they probably would have sided with my mother. Marrying Bill seemed like the only choice I had at the time, even though he was very immature.”

“You never loved Dad, did you?” This was not a question I’d ever imagined asking one of my parents. Not in a million years. I knew the love had gone out of their marriage years ago, but I never thought until now that maybe it was never there.

Mom took a sip of wine. “No, Zelda. I never did. I was very fond of him at the time, and he was a lot of fun, but he was a rebound from someone else. I thought I could come to love him over time, but it never happened. And that’s the harsh truth. I tried, but once you kids came along, Bill started buckling under the responsibility. He still thought he was the life of the party and preferred spending time with his drinking buddies and other women instead of being here.”

While I stood in shocked silence, Mom pulled a joint and lighter out of the pocket of her shorts and lit it up. After a long drag, hold, and exhale, she said, “The woman your father ran off with wasn’t his first affair. Bill started screwing around shortly after we were married. He even left me a few times before, but never for very long. When you girls were in grade school, he got one of his bimbos pregnant.”

“You mean I have a half brother or sister out there?” I almost lost my balance from the weight of the information. I vaguely remember Dad going on business trips off and on when I was young. At least that’s what Mom called them.

Mom took another drag and held the joint out to me. I took it just as she exhaled. “No, that woman had an abortion. Your father and I almost broke up then, but decided to give it another go, more out of economic reasons than anything else. We couldn’t afford to go our separate ways. He promised he’d stop running around and drinking. The drinking didn’t stop, but if he was still sleeping around, he was doing it with more discretion.”

I sat down at the table and took a long hit off the joint, drawing it into my lungs until I had no more suction left.

Who are these people I call Mom and Dad?

I handed the joint back to my mother. “So,” I said, after a smoky cough, “why are you telling me this now?”

“It was time you knew the truth.” She touched the lighter to the joint, bringing it back to life, and inhaled.

“Are you going to tell Norma and Bea?” I asked.

She exhaled, blowing the smoke away from the table. “I’m not sure yet. What do you think I should do?”

“God, I don’t know, Mom.” My voice was raised in frustration. “I almost wish you hadn’t told me, except that it explains a lot about you and Dad and your relationship.”

Mom reached across the table with the hand not holding the joint and grabbed my hand. “I don’t want you making the same mistake, Zelda. Norma is unhappy and Beatrice went through hell a while back. I want at least one of you to follow your heart and dream big.”

I started at her words. Did Mom know about Bea and Tony’s breakup? “What about Bea?” I asked, hoping to sound in the dark. “She and Tony seem happy enough.”

“Now they are, but they went through a tough time earlier this year. They just don’t know that I know.”

“So how do you know?” I leaned forward, almost laying across the table.

“I called the house one day and little Mona answered. She told me Bea was in the bathroom with Marie. I asked to speak with Tony and she told me her daddy didn’t live there anymore.” Mom took another hit of weed. “I didn’t say anything, figuring Bea would come to me if she needed me. Shortly after, they patched things up.” Mom looked at me through half-lidded eyes. “I’m surprised you didn’t know. I thought Bea told you everything.”

“Obviously not everything, Mom.” I didn’t think Mom knew about Bea’s fling with Clay and was relieved.

“I’m not worried now about Bea,” she continued. “All she ever wanted was to marry and raise a family, and she’s very good at it. And Tony adores her. He’s a simple but  good man. They are perfect for each other.”

Anxious to move the conversation away from Bea, I asked, “What did you mean about Norma being unhappy? She just seems bitchy to me, but she always has been.”

“Boy, that’s the truth.” Mom coughed out a short laugh. “She and Kyle seem okay in their relationship. She doesn’t mind being a housewife and mother, as long as she has a maid and a nanny available, and a country club to escape to most afternoons. She has everything she could want in the way of material things, but she could have been more. She has the intelligence, but not the drive or depth.” Mom tapped the table top with an index finger. “I can’t put my finger on why, but in spite of all that, I don’t think Norma is happy or ever has been, and it’s not all about your father and me.”

“Frankly, I think she was born that way. Maybe she knew in the womb that she was unwanted and is pissed about it.” I glanced down at the marriage certificate, not sure if Norma should ever know about that.

Mom studied me with a buzzed meditation. “So what about you? You’ve been through a lot lately. How are you holding up? And what happened to that Clay fellow? He seemed very nice, though not a mental whirlwind.” When I didn’t answer, she added, “You could do better, Zell, that’s all I’m saying. And not just about men.”

My mother might be in the mood to spill her guts, but I was not. But in my weed and alcohol induced state, who knew what I would blurt out. I needed to put an end to this heart-to-heart before I said something I’d regret. “Mom, did you want me to paint the kitchen too?”

She looked around at the drab yellow kitchen with its ancient white cabinets. “Not yet. I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do in here.”

I got up from the table. “Why don’t you go watch TV while I finish cleaning up the kitchen.”

Mom sighed, thinking about her options. “I think I’ll go to bed early, if you don’t mind.”

“Go right ahead.” Relief filled me like a sink with running water.

Just before she walked out of the kitchen, Mom turned. “Speaking of marriage, I ran into Rosa Alvarez when I was getting the mail today. You know, Luis’ mother.”

“Yeah, I know who Rosa is, Mom.” I rinsed off a dish and placed it in the dishwasher, listening with only half an ear. Next, I picked up a wine glass and started to hand wash it.

“She said Luis is getting married.”

The delicate glass slipped from my wet fingers.

CHAPTER 16

“That Mrs. Goldstein is a cutie,” I said to Pops.

He looked in the direction of the swimming pool where a bunch of old ladies had just finished a water aerobics class.

“She’s a looker all right,” my grandfather agreed, “but too much of a motor mouth. I prefer Sonia.” With a knobby finger, he pointed to a cute pudgy African-American woman with hair so white she looked like chocolate pudding topped off with a squirt of aerosol whipped cream. “She’s got a wicked sense of humor. She was once in the Navy and can swear and play cards like any swabbie. She took Buster Jenkins for five dollars in pinochle last Thursday.” Pops sounded awed by the woman’s card skills.

I looked at Sonia Moore with greater interest. I’d met her on several of my visits. She was definitely a pistol, even though she didn’t look any tougher than a fudge brownie – the gooey kind straight out of the oven. “So, Pops, have you tapped that yet?”

Instead of getting a rise out of my grandfather, like I’d hoped, he asked, “Have you tapped the shark yet?”

My head snapped so fast in his direction, I heard my neck pop. “No,” I answered once I’d regained my composure. “And I won’t be. I heard he’s getting married.”

Now it was Pops’ turn to be surprised. “Really?

“Yep,” I answered as I watched the old ladies haul their butts out of the pool. “His mother told Mom recently that he was getting married.”

“Huh,” Pops scoffed as he watched the giggling gaggle of wet women towel off. The old dog had a small pervy smile on his face. “Bet the bride’s knocked up.”

“You mean like Mom was when she married Dad?”

My grandfather looked at me as he appraised the situation. He wasn’t a bull shitter. If he had something to say, it would be the truth and not some candy-coated placebo. “You know about that, do you?”

I nodded. “Mom recently told me about it. She showed me their marriage license and everything.” I sighed. “I think it made her feel good to finally get the whole story out.”

Pops nodded. “It probably did.” He went back to watching the ladies on the other side of the pool. “Do you think she’s going to tell Norma the truth?” He turned to me. “Or should I ask, are you going to tell Norma?”

“Hard to say about Mom, but it’s on her, not me, to tell Norma that the story about being born prematurely was all bull. I’m not about to run to either of my sisters with that tidbit.” I shrugged. “And who gives a rat’s ass anyway. Mom wouldn’t be the first girl to have a shotgun wedding, and I doubt she’ll be the last, even if things are different now.”

“True, and I’ll bet the shark’s doing the honorable thing, even if it is stupid of him.”

“Maybe his family is pressuring him. Mom told me about the deal her mother cut with her to keep the baby and marry Dad. You were no better, Pops,” I accused. “You blamed Mom for everything.”

“Yes, I did, Zelda.” He said the words without looking at me. “And I was wrong. All these years, I was wrong. Judy raised you girls pretty much on her own, and did a fine job. I’m glad her mother made her keep the baby and marry Bill. If not, I might not have had the best granddaughter in the world.”

“Norma?”

“Pah,” I don’t give a shit about that self-centered bitch.” He paused. “Well, that’s not true. I do give a shit about her. She’s my granddaughter, for better or for worse, and I do love her and sweet but scatteredbrained Beatrice.”

A couple of the ladies waved to Pops as they left to return to the main building. Pops waved back.

Still not looking at me, he said, “I told you the cock was the star, and you are, Zelda. You’re the best thing to come out of that cockamamie marriage. That’s why I asked you here today. I need your help with something.”

“What is it?” I asked. “Do you need your room rearranged or redecorated?”

“Nah, and if I did, that’s something I’d asked one of your sisters to do. You’re not exactly the nesting type, at least not like them.”

I felt my feathers ruffling. “I’m painting all the bedrooms at Mom’s house,” I protested.

“Maybe so, but that’s work, not fancy-ass decorating stuff. No, I’ve got something more important for you to do.” Finally he turned to look at me and pushed his hat back on his head so I could see his eyes without shadow. “I want to hire you, Zelda.”

“You’re my grandfather,” I reminded him. “You don’t need to hire me for anything. Just tell me what you want done.”

“No.” He slapped his hand on the table as he said the word. It wasn’t a hard slap, but emphasized his determination. “I need to go on a road trip and I’m hiring you to be my companion and driver.”

“The job market’s dead, Pops. The painting is nearly done, and I’ve got time on my hands. You pay for the gas and lodging and I’ll throw in my time.”

“If you don’t take my money for the job, Zelda,” Pops said with conviction, “I’ll hire a stranger to do it. I’ve already looked into what it would cost and I’m going to pay you the going rate for a professional travel companion.”

For several minutes we had a staring competition. I lost. “Okay, Pops. You can pay me for my time. When do we leave and where are we going?”

“We’ll leave just before Labor Day weekend,” he explained. “I’ve done all the research. We’ll fly from LAX to Nashville and rent a car. From there we’ll drive to a small town in Kentucky called Madison or Madisonville or Madisonberg, something like that.” He waved his hand to indicate we’d worry about details later.

“Kentucky?” I said with surprise. “I thought maybe you just wanted to go to Vegas or the Grand Canyon, or maybe Yosemite. Something like that.”

“We’re going to Kentucky,” he said with determination.

“Then Kentucky it is,” I agreed. “Who’s there? Some old Army buddy?”

Using his cane, Pops got to his feet and started for the path that went back into the retirement home. “No. Your father.”

Pops hadn’t gotten far. In two strides I caught up with him, even though I’d waited several heartbeats after his words hit my brain like a runaway train before kicking into action. “My father? How do you know he’s in Kentucky? Did you hear from him?”

“No. I hired a private investigator to track him down.”

CHAPTER 17

“Damn, it’s muggy,” Pops groused as I got him situated in our rental car at the Nashville airport. “Hurry up and get that AC on.”

“Keep your Depends on, Pops.”

I made sure our luggage, which only consisted of two carry-ons, was stashed in the trunk and that Pops had his cane before finally slipping behind the wheel, buckling up, and starting the engine. We’d only gone a few blocks before I turned into a gas station with a convenience store.

“What in the hell are we doing here?” Pops asked. “The gas tank’s full.”

“It’s a two hour drive,” I told him.

“I thought you hit the head back at the airport.”

“I did, Pops,” I told him, “but we’re going to need water for the drive, especially in this humidity.”

Anxiety poked through the folds of Pop’s loose facial flesh like a scared animal. His eyes were pools of anticipation and dread. He’d slept during most of the flight. We’d gone first class at his insistence. First time for me. When I complained about the cost, he’d waved off my concerns. “It’s my money,” he’d snapped. “I’ll spend it any way I damn well please. Besides, might be the last time I’m ever on a big bird. I want to go in style.”

“You want anything besides water?” I asked just before getting out of the car.

“Coffee. Black.”

“You hungry? I could get you some snacks.”

He turned and narrowed his eyes at me in frustration. “Can we please just get on the damn road, Zelda, before I’m dead and you’re the one in a home.” He pointed at the sky. “It looks like it’s going to rain soon.”

“Okay. Okay.” I held both my hands up in surrender. He was right about the rain. It was not only humid, but dark clouds hung overhead, mimicking Pops mood.

Just before I entered the store, Pops lowered his window and yelled, “Slim Jims. Bring me some Slim Jims.”

I was about to remind him that he shouldn’t be eating spicy processed salt bombs, but one look at his shrunken face poking out of the window made me hold my tongue. This was his vacation, maybe even his last. So what if he had a Slim Jim, but I was only buying him one package.

When I returned to the car, I set his coffee in the cup holder on his side and handed him the package of Slim Jims. “Happy?” I asked. He grinned and nodded. Pulling out the waters, I loosened the caps on two and also set them in the cup holders, happy that the rental car had several within reach instead of the skimpy two in my car. I’d bought four waters and slipped the remaining two in the back. “I also got us some bananas,” I told Pops. “But we really should stop for a decent supper soon.” It was way too early for me to eat, but at the home Pops was used to eating supper about the time most of us finished lunch.

“When we get there,” he told me. “Did you remember to get a map?”

“Don’t need one,” I said tapping the screen of the GPS in the dashboard. “This car comes with a GPS. Give me the address and I’ll plug it in.”

It didn’t take long before we were out of the urban area and driving through miles of lush green vegetation, so different from the freeways in Southern California with their dull drought friendly plants. According to the GPS, Madisonville, Kentucky was about two and a half hours north of Nashville. Neither of us had been in this part of the country before and, as far as I could remember, neither had my father. More than once I wondered what he was doing here, of all places. So far, Pops hadn’t given me any clues, except to say that the investigator had followed Dad’s trail here. I looked over at my grandfather, who was staring out the windshield. In spite of his demand for the Slim Jims, he hadn’t opened the package yet. It was clutched in his right hand like a cellophane-wrapped security blanket.

“Did the investigator say why Dad was here?” I asked. “It’s seems like an odd place for him to be.”

“He’s shacked up with that woman,” Pops answered without looking at me. “The same one he took off with. Seems her people are from around here.”

“So what are you going to say to Dad when we find him?” I asked. “Have you thought that far ahead? Or are you going to knock on the door and yell surprise?”

“I’ll leave that to you, smarty pants,” Pops said, glancing my way.

“No way, Jose,” I said with a side to side shake of my head. “I’m just the hired companion and chauffeur on this trip. Remember?”

Following the GPS, we found our way to Madisonville, which appeared to be a cute little community. The sort of place where most people attended church, the fire station held pancake breakfasts to raise money for youth organizations, and the women’s club made sure the city’s streets were decorated for holidays.

Don’t most serial killers come from places like this?

That was the thought running through my head as we cruised the streets toward our destination, but I kept it to myself.

We made our way to Murray Street to a small modest white bungalow with black shutters. The house was sandwiched between two larger but still modest homes. Scattered around the properties were a few mature trees and some shrubs, but there were no fences designating property lines. Back in California people built concrete walls or planted tall hedges between themselves and their neighbors. Some even installed electric gates and security cameras. In such an overpopulated area, Californians were anxious to carve out their privacy, establish security, and designate their boundaries. Here I got the sense of a more welcoming flow between inhabitants.

We’d gone through some really lovely areas as we made our way through town. Neighborhoods with nicer and better maintained homes. This street wasn’t bad. Some of the homes were nice and some needed obvious repair. It was an old neighborhood that hadn’t made up its mind if it was on the way down for the count or coming back to life for another round or two. It was the sort of neighborhood that appealed to young first-time buyers eager to get into a starter home. They came armed with hammers and paint and energy, and bought the homes for a song when the previous owner died or retired to Florida.

I pulled up to the curb and confirmed the address on the GPS to the large black numbers tacked next to the front door. They matched. “This is it,” I announced to Pops. “This is where Dad and Rachel Parks live according to the address you have.”

That’s her name, the woman with whom Dad ran off. Rachel Parks. In the family, she was only referred to as that woman, or the slut, or the whore, but her name is Rachel Parks. My mother is the only one who ever refers to Rachel using a word that starts with C and rhymes with hunt. I’d met Rachel once or twice when I dropped by Dad’s office. The few times I’d met her, she’d dressed her voluptuous body in tight skirts, low cut blouses and fuck-me pumps. Not appropriate business attire at any age, but especially not when you’re in your forties and not working as a hostess in a sleazy bar. Dad had traded Mom in for a younger woman, but far from a young woman. Rachel was just a later used model with more fancy options.

The home looked freshly painted and groomed. Considering how Rachel dressed, I’d half expected to see gnomes and other kitschy paraphernalia in the yard, or to find the house painted an obnoxious over-the-top color. There was no car in the driveway, but one could be in the small unattached garage. I leaned across my grandfather to get a better look. The blinds were open. I saw no sign of anyone peeking out to see who’d stopped in front of the house. Pops also stared at the house.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” Pops said. His voice sounded a bit relieved, which surprised me. Maybe he was changing his mind about confronting Dad.

“No, it doesn’t,” I said, straightening back into my seat. I glanced at my watch. “If they have jobs, they could still be at work. It’s just after six now.”

I glanced over at Pops. He didn’t look good. Between the plane ride and the trip from the airport, we’d been travelling most of the day. He needed dinner and rest. “Why don’t we come back later?” I suggested.

He countered with, “How about we at least knock on the door before running off?”

I sighed, not relishing going out in the oppressive humidity. It had rained midway through our drive, but now the sky was clear. I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened my car door. Pops was right and even if he wasn’t, I knew he’d never let up until we’d at least tried to see if anyone was home. Personally, I wanted to get back into the car and head to the airport. If my father was there, what would I say to him?

Hey, loser, why did you run out on us like a thief in the night?

I walked up the cracked walkway and took the three steps to the small porch like a dead man walking. There was a doorbell but taped over it was a small cardboard sign with the words NOT WORKING printed in neat block capital letters. The sign didn’t look weather worn, but fairly new. Taking a deep breath, I poised the knuckles of my right hand in the middle of the wooden door, but before knocking I glanced back at Pops.

“Don’t be such a coward,” he yelled at me.

Why couldn’t he just leave his window up and enjoy the AC? I closed my eyes, took another deep breath, and gave the door three soft knocks and waited. No one from inside responded.

“Put some backbone into that,” Pops yelled. For such a frail man, he had a very good set of lungs.

Balling up my fist, I aimed my knuckles again at the door. This time I gave it three sound knocks that echoed along the silent street like the demands of an angry bill collector. It reaped the same results – nothing. After knocking a third time, I turned away from the door and went down the steps to the walk. Pops could hardly complain now. I’d given the door two solid knocks and one set of wimpy ones and had heard not so much as a peep from the other side of the door or seen any movement through the window. It was clear no one was home.

I had just cleared the porch steps to the ground when I heard someone call, “Hello?” I paused, my ears perked up like a German Shepherd’s. “Hello?” I heard again, this time louder but a bit high and strained, like a violin string about to break.

“Is someone calling to you?” asked Pops.

I held up a hand to quiet him and stood as still as a statue to listen. “Is someone there?” the voice called again.

I looked back at the house, but it wasn’t coming from the house. At least not Rachel’s house. It sounded as if it was coming from the house next door. I crossed the lawn slowly toward a small but tidy sage green bungalow. “Hello?” I called back as I walked closer, my ears tuned for any clues as to the whereabouts of the sound.

“Hello,” the voice called, this time with more confidence. “Please help me. I’m here. In the green house.”

I quickened my step and dashed up the few steps to the porch of the green house. It was similar in style to Rachel’s except that it had two small front windows instead of one large one. I knocked on the door, then peered through the window closest to the door. It was open to let in fresh air. “Hello?” I called through the screen. I cupped my hands around my eyes and tried to look through the screen, but I couldn’t see anyone.

Hello,” repeated the voice. “I’ve fallen. Can you help me?”

This time I realized the voice came from an older woman, but she didn’t sound that distressed for someone who’d fallen. I tried the front door, jiggling the handle. “The door’s locked,” I said to whoever was inside.

“There’s a key in the third flower pot to the right of the door. Under the impatiens.”

I didn’t know impatiens from geraniums, but I could count. After counting off three pots on the right side, I lifted the pot but found nothing, then realized that the flowers were actually in a plastic pot that rested inside the ceramic one. I lifted the flowers in their plastic pot and found a key at the bottom of the ceramic holder. I took out the key and replaced the flowers.

A few seconds later I was inside the house and on my knees next to a plump elderly woman who’d somehow gotten herself wedged between a coffee table and an overstuffed sofa. The sofa was dressed in a slipcover festooned with a busy hydrangea print, white hydrangeas on a dark green background. The house was as sticky inside as out. I didn’t hear or feel any air conditioning, but there were two big box fans running. The woman appeared stuck tight and couldn’t move. The sofa was up against the front window but her head was below the line of sight to anyone looking through the window. Off to the side, but out of her reach, was a walker.

“Thank God,” the woman said with relief. “Can you help me up, dear.” The woman seemed more annoyed than upset by her situation. “But be careful, my left ankle is broken.” She had long gray hair pulled away from her face and held with a clip. Her floral housedress clashed with the sofa cover.

“Maybe we should call an ambulance?” I suggested.

She waved me off. “No need. I didn’t just break it and it’s wrapped tight. Just help me up to the couch, like a dear.”

I shoved the heavy coffee table away from her and saw that one of her ankles was secured in a walking boot. She held her arms out to me like a child wanting to be carried. I squatted down and slipped my right arm around her thick waist while her left arm went around my shoulders. Slowly I raised her up. She assisted by leveraging with her good leg. She was surprising light for being so chubby and once she was upright, surprisingly short. I eased her down onto the sofa with her back against one of the arms. Gently, I rearranged both of her legs straight out on the sofa and pulled down the hem of her housedress, which had slipped up revealing very white bird legs. She was one of those women who carried all of her bulk through her torso and none in her limbs.

“What’s going on?” asked a voice from the doorway. We both turned and saw Pops standing there supported on his cane. He looked concerned but sounded annoyed by the delay in our plans.

“This lady fell, Pops,” I explained. “I was just helping her back up.”

“You okay?” Pops asked the woman.

She nodded. “Now I am, thanks to this sweet girl. Is this your granddaughter?”

“Yes,” Pops answered, coming into the house. “This is Zelda, my middle grandchild.” I held my breath, hoping Pops didn’t slip up and call me The Cock. “I’m Edward Bowen,” Pops continued. I exhaled.

“Nice to meet you both,” said the woman with a genuine smile. “I’m Wanda Saunders.” She adjusted herself on the sofa. “Just call me Wanda. Everyone does. Please excuse me if I don’t get up and get you both some tea.”

“That’s quite all right, Mrs. Saunders,” I told her. “Is there someone we should call for you?”

“Oh no. I’m fine now that I’m settled again.” She smoothed down the front of her dress.

“Are you sure?” Pops asked.

“It was a silly accident really,” Wanda explained. “The remote for the TV fell off my lap to the floor and when I tried to reach for it, I rolled right off and got stuck between the couch and the table.” She widened her eyes and took a deep breath. “My son will be here soon to bring me dinner. Until I heard you knocking next door, I thought I was doomed to stay stuck until he got here. Although it’s a wonder you could hear me calling over these fans, but thankfully the windows were open. My air conditioning went out and the repair man can’t get here until tomorrow.”

I looked around on the floor and spotted the errant remote. I picked it up and handed it to Wanda. She smiled and thanked me. “How did you hurt your ankle?” I asked.

She shook her head slowly back and forth. “Another silly accident. I was getting out of my car at church and lost my balance. When I went down, my ankle twisted and snapped.” She looked at Pops. “Getting old is not for wussies, is it, Edward?”

Pops laughed. He actually laughed. “No, Wanda, it certainly isn’t.” A few minutes ago he was snarling at me like a bear with a hurt paw and now he was charming an accident-prone old lady.

“Won’t you please sit down,” Wanda encouraged him, for the moment forgetting me, the one who hauled her ass off the floor.

Pops made himself comfortable in a leather chair that looked to be a recliner and settled his cane next to him. I took a seat in a rocking chair that creaked when I sat in it.

“Maybe you can help us, Wanda,” Pops said. “We’re looking for the people who live next door.”

“You mean Rachel?”

“Yes,” I answered before Pops could. “Or her boyfriend.”

“His name is Bill,” added Pops. “We were told he lives with her.”

“Not anymore,” Wanda informed us. She leaned forward and lowered her voice as if afraid the place was bugged. “A few weeks back, they started fighting over something. Then he took off. I haven’t seen him around since.”

Pops and I exchanged glances. I wondered if Dad was still in the area. I was pretty sure Pops was thinking the same thing, especially when he asked, “Do you know where he moved to, Wanda?”

“Gracious no, but I’m glad he did.” Wanda shifted on the sofa. “When Rachel returned to town he was with her and everything seemed lovey-dovey between them. She grew up in that house and inherited it when her parents passed. She lived there with her third husband, or was it her fourth? Anyway, after they divorced, she decided to move to California. I think that Bill was from California, if I’m not mistaken. I saw him come and go, but he wasn’t very friendly toward me.”

Wanda’s eyes moved to a large mug on the coffee table, then she lifted her gaze to me. “Zelda, would you be a dear again and give me my water. It’s in the mug on the table. Frankly, I’m surprised it didn’t topple when I landed on the floor.”

I stood and picked up the mug, which was white with a bunch of cherries painted on its side. “It’s almost empty. Should I refill it?”

“That would be lovely, dear. Just tap water will be fine and only fill it half way.” She pointed toward the dining room. “The kitchen is right through there.”

Following her directions, I found myself in a cheerful yellow kitchen with cherry accents. By cherry I don’t mean red accents, although that was the predominate color second only to the yellow. I mean everything was decorated with cherries – the curtains, tablecloth, towels, placemats on the table, wallpaper, dishes in the sink. Even the clock hanging over the stove was in the shape of a big plump plastic cherry. I quickly filled the mug and returned to the living room before I started seeing cherry zombies coming after me.

After handing Wanda the mug of water, I moved the coffee table back to its original spot, making sure there was enough room for her to get off the sofa safely.

“Zelda,” Pops said to me after I settled back down in my seat. “Wanda told me that Rachel works at a restaurant here in town. Maybe we should stop by there and see her.”

I looked from my grandfather to Wanda. “Do you know which restaurant?”

“Oh my, yes,” replied Wanda. “It’s the Country Cupboard. It’s over on McCoy Avenue. It’s a buffet place with good food. My son takes me there a couple times a month.”

CHAPTER 18

The Country Cupboard helped us kill two birds with one stone. We needed dinner, especially Pops who was fading fast, like a flower in need of rain, and we could check out Rachel.

As Wanda had said, the restaurant was on McCoy Avenue. She didn’t give us an address, just general directions to the area and said to turn at the big tree split in two by lightning. Fortunately, we had a GPS that was more accurate. It directed us to The Country Cupboard, which was a squat building with red vertical siding and plenty of parking. The roof was entirely white with a sharp pitch, looking like the red building was wearing a pointed white hat. Across the street was a bank of tall trees and nothing else. To the restaurant’s right was Ollie’s Party Place which, according to its signage, was part of The Country Cupboard. Probably its catering division. I drove slowly past the restaurant.

“What are you doing, you knucklehead?” Pops snapped from the passenger’s seat. “That’s the place, or can’t you read?”

I shrugged at the wheel of the rental car. “I just wanted to see what else is down this road. That’s all.”

“Who are we, Lewis and Clark?” quipped Pops. I ignored him.

To the left of The Country Cupboard, separated by a line of tall trees, were two more small businesses. One was a florist set in a large cabin-looking building. The other business, set a bit back from the road, was in a house and touted specially-made cakes. A little further down the road was a smattering of houses and other light industry. At the intersection I made a U-turn and headed back to The Country Cupboard.

“Satisfied?” grumbled Pops. He’d obviously left all his charm back at Wanda’s house.

“I can’t get over all the lush greenery,” I noted. “It’s nothing like the brown landscape of Southern California.”

“These folks aren’t in the middle of a drought.”

“Or all the abundant parking.”

“Free parking,” Pops added with emphasis.

I pulled into the parking lot of The Country Cupboard and parked next to an old pickup truck. After turning off the engine, I turned to my grandfather, “So what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” He gave it some thought, rubbing his chin with his right hand. “We could go in and order dinner and check her out. We can watch her and see if she’s approachable. Do you know what she looks like?”

I nodded. “Yes, I saw her a couple of times in passing at the dealership. As I recall, she’s platinum blond with an hourglass figure.”

“Like Mae West?” Pops asked.

“Who?”

Pops gave me a look that clearly translated into dumb ass. I got that look every time I didn’t recognize the name of some musician, movie star, or politician from the ice age. After muttering under his breath, he asked, “Will she recognize you?”

I shrugged as I unbuckled my seatbelt. “Not sure.”

We made our way into the restaurant and found it to be fairly full. Most of the diners were older and seated at square tables with chairs covered in vinyl. Along one wall were booths with backs of red vinyl. The walls were painted a soft gray, trimmed with white. If not for the buffet table running down the left side of the room, I would have thought we were back in the dining room at Pop’s retirement home.

A woman headed our way. So much for Pop’s plan of watching and seeing if Rachel might be amenable to speaking with us. She looked very different from the last time I saw her, but there was no mistaking that Rachel Parks was about to seat us for dinner. Instead of platinum hair, Rachel was now sporting a softer look in dark honey blond. Also gone was the teased big hair, replaced by longer straight hair held away from her face by a black headband. Even her makeup was soft and more natural. But the drab slacks and uniform blouse couldn’t hide her curves, upstairs and down.

“Two for dinner, folks?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, once I found my voice.

“Will you be having the buffet?” she asked, leading us to a table against the right-hand wall.

“Sure,” Pops said for both of us. “Looks great.” I helped Pops get settled comfortably before taking my own seat. Normally, he hated when I did that, but tonight he was too tired to object, and too wobbly on his feet for me not to help.

“And what would you folks like to drink?” Rachel asked.

“I’d like some coffee,” Pops told her.

“Make that decaf,” I added. “And I’d like some iced tea.”

“I don’t want decaf,” Pops argued, finding some spirit.

“It’s decaf or water, Pops. Take your pick. You need to get some rest tonight. Both of us need rest.”

Rachel stood by, waiting to see who would win the argument. Finally, Pops wagged a hand in my direction. “Damn decaf it is then.”

Rachel gave us a nod, but her eyes cut to me, and I wasn’t sure if it was recognition or sympathy. “Help yourselves to the buffet, folks. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

As soon as Rachel left our table, Pops and I got up and went to the buffet. I grabbed a plate. “Tell me what you want, Pops, and I’ll get it for you. I’ll come back for mine.”

“Would you stop mothering me,” he complained. “I know what I want to eat or drink, and I can get it myself.” Pops was so exhausted, he could hardly hold himself up with his cane. He also hadn’t eaten in a very long time, which wasn’t helping his attitude or blood sugar level. He was hangry. Other diners were watching the drama. Most of them were older. I was certain they were siding with my grandfather.

“Fine,” I said in a sweet and compliant voice as I held the plate out to him. He took it and I grabbed another for myself. I filled mine in short order from the selection of salads and comfort food style entrees and took it back to the table. Rachel had already left our drinks.

Pops was trying to maneuver holding and filling the plate and holding onto his cane for support. It wasn’t going well. A man got up from one of the nearby tables and went to Pops, offering his help. Pops waved him off with a snarl. “Get away from me. If I want help, I’ll ask my granddaughter.” The man backed away, but not before shooting me a look of sympathy. The crowd’s opinion was starting to swing my way. I also spied Rachel watching it all from near the kitchen door.

“Zel,” Pops called to me in a stage whisper. “I can’t reach the damn pork chops.”

I got up and went to the buffet. When I held out my hand for Pop’s plate, he handed it off to me without a word. I put a pork chop on his plate. With a wave of his hand, he indicated he wanted another. “How about some veggies?” I suggested.

“They give me gas.”

“All veggies?” I knew Pops had problems with raw greens and most raw vegetables, but the buffet had a nice selection of cooked ones.

“Not mashed potatoes,” he said. “I like mashed potatoes.”

“Who doesn’t?” I put some on his plate, and covered the mound with gravy. “How about some carrots? Those aren’t gassy and look kind of mushy.” He shrugged and I put a scoop of those on the plate too, along with some cooked green beans and a small serving of meatloaf.

“And jello,” Pops said. “But only the red stuff.” That surprised me since he got tons of jello at the home. “And don’t be so stingy with the jello,” he groused. I didn’t see any jello and said so. Pops pointed to a fruit salad made with fruit cocktail, whipped cream, and marshmallows. “Some of that stuff then.” Against my better judgement, I added a clump of that to his plate. Satisfied with his choices, Pops headed back to our table with me in tow. I had noticed that no one had approached the buffet while we were there. Once we were seated, several diners circled it again for seconds. That’s Pops, making friends wherever he goes.

“Pops, do you want anything else,” I said when we were about finished with our meal. “I’m going back for a little more.” He shook his head while slurping down his fruit salad like a five-year-old.

I went back to the buffet. The pork chops were great and something I seldom ate. I should have gotten two. As I picked up a clean plate, Rachel sidled up to me. I hadn’t seen her since she watched the buffet drama with Pops. A another woman had refilled our drinks and bussed our table.

“You’re Zelda Bowen, aren’t you? Bill’s middle girl,” she said in a whisper as she pretended to straighten up the buffet. “And that’s Edward, Bill’s father, isn’t he? He’s just as cantankerous as Bill said.”

I nodded, but kept my eyes on my plate as I added a pork chop and a couple of spoons of carrots to it.

“Did you come here to find Bill?” she asked.

I turned to her. “We came here to find you, hoping you’d lead us to my father.”

“I don’t know how much help I can be. Bill and I broke up, but I may know where he went, but not if he’s still there.” She looked around. “I can’t talk here. I’m working. Meet me tomorrow morning at 8 o’clock at Big City Market and Coffee Bar. It’s on Sugg Street in downtown.”

“We’ll be there,” I assured her. Before returning to our table, I snagged two deserts. I’d earned them.

CHAPTER 19

After dinner, Pops and I checked in at a Hampton Inn & Suites, taking a large nondescript room with two queen beds. It was still pretty early but Pops was all done in. Dinner had revived him a bit, but when I suggested we go find a hotel and settle down for the night, he didn’t argue. By the time we were in our room, the rain had started again. I looked at the weather app on my phone, noting that the rain was supposed to stop by morning.

Pops was tucked in reading and I was stretched out on my bed with my new laptop checking email, anxious to see if any of my resumes had garnered some interest.

“Is that what you always wear to bed?” Pops asked me.

I looked up from my computer screen, then down at my attire. I was wearing pink cotton pajama bottoms covered with zebras and a white t-shirt. “Yeah,” I said with a shrug. “Usually.”

“No wonder you don’t have a husband.”

“I’m in a hotel room in a strange town with my grandfather,” I replied. “Did you expect me to be wearing something from Victoria’s Secret?” He chuckled. “And who says I want a husband?” I added, getting crispy around the edges like an overcooked fried egg. “Maybe I’d rather stay single and travel. There’s a whole big world out there I haven’t seen. A husband might slow me down.”

Pops put down his book and turned on his side, giving me his full attention. Just my luck. He was tired, but not so tired to shut up and nod off.

“So what’s stopping you?” he asked. “You’ve been single all your life. Unencumbered. Free as the bluebird of happiness.” He made fluttering motions with one of his hands.

I snorted. “Right, Pops.”

“What’s been holding you back, Zelda?” he asked. “Of the three of you, I expected you to be the one to fly the coop for adventure as soon as you could. Is it money? The day we cleaned out your apartment, I overheard Norma tell Kyle that she loaned you two thousand dollars.”

I snorted again. So Norma did trot out that lie after all. “No, Pops, she didn’t.” I paused, not sure what to say, but I didn’t want Pops to think I was penniless. The money had been paid back to Norma by the end of July, half by me and half by Bea. Norma didn’t offer to absorb any of it, outside of writing the check. I’d actually paid Norma the entire amount and Bea was paying her half to me in small installments so that Tony wouldn’t notice the large chunk missing from their accounts. She’d offered to pay Norma in installments, but Norma had sneered and said she wasn’t Walmart offering a layaway plan. That was my older sister — paying off scumbags one minute, with no thought to herself, and the next demanding a pound of flesh. I’d offered to cover the entire amount, but Bea insisted on paying me. She’d wanted to pay off the entire two thousand, but I’d told her no. Half the fault was mine for bringing Clay into the house. That, and I didn’t have a growing family.

“No,” I said to Pops, “I’m actually doing okay. Besides my nice severance package, I have a decent savings and a 401(k). It helps that Mom is putting me up rent-free and that my car is paid off, but I will need to find work by the first of the year or I will be tapping into savings.”

“Nice to see you have a good head on your shoulders.” He scowled. “My guess is that Norma and her husband live high on the hog thanks to his family’s money, and Bea and Tony get by okay with what they have, with little extra.” I didn’t know my sisters’ financial situations exactly, but I’d bet that Pops’ assessment was pretty spot on.

Pops smiled at me. “Maybe you don’t need a husband.”  

I closed my laptop and got off the bed to put it on the desk. I plugged it into the charger. There had been no new interest in my resume. Lauri had sent an email saying she’d had an interview, but didn’t think she’d get the job. At least she was getting interviews.

“Is that what you want, Zelda?” Pops asked, not a bit of snark in his tone this time. “Do you really want to travel? Or do you just want to go on a vacation?”

“I’ve always wanted to travel, Pops,” I said. “I grabbed a bottle of water, took a drink, and returned to bed, taking the water with me. “As long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to travel.”

“Didn’t you also want to write?” For an old fart, he sure had a great memory. I had no idea he was paying attention to us girls the times we visited growing up.

Now it was my turn to chuckle. “Yeah. I wanted to be a novelist. Tried my hand at it, only to discover I had no talent. Seriously, no talent. Zip. I’ll stick to reading.”

“How about writing about your travels?” he suggested.

“Sure,” I laughed. “I’ll start with a piece about my exciting trip to Kentucky with my grandfather.”

“Don’t be such a smartass,” Pops snapped. “I’m serious. I read all the time about young people traveling and blogging about it. Some live in vans, some travel in their cars. Some even by boat. They travel all over, sharing their experiences and photos. I even follow several of those blogs.”

“You do?” Color me surprised. “You don’t even have a computer, do you?”

He rolled his eyes up into his head. “No, but there are several in the day room at the home for our use.” He rolled onto his back again and straightened the covers over his narrow chest. “I’m a pretty modern old geezer. Just ask Sonia Moore.” He was looking up at the ceiling, a wide grin plastered on his gaunt face.

“I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole.” I put my water bottle down on the nightstand between us and turned out the light.

“That’s not what Sonia said,” came a voice from the other bed.

CHAPTER 20

Big City Coffee was a charming coffee shop and bakery offering up breakfast, lunch, and baked goods. The décor was well planned country rustic with plenty of tables and chairs, sofas, and easy chairs. Interesting artwork covered the walls. The place was busy. Rachel Parks was already there, occupying a small oak table set off to one side. She had a huge cup of coffee and a sticky bun in front of her.

We approached and I indicated Pops. “This is my grandfather, Edward Bowen,” I said, properly introducing them. “Pops, this is Rachel Parks.”

“I know who she is, Zelda,” Pops snapped. Neither held out a hand in greeting. Pops eased himself down onto the chair opposite Rachel.

“You’re just as charming as Bill said you were,” Rachel noted to Pops, returning the volley. She turned to me. “You have to go up to the counter to place your order.”

Seeing my hesitation, Pops added, “Don’t worry. I’ll behave. Get me coffee and one of those,” he ordered, indicating Rachel’s sticky bun.

“How about a bran muffin instead,” I suggested. “Or an egg sandwich? You need the protein.”

“I want a sticky bun, Zelda. I’m not a child.”

“Could have fooled me,” I shot back. “You didn’t eat much last night except for mashed potatoes and that marshmallow crap. Hardly touched your meat.”

“Pork chop was dry,” he countered.

“It was not,” I argued. “It was tender and delicious. Besides, you’re allergic to pecans, or have you forgotten?”

“Bah!” Pops waved a scrawny dismissive hand. “At my age, it’s good to take chances. If not now, when? Something you should be asking yourself, kiddo.”

The unexpected comment stunned me. Shaking it off, I looked at Rachel. “Can I get you something else?” She said no and thanked me.

I returned five minutes later with two coffees, two muffins, and a couple of upscale egg sandwiches. Pops groused under his breath, but took one of the sandwiches and bit into it. As soon as he chewed and swallowed, he took another bite, deciding it was pretty good. “So what did you two talk about while I was gone?” I asked, taking the other sandwich.

“Not a peep,” Rachel said with a sly smile. “I think we both felt better with you here as a referee.”

Oh boy.

We drank our coffee and made it through half of our respective breakfasts in silence before Pops fired the first shot. “We came here to find Bill,” he announced.

“Seems there’s a lot of that going on lately,” Rachel said. She picked up her coffee mug in both hands, but didn’t drink.

I stopped chewing and washed the food in my mouth down with some coffee. It felt stuck halfway down, like a clogged drain. “Maybe,” I said to Pops, “Dad got spooked by that private investigator you hired.”

It wasn’t Pops but Rachel who answered my question. “Bill wasn’t spooked. I kicked his sorry ass out.” She looked pointedly at Pops. “A P.I., huh? I wondered how she found him.”

“She?” I asked. “I thought the P.I. was a man?” I looked at Pops for confirmation.

“It was a guy,” he said to me, but with his sharp eyes on Rachel. “I think Rachel is talking about your mother.”

I turned to Rachel in time to see her nod. “Judy tracked Bill down and served him with divorce papers a few weeks ago.”

I cut my eyes to Pops. “Did you know this?”

“Who do you think told your mother where to find him?” he answered.

So my grandfather ratted out his son to my mother, someone Pops used to claim he hated. Was this a bad dream and any moment I would wake up, drool escaping the corner of my mouth? Was Pops on Team Judy now? I knew they’d made up, but enough for Pops to help her find Dad?

“Wait a minute,” I said, shaking an index finger in Pops’ direction. “You only mentioned this trip to me a week ago, but Mom served Dad with divorce papers two weeks ago?”

“Over two weeks ago,” Rachel corrected.

I bugged my eyes out at her, letting her know she needed to butt out of this. I turned back to Pops. “Just how long have you known Dad was here in Kentucky?”

“About three weeks,” he answered, “maybe a bit longer. I knew your mother was thinking of divorcing him, so I called her and gave her his address. She needed to move on.”

I couldn’t argue with that. “Okay, I agree, but why are we out here? You told Mom. She served the papers.” I pushed a stray lank of hair behind an ear. “Did you come out here to talk Dad into coming back? To make one last go of it with Mom? If so, it’s a fool’s errand.” A man passing between my chair and the table behind us gently knocked into me and said excuse me. The mild jostle popped the next difficult words out of my mouth. “I love my father, Pops, but those two do not belong together. They should have divorced years ago. We all would have been happier.”

“That’s not why Edward is here,” Rachel said. A piece of sticky bun was trapped between the thumb and index finger of her right hand, halfway to her mouth. “Is it Edward?”

Pops polished off the last of his sandwich and remained silent, chewing slowly. Rachel popped the bit of sticky bun into her mouth and the two of them chewed, eyes locked like gladiators in an arena. I wanted to strangle them both.

“I suspect,” Rachel said, swallowing first, “that your grandfather came here to talk Bill into signing the divorce papers, not out of it.”

“Is that true?” I asked, surprised.

Pops shrugged and turned his attention to his coffee.

“Tell the girl the truth, old man,” Rachel snapped at him, “before I force feed you a fist full of pecans.”

If Rachel hadn’t run off with my father, I think I might like her.

Pops didn’t look at either of us as he took a long drag off his coffee. He seemed to find the painting on the far wall much more interesting, or at least less threatening than the two of us. Under the table, I gently kicked his foot with one of mine. “Ow,” he snapped. “Was that really necessary?”

I picked at the crunchy top of the muffin nearest me. “What are you talking about?” I stuck the bit of muffin into my mouth.

Pops stared at me a moment, then cut his eyes toward Rachel. “She’s right,” he admitted, indicating Rachel with a jerk of his pointy chin. “I did come here to talk your father into signing the divorce papers. Once he got them, he called Judy and said he’d never sign them. Not ever. Your mother called me, pissed as hell.”

“But why?” I asked. “He’s the one who left, not Mom.” I looked at Rachel and narrowed my eyes. “Why did my dad not want to sign the papers?” I asked her. “Do you know?”

“All I know is,” she said, her voice thick with disappointment and edged with anger, “that things were okay between us. Not great, but okay. But as soon as he got those damn divorce papers, Bill changed. He became short-tempered and we started fighting a lot.”

My brain started piecing tidbits of information together. Wanda had said Dad and Rachel had started fighting a few weeks ago. The timeline fit with the service of the divorce papers. “That’s why you threw my dad out, isn’t it?” I asked Rachel. “He wouldn’t sign the divorce papers.”

She nodded. “Bill and I had something decent going. Or so I thought. But I have no use for a man who plans on going back to his wife.”

The idea of Dad coming back jarred the hell out of me. I knew there was no way Mom would take him back, with or without Dick Chester in the picture. From what Mom had said to me on several occasions, she was done with Dad for good, and his leaving just made it easier for her to make the final decision. Or was that bravado in the face of abandonment? I felt it was genuine, but you never know with my mother. She certainly was happier without Dad around. All of us had noticed that.

If Dad did come back, how would we feel, us girls? When Dad disappeared we all had been stunned and hurt deeply. Now that the shock has faded into the background, like white noise or music in an elevator, what about the abandonment issue? We’re all adults, but having a parent leave with no thought to explaining things or saying goodbye was painful. Did he love us so little, we’d become less than an afterthought? Bea and I have talked about this often. Norma refuses to talk about it, to the point she no longer mentions Dad’s name. It’s as if he’s ceased to exist for her. Bea seems to be dealing with it better now that six months have passed, but she’s admitted to me to still being deeply hurt by Dad and his actions. She was particularly angry about having to explain to her children why Grandpa wasn’t around any longer. She told me that she and Tony told their girls that their grandfather had to go away on a long trip and they didn’t know when he’d be back. “It would be easier,” she’d said one night when I was over there for dinner and the kids were in bed, “to explain to them that he’d died. Kids understand people going to heaven. They don’t understand a grandpa running off without a hug and a kiss. And, frankly, neither do I.”

As usual, I’m somewhere in the middle of this emotional quagmire. I would love to see my father again, if for no reason than to know he’s okay. When he first left, like the others, I was in shock and hurt, and wanted to shake some sense into him. When I found out he had abandoned even Pops, I wanted to slap Dad, and hard, for leaving an old man without any family contact. Had he told us he was taking off, we might have made an overture to Pops long before Father’s Day. If Dad had returned shortly after his escapade, I don’t know what would have happened. Would we have forgiven him? Would Mom? Over the months, the family had absorbed the space Dad used to occupy. The family had reinvented itself and moved on with Dick and Pops substituting in on the team. And not only was Mom happier, but in truth, we all seemed a little less anxious when together. We’re still dysfunctional and batshit crazy, but somehow it works better now. Like the blister on our collective foot had finally popped and started healing so we could hobble about with less discomfort.

Sitting in the cozy coffee shop, I was ashamed of the thoughts I was having. Ashamed that I didn’t want my father to come back, and definitely not back with Mom. I still wanted to see him. I still wanted to know why he left with no word. No, I didn’t want to know. I wanted him to explain. I wanted him to look me in the eye and explain his actions like a bad kid, and to understand that they came with consequences. I didn’t want him to merge back into the family, only to throw it off kilter again. On this issue, I was on Team Pops. If it came down to it, I’d convince Dad myself to sign those papers. If he wanted to come back to California and try to make amends over time with us girls, that could be discussed later. Much later.

“Did my father actually tell you that he wanted to go back to my mother?” I asked Rachel.

“Not in so many words,” she told me, “but he definitely didn’t want to finalize the divorce. I’m not sure what he wanted or expected. I’m not sure he knew.”

“Do you know where Bill is now?” Pops asked.

“I have no idea where he lives now,” she told us. “It’s not like he gets any mail to be forwarded.”

I got the feeling she was hesitant to give up information without a prod. I would have kicked her, like I did Pops, but that would have been impolite to do to someone not family. “What about a job?” I asked. “My dad must have been working, even part-time.”

Instead of answering, Rachel glanced at a clock on the wall by the counter. Then she got up and headed to the counter with her coffee cup. “Think she’s coming back?” Pops asked me.

“Yeah,” I told him. “She took her wallet but left her purse.”

“Good thinking about asking about Bill having a job,” Pops said. Then he added, “I could use a refill on my coffee too.”

I got the not-so-subtle hint, and I wanted more coffee myself. I went up to the counter with our mugs, passing Rachel on her way back. She was holding a full mug in each hand on her return trip. A double-fisted caffeine fix? She didn’t give me a glance. I wasn’t sure if she was done with us, or thinking about her answer. I got our refills and scooted back before Pops could do anything to send Rachel running for the door.

As soon as I sat down, I got the feeling it was as before, that neither had spoken until my arrival. I placed Pops’ mug in front of him and retook my seat. “Any progress on that job question?” I asked Rachel before taking a sip of my fresh coffee.

Her attention was diverted a few seconds as she waved hello to someone just coming in the door. It was a woman about Rachel’s age, her gray hair worn in a severe short cut. She was tiny and wore denim overalls with a bright yellow shirt underneath. She made a beeline for our table and bent down to kiss Rachel on a cheek. Without an introduction, she took the empty seat between Pops and Rachel. “Sorry I couldn’t be here sooner. So what’d I miss?” she asked Rachel, as Rachel pushed the extra mug of coffee in the woman’s direction.

“They just asked about Bill’s job,” Rachel told her. “I already told them about him not wanting to sign the divorce papers.”

Seeing no introduction coming, I leaned across the table toward the woman. “And you are?”

The woman turned to Rachel with a soft scowl, annoyed but not really angry. “Obviously, you didn’t tell them I was coming. So like you, Rach.”

She turned back to us. “I’m Melodie Gren, Mel to my friends. She held out a hand to me. “I take it you’re Zelda, Bill’s daughter.” We shook. Her shake was firm. “And you must be Edward, Bill’s father,” she said shaking hands with Pops, who seemed momentarily mute. “I’m a long time friend of Rachel’s. I’ve known her since grade school. I’m also her attorney.”

“You’re a shark?” Pops blurted out.

Mel turned to Rachel with a grin. “Just as charming as you described.”

“Why would you need an attorney?” I asked Rachel. “We’re simply asking a few questions about my father to locate him.

Rachel looked uncomfortable. “I know that’s what you want, but I called Mel this morning because I was nervous. I don’t want to be roped into any third-party situation in this divorce thing if it turns ugly.”

“But you’re the homewrecker here,” Pops said, stabbing the table with an index finger. “I’d say that does make you a third-party. Was it you who encouraged Bill to forge Judy’s name to the paperwork to cash out his retirement?”

“Forgery?” Rachel was clearly surprised from the eye bulge. “Bill told me that he and Judy agreed he’d take that and she’d get the house. He said she’d signed it over to him.” It was her turn to stab the table with an index finger. “Listen, Bill told me he’d told Judy he was leaving, but that he didn’t want her to know where he was because she’d hound him for more money. We traveled around a bit, sightseeing mostly, then settled here because I have a house in town.”

Rachel turned to me, waiting for my accusation to be piled on top of my grandfather’s. Mel stared at me too. “Now do you see why I’m here?” Mel asked. Then to Rachel, “Enough. Don’t tell them anything else.”

I was now the center of attention, whether I wanted to be or not. I took a long noisy slurp of my coffee. It was very hot, but I didn’t care. When I was through burning the inside my mouth, I said to everyone. “My father abandoned my mother emotionally long before Rachel came on the scene. That marriage had been dead for years.” I turned my eyes to my grandfather. “And you know that, Pops. Or if you didn’t, you’ve learned it since this all began. As for the forgery, that’s on Dad and only him.”

I looked at Rachel with what I hoped was kindness and not accusation. “Rachel, I don’t want to throw dirt on your parade, but if it had not been you, it would have been someone else. According to my mother, Dad had been having affairs on and off for years, even when they were first married. Why he didn’t leave sooner, is anyone’s guess. Maybe you were that special person he’d been waiting for all this time. Mom didn’t have a clue about his plans or about the retirement account until it happened. But now that he has left, I can assure you that my mother doesn’t want him back. Nor will she be bothering him about money. His leaving gave her the courage to move on. The marriage is dead. Mom is ready to bury it once and for all.” I took a deep breath. The three of them sipped their coffee, mulling over my words. “All we want,” I continued, “is to find my father. I want to make sure he’s okay. I agree with my grandfather that Dad should sign the divorce papers. As far as I’m concerned, you are not to blame for anything here, except maybe bad taste in men.” I cringed inwardly. “And aren’t we all guilty of that from time to time?”

“But she ran off with him,” Pop’s argued. “In my day that would make her a tart and a homewrecker, for sure, no matter what the marriage was like.”

Mel started to say something, but I held up a hand to still her. “I’ll handle this, Mel.”

I turned in my chair to fully face Pops. “Pops,” I began quietly, “today it is not the same as back in your day. Rachel is not a tart or a homewrecker, not the blame for Mom and Dad’s break up, and you know it. It is what it is. Let’s find Dad and move on. The sooner we do, the sooner we can go home.”

For once, Pops didn’t have a snappy comeback. Instead, he fiddled with the handle of his mug.

The four of us drank our coffee for a few awkward moments. “You’re exactly as Bill described,” Rachel said, breaking the silence and speaking in my direction. “Level-headed and smart.”

I shook my head slightly, as I might to clear a small buzz in my ears. “Dad talked about me? About us?”

“A little,” Rachel said. “He admitted to me that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to say goodbye to you girls, and it bothered him.”

I snorted. “Bothered him so much he couldn’t pick up a phone? Pops here got a single postcard. We didn’t even rate that. And what about his three grandchildren?”

Rachel looked down at her coffee and when she looked up at me, she appeared genuinely sad. “Like I said, Zelda, I thought Judy knew he was leaving. He told me she’d explain things to you and your sisters.” She glanced over to Pops, but he said nothing. She looked to Mel, who gave her a small nod to continue. “I asked Bill,” Rachel said, “if he didn’t want to call you and at least say hello. It was on Easter, I think. A day when you’d probably all be together. He’d told me how he always wore a bunny costume for the kids, and he was very sad that day. But he said no. He said that you, Zelda, would take care of everything.”

I thought back to the bunny suit, now cremated, and how my mother had looked at me in horror when I wore it. I had taken care of things that day, willingly or not.

“He always said that you were the strong one and would take care of your sisters through this if Judy couldn’t. He said she’s quite a pothead. But that’s probably another lie.” Rachel look a long drink of coffee. She picked at the carcass of her sticky bun, but didn’t eat.

“My mother was a pothead,” I admitted, “but she hardly uses it any longer. She stopped shortly after Dad left. Does that tell you something?”

Pops piped up, “So where does my son work?”

CHAPTER 21

The large used car dealership sat on the corner of two busy streets in a city about thirty-five miles away. The small city was much larger than Madisonville, but still far from a thriving metropolis. It was less cute, more industrial and commercial. Rachel had finally offered up the information about Dad’s employment, after whispered discussions with Mel, saying that he was working at a car dealership called Aaron Able’s, and should be there today. Although she maintained that she didn’t know where he lived, Rachel felt certain that he might have taken an apartment near the dealership, since it was the logical thing to do.

Was it logical to leave your family without a word and lie to everyone in the process?

A tall yellow inflatable sky dancer flapped, bent, and waved in front of the dealership like a giant pencil with Tourette’s. Its face wore a forced smile and its spindly arms spiraled in a manic dance. I wondered if it was welcoming us or warning us. We’d know soon. We pulled in and parked in a space for customers. Our rental was the only customer car in sight. Immediately, a short tubby man bounced out of a single-storied vinyl sided building marked Office. I felt my heart sink that it wasn’t my father, but at the same time felt my body relax, glad it wasn’t. I wasn’t sure I was up to the task at hand, even though I knew I needed to be. The egg sandwich rolled in my stomach like a tumbleweed, stiff and barbed. The coffee chewed through my nerves like a rodent. With enthusiasm similar to the jerking pencil, the man greeted us before I could even get Pops out of the car.

“Welcome to Able’s,” he gushed, showing teeth too large for his mouth.” My name is Blaine. If Able’s can’t get you into a good car at a good price, no one is able.”

Before we could say anything, Blaine slapped the side of the rental car. “A rental, I see. Did you total your car?” he asked me. He was wearing a short sleeve white shirt with a blue tie. Sweat stains showed under his armpits.

I glanced at the office. “Can we go inside where it’s cooler? This heat isn’t good for my grandfather.” I was nervous about what was going to happen when Pops and I entered the office and came face to face with Dad. But I doubted he would make a scene in front of a co-worker.

Blaine didn’t need convincing to duck back into AC. He led the way and in short order we were seated in a large room that had been divided into three cubicles with white dividers exactly like the ones used at Riverdale. Each cubicle held a modular desk, a computer, a desk chair and two chairs across from the desk. A large picture window looked out onto the lot. The office was empty. No Dad. No other salesmen.

We were led to the cubicle in the middle. Attached to the doorway was a nameplate that read Blaine Goodman. The nameplate on the cubicle to the right read Bill Bowen. I squelched a belch of acid.

We took the two seats offered us in Blaine’s cubicle. “So,” Blaine began after taking his own seat, “what kind of car are you looking for?”  On the desk was a photo of Blaine standing next to a mousy woman surrounded by five kids ranging from very young to high school age. Everyone, even his wife, had big cheesy smiles of washboard teeth. Happy smiles. Not forced.

“We’re not here for a car,” Pops said with blunt honesty.

Immediately, Blaine’s face fell, but he recovered quickly. “Then how can I be of service? Service is our number one priority here.”

“We’re looking for Bill Bowen,” I told him.

Blaine’s cheeriness clouded over. “Are you not happy with a car Mr. Bowen sold you?”

“I’m Bill’s father,” Pops said, “and this is one of his daughters. We’re in town and wanted to surprise him.”

Some surprise.

Blaine Goodman, head of a cheerful healthy family, leaned back in his chair and studied us for a few seconds. “I’m terribly sorry, but Bill’s not here. He received a call last night, shortly before closing, and said a family emergency came up and he needed to head back to California.”

“Do you know when he plans on being back?” I asked.

“I don’t think Bill will be back.” Blaine fingered the edge of his desk with antsy fingers. He quit.”

“Do you know who called him last night?” I had a feeling who it was, but wanted to hear it for myself.

“Why, yes,” Blaine said, a frown beginning. “It was his girlfriend, Rachel. I was the one who answered the phone.” He studied us like bugs under a microscope. “Are you really his family?”

I pulled my wallet out of my purse and showed him my California driver’s license. “I’m Bill’s middle daughter, Zelda Bowen.”

“Then maybe you ought to call home and see what’s going on. Bill was quite upset about the emergency, whatever it is.”

“We’ll do that,” Pops said. “My granddaughter and I have been on the road traveling for a few days, seeing the country. Maybe they’ve tried to reach us, but we haven’t always had good cell coverage.” Blaine’s face relaxed as he bought Pop’s lie. Pops wobbled to his feet. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Goodman.” Pops offered his hand.

Blaine stood up and shook it politely, genuine concern on his face, replacing the suspicion that we might not be who we said we were. “I hope everything is okay,” he said as he escorted us to the door. “And if Bill wants to come back, I’m sure Mr. Able would rehire him. He was an excellent salesman. Good with people, you know.”

“That Rachel ratted us out,” Pops spat out with disgust once we were in the car. “I’ll bet Bill’s not heading to California at all. The two of them might not even be broken up.”

I wasn’t sure about Pops’ suspicion on the broken up part, in spite of the evidence that Rachel had given Dad warning that we were in town. We’d left the dealership. A few miles down the road, I pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store and parked, leaving the engine running for the AC. “We could go back to Madisonville and confront her, but I think she expects that. We here to find Dad and I doubt he’d go back there for that reason. And I think they are broken up. Rachel seemed genuine about that.”

“But why would she call him if they aren’t together any longer?” asked Pops. “She knows he doesn’t want the divorce. They fought and she claims she kicked him out.” He took a drink from his water bottle, holding it in both of his spotted hands for support. “Admit it. We were played.”

A woman with two young children and a full grocery cart worked her way toward a four-door blue sedan. One of the kids was throwing a tantrum as he trudged along next to the cart. The poor woman looked like she was about to lose her mind. I contemplated jumping out and helping her, but with people being so cautious and suspicious these days, she might think I was trying to rob her or kidnap one of her offspring. The choices were the crying brat or a little girl with a finger second knuckle-deep up her nose. No thanks. I stayed in the car, deciding the least dangerous path was to explain something about women to Pops.

“Pops,” I began, “I think Dad and Rachel were broken up and maybe they still are. But I also think Rachel still has feelings for Dad and maybe she thought by helping him, by proving her loyalty to him, she might turn the relationship around and convince him to sign the divorce papers.”

Pops looked at me like I had three heads. He took another drink of water. “I’ll never understand women,” he muttered after he swallowed the water, some of it trickling from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away with the back of one trembling hand. He was tired, out of his element, and not on his usual schedule. I was getting concerned that he might croak before we got back to California.

“What do you want to do now?” I asked him. “Do you want to see if Dad is still in Madisonville? If not, we can always tie Rachel to a chair and waterboard her with cold coffee to see if she’ll talk.”

This time Pops didn’t look at me like I was demented. Instead, his eyes were full of pride. “I always knew you had potential.” He put the cap back on the bottle and returned it to the cup holder. “But as much fun as that might be, if she is there and Bill is not, her plan, as you spelled it out, might not have worked, and she’ll be as much in the dark as we are. Either way, it’s a waste of time. I don’t think Bill would return there.”

“Neither do I, even if he does decide to rekindle the relationship. If he’s trying to avoid us, he would head someplace else. He quit his job. If he doesn’t return to California, then he’s in the wind again.” I leaned my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes. “Pops, I’ve decided if Dad is going to such lengths to avoid us, then anything we do at this point is a waste of time, energy, and money. Whether he signs those papers or not, he obviously wants no part of us.”

I opened my eyes and looked at my grandfather. He was studying his hands, which were folded in his lap. “We should call Mom though, just in case Dad does show up there. I don’t want her blindsided.” I picked up my phone and called Mom. Pops was on his phone now too. My call to Mom wasn’t a thrill ride. I caught her as she was getting ready to leave for work. When I told her that Dad might, emphasis on might, be heading back to California, she fell silent, scary silent.

“Mom, you there?” I asked her.

“Yes.” She sighed deeply. “Your father isn’t violent, but just to avoid a scene, I’m moving in with Dick until you get back. When will that be?” she asked, the question a sharp point.

I looked at Pops. He was still on his phone and turned away from me. I couldn’t hear a word he was saying, which troubled me, knowing how he liked to stir things up. Maybe he was calling Rachel, pressuring her over the phone. I’d found out after we met with her that the P.I. had provided Pops with Rachel’s phone number. “I’m not sure,” I said to Mom, “but probably tomorrow. I’ll let you know.”

I put the car in gear and waited for Pops to finish his call. “So where to?” I asked him when he was done with his call. “The airport, or a hotel near the airport?” I asked hopefully. “We can probably get a flight out late tonight or early tomorrow.”

Pops showed me his phone. On it was the website for a hotel. “Here.” He tapped the screen with a gnarled finger. “We’re going here.”

I squinted at the phone screen. It was the website for Gaylord’s Opryland Resort in Nashville. “We’re going there?” If someone had goosed me, I wouldn’t have been more surprised. “Why? I hardly think Dad will go there.”

“Because I want to go there.”

I tried another tact. “It’s pretty close to Labor Day Weekend, Pops. We probably won’t be able to get a room.”

“Nonsense,” he scoffed. “I’ve had reservations for the past few weeks. I made them as soon as I decided we were flying to Nashville. My reservation starts tomorrow, but the woman on the phone said we could check in today. We’ll be here until Sunday.” It was an announcement, not something up for discussion or a vote.

“But why?” I asked again. “Mom wants us to come home in case Dad shows up. She’s going to Dick’s in the meantime.”

“Your mother will be fine,” Pops said, “especially if she’s at Dick’s.”

“I don’t know,” I whined.

Pops closed one eye and fixed the other on me like the barrel of a gun. “Would you deny a man so close to death a chance to fulfill something on his bucket list?”

“This hotel is on your bucket list?” My question was wrapped in sarcasm, like maple bacon around a kosher hotdog.

“No, but seeing The Grand Ole Opry is on my bucket list. This is just where we’re staying.”

I took a different path. “What about Golden Haven and your medications?”

Pops gave me a slow annoying grin. “I told them I wouldn’t be back until next week, and I have all the meds I need with me.”

“So this little side trip was premeditated and you forgot or didn’t want to tell me?” I’d turned in my seat to fully face him. “What if I’d had an interview or other plans?”

“Did you?” he asked with a smirk.

Instead of answering with the truth, which was a big fat no, I stared out the windshield of the rental car, my will to fight Pops draining like blood from a vampire bite. The woman with the children had loaded her groceries into her car and packed her kids into their car seats. She was backing out of her parking spot and finally heading for the exit. Maybe the kid who picked her nose wouldn’t be so bad of an exchange for Pops.

I picked up my phone and called Mom. It went to voicemail so I left her a message that there had been a change in plans. Pops and I were taking a side trip to The Grand Ole Opry, so don’t expect us until Monday. I was sure I was going to get a not-so-kind response back.

Done with the call, I turned back to Pops. “Hold up your phone again so I can see the address and plug it into the GPS.”

CHAPTER 22

Pops and I never made it back to California the following Monday. We had a blast seeing shows at The Grand Ole Opry and other venues. We ate amazing food. Pops took naps during the day without any argument so that he’d have enough energy for a little night life. Who knew my old cranky grandfather could be so much fun. We’d made a pact on the way to the hotel that unless an emergency came up, we were just an elderly man and his granddaughter enjoying the city and taking in shows. There would be no talk of Dad. I called Mom a few days later and she reported that Dad had not shown up. No one had heard a peep from him and the divorce papers had not been returned, signed or not.

On Saturday, Pops and I had an early dinner at a honky-tonk style diner that had been recommended by a couple from Florida we’d met the night before. The food lived up to their rave reviews. I’d noticed that Pops was eating better and his color had improved over the past few days. The trip seemed to be doing him a world of good, although the walking was tough on him, even with his cane. On our second day, we made a side trip to a medical supply store and bought him an inexpensive light weight wheelchair. Now his complaints included that I wasn’t pushing him fast enough. The trip was doing me a lot of good too. I was more relaxed than I had been in months, maybe even years. I loved being someplace new and shrugged the cares about a job and the family from my shoulders like an old moth-eaten shawl. Tomorrow we’d make plans to return to California. It was at this last dinner in Nashville that Pops dropped another bomb.

“I’m glad we don’t have plans to see a show tonight,” he said as he slurped down some bread pudding with hard sauce. “I want to get an early start tomorrow for Pigeon Forge.”

I nearly choked on the bite of pecan pie in my mouth. “Pigeon Forge? I thought we were leaving for California early Monday morning.”

“Nah,” he said, dismissing the idea with a wave of the hand holding his spoon, the hard sauce turning our table into a Jackson Pollock canvas. “Dollywood is in Pigeon Forge.”

“Dollywood?”

“You getting hard of hearing?” he asked.

“But Dollywood?”

“It’s on my bucket list,” he informed me with a shrug. “I rented us a sweet cabin in the Smokies for a few days. A two bedroom cabin, so you’ll even have your own room instead of bunking with me.”

I put my fork down lest I stab the old man. “When did you plan all this? Weeks ago like you did Nashville.”

“Nah, yesterday while you were at the spa.” He slurped the last of his pudding.

“You were supposed to be napping while I was gone.”

“I did nap, just not all the time,” he answered with a sly wink that made me want to scream. He was a kid who couldn’t be left alone for a second.

“Any other surprises you have bottled up?” I asked as my eyes rolled up into my head like snapped window shades.

He paused, making me wary. “Out with it, old man,” I prodded and steeled myself. What was next? Disney World? Why not London?

Pops put down his spoon and took a long drink of his decaf coffee. “Zelda, how would you feel about a little road trip?”

“We’re on a road trip, Pops.”

“No, I mean a real road trip, like for a few weeks. We can take our time and see some of this country. I’d love to follow the coast north until we hit Maine.” He sighed. “Imagine Maine as the leaves turn. Don’t you want to see that?”

“Is that on your bucket list too?” I asked.

Pops put down his coffee mug, but didn’t answer right away. “Maine was on our bucket list, your grandmother’s and mine. We were planning a trip to Maine to see the fall foliage, then she got sick and died.” His voice was flat, like cardboard squished for the trash. He pushed his dessert plate away.

His response stopped me like a stop sign, but I still wasn’t sure if the old codger was playing me. He was proving to be quite a con artist. “And don’t tell me Dollywood was on Grandma’s bucket list. I doubt it was around when she was alive.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Pops said. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem annoyed at my sarcasm. He lifted his coffee cup up slightly and caught the waiter’s eye. Instantly it was refilled. “Our plan was to take the train to Florida and drive up the east coast,” Pops continued when we were alone again. “Neither of us had been east much and never as far north as New England. Your father was grown and ... um ... out of the house ... so we thought it would be a perfect time for the trip.”

My grandmother had died decades ago and Pops hardly ever talked about her, nor did my father. I once asked my father about her and he brushed me off. Between the two of them, it seemed like the woman never existed except to give birth to a son. I asked my mother about her a few times over the years, but she said she didn’t know anything and my dad never spoke about his mother except to say he didn’t want to talk about her. Mom did say that my grandmother died before she met dad.

“I don’t know anything about my grandmother,” I told him. “Nothing. You and dad never speak about her. Tell me about her.”

“Ancient history,” Pops said, giving me the same brush-off I’ve always gotten. “Nothing to say.”

“There’s a lot to say,” I pressed. “First of all, how did she die?”

He was silent, but his eyes darted around the restaurant like pinballs. It was still too early for the main dinner rush and the place was only half full, mostly with senior citizens. Maybe Pops was looking for an escape, perhaps another diner willing to take him on without an interrogation.

“Cancer,” Pops finally said in a soft voice. “Liver cancer. By the time she had any symptoms, doc only gave her a few weeks to live.” He sipped his coffee. “One day we were planning a trip to Maine and the next minute she was feeling poorly. Then she was gone.”

“So why don’t you or Dad talk about her. Didn’t you have a good marriage?”

Pops looked off in the distance. A tiny tear leaked from the corner of one eye, but his lips displayed a soft smile. “We had a wonderful marriage, thanks to her. Laura Jean was an angel with a devilish sharp mind. Your sister Bea looks a lot like her, but you think like her.” He turned toward me and the small smile turned into a grin. “She didn’t take crap off of me anymore than you do. She challenged me to be a better person, to reach higher, and go after my dreams. Because of her, I have the financial comfort I enjoy today.” He turned to study a waiter delivering food to a nearby table. “If not for Laura Jean, I would have been just some schmuck toiling in a factory or machine shop until the day I died.”

“So why won’t you and Dad talk about her?”

He waved the waiter over again, and this time asked for our check. He didn’t say another word about my grandmother

Laura Jean Bowen. I knew my grandmother’s name, of course, but tonight was the first time in close to a decade I’d heard it. I wanted to know more. “Pops, tell you what,” I said once we were heading back to our hotel. “I’ll go on this road trip to Dollywood and up to Maine, but you have to tell me all about Grandma, and Dad, and your lives together.”

He turned in his seat to stare at me, but I continued to look straight ahead out the windshield so I wouldn’t lose my nerve in making my demands. “Are you blackmailing me, little girl?,” he asked with surprise.

“Yes. I want to know our family history and it seems the only way I’ll learn it is if I have some leverage.”

“And what about your precious job search?”

I cut my eyes to Pops. “It can wait until we get home,” I said with conviction. “This is more important to me.”

“And the family? Don’t they need you? I know your phone has been lit up these past few days with calls and texts.”

Pops was right. I was getting constant calls and messages from Mom asking when I was returning, and from Norma about how impossible Mom was being in her worry about Dad showing up, and from Bea about how much Mom and Norma were fighting. I shrugged. “They’re grown-ups. It’s about time they looked after themselves.”

Pops slapped one of his bony knees. “Damn! I’ve been waiting for you to say that!”

“So,” I said, “do we have a deal?”

Pops considered his options. “We start down here in the south by going to Dollywood, then head up the coast taking our sweet time sightseeing. Four full weeks.”

“Three more weeks,” I countered. “We’ve already been gone one week.”

From the other side of the car I heard Pops hemming and hawing. “Okay, three more weeks, but we have to stop at a Walmart or someplace to pick up some more clothes.”

When we got back to the hotel, Pops wasn’t ready to go to our room. He asked that instead we take a stroll through the hotel grounds, which consisted of acres of spectacular indoor gardens and waterfalls. I knew from previous walks which was his favorite area. We headed there and found a quiet place to stop. Pops insisted on getting out of the wheelchair and sitting on the bench next to me.

“This is such a beautiful hotel, Pops,” I said once we were settled. “Thanks for bringing us here.”

“Your old granddad has good taste, heh?” He smiled my way, then the smile faded. “You ready for me to unload some of my side of the bargain? Or would you rather wait?” In response, I turned to face him, all ears.

“I had a feeling your father was going to rabbit,” he began.

“Rabbit?”

“Run,” he explained. “Take off. For several months before he left, whenever he visited me, he seemed restless and evasive. It was the same every time he took off.”

“He’d done this before?” I asked.

“Judy never told you?” he asked in return.

I nodded slowly. “She told me he’d had several affairs, and that one woman was even pregnant.”

“True,” Pops confirmed. “But he’d also left her a couple of times with no notice. She’d come home from work and he and some of his clothes would be gone. No note. Nothing. She would call me demanding to know where he was, but I didn’t know myself. Judy accused me of covering up for Bill and never believed that I wasn’t. That was mostly early in their marriage, when you were just a baby and Bea wasn’t born yet.”

My head started to spin. As with my talk with Mom, Pop’s information was throwing me off base, peeling back and exposing yet another layer of my family’s history. Pops believed Dad had stopped running off when I was a baby. Pieces of my early memories were trying to poke through my confusion and shock, like a gopher sticking its nose out of his hole.

“But those weren’t the only times,” Pops continued. “Bill ran off when he was about sixteen. We looked everywhere for him. Your grandmother was beside herself. He returned a few months later, hungry and broke, with no real explanation why he’d left or where he’d been. Things were good for him at home and at school. We talked to his friends and teachers and confirmed it. True, I could be hard on him, but nothing like beatings or such. We all got along fine. He said he left because he felt like it. He left again when he was eighteen, just a few months after he graduated from high school. No notice, just took off. He didn’t ask us for money. Just took his clothes and his savings, and the car we’d given him for graduation. Once in a blue moon we’d get a postcard from somewhere, but no contact information. He was gone almost two years then. Laura Jean passed away while he was gone. He didn’t know about it until he returned home. She’d been gone nearly six months by then. He was devastated. The guilt over not saying goodbye or being home at the time ate at him like a cancer. I offered to send him to a college of his choice, thinking that might give him a new start, but he turned it down. He lived at home, but hardly ever spoke to me. We both changed a lot after Laura Jean’s death. I became bitter and my temper shorter. Bill became more withdrawn and less and less responsible. He couldn’t hold on to a job. Then he knocked up your mother, married her, and moved into her mother’s house. Although I wasn’t happy about the marriage, I rather hoped it would settle him down. It didn’t until after you and Bea were born, and then I’m not sure he was settled down inside himself. He began drinking a lot more and fighting more with Judy. We grew further apart and I only saw him and you kids sporadically. I’m to blame for a lot of that because of my bitterness. No one wanted to be around me.”

“He didn’t stop,” I said quietly, not looking at my grandfather. The gophers in my head were starting to come out of their burrows, revealing themselves.

“What’s that?”

“Dad ran off a few times when we kids were growing up. Mom told me that recently. Always with a woman he was seeing on the side. I just put two and two together and realized what Mom told us where business trips, were really the times Dad had left us.” I looked at Pops. “I guess she never told you.”

Pops’ mouth turned down. “Considering how on the outs Judy and I were, I’m not surprised.”

I leaned back against the bench, sorting through the information. I’d been working hard to not let my personal feelings hijack looking at this objectively, but I might as well have been trying to wrestle a grizzly. Dad didn’t leave because he didn’t want to be with us. Well, maybe he did leave for that reason. But it sounded like he jumped ship whenever he felt pressured or trapped or restless. I couldn’t recall him going on business trips once I was in high school, even though he worked at the same place. But I do recall that the fighting between my parents got worse when we were teens and in college. Not leaving during all those years must have felt like a vise tightening around his head. He played around and got stuck with a family he didn’t want. A family he didn’t know how to emotionally connect with and care for outside of providing a roof over their heads and food for the table. It didn’t excuse his lack of responsibility. After all, we all have to grow up and take on what life throws at us. Had he left Mom years before, I doubt my father would have been any happier, but Mom probably would have been, and maybe we girls wouldn’t have grown up in a war zone, taking care of each other instead of being cared for ourselves.

“Pops, why do you think Dad ran from us the other day? He acted like we were cops coming to cuff him and take him to prison, instead of his daughter and father. What does he fear from us?”

“Guilt probably, same as when his mother died,” Pops answered after mulling over my question. “As long as he doesn’t see us or hear from us, he can pretend we don’t exist and all is well, and that he’s footloose and fancy free. Not a care in the world outside of holding down a small job and keeping company with homewreckers.”

“Would you stop calling Rachel a homewrecker,” I said firmly.

Pops fell into silence and I continued. “The more I learn, the more I believe Dad won’t sign the divorce papers because Mom is his safe harbor. As long as he is still married, he has an excuse not to commit fully to the woman he’s with. Rachel thought the divorce was her ticket to a new husband. Dad saw it as ruining his perfect set up.” I paused and listened to the water fountain closest to us. The sound was soothing, musical, and washed over my tired saturated brain and bruised heart like fresh rain.

“That’s why he never went back to California. He doesn’t want to save the marriage, nor does he want it to end. He wants his cake and eat it too.” I took a deep breath as the pieces of my theory fell into place. “Rachel might have warned him we were in the area, but knowing all this, I don’t think he returned to her like she might have hoped. Nor did he take off with her.” I wagged a finger in the air. “No, I’ll bet Dad cut all ties with Rachel and is on the run again. As you said, Pops, he’s rabbiting.”

I stood up, signaling I was done for the night. Pops seemed to be too. He got up and shuffled to the wheelchair that I held still for him.

“And frankly,” I said as I made sure Pops was settled before we took off toward our room, “I’m done looking for him. I’m not going to chase after my father like a bill collector. I’m out of that business.”

CHAPTER 23

Much to my surprise, I enjoyed Dollywood, but not as much as Pops, who was like a kid in a candy store. I had no idea he was such a Dolly Parton fan, but it seems he had a lot of her music at home and had even seen her perform in person twice. I swear, if the megastar had shown up in the flesh and said howdy, he would have clutched his chest and died a happy man. He even bought us both t-shirts and insisted that we change into them immediately. He chose one in bright yellow with a huge drawing of Dolly Parton on the front. I opted for one in blue with just the name of the theme park. Pops called me a party pooper for its simplicity, but there was no way I was going to wear Dolly Parton across my meager chest.

We only went to Dollywood one day. Pops was so pooped out from all the excitement, he slept in the next day. He had rented us a charming cabin several miles from the park. On the outside it looked like an old rustic log cabin. Inside it was modern and beautifully decorated in a country theme. It even had a hot tub on the back porch. For the first time, we had our own rooms, although that made me a little uneasy. I worried about Pops getting sick in the night and I wouldn’t hear him. He was looking great, but he was still pretty old and having a lot of excitement day in and day out. On the way to the cabin, we stopped at a big box store and picked up some new clothes. Since we were going into fall, we bought a couple of sweaters and light jackets, along with casual shirts and jeans and socks. Nothing was expensive, but the cabin had to be, as well as the hotel in Nashville. Pops was spending money like water on this trip and I was getting concerned, even though he seemed okay with the expenditures. I had made the decision to not accept any payment for being his companion, which he said he’d pay me later. He was my grandfather and he was shelling out a great deal of money. I was determined to fight him tooth and nail on this when we got home.

Pops had booked the cabin for three nights. After two nights I found myself wishing we could stay longer and said something to Pops in passing over dinner. The next morning at breakfast he announced that he’d called the owner and booked it for an entire week.

“Are you sure?” I asked as I poured him a cup of coffee. “I thought you were eager to get on the road to Maine.”

He waved off my concern. “We have plenty of time, and Maine’s not going anywhere. The owner says we can’t stay longer because he has it leased after that.”

“But this is your trip,” I countered, “not mine. Do you want to stay?”

My grandfather studied me over the rim of his coffee mug. A habit of his, I’d noted. At first his scrutiny made me squirm like a little girl being interrogated about missing cookies. I don’t know what information he was gathering and storing in that pigheaded skull of his, but I’d grown accustomed to being put under a microscope when I asked him a question. I’d learned early on during the trip that Pops was generally a deliberate man. A man who weighed his options, the people involved, and thought about consequences. Unlike my father.

“Yes, Zelda, I’d like very much to stay longer. I think this fresh mountain air suits us both.”

I’d also gotten the feeling that this trip had been on his agenda long before my dad took off. Obviously, not the trip to Madisonville or extending our cabin stay, but this part of it. The part about making a long road trip. “How long have you been planning this trip, Pops?” I said as I took my place at the table.

“I only recently learned about your father being in Kentucky,” he answered.

“Maybe, but I get the feeling you’ve been planning the back half of this road trip a long time.”

He picked his mug back up and studied me again, but this time when he lowered the mug, there was a smile the size of a large elbow macaroni on his lips. “You’re a smart cookie, Zelda.” He put his mug down. “I’ve been planning this trip for about a year. Talked about it with your father several times. Asked him if he’d like to go with me.”

“And?”

“And, he gave me a big condescending smile and said he’d love to, but I knew instantly he didn’t mean it. He was just humoring an old man. Probably thought I’d forget all about it in short order, or die before I brought it up again. So I looked into going with a paid traveling companion. Then when Bill took off, I kind of lost interest.” He picked up a piece of half-eaten toast from his plate, then changed his mind and put it back down. “When I got the information that Bill was in Kentucky, I thought everything kind of fell into place to tack this trip onto the trip to Kentucky. You losing your job about the same time was convenient too.”

I was going to comment on Pop’s idea of convenient being screwy, but from his standpoint it was opportune. And who was I kidding, had my father not taken off, I would probably have left my job long before it ended and hit the road.

We spent time visiting local sights in Tennessee, using the cabin as a home base, but mostly we relaxed. We both read a lot. Pops had brought his Kindle. I read from the large collection of books in the cabin. We took walks, Pops using his cane more than the wheelchair. He seemed to be getting stronger, going a bit further each day. His appetite was good and he slept like a log each night.

There was a walking stick and small backpack in the cabin and I put them to good use, packing water and snacks, and hiking several miles a couple of days on nearby trails. It was on these hikes that I revisited my plans for taking off and traveling. I ticked off the pros and cons. The pros included: I had no job. I had enough money to hold me quite a while if I was very careful. No debts. No husband and kids. The con list was very short: family. Why couldn’t I just hop into my car and set off to see the world, or at least the country. If I had to, I could probably pick up an odd job here and there. Or was I truly my father’s daughter and entertaining the idea because running was in my blood? The question was, was I running away from something or toward something? These were the thoughts and concerns that occupied my mind as I sat on a rock in the woods while around me leaves contemplated colors and the air snapped with a mild chill. Nature has a way of cleansing your mind of the debris of everyday life and allowing you to focus with clarity. It occurred to me on my first hike that I hadn’t been outside like this for a very long time. I was in fairly good shape from running, mostly on a treadmill, and I’d gone hiking on occasion with friends, and had camped a few times, but neither in a very long time. I made a promise to myself that when I returned to California to spend more time outdoors.

A few times I ran into other people hiking. There was one couple, Monique and Adam, who were about my age and from Missouri. They invited me to sit down with them on a bluff. We chatted a bit, but mostly ate our snacks in silence while we looked out over some of the most beautiful scenery I’d ever seen. They were traveling around the country for one year. Their plan was to return home at the end of the year and start their family. I confessed to them that it was my dream to do something similar, I just hadn’t taken the leap yet. Before we parted, we exchanged contact information. I had finally met people who were doing what I wanted to do. As we said goodbye, Monique hugged me tight and whispered in my ear, “Just do it, Zelda. You’ll love it.”

The cabin had movies on hand and at night we’d watch one or play cards in front of a warm crackling fire. I cooked our meals. It was a nice change after so much rich restaurant food. We kept in touch with Mrs. Yamato at the senior home, both of us assuring her that Pops was doing fine. Well, when she called me, I assured her he was doing fine. When she called him, he told her to mind her own business. Mrs. Yamato arranged for us to refill Pops’ meds at a local store of a chain pharmacy back in California. When I asked Pops about them, he whisked the pharmacy bag away from me, grousing, “I’m an old fart. What did you expect?”

Once in a while I would answer one of the many texts and emails I received from my family. But I never answered their calls or returned them. It was easier to cut the cord of dependency via the written word. Dad still hadn’t shown up or contacted anyone.

On our last night in the cabin, we poured over the road atlas I’d purchased in the nearby town like two eager kids picking out toys for Christmas. Pops wanted to move east toward the coast. There were specific things he wanted to see, like the wild horses of Assateague Island that was spread over parts of both Maryland and Virginia. I’d never heard of them, but Pops schooled me and infected me with the bug to go. It would be our first stop. Then we’d start moving north along the coast. Pops wanted to see some Civil War battlegrounds, Arlington National Cemetery, and some sights in Washington D.C. I wasn’t sure if all these things were on his bucket list or if he was adding them as we traveled, but all were interesting and things I’d never seen. My AWOL dad, my clingy family, and the fact that I was unemployed were fading into the background as I jumped on board my grandfather’s bucket list train. Toot! Toot!

We worked our way north over several days, two happy vagabonds. Upon returning to our hotel after spending the day touring Arlington National Cemetery, my cell phone rang. The display showed a number that I never expected to see again — Luis Alvarez.

“Hi,” I said after answering. “This is unexpected.” Then something cold and clammy grabbed my throat. “Is something wrong? Did my father return and cause problems?”

“He hasn’t returned,” Luis answered, “but he did finally sign and return the divorce papers. He mailed them from Tallahassee.”

I sighed, releasing the pent up frustration and worry into the air, like bad juju being exorcised. “I’m sure my mother’s happy with that.”

“Definitely. It happened today. She said something about bathing in champagne tonight.” After a short pause, he added, “She also said you’re not answering calls.”

Should I tell him why? That I was trying to break the dependency bonds so I could start a new life once I got home. Would he understand? Was it any of his business? Pops had not said a word again about my future, and for that I was grateful. I needed to sort things out on my own, without pressure. I needed to think about what I wanted going forward. Being on the road with Pops had shaken up my discontent like a vibrating can of beer. I wasn’t sure how to do it or where to go, but I had fallen in love with being on the road, seeing new things, and meeting new people, like Monique and Adam. My eyes were open, soaking it up like a dry sponge. But I knew my money wouldn’t hold out long if I traveled like we were, with nice cabins and hotels and excellent restaurants. Maybe those van dwellers were on to something. I laughed softly.

“What’s so funny,” Luis said, bringing me back to the here and now and our call.

“I was just thinking about traveling and how I should do more of it after this trip with Pops. It suits me a lot more than another dead-end job.”

“I think it would suit most of us more than a dead-end job.”

“As for not answering calls,” I continued, instead of asking if he was talking about himself or people in general, “it’s easier to do it by text and email. Not so much drama, you know.” Now it was his turn to chuckle. It was half squelched like he was holding it back out of politeness, like an untimely burp. He knew how insane my family could be.

“Your mother wanted you to know about the divorce papers. She asked me to call,” he said. “I think she thought you might answer the call if it wasn’t coming from her.” His words made me feel guilty and childish for ducking her calls. “And she wants to know when you’ll be home.”

“She knows when I’ll be home,” I said, the guilt morphing into annoyance. “We’ll be home when Pops is done with his travel plans. I told her that in an email. Several times, in fact.” I paused. “Our final destination is Maine and we’re in Virginia now. We just visited Arlington today.”

“How’s Edward holding up?” he asked, wisely changing the subject.

“Honestly,” I said into the phone, “I’ve never seen him with such a spring in his step.”

“Really?” Luis sounded surprised.

“Yeah. He’s a different man than when we started. Travel obviously agrees with him too.”

“And his health is good?”

“His health and his appetite,” I reported. “Why?”

Luis paused a moment. “No reason. It’s just that he’s not exactly a spring chicken.”

“True, but when he’s tired, we slow down so he can get some rest.” I got up and glanced into the bedroom of our suite, then returned to sprawl on the sofa. “He’s napping right now. He said he wanted to be fresh for dinner.”

Again Luis paused. This time the gap between our words growing awkward. “Well, thanks for calling,” I said, filling the hole. “Tell Mom I’m happy about the papers and our return date is still the same. Tell her I’ll give her a call either after dinner today or tomorrow.”

“She’s not the only one who wants to know when you’re coming back, Zell,” Luis rushed to say before I could end the call.

“Oh?” It was a lame response but all I could muster under the circumstances.

“I miss you too.”

“Does your fiancé miss me?” I asked, blurting out the words like a wet belch accompanied with stomach acid.

“My what?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

“My mother said that you were getting married,” I said, working to keep my voice nonchalant. “She heard it from your mother.”

There was a long pause, long enough for me to nibble at the corner of an index finger. Finally, he said, in a slightly grating voice. “I’m not getting married, Zelda. A woman I was dating assumed that’s where the relationship was heading, and my mother was also pushing it, but I wasn’t on board with their plans. Remember when I told you my life was complicated?”

“Yeah, in my bathroom among the ruins of my life, right after we kissed.”

There was a long pause before Luis continued. “Well, she was pregnant. I told her I’d support whatever decision she wanted to make, whether it be abortion, adoption, or keeping the baby. I promised I’d support the kid if she kept it, but I did not want to get married.”

Another long pause, during which I worked my cuticle into fresh raw meat.

“My family wanted me to marry Alva,” Luis said. “Alva’s family wanted me to marry her. Alva was pushing hard for it. I seemed to be the only one not seeing it as a good solution.”

I thought about my mother and how her life turned out because she did succumb to pressure to marry. “So did they finally see things your way? Your family, I mean.”

He laughed. It was dark and brooding. “They did after we found out it wasn’t my baby. The father was Alva’s ex-boyfriend who her family hated. They saw me as a solution to their problems.”

Yowsa! I had no words so I just held the phone like a mute.

“Zelda,” Luis said, breaking the silence, “when you get back home, I’d like to spend time with you. I’d like to get to know you better. We can start with dinner so you can tell me about all your adventures with Edward.” The grating voice was replaced with a softer, sweeter tone.

I’d been slouched on the sofa in our room. I sat up straight at the invitation. “I would like that, Luis. I’ll let you know when we get home.” I laughed softly. “Although this trip seems to get longer every time Pops opens up his mouth. It wouldn’t surprise me if he books us on a cruise to South America after Maine. Good thing I didn’t bring my passport.”

“You know, Zell,” Luis said, “I haven’t known Edward very long, but I think you coming back into his life when you did was life changing for him. He needed his family, especially after your father left.”

After we hung up, I thought about what Luis had said, that my getting involved with Pops after Father’s Day was life changing for the old man. Was it really? It’s true he was welcomed back into the family, and he didn’t seem as cranky all the time. But life changing? If anyone was having a life changing experience, it was me. Pops was opening my eyes to possibilities. Broadening my horizons. Giving me a bucket list of my own. And what if Luis and I started dating and became close? There was definitely a mutual attraction there, but would it keep me from exploring different options for my future? Would I be happy married and settled down in middle-class domesticity like my sisters? Pops didn’t think so. My mother said she wanted one of us to do something special with our lives. But wasn’t raising a family special? It might seem boring and dull to most people, but I admired how my sisters were raising little people, and in spite of their differences, both were turning out great kids. Did I want that for my life? Mom didn’t want it, but got stuck with a family. She loved us and was proud of us, but if given a choice all those years ago, she would never have married my dad. Who knows what she would have gone on to do, given half a chance. It’s different for me. I don’t have a mother threatening to disown me, or a child on the way. I could do anything I wanted. More and more I was thinking of reinstating my original plan of traveling as long as my money held out. Maybe I’d find my true career path along the way. Would a relationship with Luis be a roadblock or a nice parting gift?

I got off the sofa and checked on Pops. He was still out like a light, snoring gently. Luis had been concerned about Pops’ health, and I felt it was more than just his age. I tiptoed into the bathroom and checked his medications. My phone was still in my hand so I took some photos of the bottles. After I left his room, I got online and checked the drugs out. Then I punched in Luis’ number.

“Hi,” I said, when he answered. “I hope you don’t mind my calling so soon.”

“Not at all.” I could hear a smile in his voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Hunky-dory,” I said. “But I have a couple of questions. Did you know that my grandfather has cancer?”

There was a long pause. “Yes, I did, Zelda. He told me when I did some work for him, but I couldn’t tell you. I hope you understand.”

“Do you know how sick he is?”

“Not really, but at his age it could be very bad. I don’t even know what kind of cancer it is. Hasn’t he talked to you about it?”

“No. He hasn’t said a peep.” There was a long pause.

“Is that why you called back?” Luis asked.

“Not entirely. I feel I need to be upfront with you before we have that dinner.”

“Um, okay. What’s up?”

The words gushed out of me with the velocity of a breaking dam. I told Luis about my plans prior to my father leaving, and how I’d put them on hold for the sake of my family. How I now was thinking of resurrecting those plans, thanks to the road trip with Pops. And how I often felt trapped by my family, even before Dad left, almost dying a slow death right in front of them. I was losing my mind trying to make a decision about my future and not doing very well at it.

“Wow,” was all he said when I finally drew a breath. “Does this mean you don’t want to have dinner with me?”

I started laughing, trying hard to keep the sound low so not to wake Pops. “No, I want to have dinner with you, but you need to know beforehand that I’m not of sound mind.”

He laughed. “I already knew that. Why do you think I like you so much?”

CHAPTER 24

“Luis called while you were napping.” I told Pops when he came out of the bedroom. He was dressed in clean clothes for dinner and had combed his sparse hair.

“The shark?” Pops asked, surprised. “What did he want?”

“To ask me out to dinner when we get home.”

“Ha! I told you he wasn’t getting married. I should’ve put money on it.” Pops took a seat by the desk. He found the sofa too difficult to get up from once settled on it. “What did you say?”

“I said yes.” I eyed my grandfather with suspicion. “He also wanted to know how you were doing. He seemed keen on getting assurances that you were still alive and kicking. He also called to say that Dad signed and returned the divorce papers.”

Pops gave me his full attention. “So Bill finally manned up, huh? Good. Now Judy can move on. Did Bill return?”

“No,” I told him. “According to Luis, the postmark on the papers was Tallahassee.”

“Florida?” Pops asked.

“Yep.” I could see the wheels turning in Pops’ head, so added, “You’re not thinking of us chasing after him down there, are you?”

He waved his hand again. “No, not at all. He set your mother free and now he’s also free. Bill was always a runner, restless and undependable. Not sure what made him that way, but it’s too late to change him.” He looked at me. “If he wants to make contact, he will.”

I wanted to grill Pops about his health, but decided to let it be for now.

We ate at a restaurant recommended to us by a woman at the hotel front desk. It wasn’t touristy or trendy, which we asked to avoid, but a homey and warm tavern filled with customers who looked to be mostly blue collar locals. The menu was filled with comfort food favorites. Pops ordered the meatloaf and I ordered a chicken pot pie. We both ordered local beers to wash it down.

“So,” Pops said once the waitress left, “are you going out on that date with the shark once we get home?”

I nodded as I took a drink from my water glass. “Yes, I’m having dinner with Luis once we get home.” Looking at my grandfather, I couldn’t tell if he was pleased or worried by the idea. “What gives,” I asked him. “A few weeks ago that news would have had you dancing a jig. I thought you wanted us to become friends. Even more than friends.”

I could see that Pops was weighing his words carefully. “I do want you to be friends with Luis,” Pops finally said, dropping his nickname for him. “He’s a good man, and might even be the right kind of man for you. He’s smart, and not just book smart, and he doesn’t take crap off people, especially me. He and I have become friends, so why not you two?”

“But?” I encouraged, sensing there was more to it.

Pops drank some of his beer. “But you’re restless and want to go places and see things. That’s not conducive to a steady relationship.”

“You mean, I’m like my dad? Might run off?” I could feel my hackles rising at the thought.

“No, not at all,” Pops quickly said. “I know you’re much more responsible than that. But like Bill, you have the wandering spirit. But unlike him, it’s not because of a need to escape. He ran. You want to see things. You want to grow, have new experiences.” Pops tapped the table with an index finger. “Now is the time for this, Zelda, if you indeed want to do it.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing, Pops,” I said, playing with the napkin in my lap, twisting it in my confusion. “I was upfront with Luis today on the phone. I told him I might start traveling. I didn’t want him to be surprised or hurt if we became more than friends.”

“Good girl. Honesty is best, and Luis is a grown man. He’ll survive. He might even have dreams of his own that need to be shaken loose.”

Pops drained his beer and asked the waiter for decaf coffee. We’d taken a taxi to the restaurant, so I ordered another beer. “So where do you want to go first?” Pops asked after our plates had been cleared.

I shrugged. “Not sure yet. I need to think more about it. I’d like to travel abroad, but first maybe see more of this country.”

Pops slapped the table with his palm. Not hard, but enough to get my attention. “You need one of those vans like I keep seeing on YouTube.”

CHAPTER 25

We were almost to Maine. At the leisurely pace Pops liked to travel, the northern state might be getting their first snow fall before we got there. I had agreed to four weeks total for this trip. We were now heading into our sixth week. It was early October. Pumpkin patches were starting to dot the roadside. The air was nippy during the day and even cooler at night. Along the way we bought sweatshirts to wear under our jackets.

Zigzagging as the mood struck us, or rather Pops’ mood, we saw lots of cool things: The Liberty Bell, Boston Harbor, Paul Revere’s House, and Plymouth Rock. We stopped in New York City for several days and took in the sights there and even a show.

We had just visited the Ben and Jerry’s factory in Woodbury, Vermont. It was a detour that took us out of our way by several days, but it had been fun and tasty. Now we were finally heading toward Bar Harbor, Maine. It was a six to seven hour drive that I’m sure could morph into a week if Pops has his way.

I really shouldn’t complain. We were driving along some of the prettiest roads and scenery imaginable. The fall leaves were gorgeous. I had never seen anything like it outside of a postcard or on TV. It was peaceful driving the rural roads through Vermont and New Hampshire, and I’m sure Maine would be just as beautiful. Almost everyday was different. Different people. Different towns. I was beginning to feel like my life in California was something in my past, not something I would return to and resume. My mother and sisters had stopped asking when we would come home. Luis called me a couple times a week but never pressed for our return date. Many days I felt as if I were floating in a beautiful bubble of peace and happiness, and freedom. I’d even stopped waiting for someone to stick a pin in my bubble.

When we got to Bar Harbor, Pops got us a room with two queen beds at the Bar Harbor Inn, an historical hotel. Our room had a spectacular view of Frenchman’s Bay. According to Pops, this was where he and my grandmother were going to stay had they made their trip. Pops looked spent when we settled in, so we rested the first night and ordered room service for dinner. Most of our trip, he seemed to be gaining energy with each mile, as if the asphalt beneath us sent extra strength up into his old bones. Even at the ice cream factory he’d been animated and had a double scoop. But now, at the end of our journey, the place that was his destination, he seemed depleted. It could be his illness. Or maybe it was the reminder of my grandmother and how he’d really wanted to make this journey with her. It could also be that the miles, days, and weeks were finally catching up with him. I was concerned either way. His color was a bit off too. When I voiced my concern, he waved it off, saying he was just tired. I was glad that he didn’t get us separate rooms at this hotel. At least if he got sick, I’d be here to help him.

The morning after our arrival we went for a walk. Well, I walked and pushed Pops in the wheelchair. He was still feeling a bit tired and it was a long walk down to the bay. A few weeks ago, when we’d stopped to purchase more warm clothing, I’d also insisted on a wool lap blanket for Pops to use in the car. He’d fussed, of course, insisting he wasn’t an invalid, but used it just the same. Today he was bundled up against the chilly weather with the blanket tucked tight around his thin legs. He was also wearing a scarf and a cap against the cold.

There was a wide paved walkway that curved in front of the hotel and hugged the shoreline. We took our time along the path, enjoying the beautiful scenery. Off the coast were small islands and near the end of the hotel a dock.

“You want to sit for a bit, Pops?” I asked him when I saw a bench looking out at the lovely view.

“I’m already sitting, in case you haven’t noticed,” he snapped. “But if you’re tired, just say so.”

“I’m not tired,” I insisted. “I just thought you might like to stop and savor the gorgeous view.”

“It is pretty, isn’t it?”

Taking that as an agreement to stop a bit, I wheeled him over to the bench and positioned him on one end facing the sea. I sat on the end of the bench next to him. It was a clear, crisp day with a small breeze coming from the sea. I pulled the collar of my jacket up and was thankful for my gloves, another purchase made with the lap blanket, a pair of gloves for each of us.

“You warm enough?” I asked my grandfather.

He nodded, then waved one arm in a wide sweep of the bay. “Your grandmother would have loved this. She loved the ocean. Could never get enough of it.”

“Then why didn’t you buy a home near it?” I asked.

He sighed softly. “At first we didn’t have the money. Then when we did, I suggested we do just that. But Laura Jean nixed the idea. She was afraid that if she saw the ocean every day it wouldn’t be so special to her.” He paused. “Silly woman. Not about most things, but she was about that” He turned toward me. “If something makes you happy, you should try to have it in your life every day.” Pops looked at me a long time, his eyes driving his words home, before turning back to the view. “Almost every vacation we took was near the ocean.”

We sat there a bit, quiet and at peace, each of us with our own thoughts. I thought about my grandmother and how I was her surrogate on this trip. I thought about how happy this trip had made me, once I settled into it, only solidifying my desire to travel on my own.

“Were you ever going to tell me about your cancer?” I asked, not looking at him.

“Who told you?” he asked. “The shark?”

“No, Luis did not tell me. I looked up the meds you’re taking a while back.”

“Nosey.”

“I was worried about you, Pops. Some days you don’t look so hot.” I turned to him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He waved me off with a hand. “It’s nothing. We’re all dying. I just know what from.”

“Do you know how long?” I pressed.

He shook his head. “No, but I’ll die right here, right now, if it will make you happy.”

“Don’t tempt me, old man.” I placed a gloved hand on his shoulder. He placed one of his over mine and nothing more was said.

We spent the rest of the day checking out the town. The cute village was walking distance from the inn. I pushed and Pops rode. I was certainly getting my exercise on the trip. We had a hearty lunch and a few beers at one of the restaurants. I was happy to see Pops’ appetite return and so did his energy and color. We ordered a light supper from room service that night and watched a movie before turning in early.

The next morning after breakfast, Pops wanted to go back out to the path along the bay. It was a beautiful crisp day. We sat in the same place we did the day before and quietly watched the water. “Zelda,” Pops said, bringing me out of my peaceful reverie, “roll me onto that dock, would you?”

Getting up, I maneuvered the wheelchair down the path and onto the wooden dock, walking down to the end of it, which extended into the bay. There were two older couples strolling on it, but no one else. They nodded and smiled as we passed, and I returned the gesture. People had been so friendly everywhere we’d visited so far. You didn’t see people in California greeting strangers like this. I liked it. It felt good and natural. I chalked it up to the slower pace.

Near the end of the dock, Pops gestured for me to stop. When I did, he reached into his layers of clothing and pulled out a small vial attached to a chain. He pulled it over his head. I helped him by removing his cap just long enough for the chain to be freed from around his head.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“A small amount of your grandmother’s ashes,” he answered. I’ve kept it all these years, just for this moment.”

Pops sat clutching the vial in his fist and looking at the ocean. Finally, he said in a soft choked voice, almost lost against the sound of the water, “Well, Laura Jean, we made it.” I didn’t look, but from the way he sounded, I believed Pops had tears in his eyes. I sure did.

We stayed quiet for a few minutes before Pops started to get up out of the wheelchair. I helped by removing the lap blanket and setting his feet securely on the ground. Using my arm for support, he shuffled to the railing. With one surprisingly strong toss, he threw my grandmother’s ashes into Frenchman’s Bay, vial and all.

He settled back into the wheelchair and I tucked the blanket back into place around his frail legs. When I was done fussing, he said, “It’s pancreatic cancer, Zelda. I don’t know how much time I have left, but I’ll not spend the rest of my days withering away in a hospital. Laura Jean died that way, and I’ll not have it. I don’t want the rest of the family to know just yet. Bill doesn’t know either.”

I said nothing at first, but nodded as I continued fussing with his lap blanket. “So,” I finally said, looking up at him, “where do we go from here? Niagara Falls?”

“It’s time to go home, Zelda.”

Before I could stand, Pops grasped my gloved hands in his. “Thank you for this. Thank you for humoring a grouchy old man.”

CHAPTER 26

A few days after Pops and I got home from our road trip, like magic, I received two decent bites to my resume. I interviewed with both, received an offer from one. It was managing a customer service department for a large company located in City of Industry. It was a bit longer commute than I’d had before, but it came with decent pay and good benefits. I hemmed and hawed before accepting it, and obsessed over it every day. It started on December 1st so I had plenty of time to make myself nuts.

Did I really want another job?

What about my plans for travel?

What about the things I’d learned about myself while on the road with Pops?

Or was that just the trip talking and not something real?

All the questions swirled in my head like a tornado looking for a place to touch ground. Lauri had also landed a new job. She started hers one week before I returned to California. We went out to celebrate both jobs on a Tuesday night, landing at our old Tuesday night haunt with its two-for-one Ladies Night.

“I’ve missed this,” Lauri said, hoisting a martini in my direction.

“Me or the martini?” I asked as I sipped my own drink.

Lauri laughed. “Both.”

We’d gotten together twice since I’d returned home. Her new job was as the head of human resources in another small company. She’d had to tone down her look a bit to fit their more conservative culture. To most people, she looked better, but I wasn’t so sure. I studied her over the rim of my glass, much as Pops had studied me over the rim of his various coffee mugs and glasses of beer. She didn’t look unhappy, but she didn’t seem herself buttoned up like a corporate suit. Her mouth was the same, but the package was all wrong. Would the same happen to me?

“Do you like your job?” I asked her.

Lauri shrugged. “It’s a good company. The pay is decent. The employees behave themselves and most have been there a long time, so there’s little drama or turnover.” She took a long swig of her drink. “If there’s a Larry Hawkins type there, I haven’t sniffed him or her out yet, but it’s still early.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I said. “Do you like your job?”

Another shrug. “It’s a job, Zell. With a 401k and a year-end bonus.” She took another drink, just a sip this time. “I don’t dislike it. Is that good enough for you?”

“But is not disliking it enough?” I asked.

Lauri put down her drink and swiveled on her stool to face me. “What’s up, Zell?” She narrowed her eyes at me, turning on her HR expertise. “You’ve been different since returning home. Are you having second thoughts about your new job? If so, wait for another to come along. I’m sure one will, especially after the holidays.”

I stayed silent for a long time, turning to study the colorful bottles behind the bar. Lauri remained silent, letting me take the time to consider my words. “It’s not the job,” I finally answered, turning back to her. “It’s any job.” I sighed. “I need to tell you something. Something I should have told you a long time ago.”

I signaled the bartender to bring us two more drinks, then settled in to tell my best friend my secret desire to travel, my worries about my family, and how the trip with Pops unleashed an unrest in me I was finding difficult to quash. When I finished, I downed half of my fresh drink in one gulp.

“Do you have the money to travel the way you want?” Lauri asked.

I nodded. “Yes, at least for awhile.”

“Then what’s stopping you, stupid?”

When I returned, I fell right back into the family drama. And the family fell right back into relying on me. It was my own fault. It was a slippery slope and I fell down it like a greased pig. My mother even told me to stay with her as long as I liked, making it easier. She was spending a lot of time at Dick’s home, so I mostly had the house to myself, which was pretty sweet.

“Same old shit, different day,” I answered.

“Does your family know you want to get out of Dodge?”

I shook my head. “Except for Pops and Luis, no one has a clue.”

“What about Luis? How does he feel about this?”

“We’ve been on two dates since I’ve been home,” I told her, “but are taking it slow.”

“Meaning no sex yet, or meaning no sleepovers yet?” Lauri grinned and swirled her martini.

“Neither. He’s worried I’ll disappear, and I’m worried I’ll get close and hurt him. Or get close to him and never leave.”

“So leaving is still on the table?” she asked.

It was my turn to shrug. “I don’t know what to do. On top of that, when I accepted this job, I think my grandfather almost had a stroke. If I lived with him, I’m sure he’d kick me out just to make sure I’d have nowhere to go but on the road.” I took another sip of my drink. “I seem to be disappointing everyone, including myself.”

“Why did you take the job, Zell, if you’re still thinking of bolting?” She’d quit drinking and was giving me her full attention.

It was a fair question and I wasn’t sure I knew the answer. Was it fear of being alone on the road? Or fear of failure or the unknown? But in my heart, I knew the correct answer and voiced it for the first time. “Because it was the easy way out.”

“Uh huh.” Lauri smiled at me. “Now the truth comes out. It’s not your family or Luis. You are holding yourself back.”

“So you think I should leave?”

Lauri made the gesture of locking her mouth with a key and throwing it away.

“Give me a break,” I said to her. “You’ve never kept quiet on anything in your life.”

“On this, Zell, you’re on your own. Whatever decision you make, I’ll support you, but it has to be yours. Not your grandfather’s, or your family’s. You make the decision and you own it, pal.”

She drained her glass and ordered us another round. We were definitely heading into calling Uber territory. Halfway through the third round, Lauri had totally forgotten she’d locked her mouth.

“You know, pal,” she said with a slight slur, “you’re looking at this all wrong.”

“Oh yeah?” We’d ordered some nachos to soak up the booze. I had a chip dripping with cheese sauce pinched between two fingers, ready to drop it into my mouth.

“Yeah,” Lauri said, licking salsa off her fingers. “Say you decide to dump the new job and travel. What’s the worst that could happen? After a few months or a year, you decide you don’t like it and return home. You find another job. You marry Luis. You crank out a few kids.” She shrugged. “You tried it and found it wasn’t for you. Big deal. Or ..., she started, then stopped.

“Or?” I prodded.

“Or you find out it’s your dream life,” she continued. “But if you never try, you’ll never know if this dream of yours is a fairytale or something real. You may go through life with a lot of regrets and would-have-could-haves, possibly turning bitter.”

I closed my eyes, easily seeing that path. “Like my mother,” I said audibly, but barely above a whisper.

Lauri nodded. “And like Norma. There’s something your big sis has stewed about for years. Any idea what?”

I shook my head. “But it would make sense. In spite of having everything, maybe she doesn’t have what she really wants.”

I took a pull off of my martini glass and turned to Lauri. “And what about you?” I asked. “What’s your big dream?”

She snorted. “Who says I have one. Maybe I’m satisfied with my little job and Joel.”

I looked at my friend, studying her face. “Right. I don’t buy that for a minute, Lauri. You have too much fire in you.” I would have reached out and touched her arm, but I had queso on my fingers. “I told you mine. You tell me yours.”

She started sniffing. Picking up a napkin, she wiped her nose. “Isn’t it funny,” she began, “that in all the years we’ve known each other, we’ve never had this discussion.”

“Funny, yes, but not in a humorous way. Why do you think? We talk about everything else.”

Lauri put down the napkin and ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “I think it’s because we’re cowards, Zell. Plain and simple. If we voice our dreams, we might be forced to act on them. To take our shot. If they’re a secret, no one knows we’re cowards.”

“And your secret,” I pushed.

She started to take a drink, then put the glass down and pushed it away. “I’d like to own my own company. Maybe a placement firm, or HR firm. I like helping people make the most of their jobs. I always thought of doing consulting where I can find the right career for people and not just a job they will hate for the rest of their lives.” She paused before continuing. “Maybe help women return to the workforce after a divorce or empty nest. Or help lower income women break into a career.”

“You’d be good at that, Lauri.” I thought more about it. “Maybe both. Make money as a headhunter firm, and then use your super powers on the side to help women who need your expertise to change their lives.”

Lauri reached out and picked up her glass again. She raised it in my direction. “Let’s drink to cowards.”

My friend had a good point. I was a coward. Pops said as much on the flight home. He said I was afraid to speak up to the family. Afraid of taking a chance with my life. He thought I was tuning him out as he talked. Instead I was mentally checking all the boxes.

I had always given in to my family. I might put up a fight now and then, like at Easter, but in the end I always caved. Norma was the calculating bitch. Bea the ditzy sweet negotiator. I was the glue, compliant and dependable. I walked a fine line, making sure I didn’t add to the drama they often created. When I wanted to scream or curse, or shake a fist in the air, I kept quiet, swallowing my emotions. And not just at home. In school. At my job. When my parents fought. I was the one who kept the ship steady. When Dad left, I hadn’t been foisted into a position of taking care of them emotionally, I was already there, doing the job. I never made waves that reverberated through the Bowen clan. My father, mother, and sisters did that. My life was beige. As steady and as boring as a straight narrow road through the desert. At least it was until this year with Clay, my job loss, and losing my home. Was fate trying to kick me out of my rut? Was it trying to upend my boring life by pulling the rug out from under me?

“I haven’t cried,” I said quietly into my drink.

Lauri turned to me. “What are you talking about? I’ve seen you cry in movies.”

“No, I mean this year,” I explained. “When Dad left. Not even over losing my job or the fire in my apartment. I haven’t shed a tear over any of it. Not even a sniffle.” I paused, then added, “The only time I cried was when I found out about Clay, and I think that was more on Bea’s behalf.”

“Seriously?” Lauri looked genuinely concerned.

I nodded. “I didn’t even throw a shoe during all of this.”

“You burned the bunny.”

“Yeah, my one and only act of anarchy.” I started to take a sip of my drink. “And I had to get stoned to do that.”

CHAPTER 27

This Thanksgiving would be the first one without Dad. It was also the first one at which Mom would be a single woman. It was also the one where I was going to drop a bomb. No one in the family knew. Not even Pops. I’d told Lauri and Luis, but had sworn them to secrecy until I had a chance to tell my family.

It had not been an easy decision. I’m still not one hundred percent sure it’s the right one, more like 80%. The day after my drunken conversation with Lauri, I started entertaining the idea of jumping off a cliff in pursuit of my dreams. A few days later, I called my new employer and told them I had decided against taking the job. That was the first running leap toward the cliff. Without that job, I had no safety net in the event I changed my mind. I would have to start looking for another job if I chickened out. And who in their right mind liked looking for employment?

Balancing on the edge of the cliff, I started researching how I wanted to travel and what I wanted to accomplish. Did I want to take my car and zigzag around the country, hoping I could find cheap motels? Or did I want to travel in an RV, taking my home with me like a turtle with its shell? I started viewing blogs and YouTube videos of full-time travelers. I researched how they traveled and what kind of work I might be able to pick up along the way or do on the road. I spent hours every day looking at my options. I even contacted Monique and Adam and asked them for advice.

I had camped off and on with friends during high school and college, but had never been in a travel trailer or RV. I researched online and traveled to several RV dealerships looking at my various choices. I also looked at the vans Pops had mentioned. They were smaller, but easier to drive and park. I had also entertained the idea of buying some good camping gear and just using my car for travel. It was cheap on gas and easy to maintain, but it also felt a little like I would be homeless if I lived out of my car. This was to be my new lifestyle, at least for a while, and I wanted it to feel like home, not a temporary thing. If I was going to pursue this, I needed to make a commitment to make it work. In the end, I decided to buy a Winnebago Travato, one of the van style RVs. Being unemployed, I decided to buy used and found a very nice one with low mileage up near San Jose. It was dark red and owned by an older couple who had to sell it because of health issues. They were holding it for me until after I told the family and was sure I could park it in Mom’s driveway. It took a chunk of cash out of my reserve, but I wouldn’t have to finance it. Another problem with no job under my belt.

Thanksgiving was always at Norma’s house. She had a huge home and kitchen. She also had a humongous dining room table. My big sis was a good cook when she applied herself. She would make the turkey and stuffing, while Bea and Mom brought side dishes. I was usually asked to buy the pies from our favorite bakery. You know, the single woman who is assumed to be a klutz in the kitchen. Funny thing is, Lauri and I have taken some cooking classes over the years just for fun. I can brûlée and sauté with the best of them. Why I never told my family that is, again, another puzzle locked up inside my bag of bones. I’d even surprised Luis with a gourmet meal recently. After, we’d surprised ourselves with some pretty wonderful sex.

I wasn’t as worried about Luis any longer. During the meal and after we shared our individual dreams. Seems he’s not hot to trot on the practice of law any longer, but still doesn’t know where to direct his talents. We actually joked about hitting the road together.

Luis was with his family this Thanksgiving. We weren’t public knowledge yet, although Pops knows we’re dating and I think Mom suspects something between us. Neither of us wanted to be saddled with expectations so early into our relationship. Luis and I are alike in many ways. Both of us seem to have similar jobs in our families, often relied upon to be the emotional support and fixer. Both of us wanted to do other things, but obligations and a sense of duty and fear kept us stuck in place. Maybe two so similar people were not good together for the long haul, but we were great together for now. It figured I’d find a man I really liked just as I was about to uproot my life.

Thanksgiving was going as expected. The kids were running wild in the backyard with Crankshaft. Pops was sitting on the back patio watching the little hooligans, along with Tony and Dick. Mom and Bea were preparing the sides they’d brought, heating them and getting them ready for serving. The turkey was about to come out of the oven. I was setting the table. Norma had already decorated the table with a beautiful fall centerpiece. I was laying out the Thanksgiving plates, crystal goblets for the wine, and silverware on the special Thanksgiving tablecloth with matching cloth napkins. The tablecloth and napkins were new this year. In the past we’ve had a special tablecloth and napkins, but Norma had replaced them this year with something more elegant. Even the kids’ table, which was placed nearby, had a paper turkey centerpiece and a cute kid-themed tablecloth. Norma had gone all out. Maybe she was trying to make new traditions, reminding us to move on after Dad. We’d had a year of firsts without Dad. First Easter. First Mother’s and Father’s Day. First Fourth of July. Now it would be our first Thanksgiving since his departure. It made me wonder what Christmas would be like.

Besides the family, Norma had invited a woman she knew from the country club. Her name was Barb. I recognized her from the few times I’d gone to the club with Norma. Barb was Norma’s tennis coach. She was tall, fit and tan, with blond hair that she usually wore pulled back under a visor. Today her hair was worn down, shiny and smooth. She was helping me with the table.

“It’s nice that you could join us today,” I said, as I set out the silver, lining up each piece just so, knowing my sister would notice anything out of kilter on her table. “Is your family out-of-state?”

“Yes,” Barb replied. “They live in Utah.”

I don’t think I’d ever seen her out of tennis togs until I arrived today for dinner. She was wearing grey tailored slacks and a white silk blouse. I hoped she wouldn’t be seated near the kids’ table or that blouse wouldn’t make it through dinner. Last year Brandon and the twins started slinging Bea’s homemade cranberry sauce in protest over the almonds in the green beans on their plates. They were all a year older now, but you never know when it comes to food and kids. I heard Mom assuring Norma that she did not put almonds in the green beans this year. Just in case we needed to soothe some savage beasties, I’d included three kid-size pies in the dessert order — two banana cream ones for the twins and one chocolate cream for Brandon. Their Aunt Zell knew these were their favorites.

With the table set, Barb and I went into the kitchen to find a pow-wow taking place. The large turkey, golden brown and fresh from the oven, was resting on a large festive platter on the kitchen island. My mother and sisters were eyeing it like it was about to get up and perform a satanic ritual.

“What’s up?” I asked, joining the turkey circle. I turned to Norma. “That looks beautiful,” I told my sister. “What’s the problem?”

“Who’s going to carve it?” Bea asked in a whisper. “Daddy always carved the turkey.”

Bea was right. Our father always carved the turkey, making a big production of it. The bird was brought to the table whole on a platter, like a sacrificial offering. Dad would take his time carving, as if performing a delicate surgery, and expected all of us to appreciate his handiwork or he’d sulk.

“Just pick up a damn knife and start slicing,” I said. “You can put the carved meat on a serving platter and put that on the table. No need for any drama.”

“But we always carve it at the table,” Norma said. “It looks nice. Special.”

“And it looks nice in photos,” Bea added. “Maybe Dick can carve it.” We all looked at my mother.

She shook head with vigor. “No way. I’ll not have you turning Dick into your father. He’s not a substitute.” Mom paused. “How about Kyle or Tony?”

“Who says it has to be a man?” asked Barb.

We all looked at her like she’d just dropped from the sky. I was the first to recover. “Barb’s right. Norma, if you want the big production of carving at the table, why not do it yourself. You know your way around a turkey. Or don’t you trust yourself around us with a sharp knife.”

Norma gave me the stink eye, letting me know I’d be the first to be run through with the carving knife. “We’ll carve it in the kitchen,” she pronounced. She picked up the carving set and started on the poor bird, taking out her frustration on its juicy carcass. Soon a pile of meat, both light and dark, was piled onto another large serving platter. While she did that, I poured gravy from a saucepan into two gravy boats, and Mom took the stuffing and rolls out of the second oven. Bea finished up the mashed potatoes and Barb put the veggies on the table, along with condiments and Bea’s cranberry sauce. I went outside and announced that dinner was served.

Dinner was delicious. The kids were quietly eating, even their carrots and almond-less green beans. We ate and smiled and nodded and praised the food. At the head of the table, where Dad usually sat, was Pops, beaming at his family. At the other end of the table was Mom, Dick to her left and Norma to her right. On my left between Norma and me was Bea. The three of us lined up but not in birth order. Across the table with Dick, were Tony, Barb and Kyle. I wondered if anyone was thinking about Dad. I know I was, as much as I didn’t want to be. The family had a different vibe now and there was hope that we might just get through our first Thanksgiving without him without drama. Perhaps my announcement would even be met with civil well wishes.

This has been quite a year,” Dick said. “For all of us. Let’s go around the table and say what we’re thankful for. I’ll go first.” He smiled at my mother. “I’m thankful that Judy came into my life and for every minute I get to spend with her.” Mom leaned over and gave Dick a sweet kiss.

Dick must think we’re a normal family. It would be interesting to see if we could make it around the table without a brawl.

“I’m also thankful for Dick,” Mom said, taking her turn. “And that your father finally agreed to sign the divorce papers.”

Norma was up next. She looked over at Barb. “I’m thankful that Barb would be with us today.” Next to Barb, Kyle scoffed, then quickly covered his mouth with his napkin as if covering a cough. I saw Norma shoot him daggers, before adding, “And that Brandon is doing so well in school.”

Bea blushed when eyes turned toward her. She looked across the table at Tony, who gave her an encouraging nod. “I’m,” she began, then stopped. “No, we’re thankful that we’re going to have another baby.”

The table erupted in excitement and best wishes. Even Norma gave Bea a hug.

“The baby is due in May,” Tony added, grinning from ear to ear.

Now it was my turn. “I’m thankful,” I began, “for the new adventure I’m starting soon.”

“You’re new job, right?” Tony said.

“Yeah, about that,” I said. Using my fork, I pushed some mashed potatoes around my plate, looking down at my handiwork. The table had quieted, waiting for my answer. The only noise was babble from the kiddie table, and the occasional scrape of a utensil on a plate. I glanced at Pops, who was to my right. He was eating, pretending to not care about my answer, but I knew he was listening. I now wished I’d told him, just so I’d have some support at the table.

I put down my fork and took another sip of wine. “I’ve decided,” I began, pausing to clear my throat. “I’ve decided not to take that job after all.” I felt, rather than saw, Pops turn, giving me his full attention.

“Did you get another offer?” asked Dick.

I looked at my mother. She was studying me. Her mom radar was up and running, sensing my discomfort over the question.

“No,” I said, looking at Dick. “I’ve decided to do something different.”

“Like what?” asked Norma, her voice clearly questioning my abilities.

I straightened my shoulders and took a deep breath. “I’ve decided to travel for a while. I’m leaving sometime early in the year.”

“Hot damn!” Pops said. “It’s about time you grew a pair.”

“Pops, please,” Bea said quietly, jerking her chin toward the kids.

Mom was still staring at me, then turned her eyes on Pops. “You,” she snapped at him, pointing a finger across the table at my grandfather. “You filled her head with this nonsense when you were gallivanting around together.”

“No, Mom, he didn’t,” I said. “I was going to do this earlier this year, then Dad left so I canceled my plans. The trip with Pops just confirmed that I still want to do it.”

“First your father and now you,” Mom said, pointing her finger at me now. “What is it that you all can’t stand to be around me.”

Geez. Here we go. My decision is all about her, of course. Anytime now, it would be about Norma too. Next to me, Bea beamed. “How exciting!”

“But what about money,” Norma asked. “You’ve been out of work for a long time.”

“I’m okay money-wise,” I replied, looking across Bea at my older sister. “While you’ve been making fun of my used furniture and dishes, I’ve been squirreling away cash so I can do this. I have no debts. No apartment to shutdown. It’s a perfect time.”

“Where will you go first?” asked Bea.

I shrugged. “Anywhere I want to go. There are things I want to see and do, but I have no set itinerary yet, except to stay south since it will be winter when I leave.”

“Homeless,” snapped Norma. “You’re going to be a homeless vagabond living out of your car. What will people think?”

“First of all,” I said, starting to get my hackles up, “I won’t be homeless, Norma. Mom’s address will still be my legal address. I won’t be in my car, but in an RV. I already have one picked out.” I took a breath and scanned the table. Everyone was looking at me except for Barb. She was watching Norma.

“As for what people will think,” I continued. “I don’t care what they think. This is my dream, not theirs. Let them find their own.”

“That’s the spirit!” Pops said, clearly pleased about my announcement.

“I think it’s exciting,” said Barb.

“Stay out of this,” snapped Norma at the guest she’d been thankful for two minutes earlier, proving why we seldom invite outsiders into our insanity.

Barb didn’t back down. She glared at Norma with purpose. “Everyone should be their genuine self, no matter what other people think. Zelda is being brave and courageous in following her dream.”

“This has nothing to do with us,” Norma said to Barb. “I mean with you.”

“No, Norma,” Barb shot back. “You were right with the us part. This has everything to do with us.”

Huh? How did my announcement turn into a fight between Norma and Barb. I glanced at Kyle, locking eyes with him. He looked angry and embarrassed. He looked away. I shot Bea a sideways glance and could see she’d picked up on the comment too. Briefly, our eyes found each other, transmitting wide-eyed surprise.

Bea got up and started corralling the kids. “Come on, guys, let’s go outside.”

“What about pie?” whined Brandon.

“We’ll have pie a little bit later,” Bea told him.

Dick had also picked up on the new dangerous vibe drifting across the table. He got up and took control of the kids. “You sit down, Bea. I’ll take the kids. This seems to be a family matter.” He turned to the kids. “Come on, we can go out and play with Crankshaft. I’ll bet he’s lonely.”

“Can he have some turkey?” Mona asked.

“Of course he can,” Dick answered. “We’ll pick some up for him in the kitchen on our way out.”

When Dick and the kids were gone, Mom wiped her mouth with her napkin, then slammed it down next to her plate. “Just once it would have been nice to have a Thanksgiving without bullshit! Or any holiday for that matter.”

The table went silent. No one ate anymore, except Pops. He was shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth and chuckling quietly. I nudged his foot with mine. He shot me a wink, then said, “And I’ll bet you thought you would be the big news of the day.”

What news? Nothing was said about Norma and Barb, just a lot of knee-jerk speculation based on a few words.

“Dick’s right,” Kyle said, shooting Barb a dirty look. “This is a family matter. Perhaps you should leave, Barb. You don’t belong here.”

“She’s not going anywhere, Kyle,” Norma said, giving her husband a withering glare.

For the first time in my presence, Kyle stood up to his wife. Literally. He stood up, then said in a low growl across the table at her, “I told you today was not the time and place to have her here. We need to sort this out ourselves first.”

“What’s there to sort out?” snapped Norma, standing up herself. The two of them faced off over the table of half-eaten food like gladiators. “I’m leaving you, Kyle. I’m in love with Barb.”

Just in case any of us were brain dead or in full shock, Kyle clarified the situation. “Norma has been having an affair with Barb, who is her tennis coach.” He turned to his side to settle his glare down on Barb, who continued to sit quietly, not challenging or defending anyone. Neither did she make a move to leave.

I was the one who broke the thick silence. “Except for Barb being a woman, isn’t a bored spoiled housewife having an affair with her tennis coach a cliché?”

Norma scooped a handful of stuffing from a serving bowl and flung it in my direction. It hit me on the left side of my face and hair. Had Bea returned to her seat, she would have made a great shield, but after dispatching the kids, she went to stand by her husband’s chair, a hand on his shoulder. She’d rightly sensed a major ruckus about to break out.

“At least I didn’t play the stooge to a lovesick psychopath!” Norma shouted at me.

“What’s this?” asked Pops, who’d finally put down his fork.

“Bea had an affair with Clay, the guy Zelda was dating this summer,” Norma announced.

Mom looked horrified in Bea’s direction. “You cheated on your husband with Zelda’s boyfriend?” Before Bea could answer, Mom looked at me. “Is that why you two broke up?”

“Kind of, but not like you think.” I kept my answer short, not giving any further explanation.

“You have it backwards, Mom,” Norma explained. “Bea had an affair with Clay first, then Clay used stupid Zelda to get back at her.”

Tony cleared his voice and everyone turned to stare at the wronged husband. He placed a hand over the one his wife had on his shoulder. “Bea told me everything and we’ve moved on. It happened while we were briefly separated. From what I understand, Clay started dating Zelda in order to get close to Bea and try to win her back.”

“Norma put her hands on her bony hips. “Did Bea also tell you that Clay blackmailed us to leave her alone? I was the one who wrote the check to get rid of him.”

“Actually,” I interjected as I mopped stuffing off my face with my napkin, “you wrote the check, but Bea and I paid you back every dime, as you insisted.”

“Yes, Bea told me about the blackmail money,” Tony said, his voice firm. “But that has nothing to do with today.”

“Yes,” added Bea, straining to hold back tears. “You were so high and mighty when you found out about my affair with Clay, like you’d never do something like that to Kyle, and now here you are. Mind your own house, Norma. Ours is in order.”

“Wow,” said Pops, “looks like the mouse has grown a pair too. Good for you, Beatrice.”

“If I were you, old man,” my mother said across the table, “I’d be sitting there pretending you’re deaf and dumb.”

“What did I do?” Pops protested.

“My family is falling apart, Edward,” Mom said, “and you sit there like some grinning gargoyle. This is not for your entertainment.”

Mom was about to say something more when we all heard a noise coming from the direction of the front entrance. We turned to look down the hallway that lead to the front door.

“Are you expecting someone, Norma?” Mom asked.

“No,” Normal replied.

Mom picked up her wine glass and tossed back what was left. “With any luck, it’s a murderer come to put us out of our misery.”

Kyle started for the hallway to intercept the intruder. Tony got up and followed. They were barely around the table when the visitor came into sight. It was Dad, standing in the archway grinning, holding a large bouquet of flowers.

“Am I too late for dinner?”

CHAPTER 28

We all turned to stare. Bill Bowen had returned, wanted or not.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” asked my mother. She got up from her seat and stood facing dad with her arms crossed tightly in front of her, her face screwed up in rage.

“It’s Thanksgiving,” Dad answered. “I thought it would be a good day to drop in and make amends.”

I stood up. The only ones still sitting were Pops and Barb. Dad looked at Pops, then quickly looked away. His eyes settled on Barb. “I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, his voice honeyed. “I’m Bill Bowen, the head of this crazy clan.”

“You are the head of nothing!” Mom shouted at him. “You surrendered that role when you left, you cheating bastard.”

Bea was now crying big splashy tears. She sat down in the chair Tony had vacated. Tony went to her and put an arm protectively around her shoulders.

“You are not wanted here, Dad,” I said. “Not today. If you wanted to make amends, you should have called and set up a meeting.

Norma came to my side. “Zelda’s right. You have no right to barge in and ruin our holiday.”

“From what I heard,” Dad said with a smirk, “the shit was already hitting the fan. Same old shit, different holiday. Some things never change.”

He stepped toward Mom, holding out the flowers. “These are for you, Judy. I didn’t come by to start trouble, but to ask for forgiveness.”

Mom took the flowers, while we all watched stunned. My mother wasn’t the forgiving type. She looked up at Dad and smiled. He smiled back. “You look wonderful, Judy.”

In a movement too fast for the human eye, Mom was on him, beating him with the flowers over and over until they disintegrated. None of us stopped her, but shouted and carried on as if at a cock fight. If Mom had a knife or a gun, maybe we would have intervened, but we recognized that Mom needed to release the rage she’d kept pent up for the past year, possibly for decades. Only Pops did not participate in the call for blood. I glanced over at Barb, but she’d slipped away at some point.

Spent, Mom tossed the destroyed flowers on the table and dropped into her chair. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

“What’s going on here?” It was Dick coming in from the kitchen. He saw Dad standing by Mom and Mom crying and flew between them. “Bill, what have you done?”

“Where are the kids?” Bea asked, slightly panicked.

“In the pool house with Barb,” Dick said without taking his eyes from Dad’s face. “Barb fetched me.”

“Hi, Dick,” Dad said with a smile and outstretched hand. “I heard you were dating Judy.”

Dick didn’t take his hand. “Why are you here, Bill?”

“I wanted to see my family on Thanksgiving,” Dad answered. “Or are they your family now? Did you hijack my kids and grandkids along with my wife?”

Dick stepped closer, his usually genial face stern and unbending. “No one hijacked anything, Bill. You left, remember, and without a word. You didn’t even have the guts to face Zelda and Edward when they tracked you down.”

“That’s our business, Dick, not yours,” Dad said. “I’m back now.”

“Oh no you’re not!” Mom yelled, lifting her wet face to stare at my father. “You are never coming back.”

“You need to go, son,” Pops said from his end of the table. “If you want to try and make amends, fine, but not today and not this way.”

Dad looked first at Norma, then me, then at Bea. “Do you all feel that way, too?”

“Out of my house, Dad,” Norma commanded.

“This is not the way to handle this,” I said to him.

He looked at Bea, the baby of his girls. She said nothing but nodded, siding with us.

He continued looking at Bea, knowing she was the weak link. “What about my grandkids, Bea? Can I see them before I go?” Bea shook her head, too emotional to speak. Dad looked at Tony, hoping to appeal the decision.

Tony was angry. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was to explain to our girls why Grandpa was no longer around? How many times they cried because they missed you?”

“Same with Brandon,” Kyle said.

Bea got up and left the room, heading to the kitchen and probably outside to the kids. Tony followed a few seconds later. I followed him. In the kitchen, I opened the fridge and pulled out the tiny pies. “Here, give them these. It will keep them occupied.”

“We’ll be in the pool house, if you need us,” Tony said, taking the pies and kid size utensils I pulled from a drawer. I nodded. The pool house also doubled as a playhouse. The kids would be out of earshot and eyesight there.

While I was doing a quick clean up of my face and hair with a wet paper towel, I heard a crash. I ran back into the dining room to find my father up against a wall, now stained with cranberry sauce — both him and the wall. It was Norma who was throwing things. She was about to heave a gravy boat at Dad when Kyle intervened and grabbed both of her arms, sloshing gravy to the floor.

“Let me go,” she demanded, writhing to get out of her husband’s grasp. Kyle loosened his grip and Norma raised the gravy boat, not at Dad, but at Kyle, bringing it against the side of his head. The gravy boat was made of fine china and shattered. Kyle staggered, but stayed on his feet. Dick jumped in, grabbed Norma and forced her down in a chair.

Kyle, a hand held against his head, turned on my father. “See what you’ve done. Now get out before I call the police!”

Mom was on her feet. She’d stopped crying, but looked miserable, a mixture of rage and despair. “We have all moved on, Bill,” Mom said to my father in a firm voice. “If you want to contact the girls and try to gain their forgiveness, that’s between you and them. But you and I are done. Our marriage was over long before you left, and you know it. Don’t be surprised if even the girls are done with you.”

Pops was up now, his face ashen. He held onto the dining table for support. I went to him. “Pops, are you okay?”

Pops waved a hand at me, but he was looking at my father. “Bill, please go. I’ll go with you.”

“No, Pops,” I said. “I’ll take you home.”

“If Bill wants to take me home, he can,” my grandfather said. “It will give us time to talk.”

We all looked at my father. His head was down, but he nodded.

“Good,” said Pops. “Just let me get my jacket.”

Norma left and returned with Pops’ jacket. I helped him put it on. “Are you sure,” I whispered.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry,” he whispered back. He took both of my hands in his and leaned forward. “No matter what happens in this family, follow your own dreams. You are entitled to them.” He kissed me on the cheek.

We’ve had some doozy Thanksgivings, but this was, without a doubt, the worst yet.

Once Dad and Pops were gone, I started shuttling dishes and leftovers to the kitchen. Mom started to help, but I told her to sit. Norma followed me into the kitchen with her own arms laden with serving bowls.

In silence we worked, cleaning up the table, putting leftovers into containers, and dishes into the dishwasher. Bea came in through the back door. Without a word, she started hand washing the crystal and silver.

“He’s gone,” I told her.

“I know,” Bea said quietly. “Kyle texted Tony he’d left.”

With the three of us working, the kitchen was cleaned up in no time. We returned to the dining room to find it empty. Kyle, Mom, and Dick were seated in the living room, each with a drink in their hand.

“How about Tony and I take Brandon home with us for a night or two?” Bea asked.

Kyle didn’t even check in with Norma before saying, “Thanks. I think that would be a great idea.”

Norma nodded. “I’ll pull together some clothes for him.” Before she left, Tony came in with the kids.

Kyle motioned to Brandon, who ran to him. “How about you having a sleepover with Mona and Marie for tonight and tomorrow? Mommy and I have to take care of some business.” He glanced up at Norma, who was still silent. Brandon jumped up and down, excited about spending time with his cousins.

“Aunt Bea,” Brandon said, “can we have your special french toast for breakfast.”

“Sure,” Bea said with a smile. All three kids celebrated.

“Come on, Brandon,” Norma said, holding out a hand to her son. “Let’s go pack your jammies.”

Just before she left the room, Norma turned to Tony. “Where’s Barb?”

“She left as soon as I took over the kids,” he told her.

Norma looked stricken. “Did she say anything? You know, give you a message for me?” Tony shook his head.

As soon as Tony, Bea, and the three kids left, I asked, “Would someone like pie?”

I was sitting outside on the patio at my mother’s house enjoying quiet and solitude, and a piece of the pie I’d brought back with me, when my cell phone rang. It was a number I didn’t know, but the display said it was from Kentucky. It could be my father or it could be Rachel looking for him. My first impulse was to decline the call, but my curiosity won out. If it was Dad, I wanted to hear what he had to say.

“It’s Dad, Zelda,” the caller said as soon as I answered. “Please don’t hang up.”

“What do you want, Dad?”

“I want to talk. Can I come by?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. I’d had enough of Dad for the day, and Luis would be stopping by later.

“Please, Zelda,” Dad said, his voice quiet through the phone.

“Okay, but I’m at Mom’s these days.”

“I know, Pops told me.” He paused. “I won’t take long, Zelda. I’m in front of the house now.”

“And if I’d said no?”

“Then I would have left. No more barging in. I promise.”

I’m in the back,” I told him. “Bring a jacket. It’s nice out but a bit chilly.”

Dad came through the back gate less than a minute later. He sat in one of the patio chairs near me. He didn’t look as cocky as he had at Norma’s.

“Would you like a piece of pie, Dad? Or a cup of coffee?”

He shook his head. “No thanks. I’m not staying long.”

“How’s Pops?”

“He’s doing fine. He and I had a long talk.” He looked off in the direction of the freeway ramp. “He’s pretty frail, Zel.”

“Yes, he is,” I agreed. “Heart of a lion and the mouth of a jackass, but his body is failing, and fast. He has cancer, you know.”

“Yes, he told me that today. Final stages of pancreatic cancer. He also told me no one in the family knew but you.”

“When we were traveling,” I explained, “I checked out the medications he was taking. I found out that they’re used to treat cancer. He asked me not to tell the others and I haven’t.”

Dad looked at me and offered a faint smile. “Thank you for looking after him. It’s nice that the family, especially Judy, took him into the fold after I left.”

I put my pie plate down on the small round table next to my chair and leaned forward to face him better. “I didn’t discover that you’d also abandoned Pops until June.” Dad flinched at my words and looked away. “He was on his own for months, thinking no one wanted him. Shame on you, Dad. Even the retirement home had no idea who to contact in the event of an emergency. He could have died, alone, and without any way of us knowing. Leaving us without word was bad enough, but leaving a helpless old man without any family support was really hateful.” I shook a finger at him, as if he were a child. “Shame. On. You.”

If there was any sign of guilt on Dad’s face, I didn’t see it. From the tightness of his jaw, which was clear in the outside patio light, I could tell he didn’t like me, his daughter, chastising him.

“Your mother got a new grill,” he said, changing the subject and indicating the grill on the far end of the patio. “She knew I loved that old grill. Probably gave it away instead of saving it for me.”

“The old grill was destroyed in a fire,” I told him. “Mom had nothing to do with it. I destroyed it when I burned the bunny costume.”

Dad turned in surprise and stared at me. “You burned my bunny costume? And my grill?”

“I burned the bunny costume in the grill,” I announced with a bit of pride. It messed it up so much, Mom had to replace it with a new grill.”

“That sounds more like something Norma would do, not you. Now who should be ashamed?”

“Not me, Dad. I feel absolutely no remorse over it. None whatsoever.”

“Are you really that angry at me, Zelda?” he asked.

This was the first time I could ever recall sitting down with my father and discussing important and deep issues. It was also the first time I realized how shallow he was. He was a hollow shell of a man. Did I love him? Yes, even now, sitting next to him on the patio after everything he’d done, I still loved him. But I sure didn’t like him.

“I was angry, Dad. Now I’m simply disappointed in you. Even though Norma, Bea, and I are adults, all of us have acted out on our anger in some way since you left. I burned the bunny. Bea had an affair. Norma has held it together the longest of the three of us, but I think that was probably the worst thing she could have done. Her meltdown tonight was a long time coming. She’s normally uptight, but tonight she imploded her marriage. Maybe she’s in love with this Barb person, or maybe it’s her way of acting out. I don’t know.”

“What about that Barb woman?” Dad asked. “You mean the one at dinner today?”

“Yes, Dad. Right before you showed up, Norma announced she was leaving Kyle because she was in love with Barb, her tennis coach.”

Dad rubbed a hand over his face. “I had no idea Norma was a lesbian.”

“I’m not sure she knows it for sure,” I said, getting up to signal our chat was over. “Barb may have been a passing phase, like Bea’s affair, or maybe it’s the real thing. Norma’s has always been unhappy. Maybe all these years, she was fighting her natural instincts.” I gestured toward the back gate. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Dad, I have to go, I have a date tonight.”

He stood up, his jaw tight again, this time with displeasure at being dismissed. “I hate seeing you so stiff and cold, Zelda. I’m afraid you’re becoming like Norma.”

I chuckled. “Not a chance.”

Dad started for the gate. I stopped him. “One last question, Dad. “Why did you run away when Pops and I found you in Kentucky? Was it because you didn’t want to sign the divorce papers? Or something else?”

He looked up at the evening sky for several minutes. I stayed silent, letting him think about his answer. “Not just because of the divorce,” he finally said. He looked at me. “I didn’t want to be found. I didn’t want my old life intruding on my new one. I finally came to the conclusion that I couldn’t have a new life without taking care of the old one. I really did come back to make amends, Zelda. Not to cause trouble.”

“Are you here to stay? And what about Rachel?”

“Rachel and I are finished,” he said. “As for staying, I’m not sure. Is there any reason for me to stay?”

I gave it some thought. It would be easier if he would just go away, but he was our father. “It won’t be the same as before,” I told him. “Be prepared for that. If you really are looking for forgiveness, you’ll need to start slow and win our trust. You can’t just barge in on holidays and expect a place at the table. It’s going to take time. As for Mom, she’s moved on and will never welcome you back.”

My father smiled at me and moved in for a hug. I held out my arms to keep him at a distance. He looked hurt, but the smile remained. “I always told Rachel that you were the one with a good head on your shoulders.”

“You also told her that I would take care of the family in your absence.”

He nodded. “And you have. Including your grandfather. He adores you, you know.”

“Well, here’s a bulletin, Dad.” I stabbed his chest with my right index finger. “I’m tired of being the only adult in the room. I’ve been the glue holding this broken family together most of my life and that’s over. I’m leaving in a few weeks to travel and have some fun. But in my case the family knows about it. I’m not slinking off into the night without a word.”

When Luis came over an hour later, he found me puffy-faced and snotty-nosed from crying. We went to bed but didn’t make love. Instead, he held me and stroked my hair. He let me weep until I was dry as a bone and fell asleep in his arms.

CHAPTER 29

I stared out across Frenchman’s Bay. The sun was shining and the air crisp and cool. The last time I was here was seven months ago with Pops.

I had been on the road, traveling the country in my RV for two months. At times rocky in the beginning, I had become a pro at handling the van and loved my new life. For now I was just enjoying my travels. Soon I would have to decide what to do for work on the road. Maybe I’ll settle into a small town that catches my fancy and take the occasional odd temp job or two, and soak up the local color. Maybe I’d be able to write articles about my travels and sell them. Time would tell.

My family and I are in touch via texts and calls. Lauri and I talk all the time. The family still counts on me for advice and to settle disagreements, but it’s less frustrating from afar. Mom and Dick officially moved in together and Mom rents out our old house. Right after Thanksgiving, Norma checked herself into a clinic for depression. She was released right before Christmas, and seems better, a lot less angry. Barb the tennis coach disappeared after that insane Thanksgiving, explaining to Norma that she came with too much baggage. I don’t know if Norma and Kyle will make their marriage work. They still live together and are in counseling. I give them an A+ for effort. Bea and Tony are expecting a little boy and decided to name him Edward, after Pops, and couldn’t be happier.

Dad stuck around Southern California for a while, trying to reunite with us girls. I saw him from time to time before I left. Bea made an effort too. Norma couldn’t bring herself to do it. I don’t blame her. Even Bea and I were having a tough time with his up and down moods. One minute he’d be all conciliatory, the next minute angry because we didn’t jump into his arms gushing with forgiveness. I’ve forgiven him, and I think Bea has also, but he still hasn’t earned our trust. It didn’t help when he disappeared without a word right after Pops passed away.

Yes, Pops is gone. The old codger passed away in late February. He’d outlasted all of the doctors’ predictions. Because he was fading so fast, I waited to hit the road. We had a memorial service for Pops at the retirement home, catered by In-and-Out.

The reason Dad might have left could have been the will. Pops left him very little, just some token cash. It was still a tidy sum, but not what he’d expected. Pops was, indeed, very well off, and Dad expected to inherit everything, but Pops had changed his will right before we left on our trip to Kentucky. He left a small amount to Mom. Some to a few charities. The rest of it was divided between his three granddaughters. I often wonder if Dad hung around so long because he knew Pops was dying and he wanted his inheritance. I know that’s cold to think about my own father, but it is what it is.

In addition to the inheritance, I did get a bit more in the way of a major gift. At Christmas Pops quietly handed me a substantial check that was close to the amount I paid for my van. Pops called it payment for my companion services. I tried to refuse, but he insisted, saying if I didn’t take it, he would haunt me. I don’t believe in ghosts, but I do believe in my grandfather’s determination. I wasn’t going to take any chances. Before he died, I took Pops camping along the California coast. On our camping trip, we christened the vehicle the Laura Jean, LJ for short, for my grandmother.

“Hey, stranger,” a familiar voice behind me said. I turned with surprise to see Luis Alvarez standing on the dock.

I spread my arms and we hugged warmly. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to be with you today,” he said. “I didn’t want you to be alone. I flew in last night and rented a car.”

I kissed him. “Thank you. Pops would love knowing you’re here. How long can you stay?”

“As long as you want me to,” he said with a wide grin. “I took a month sabbatical from my practice. My partners will run things while I’m gone. After a month, we’ll see.” He looked me in the eye and winked. “Do you have room for me?”

“The twin beds in my van turn into a full size bed,” I said, winking back.

Without any more banter, we both turned to stare out over the bay. After a few minutes, I pulled a small container of ashes out of my jacket pocket. It was about the size of a baby food jar. I took the lid off and with a small prayer, flung it out into the bay. Ashes spilled in an arc before it hit the water.

“Goodbye, Pops,” I said in a whisper. “Say hi to Grandma for me.”

**********