Kitabı oku: «Life According to Lucy», sayfa 3
A noise in the bushes distracted them both. That little dog of hers was digging furiously in one of the beds. “Looks like the pup’s ready to get started,” he said.
“Hey! Get out of there!” She lunged and the dog darted away.
“What are you going to call her?” Greg asked.
She brushed aside the shower of leaves that had drifted onto her arms and shoulders when she’d gone after the dog. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”
“You found her in the garden. It ought to be something to do with gardening. How about Rose?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Rose doesn’t sound like a dog’s name.”
He looked around, seeking inspiration on the shelves outside the potting shed. Ortho—no. Daconil—He didn’t think so. Mille fleur fertilizer…He grinned. “How about Millie?”
She looked down at the dog. “I think I like it. What do you think, Millie?”
The dog’s ears drooped and she let out a low growl.
“I don’t think she likes it,” Greg said.
“Well, I do.” She scooped the dog into her arms. “From now on, I’m calling her Millie.”
He glanced around the garden again. “I’ll have a crew out on Monday.”
“Can’t you start today?”
He shook his head. “I have other jobs. This is going to take some time.” Although he didn’t know how much time the roses had left.
“What can I do to help?” she asked.
“You can pull all the mulch away.” He gestured to the beds. “We’ll need to dig out everything, put in new soil, prune, spray, fertilize….”
Her shoulders drooped and she cuddled Millie closer. “Uh, okay. I guess we’ll wait until Monday then.”
He grinned. “I’ll see you then.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll probably be at work.”
He thought he did a pretty good job of hiding his disappointment. “Where do you work?”
“Here and there.” She waved her hand in the air. “I’m between jobs right now, so I’m doing temp work until I find something in my field.”
“That must be interesting.”
“It’s not. Most of it bores me out of my mind, but it pays the bills. Some of them, anyway.” She glanced back toward the house. “It’ll be good for me to stay here a while, to, uh, help out my dad, you know.”
“Yeah.” He’d moved back home the last few months of his father’s life. It had been a strangely disorienting experience, but one he didn’t regret.
They stood there for a moment, alternately looking at each other and the half-dead garden. Even disheveled with no makeup, she was beautiful. She had short, spiky dark hair and big green eyes with long dark lashes and delicate features. Not a conventional beauty maybe, but she definitely stirred something in him.
“Well…uh, I’d better let you be going,” she said finally. She took a step back toward the house. “See you around.”
“Yeah. See you.”
She let him out the back gate. He made himself walk to his truck without looking back, but he was sure he felt her gaze on him. When he reached the truck, he risked a glance in her direction. She was still there at the gate, the dog in her arms, a pensive look on her face, as if she was trying to figure him out.
“Then that makes two of us,” he said softly, and climbed into the truck. If you come up with any answers, be sure to let me know.
Lucy watched Greg drive off and waited for the overheated feeling inside her to vanish. She’d obviously been alone too long if an arrogant geek like Greg could make her all hot and bothered. With any luck she’d have a job on the other side of town Monday and she wouldn’t see him at all.
She went back inside and found Dad gathering up his keys and wallet. “Dad, where are you going?”
“I’m meeting a friend for brunch.”
She sniffed the air. The distinct smell of Brut wafted over her. “The same friend you were with last night?”
He grinned. “No, a different one.” He kissed her cheek. “See you later.”
“Great, my dad has a better social life than I do.” Millie didn’t offer any sympathy this time. She was still staring after Lucy’s dad, a funny look on her face.
Lucy decided to call shelters. Not that she really wanted anyone to claim Millie, but she figured she had to make an effort, in case the pup was some child’s dog. She didn’t want to be responsible for some kid crying herself to sleep every night for the next week.
“Hello, Noah’s Ark? I have a poodle that wandered into my yard last night…. It’s a toy poodle, about fifteen pounds…Her hair is orange. Well, not really orange, sort of pinkish orange…. Oh, all right then, apricot…. No one’s reported a missing apricot toy poodle? Thank you.” She left her number, just in case, and moved on to the next listing.
Six shelters and not one had a report of a missing apricot poodle. She set down the phone and smiled at Millie. “Well, girl, looks like we’re stuck with each other.”
“Woof!”
So now should she spend a Saturday morning home alone doing laundry, or should she try to scare up a little fun? As if the washing machine wouldn’t still be there tomorrow. She decided to do something productive—her nails. She was adding the second coat of Marvelous Mauve when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“What are you doing answering the phone at your parents’ house? Is something wrong?”
“Hello, Gloria.” She rolled her eyes. Gloria Alvarez was her oldest and dearest friend, and the one person who wouldn’t let her get away with anything. “Why are you calling my parents’ house?”
“I called your number and got a recording that said it had been disconnected. Then I tried your cell and no one answered. I stopped by your place and there’s some old guy with no teeth sitting in your living room.”
“It’s not my living room anymore.”
“What? You got a roommate?”
“No, I’ve been evicted.”
“Evicted? Kopetsky did that to you? How dare he!”
She smiled. That was Gloria for you. Ready to leap to a friend’s defense without a second thought. If Lucy let her, Gloria would be organizing a picket line to patrol the sidewalk in front of her old apartment and writing irate letters to the Houston Chronicle. “I think it had something to do with the fact that my rent checks kept bouncing.”
“Oh.” A long silence while she pictured Gloria taking a slug on her extra-large chai with soy milk. “Listen, if you’re a little short right now, I could loan you—”
“That’s okay. I appreciate it, but I’m doing okay. Really. I just need to keep track of things better.” And maybe cut down on shopping…but no, she’d catch up on everything as soon as she found a real job again.
“So where are you living now? I’d offer you a place, but with Dennis and the girls there’s no room.” Dennis was Gloria’s boyfriend, a struggling comedian who supplemented his income by teaching at a comedy defensive driving school. The idea was, if people had to sit through eight hours of traffic laws and driving techniques, at least make it entertaining. Dennis might never have a future on stage, but his presentation of the top ten ways to avoid a traffic ticket had people rolling in the aisles. The girls were a pair of greyhounds Gloria adopted from a rescue organization. Their names were Sand and Sable, tall elegant dogs that looked almost comical walking alongside short, round Gloria.
“That’s okay. I have a place to live.”
“Where? Don’t tell me you moved in with that musician. I told you he’s no good for you.”
“That musician” was an angst-ridden aspiring country star Lucy had dated for a few weeks. He only knew three chords on the guitar and he sang with a twang that would peel paint, but he looked spectacular in a pair of starched jeans and a cowboy hat, so Lucy had no doubt he’d go far. Gloria had hated him on sight.
Gloria hated all the men Lucy dated. She claimed to be able to read in the tarot cards that these men weren’t good enough for her friend. Maybe she was right, since no man had been good for her yet. “No, I moved back home. Just until I get back on my feet again.”
She was sure Gloria would have lots to say on this subject, none of it good, but her friend surprised her. “That’s a good idea,” she said. “It’s healthy to get back to your roots sometimes. Home is a good place to heal.”
“Gloria, I’m not sick.”
“Maybe not physically, but spiritually—Listen, I have a new book to lend you. It’s called Karmic Healing and the woman who wrote it…”
Lucy sort of tuned out the rest of what Gloria had to say. So sue her. Gloria had a new theory about life every week. She was into crystals, fortune telling, feng shui, aura reading and ancient Native American rituals. Only last week, she’d told Lucy ten different ways to realign her chakras.
As for Lucy, if a theory didn’t involve shopping or chocolate, she wasn’t interested. “I have to go, Gloria. I, uh, I think someone’s at the door.”
“Wait, wait. I have to tell you the reason I called. My friend Jean has a booth at the downtown art fair and I told her I’d stop by. Wanna come?”
“Sure. I’m into art.” Anything was better than washing her father’s shorts. “And afterwards maybe we could swing by the mall….”
Gloria laughed. “Okay. Pick me up in half an hour.”
4
Making simple matters complex or complex matters simple are both bad gardening techniques.
LUCY LEFT MILLIE with a breakfast of canned tuna and a fresh bowl of water. She made a mental note to buy dog food and something more substantial than dry cereal for herself while she was out today. After she’d backed the car out of the garage, she glanced back and the dog was watching her out the window like an abandoned child. I don’t need this kind of guilt, she thought.
Gloria and Dennis shared a duplex off Gessner. It was one of those areas of the city that used to be run-down but was now trendy. Slick new apartments sat side by side with sagging bungalows. Gloria claimed this gave the neighborhood character. Personally, Lucy thought it meant paying high taxes and still having to dodge the crack-house traffic on weekends.
But Gloria and Dennis had fixed up their place and it looked real nice, if you didn’t mind purple burglar bars on the downstairs windows and a red front door. When Lucy pressed the door bell, she set off frantic barking, accompanied by the scrabble of toenails on the hardwood floors. Gloria opened the door and Sand and Sable launched themselves at Lucy with all the enthusiasm of body surfers in a mosh pit. She fended off doggy kisses and lashes from doggy tails. “Yes, I’m thrilled to see y’all too,” she said as Gloria dragged them by the collars back into the house.
Dennis appeared in the hallway, a container of instant ramen noodles in his hand. “Hey, Lucy. What are you chicks up to?” Like many men in their late twenties and early thirties, Dennis had his hair cut very short in an attempt to disguise the fact that he was going bald. Unfortunately, he also had rather large ears, one of which sported a gold loop. When he wore a white T-shirt, as he did now, he bore a startling resemblance to Mr. Clean.
“I told you, we’re going over to see Jean’s display at the art festival.” Gloria made a face at Lucy. “He never listens.”
“I listen.” He stabbed at the noodles. “I just don’t agree that what Jean does is art.” He pointed the forkful of quivering noodles at her. “She makes collages out of garbage.”
“It’s found art,” Gloria corrected.
“Garbage.”
Lucy hated it when her friends fought. She never knew what to say and besides, the argument was usually over something really uninteresting. It wasn’t as if she could actually get involved in the conversation. “How did it go at the Laugh Stop last night?” she asked Dennis.
“Lame crowd.” He spoke around a mouthful of ramen. “They wouldn’t know funny if it bit ‘em in the ass.” He dropped the fork into the ramen container and set it on the hall table. “Gotta go. Got a class this afternoon.” He aimed a kiss in the direction of Gloria’s cheek. “Catch you chicks later.”
When he was gone, Lucy helped Gloria put the girls in the backyard. “How was your first night back at home?” Gloria asked.
“Okay, I guess.” She waited while Gloria locked the various deadbolts on her front door. “My dad went out on a date.”
“A date?” She grinned. “I think that’s sweet.”
Lucy led the way to her car. “Gloria! It’s only been a year.”
“But your mom was sick for a year before that. I mean, he must have been lonely. Besides, your dad’s kinda cute. If I didn’t have Dennis—”
Lucy clapped her hands over her ears. “You did not say that. I do not want to hear my best friend lusting after my dad.”
She opened the car and they both slid in. “Speaking of lust, is there a new man in your life?” Gloria asked as she fastened her seat belt.
“No. Why would you think that?”
“Your aura has a nice warm red tone today. Signifying sexual arousal.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. The things Gloria believed. “I do not have a new man in my life.” She pulled the car into traffic and headed downtown.
“Auras don’t lie. You haven’t met anyone new? Even casually?”
“No. Well, not unless you count the gardener I hired to try to salvage my mom’s rose garden.”
“Oh? Is this a male gardener?”
She thought of Greg Polhemus’s well-defined muscles and broad shoulders. “Uh, yeah.”
“Then he counts.” Gloria angled toward Lucy and assumed her therapist’s tone of voice. “Tell me about him.”
She shrugged. “What’s to tell? His dad always took care of my mom’s garden. I got his number out of her garden planner. But then the old man’s son showed up instead.”
“What happened to the old man?”
“He died. About the same time as my mom.”
“See, there’s something you have in common.”
“Gloria, I am not lusting after this guy. He’s a gardener and that’s it.”
“Is he good-looking?”
She squirmed and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “I suppose. If you like the clean-cut, straight-arrow type.”
“And, of course, you don’t.”
“Come on, Glor. Have I ever gone in for guys like that? You know I dig men who are more exciting. Dark and dangerous.”
“Maybe that’s why you’re still single.” She held up her hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m only saying auras don’t lie. You ought to think about this guy more.”
“All I’m thinking about is whether or not he’s going to save my mom’s roses. You should see them. They’re pathetic. Mom would cry.”
Gloria leaned across the seat and patted her hand. “It’ll work out. Things always do.”
Easy for someone to say who already had a job and a man she loved.
They snagged a parking place a couple blocks from the festival and followed the crowds toward the plaza that had been taken over by artists’ booths. Lucy could have found her way with her eyes closed by following the smell of corn dogs, funnel cakes and sunscreen that was the particular perfume of any outdoor festival.
In addition to food and artwork of every description, the booths featured an array of handmade items, from intricate beaded jewelry to crocheted doilies no extra roll of toilet paper should be without.
Halfway down the first aisle, she spotted a booth advertising homemade doggie treats. She grabbed Gloria’s arm. “Wait, I want to get some of these.”
“You don’t have a dog.” She followed her into the booth.
Lucy grabbed up a plastic bag and began filling it with bone-shaped cookies. “I do now. She showed up in the garden last night. An apricot poodle. I named her Millie.”
“How sweet. That’s a very good sign, you know, that she chose you for her new home. Animals have good instincts about people.”
“Glor, it’s a stray dog. She was in our yard. Where else was she supposed to go?”
Gloria spread her arms wide. “Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling you you’re about to begin a series of new relationships.”
I’d settle for one good relationship with a member of the opposite sex, she thought, but she didn’t dare tell Gloria that. She might start in on Greg Polhemus again.
They found Jean’s booth in the second aisle. Jean worked at the crisis center with Gloria when she wasn’t assembling art from trash. Lucy studied a piece displayed at the front of the booth. It featured a penny, a dime, a gum wrapper, a cough drop covered with fuzz and a ball of lint formed into something resembling a tornado, in which the aforementioned items whirled. Wash Day Blues was neatly inscribed in ink across the bottom.
“It’s a collection of all the items I found in my pockets while doing laundry,” Jean explained, coming up behind her. “Clever, huh?”
“Uh, yes.” But would anyone actually pay for it?
While Gloria and Jean discussed the significance of garbage as a cultural indicator, Lucy wandered across the aisle to a booth displaying beaded jewelry. Now this was art she could relate to. She picked out a black-and-purple choker and carried it over to the mirror to try it on. She’d about decided she had to have it when a movement in the mirror caught her eye. A woman in a tight leather miniskirt, fringed tank top and hot-pink cowboy boots was waving a peacock feather fan around like she was Gypsy Rose Lee while a gray-haired man in starched jeans and ostrich boots looked on.
Her stomach took a dive toward her ankles as her numb brain finally registered that the guy was her dad and the woman was someone she’d never seen before in her life.
She dropped the choker and whirled around, gasping for air. Gloria ran over to her. “Lucy, what’s wrong? Your face is so pale. And your aura…” She stepped back and furrowed her brow. “Honey, your aura looks really bad.”
Who gives a flying fig what my aura looks like? She felt like shouting, but some invisible hand had a hold of her throat and all she could do was point in the direction her dad and his “date” had headed.
When she could talk again, she told Gloria she’d seen her dad with a strange woman. “Come on, we have to follow them.” She took off after them, past a booth full of pottery, a caricature artist and a display of batik clothing. She finally spotted them at the funnel cake booth. Little Miss Leather was breaking off bits of fried dough and feeding them to her dad, who obediently opened his mouth like a toddler playing the airplane game.
She grabbed on to the corner post of the sausage-on-a-stick hut, feeling sick to her stomach.
“C’mon, Loo. What’s the big deal? He’s just having a little fun.”
“Gloria, that woman is my age.”
She tilted her head to one side, considering this. “Oh, I think she’s a little older than that. Thirty, at least.”
“That’s still twenty-five years younger than my dad. And look at the way she’s dressed.”
“That leather looks awfully warm for this time of year. But the boots, very retro. I wouldn’t mind a pair for myself.”
Lucy glared at her. “Whose side are you on anyway?”
“I have to choose a side? I didn’t know we were having a fight.”
She clenched her hands into fists. “We aren’t, but we will be if you keep insisting on defending that bimbo.”
Gloria shook her head and made a tsking sound. “Now, be rational.”
“I don’t want to be rational!” Honestly, what was rational about this situation? This was her father they were talking about, not some stranger. A man who had spent almost every Saturday for the past ten years at the hardware store or watching sports on television. Why was he suddenly chasing around after a woman half his age?
“You don’t even know her,” Gloria said. “She might be very nice.”
She took a deep breath. This was one of the things she didn’t understand about life: just when she thought she was all grown-up, a sensible, mature woman, something like this would happen to make her feel like a six-year-old. The thought of throwing a temper tantrum was eerily satisfying at the moment.
About that time the woman in question started sucking the sugary remnants of the funnel cake off her fingers with an enthusiasm that caused her dad’s eyes to glaze over, and Lucy’s brief stab at maturity to flee. “I don’t care if she teaches kindergarten to underprivileged children and spends Sundays volunteering at the nursing home,” she growled. “I don’t want her dating my father.”
The couple started off walking again and Gloria and Lucy followed at a distance. They were holding hands now, her father standing so erect, shoulders squared and chest out, that Lucy wondered how he could breathe.
It wouldn’t be so bad if he dated someone his own age, she thought. Someone sweet and motherly. But what did a bombshell like this gal see in a fifty-five-year-old man? Okay, so he was in pretty good shape for his age, but honestly…What if she was trying to scam him? Dad would be easy to take advantage of. After all, he’d been out of the dating scene a long time. He didn’t know what it was like out there. Things were bound to have changed a lot and he’d be an easy mark for some unscrupulous bimbo.
Dad and the woman stopped at a booth selling ceramic masks. While she admired one of the fanciful creations, Dad turned to face Lucy and Gloria, gazing idly around. Lucy ducked into the large tent to keep from being seen.
The tent featured all kinds of bushes and trees growing in pots and cut into fanciful shapes. “Topiaries,” Gloria said, admiring a baby elephant sculpted of ivy. “These are very nice.”
Lucy peeked out from behind a penguin made of privet. “Are they still over by the masks? I can’t see.”
Gloria glanced behind her. “They’re still there.”
Lucy moved up, still keeping behind the displays in case Dad looked this way again. “What are they doing?”
“I think she’s trying to convince your father to buy one for her.”
“I knew it! She thinks he’s her next sugar daddy.”
“Good afternoon, ladies. May I help you?” A smiling, older Latina woman approached. “That is a beautiful poodle, isn’t it?”
Lucy stepped back and realized she’d been lurking behind a larger-than-life sized rendition of a poodle. “Uh, yes. Yes, it is.” She thought of Millie. Why hadn’t she stayed home with her today instead of ending up in this mess?
“Are you looking for something in particular?” the saleswoman asked.
She shook her head. “Uh, no. We’re just looking.”
“Uh-oh,” Gloria hurried to join her behind the poodle. “They’re headed this way.”
The saleswoman looked confused. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Everything’s fine.” She retreated further into the tent. “We’ll have a look over here.”
“Over there!” Gloria nudged her and pointed to a sign marked Maze.
She followed her into the maze, which had been formed out of pots of clipped hedges. The only problem was, the hedges were only chest high. They had to crouch down to stay hidden. Which meant her butt was sticking up. Not the most attractive position.
“I think this must be for kids,” Gloria said.
She peeked over the top of the maze and saw her dad and the woman enter the tent. Her dad pointed to the poodle and said something that made the woman laugh. She ducked down again, narrowly avoiding being seen.
“Why don’t you go out there and introduce yourself?” Gloria said.
She was right, of course. This was a public place. There was no reason she shouldn’t walk right up to her father and say hello. Except how would she explain what she was doing in the kiddie maze?
That, and the fact that she was a coward.
“They’re coming this way,” Gloria hissed.
She tried to see through the bushes, but they were too thick. Then she spotted a gap a little farther down the line. If she spread a couple of branches apart with her hands, she could just fit her head through…there. Now she could see them and she was pretty sure they couldn’t see her.
The woman was clinging to Dad’s arm as if she might fall over without support and Dad still looked slightly dazed. He was carrying a plastic bag that she guessed held the mask and no telling what other swag she’d talked him into buying for her. Come over here a little closer, she thought, glaring at her. I’ll drag you into these bushes and show you what happens to women who take advantage of my father.
About that time, they turned in her direction and she shrank back. Of course, she had no real intention of getting into a catfight in the middle of the children’s maze. She liked to think she was tough, but her real nature had the fortitude of warm custard.
Something on the far side of the tent caught the bimbo’s eye and she dragged Dad off in that direction. Lucy heaved a big sigh. While the woman and Dad were occupied elsewhere, maybe she could sneak away.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Gloria said. Lucy felt her crawl past.
She had every intention of joining her friend, but when she tried to turn around, her head wouldn’t move. She was wedged firmly in the tightly woven branches. “Uh, Gloria?” she said in a loud whisper.
But apparently Gloria was already too far away to hear her. Lucy wrapped her fingers around the limbs on either side of her neck and tried to pry them apart, but all that got her was scratches on her arms. Great, she thought. I’ll be stuck here forever.
“Daddy, what’s that lady doing over there?”
“I don’t know dear. Perhaps she lost a contact lens. Let’s not bother her.”
Yeah right. Everybody looks for contact lenses in the walls of a maze. She guessed it made as much sense as spying on your own father. She pulled back harder, tears stinging her eyes as twigs raked her skin and tangled in her hair.
She could feel sweat running down her spine and making the backs of her knees sticky. Her underwire was cutting a groove into her left breast. And about that time, like a four-year-old on a road trip in the middle of nowhere, her bladder announced that she really did have to pee. Honestly, could things get any worse?
“I’ve seen a lot of strange things at these art shows, but this has to be one of the most, uh, interesting.” She froze as the deep masculine voice sounded behind her. The bushes rustled, and then a familiar face was level with hers. “Lucy Lake, what are you doing here?”
She would ever after be able to testify that it was not possible to die of embarrassment. If it were possible, she’d have keeled over right there. Standing there before her in all his muscular, tanned glory was Greg Polhemus. As she glared at him, he threw back his head and laughed.
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