by Robyn Carr
Rose was taller than Louise, as was just about everyone, and still straight as a poker. Her face was what she liked to call seasoned, her hair a flaming red; she drove all the way into Las Vegas to have it colored every three weeks. Her hips were slim and her teeth strong, straight and white. She’d taken good care of herself and didn’t suffer from any of the degenerative conditions that plagued Louise.
Rose was a perpetual fashion plate. Today she wore a black midi-length skirt and gray snakeskin boots with a slim heel and very pointy toes. A bright orange poncho was draped over her black turtleneck. Amazingly, it did not clash with her teased red hair. Her lips matched the poncho, and gold chains sparkled around her neck and wrists.
Louise lifted her glasses and peered down at Rose’s feet. “How do you walk in those things?”
“They look good, that’s how. Tell me you didn’t go through with it,” Rose demanded. “You didn’t invite that bald-headed creature to stay in your house.”
Louise glanced up over her glasses. “You and Doris will get on very well. It’s obvious she could use the support and counsel of an older woman.” She pulled off her glasses. “And she’s not so bald anymore. She’s got a little hair growing in. She’s actually quite beautiful...except for that ridiculous mannish costume she wears.”
“Phoo,” Rose said. “She’s going to rob you blind and run off in the night.”
“If she runs off in the night, she’ll only take what she can fit in the backpack. She doesn’t even own a car.”
“You have no reason to believe you can trust her.”
“She’s been working for Buzz for weeks, and as generous as he is, he won’t condone any dishonest act. If so much as a quarter were missing, he’d let her go.”
“Phoo.”
Rose turned and left the porch. She was back a second later with a glass of iced tea—she had helped herself from Louise’s refrigerator—then draped herself in the wicker chair opposite Louise’s worktable. Although actually only about five foot four, she always wore heels to give her height, and her slender form made it seem she had very long legs and arms. “What did you tell her?”
“That my usual house sitter was unavailable.”
“But Alex and I keep Alice when you’re gone!”
“Alice will be happier at home. Besides, the girl needs a place for a little while and I’ll feel better knowing she’s here.”
“Utter nonsense. Leave well enough alone.”
“She’s obviously in trouble. And if you dare tell her that I’m doing a good turn, I’ll have your hide.”
“Alex is going to have a fit,” Rose predicted.
“I’ll have a word with him,” she said. But he should mind his own business sometimes. Although, since he probably wouldn’t, Louise figured maybe he could be of help. Louise and Rose had nothing but affection for Alex. He lived on one side of Louise with Rose on the other. Alex was young, thirty-five, and made it his business to look after these little old ladies when he should be spending more energy on beautiful young women. He scolded them for opening the door to strangers, for never locking doors when they left the house, for giving too much information on the phone, for not being more cautious. Rose was right—this was going to bother him. But he’d get over it.
“I was hoping you’d reconsider the trip this year,” Rose said.
“Why would I do that? I love my annual sojourn.”
“It’s getting harder for you, though.”
“Tell me about it. Just thinking about that plane ride makes my joints begin to throb. But I like being near Rudy.”
“That’s just crazy, and at your age,” Rose said shortly. Then, softening her tone, she said, “I just thought that might change, is all. As you got older.”
“It’s a matter of not giving in, dammit. But I admit, it’s hard leaving Alice. I always wonder if she’ll still be around when I get back.”
“I’ll watch. But about this girl...”
“She’s a good girl. Just odd. She’ll be fine.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Well, it’s done. I’m going to give her a debit card for groceries and supplies for household upkeep and set her up to receive one hundred dollars a week.”
“A hundred dollars? Have you lost your mind?”
“Not enough?” Louise asked, thinning eyebrows arched.
“Too much! Way too much! You’re buying her food, paying all the bills, giving her a place rent free....”
“She has to take care of Alice and keep the house in order. It’s a job. People get paid for jobs.”
“Don’t be surprised if you get burned....”
“With you right next door, never giving her a moment’s privacy? You’re right—she could flee in want of a moment’s peace!”
“Ptui,” said Rose.
* * *
It was just after lunch when Louise knocked at Alex’s door. He was pulling on a clean shirt as he answered. “Hey, sweetheart. Why didn’t you just call me? I’d have come to you.”
“I had to stretch my legs. I stiffen up in four minutes, I think. Can you get that big suitcase from the garage to the bedroom for me? Tomorrow is soon enough if you’re going somewhere.”
“I’m going to work, but there’s no rush,” he said, buttoning his shirt. “I’ll get it for you before I go.”
“And... I have a house sitter. Doris—the young woman who’s been waiting tables for Buzz for the last month.”
“The girl with the butch haircut and man’s pants?” he asked, frowning. He didn’t wait for an answer—he knew who she was. And he knew Buzz and his proclivity for giving work to down-on-their-luck transients. “What do you know about her?”
“Let’s see. She reads everything I recommend, and quickly. She likes jazz. She’s thinking of getting a mountain bike—she used to love biking. She’s very protective and big sisterish toward Hedda, who could use an ally in her life. And—she adores Alice.” She leaned both hands heavily on her cane. “Think of her as my houseguest and behave yourself.”
He laughed, shoving his shirttail into his pants. “You don’t have to worry that I’ll come on to her,” he said. He went to the breakfast bar to get his wallet and attach his gun to his belt. Alex was a Metro police detective in Las Vegas.
“No, I’m worried that you’ll try to investigate her and I just want you to know I would consider that extremely rude.”
“I would only do that if I thought there was a reason....”
“As long as you don’t think Doris living in my house is a reason. Am I clear?”
He grinned handsomely. “What makes you think you can push me around so much?”
“Old age.”
He put an arm around her. “Don’t worry—I’ll be nice to your house sitter. I’ll give her a wide berth. Now, let’s get the big suitcase before I leave.”
“Don’t you usually work days?” she asked.
“My hours have been all over the place lately. We’ve had a rash of home invasions in the city and I’m going to sit a stakeout with our target team. We think we know who it is, it’s just a matter of catching them.”
Louise shuddered. “I’m so glad to be living here,” she said. “Now, you be very careful, young man.”
“Always, my love.” He kissed the top of her head.
* * *
Jennifer did as much as she could to make herself indispensable to Buzz and Adolfo in the mornings. Then, with most of the chores done by early afternoon, when Hedda came on, the girl had more time to spend on homework.
Buzz and Adolfo had become more like family to her in one month than Nick Noble had in two years, and she was very grateful for them. She cleaned the bathroom, took out the trash, washed up the dishes and pots, swept the walk in front of the diner. She shined the glass, polishe
d the stainless steel, watered the plants and dusted all the old black-and-white photos of Las Vegas celebrities that hung on the walls. This place, the diner and the town, was like a cocoon to her, sheltering her from her past and her future. As long as she was right here, she lived in the moment, and the moment, in all its simplicity, was lovely.
If she weren’t so afraid of Nick, she’d almost like to thank him. For the first time in ten years the pressure to be perfect was off. Her constant grip on control was unnecessary—she was loose in this body without all the trimming and constant upkeep. All she had to do was relax into this modest role and enjoy her own feelings for once. There was such amazing freedom in this.
She was beginning to have relationships, shallow though they might be. Still, it was far more than she had indulged in while she was trying to keep some man interested.
From here she could look back over some of her choices. Being the girlfriend of rich older men had seemed like a safe and practical way to spend some time, but suddenly ten years had flown by. She’d gone from nineteen to thirty in a flash, hardly feeling the passage of time. The only way in which she acknowledged aging at all was with the clear realization that she wouldn’t be young and beautiful forever, and she would have to plan her next career path with no time to spare.
Now it amazed her that she had fooled herself into believing she could be satisfied with that. Catering to someone else’s needs, leaving her own for later, in order to live a material life and avoid the risk of falling in love and having her heart broken? What was that about? Her idea of security was suddenly skewed, for what good were her savings and investments if her life was in danger?
Yet, danger or not, here she was now, a woman alone with simple needs and experiencing entirely new feelings. It verged on happiness. How, she asked herself, had she managed to get to be thirty years old before figuring that out?
While Louise prepared to leave the country, Jennifer went to her house a few times to become familiarized with the place, to get instructions on the upkeep, the bills, the bank, the care of the dog and, most important, the computer. Through that process two things became glaringly obvious. She wondered how Louise, at her age and infirmity, could manage the kind of trip she was undertaking. And second, she realized she would miss her. Jennifer had begun to look forward to her breakfast companion and had come to think of her as a friend, even if they didn’t share any personal information.
“I’m taking my laptop,” Louise said. “So we can email all the time. I will never be far away with that convenience.”
Jennifer’s big brown eyes brightened. “It will be almost like having you here.”
“Better,” she said. “I don’t complain about my joints so much in email.”
Then the day came for Louise to leave. The cab that would take her to the airport pulled up in front of the diner and Jennifer went out to say goodbye. “Alice is at home, moping. She started acting injured and dejected when she saw the suitcases come out two days ago, and now she’s in a full-blown depression. Don’t be too concerned if she picks at her food for a couple of days. It’s her way of letting us know she has strong opinions about being left behind.”
“I’ll brush her and take her to the park.”
“Try to enjoy this respite, Doris. Make a study of it. Keep a journal or something.”
“Sure, Professor. Travel safely.”
“I’ll see you again soon,” Louise said. And Jennifer, without planning to, lunged into the cab and embraced the old woman, shocking her.
“Oh! My!” she exclaimed. And then, recovering from the surprise, she put her arms around Jennifer and patted her back. “You’ll have a good six months. Ignore Alex’s pique and take Rose with a grain of salt.”
* * *
Later that day, as she walked to Louise’s little brick house, she strolled down the street at a slow, lazy pace while inside her heart was leaping, and the temptation was strong to break into a run. Right after giving Alice some attention, she was going to take a good, long bath. She’d limited herself to showers at the motel, afraid of what germs might be lurking in the forty-year-old porcelain tub.
She was entering Louise’s house now with a whole new set of senses, as if seeing it for the first time. New sight, new smell, new touch. She stuck the key into the front door, but it was unlocked. That would have to change. As she entered, Alice slowly rose from her pallet by the hearth, but she hung her head and put her ears back as if to say, Do you see this? I’ve been left again.
“Hey, girlfriend. Don’t worry—she’ll be back before you know it.”
Alice lay back down, her snoot flush with the floor between her paws, her pathetic eyes glancing upward.
Jennifer lifted the leash off the hook by the door. “Come on, no pouting. Let’s take a little walk so you can get an attitude adjustment. Then I’ll settle in.”
Alice rose slowly to her feet but still hung her head dejectedly as she went to Jennifer.
“Oh, brother,” Jennifer said to her. “What a drama queen. Come on, let’s go. Enough self-pity.”
It took Alice at least a block to get in the mood, after which she had a rather nice, though brief, twirl around the park. People who obviously knew Louise and Alice greeted them. “Louise gone off to London, has she?” said a man who was walking a terrier. He gave Alice a pat. “I’m Pat from the grocery. Holler if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Doris. From the diner.”
“Welcome aboard.”
There were three others she passed by—each said hello to Alice, to her, and each one seemed to realize that if someone else was walking the dog, Louise must be gone for the summer.
Just a little exercise and fresh air seemed to do wonders for Alice’s mood, but Jennifer was chomping at the bit to get home, home, to get settled. And when they did get back, Alice’s tail was wagging again and she helped herself to some of her food.
“See? I knew you could adopt a positive attitude if you tried.”
The living room embraced Jennifer. The hardwood floor, red brick fireplace, deep sofa and overstuffed chairs with ottomans, worn in just the right places. And books. The wall upon which the hearth stood had built-in shelves on each side, filled with books. She went to the shelf to look at the titles and only then did she notice that the dust on the shelf was thick. She ran her fingertips along the shelf and then examined them.
Louise’s house was cozy, if a little old-fashioned. And though she had been there a couple of times last week to learn the computer, she hadn’t really looked around. The floral sofa and rose-colored chairs were sporting a good bit of dog hair, and now that she thought about it, it was a little on the musty side.
Well, it stood to reason—Louise was eighty. Not only would her eyesight probably be a bit challenged, but she was simply too arthritic for heavy cleaning. Jennifer dug under the kitchen sink and came up with cleaning supplies—dusting rags, scouring powder, glass cleaner. She got busy at once, starting in the living room. There was an old radio on the bookshelf, and as she dusted around it, she turned it on. Frank Sinatra was singing, so she turned the dial—but Frank just kept at it. Apparently the dial was broken, and if she was going to listen to that radio, she was going to hear that kind of music.
She’d rather it was winter, with some cold weather, so she could light the fire and the lamp, grab a book and a soda and never leave. This place felt like a nest for the restless bird. Instead, she opened some windows to clear out the musty smell. She found the vacuum cleaner in the second bedroom closet, and fortunately there were new bags on the shelf.
From just inside the front door, the dining room was to the left, living room to the right, the screened-in porch through the french doors straight ahead. Louise had had the kitchen remodeled, making it the most modern room in the house. And it was used very little, so it wasn’t dirty, but Alice’s co
at seemed to line the floor. The granite countertops needed a good scouring, the cupboard had glass doors that she happily polished, and she brought a high sheen to the stainless-steel appliances. She moved the kitchen table to give the floor a serious scrubbing, and before long she noticed that while she’d been cleaning her heart out, the day had grown long and the sun was beginning to lower in the sky. With the windows open, it was getting cold, and she shivered as she went to close them.
But she was so happy! It felt so wonderful to put a house right—a house she was going to occupy for up to six months. And she didn’t have to think about what she could do or wear or say to make a man happy; she only had to think about what would satisfy her.
There was a note on the counter beside the phone with all the numbers she would need and instructions to “take the master bedroom, please.” This was all typed; Louise’s hands were not agile enough to write legibly with a pen.
She grabbed her backpack and went to the bedroom, where she found a basket on the bed with a note on it. “Pamper yourself,” it read. In the basket was shampoo, cream rinse, lotion, soap, shower gel, bubble bath, a new brush and comb, toothbrush and paste, disposable razors and a manicure set. She lifted the shampoo and gave a huff of laughter. She sat down on the bed and saw her face in the dresser mirror. It was the face of Jenny at the age of fourteen—no makeup, lips deflated by the absence of collagen, a dark cap of hair covering her scalp and eyebrows grown out and shapeless from lack of tweezing. With her hair a mere buzz cut, her brown eyes looked large and dark.
Who would have believed the most perfect disguise would be her natural self?
There was one change she’d made since adolescence that she intended to take to the grave—the veneers on her teeth. If she were really going to go underground, she could probably pop off those veneers and go back to the old mouth.
But no. Enough was enough.
She felt the ache creep into her throat. She had spent so much energy on self-beautification, seeing it as necessary to her lifestyle, and her lifestyle necessary to survival. Yet here she was in her manly pants and shirts, so comfortable but so unattractive. Jennifer, she felt, was gone. As she looked at this new face, even though she remembered it from her youth, she wasn’t entirely sure who she was.