Scarlet Oaks and the Serial Caller

by Michaela James

  Rubbing her hands across a taupe suede skirt, Marilyn said, “I don’t know how more on board we could be. I remove all the mirrors. I remove my African art, my Vogue and Cosmo magazines. I’m mindful of the food I serve and of every damn thing I say.”

  Holding a shiny purple parcel in the air, Scarlett said, “Do you know how hard it is to find Christmas wrapping paper without the color red? I went to four toy stores before I found the right color toys. Where does it end, Trent? New rules are put in place all the time; we don’t know whether we’re coming or going.”

  About to defend Violet, Scarlet stopped when she saw her brother put his head in his hands and gently sob.

  Biting her lip, Scarlet looked over at Marilyn, who in turn shrugged her shoulders. After a few uncomfortable moments, Marilyn gently escorted Trent back to the chair. Scarlet, still holding an armful of gifts, walked into the foyer and placed them on the table next to the door.

  “I’m making tea,” Scarlet voiced toward the living room as she headed for the kitchen.

  Realizing it was past lunchtime and she hadn’t had breakfast, Scarlet reappeared with not only tea but also a tray full of cheese, pate, and crackers.

  Hands circling a china mug, Trent confessed, “I think she might need psychological help. Every time I say something she doesn’t approve of, she writes it down in a little book to discuss later with her pastor. She’s got me so nervous, I’ve pretty much stopped talking at all. Then, she says my silence shows a lack of interest in our relationship and how can we grow as a couple if we don’t communicate. When I show any enthusiasm for a movie or a television show, she evaluates my interest and then picks it apart. Did I like it because I have hidden violent urges? Do I enjoy seeing women demean themselves? It was a rerun of Cheers for goodness sake!”

  Repressing a smile, Scarlet said, “Oh Trent, I’m so sorry. What can we do to help?”

  Roughly wiping a hand across his eyes, Trent replied, “There’s nothing you can do. It’s my problem, and I should fix it. I appreciate you both listening. Thanks for this,” he added nodding at the tray of half-eaten food.

  Marilyn chuckled, “It’s not exactly Christmas Eve fare, but it hit the spot. Scarlet and I baked yesterday; you must take some goodies back with you.”

  Pulling a face, Trent replied, “Lisa thinks I’m out Christmas shopping. She’d be displeased if she knew I’d come here.”

  Closing her eyes to stop a scream from forming, Scarlet suggested, “Then stay for one more cup and have some pecan pie with it.”

  Marilyn enthusiastically contributed, “I have gifts for the boys that aren’t wrapped yet. You could produce them as fruits of your labor.”

  Looking relaxed for the first time since he arrived, Trent leaned back in his chair. “I like the way you two think.”

  The next hour was spent talking about lighter subjects. Rodney and Hayden’s progress at school, Marilyn’s house hunting, and Prudence’s expanding girth.

  A reluctant Trent began his exit while apologizing for the necessary request that Scarlet, on her way out of town, drop the gifts on his doorstep.

  When a large pinky orange sun began it’s decent, Marilyn and Scarlet collapsed onto the sofa, both agreeing they felt emotionally drained.

  Over a glass of spiced eggnog, a short discussion was had about Trent’s predicament. No conclusions were reached, but mother and daughter decided attending midnight mass was just what they needed.

  “We’ll put Trent’s problem in God’s hands,” Marilyn said before draining her glass.

  Scarlet frowned, “Wow, Mom, I didn’t know you had such faith.”

  Marilyn elevated her chin. “Let’s get dressed up. I want the old biddies of Aptos to see the Oaks women still have it going on.”

  Concealing a cringe with a smile, Scarlet said, “Now, there’s the mother I recognize.”

  Scarlet’s version of ‘dressed up’ was taming her wavy hair, applying makeup, and wearing clothes that were the correct size. Marilyn’s version appeared to be sporting tight designer jeans, high-heeled boots, and every piece of jewelry she owned.

  Sitting on a hard wooden pew, Scarlet cleared her mind and absorbed pleasant current surroundings. Despite being a little more modern than some of Scarlet’s favorite churches in the city, the candles illuminating the young choir singing Silent Night made Christmas magically present for her.

  An hour and a half later, Scarlet struggled to stay in the festive mood, despite the roaring fire and a mug of hot chocolate in hand.

  Marilyn, stroking Prudence a little harder than the pig liked, insisted on filling Scarlet in on the looks she’d received from seemingly every woman at midnight mass.

  Scarlet then suffered through reports of said women’s apparent dirty laundry and cosmetic surgeries. “The nerve,” was intermittently repeated with increased volume.

  Rescuing Prudence, while the pig still had some hair on her body, Scarlet stated it was almost two in the morning, wished her mom a Merry Christmas and begged off to bed.

  Waking to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon, Scarlet savored it for a few minutes, before taking a quick shower.

  She found her mother in the kitchen, singing, I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.

  Scarlet chuckled, “Probably not going to happen in Aptos.”

  Abandoning the song, Marilyn said, “That’s okay. I think the dream is better than the reality.”

  Over coffee and its namesake cake, Marilyn recounted her childhood in Colorado and having more than her fair share of snow.

  Placing a ginger-marinated leg of lamb in the oven, the party of two adjourned to the living room armed with eggnog.

  Following a friendly debate of which was more iconic, White Christmas or It’s a Wonderful Life, Scarlet enjoyed a face time chat with Niles and Tom. Having walked into the kitchen to allow Marilyn uninterrupted viewing of Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye, Scarlet seized the opportunity to call her dad and gran. Making it brief, she wished them a wonderful day, assured them she was safe and happy and said she was looking forward to their own celebration in a couple of days.

  Marilyn and Scarlet’s ability to recite about every other line in the movie allowed them the luxury of opening gifts while watching. The eyeshadow palette was just what Marilyn had wanted. Opening a present from Joe, the latest novel by her favorite author, Marilyn said,

  “I hope he doesn’t think a token gift will change my mind about the alimony.”

  Biting her lip, because today wasn’t the right day for that discussion, Scarlet held up a gold-colored rayon sundress. “This is beautiful, thank you so much.”

  Still holding the paperback, Marilyn replied, “I think you underestimate your popularity. You should always dress like a beautiful celebrity.”

  Scarlet’s smile faded before it was fully formed. “Mom, what did you mean about my celebrity being confirmed yesterday in Aptos?”

  Having walked over to look in the mirror above the mantle, Marilyn, with pallet in one hand and a brush in the other, asked, “Didn’t I tell you about that friendly man who said you’d solved his relationship problems?”

  Scarlet felt a tightening in her chest. “No, I think you were about to when Trent arrived.”

  Mouth open as she applied eyeshadow, Marilyn said, “Where was it? Oh, yes, I was in that darling new boutique on Liberty drive. That’s where I got your … oh, you haven’t opened it yet. What are you waiting for? Tear into the one with the gold and red ribbon.”

  Forcing herself to stay calm, aided by the rationale she probably had no reason not to be, Scarlet, unwrapped the soft package.

  “Wow, it’s lovely,” Scarlett exclaimed holding up a white cotton embroidered shirt.

  Marilyn turned from the mirror. “The sales girl said Cameron Diaz wears the exact same shirt.”

  Smiling, Scarlet enquired, “So how did you get talking to this guy?”

  Marilyn turned back to see her reflection. “I had just asked the sales girl if Cameron wo
re it with skinny jeans and boots when up he walked and introduced himself.”

  Folding the shirt to fit back in the wrapping paper, Scarlet asked, “What was his name?”

  Opening and closing her eyes to admire the new shadow, Marilyn said, “Gosh, I couldn’t tell you. About ten minutes after our chat I was so irritated to see that awful Marjorie from the women’s guild. Do you know what she said to me when your father and I divorced?”

  Scarlet leaned back into the couch. “No, what did she say?”

  Clasping the eyeshadow pallet to her chest, Marilyn whispered, “That Joe hadn’t seemed happy for a very long time.”

  Before Scarlet had a chance to respond, Marilyn continued in a much louder vocal, “How dare she? How dare some stupid old biddy, who barely even knows our family, say something so vile to me in my time of need?”

  “It’s unforgivable,” Scarlet said. Giving what she hoped was a long enough pause, she asked, “Do you remember what this guy looked like?”

  Picking up the still unopened gift Rose had sent her, Marilyn sighed, “I don’t think he’s right for you. He wasn’t very stylishly dressed. When are you going to find a cute guy to date?”

  Feeling her patience wearing thin, Scarlet replied, “I wasn’t thinking of any romance with whomever this guy was you met, Mom. I’ve been on a few dates. The timing’s just not right at the moment. I’m working on getting my teeth into this new job. After that, I think things will improve in my social life.”

  Scarlet watched as her mother slowly unwrapped the gift from Rose. Despite being confident Marilyn was rapidly losing interest in this conversation, Scarlet continued, “I’m only curious about this guy because I didn’t think Bay Radio had a receiver in Aptos. I guess he streams the show on his computer.”

  Marilyn pulled a face as she held up a silk scarf and what looked to be a gold locket. “Do you think she’s trying to glam me up, so I’ll remarry, and then her son won’t have to pay alimony?”

  “No, Mom. I think she cares about you and wanted to get the mother of her grandchildren a nice Christmas gift.”

  At her mother’s sheepish expression, Scarlet added, “That scarf will really set off your eyes. Does the locket open?”

  Setting the scarf on her lap, Marilyn inserted one long, red fingernail into the locket’s opening.

  Hastily wiping at an escapee tear, Marilyn responded, “Baby photos of you, Trent, and Violet.”

  Palm outstretched, Scarlet asked, “May I see?”

  As Scarlet turned over the three inner circles of the locket, she heard her mother say,

  “I guess this means I’ll have to send something back for them.”

  Scarlet handed the locket back to her mother. “I’m sure Dad and Gran aren’t expecting anything.” With a determined intake of breath, she added, “Just one more question about that guy in Aptos yesterday.”

  “Of course,” Marilyn replied. “And then we must eat.”

  Needing to know, but terrified of the answer, Scarlet enquired, “Did he have thinning reddish blond hair and light blue eyes?”

  Marilyn raised her chin and looked towards the ceiling, “No. He had lots of thick dark hair. I couldn’t say on the eyes; he was wearing sunglasses. Don’t you hate it when people wear sunglasses indoors?”

  Scarlet felt her body relax, “Yes, I do.”

  Not long after eating leg of lamb with all the trimmings, drinking too much red wine and crying at the end of White Christmas, Scarlet’s curiosity resurfaced. “This guy you met in the boutique, did he say how I helped him?”

  Marilyn moved a tray table to the side of her chair. “Oh, he was very complimentary. He said he called into your Meddling Men show and got first rate advice.”

  Laughing, Scarlet corrected her mother, “It’s Mending Men, Mom.”

  Giggling, Marilyn volunteered, “He said he was having such trouble with his wife and thanks to you, they’re both in a good place now.”

  Over a full yawn, Scarlet said, “That’s nice. But how…”

  Taking a moment to try and regain her focus after too much food and wine, Scarlet continued, “How did he know you and I were related?”

  Marilyn waved a hand in the air. “We do look alike. You remember one of your Math teachers in high school said we looked like sisters.”

  Scarlet didn’t remember that. Looking at her mother’s straight blond, red and brown streaked hair and collagen filled lips, she wondered how a stranger could see any resemblance at all.

  Marilyn watched Scarlet tap a thumbnail against her bottom lip. “Just take the compliment and don’t worry about the how’s or why’s.”

  Exhaling, Scarlet admitted, “Mom, there’s something I haven’t told you because I didn’t want you to worry.”

  Eyes wide, Marilyn said, “Oh!”

  “My first day on the Mending Men show, this guy named Stewart called. Let me back up a bit first, though. The DJ I succeeded was a real sports guy. He doled out metaphors pertaining to, I guess mostly football and baseball. Supposedly this was, is, advice the callers can relate to. As you know, I support our Bay Area teams, but I’m not exactly a sports nut.”

  Pausing and looking around, Scarlet enquired, “Where did we leave those chocolates?”

  Smiling, Marilyn pointed to the table right in front of her daughter.

  Raising her eyebrows, Scarlet picked up the box and selected a strawberry crème. Offering the beautifully displayed selection to Marilyn, Scarlet continued, “So I was struggling with trying to find a sports analogy to fit this man’s issue of his wife belittling him. I had all these websites open on my computer but I was so nervous, I managed to close the one I needed. Instead of saying send her to the showers, I said bath.”

  Marilyn reached for the chocolate filled box. Squinting at the little index of candies, she suggested, “Well honestly, what difference does shower or bath make anyway. If your Boss has a problem with a simple little mistake like that, then he’s an idiot.”

  “It’s a bit more serious than that, Mom. The guy I gave that advice to, murdered his wife and another woman by drowning them in the bay.”

  Marilyn hastily chewed her caramel. “The guy I read about in the paper. The suspected serial killer?”

  Closing her eyes for a second, Scarlet replied, “That’s the one.”

  Absent-mindedly reaching for another chocolate, Marilyn enquired, “You don’t think this killer will come after you because you said bath instead of shower, do you?”

  Thinking they should have had this conversation before consuming a bottle of red wine, Scarlet replied, “I think he might have taken the advice literally. He called in again and thanked me for helping him. I was feeling all happy with the kudos until the police told me he’s murdered, two women.”

  Marilyn shook her head. “He called into a radio station full of lots of people. He doesn’t know your home address or have any idea who you are or what you look like.”

  “The problem is…” Scarlet interrupted, “he’s left flowers on my car and seems to want to sort of stay in contact.”

  Pausing to gauge Marilyn’s level of concern, Scarlet deduced saying nothing of the call to her cell phone and additional flowers was the right thing to do.

  Her face drained of color, Marilyn asked, “He wouldn’t want to hurt you, would he? Why would he want to hurt you, it doesn’t make any sense?”

  Holding Prudence tightly, Scarlet replied, “None of this makes any sense, Mom. I’m sure he doesn’t want to hurt me, but I have constant surveillance just to be safe.”

  Looking around her living room, Marilyn enquired, “You do? Are we being watched right now?”

  Scarlet pulled a face. “Yep. But they’re good at staying hidden.”

  Straightening her skirt, as if she were about to go outside and greet them, Marilyn asked, “How many are there? I wish you’d said something earlier. We could have given them a nice Christmas dinner, goodness knows we have enough food.”

  Laughing, Scarlet replie
d, “I don’t think we’re supposed to socialize with them. I have no idea how many there are, but they like to stay in the shadows, not meet in groups for a picnic.”

  Marilyn narrowed her eyes. “All the same, those poor young men out there are away from their families for Christmas.”

  Smiling mischievously, Scarlet asked her mother, “Who said they were young?”

  Giggling, Marilyn avoided the question, “I don’t think there would be any harm in leaving some baked goods on the doorstep tomorrow morning.”

  Relieved the thought of having her house surrounded by strong young men appeared to be distracting Marilyn from the worry of a serial killer, Scarlet volunteered, “They’re not pigeons mother. How will they know it’s for them unless you start breaking bits off and throwing it towards the trees?”

  Throwing a chocolate wrapper at her daughter, Marilyn said, “You are an awful girl.” Clasping her hands together she added, “No need to worry about your Aptos fan. I’m sure he just likes you is all. Definitely not your type, though. My goodness, he spoke so slowly, I think he’d drive a person crazy!”

  Feeling as if she might possibly faint, Scarlet looked around frantically for her cell phone.

  “The last I saw, it was on the kitchen counter,” Marilyn responded to her daughter’s panicked inquiry. “Who on earth are you calling at this time of night?”

  Running to the kitchen, Scarlet called out, “When you say slowly, was it painfully slow?”

  Struggling to comprehend the situation, Marilyn answered, “His speech was pretty slow, but lots of people speak slowly. Are you telling me this is the guy? Just because I said, he spoke slowly?”

  Coming back into the living room with cell phone in hand, Scarlet enquired, “The hair, could it have been a wig?”

  Nervously rubbing her hands together, Marilyn murmured, “I guess it could have been. There was a lot of it and men his age don’t tend to have that much hair.”

  “His age!” Scarlet almost shouted, “you didn’t mention his age.”

  With an edge of irritation, Marilyn said, “You didn’t ask, and I didn’t know it was important. I couldn’t see his eyes, but he had loose skin around his chin which made me think he was in his late fifties maybe.”