Can't Hurry Love

by Melinda Curtis

  Drew frowned.

  “Busy night.” Now Wendy was backing toward the stage. “Talk later.” She lifted Becky from Drew’s arms and set her on the floor, taking hold of her hand. She grabbed on to Lola’s wrist with her other hand and dragged them both toward the stairs leading backstage.

  “That mama is staying with you?” Becky asked, as curious as Lola about Wendy and Jane.

  “We were kind of friends in high school.” Wendy slowed as they approached the stairs. “We bonded in drama class when I was too shy to take on an acting role and became the script coordinator.” She released Lola’s wrist. “What is that?” She peered at the silver and copper bracelet. “How cute. I used to have one just like it but I…” Her eyes flew to Lola’s, and the color drained from her face.

  The color might have drained from Lola’s too. She certainly felt as if someone had knocked her to the floor. Wendy had slept with Randy? He was beginning to make Tony Stark look like a Boy Scout.

  The fact that she’d found another one of her husband’s paramours wasn’t all that shocking. The fact that it was Wendy was. Put Wendy in a lineup with Mary Margaret, Avery, even Marcia, and people would assume they were playing a game of Which One of These Objects Doesn’t Belong?

  Which wasn’t fair. When it came to Randy, Lola was increasingly convinced that her husband didn’t have a type.

  “Becky, honey,” Lola said, “go downstairs and tell everyone to line up for makeup. You can go first.”

  “Yes, Ms. Williams.” Becky gathered the ends of her toga and scampered off.

  Wendy stood frozen, her shoulders hunched and her eyes cast down, as if someone had warned her a T. rex was in the building and it would find her if she moved.

  Lola held up her hands. “I’m not mad.”

  “Please don’t tell Drew.” Wendy swallowed and rephrased. “Please don’t tell anyone. It was after Jane left and long before you came to town. I felt so alone.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.” And Lola meant it. Besides, no one would believe her anyway. “Hold up. Why wouldn’t you want Drew to know?”

  “Because he might start asking other questions.” Wendy glanced around, making sure they were alone. “He’s so curious about my life, and I…” Here her voice dropped to a whisper. “I don’t make those Bundt cakes.”

  Lola wobbled in her heels and latched on to Wendy’s shoulders for balance. “Get out.”

  “I’m a terrible person.” Wendy looked like she might crumple. “I wasn’t supposed to wear that evening gown at the fashion show. I switched it.” She glanced around again, making sure they still wouldn’t be overheard. “And I stole that fairy makeup idea from you. The town saw it on me first so I’ll get the credit when they see it on the kids in the play. I just…I’ve always taken care of my mom, and sometimes I feel like I have to take shortcuts to catch up.”

  “Your secrets are safe with me.” Lola righted herself. “I think…I think I’m honored that you shared them with me.”

  “Really?” Wendy’s eyes teared up. “And I’m not a terrible person?”

  “You’re a fantastic person, deserving of the limelight.” Lola would gladly give it up to her. She handed the bracelet to Wendy. “You don’t wear perfume, do you?”

  Wendy shook her head.

  “That’s a shame.” Because somewhere, when Lola least expected it, the scent of Joy would ambush her.

  * * *

  “You’re late,” Rupert said in a low voice on Wednesday morning when Drew made it into Judge Harper’s office at 8:01.

  Jane and Oliver were just passing through the open door to the judge’s chambers.

  “I’m almost late,” Drew said in an equally low voice. He’d gotten caught in school drop-off traffic. He hurried inside, taking the same seat he’d occupied last week.

  Judge Harper sat behind his desk, drumming his fingers together as he studied Drew with beady eyes.

  “You feeling okay, Judge?” Drew asked, because if anything, the old man looked worse than he had last week. Cheeks more hollow. Eyes more sunken. Lips paler than…

  “I’ll most likely outlive you, the way you’re going,” the judge snapped.

  Drew wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. A quick glance at Rupert didn’t shed any light on the old man’s comments either.

  “I’ll start with you, young lady.” Judge Harper scowled. “I told you what I wanted you to do. I’ve got a report here from the sheriff that says you only did as I asked for two nights.”

  “With all due respect…” Oliver leaned forward. “It was cold out there, Dad.”

  “It’s Judge Harper in the courthouse!” The old man slapped the flat of his hand on his desk. “I may have forgotten more things than you’ll ever know about the law but I would never forget to give a judge about to hear your case the respect his office deserves.”

  Rupert didn’t bother smirking at his brother. He smirked at the dark-green velvet curtains behind the judge instead.

  “Sorry, Judge Harper.” Oliver cleared his throat. “My client was cold and sought shelter.”

  “Your client was weak and continues to be unemployed.” Judge Harper tossed his hands. “What could you possibly have learned, young lady, when you couldn’t stomach a week alone?”

  Jane sat straight, her hands clasped as they’d been last week. “I learned who my friends are in town.”

  The judge’s shaggy gray brows wagged up and down. “Go on.”

  “I learned who I can rely on.” Her eyes were wide and innocent, and she had a rueful slant to her lips. “And I know who’d rather see me disappear in the cemetery for good.”

  Drew waited for the judge to see right through her epiphany ruse.

  “That wasn’t what I wanted you to learn,” the judge said gruffly.

  Jane shrugged. “Sometimes what you want to learn and what you need to learn are two different things.”

  The judge made a contemplative noise. He wrote something in a file on his desk that looked like seismic scribbles.

  Oliver gave Rupert a half smile.

  “And you…” Judge Harper’s sharp gaze swiveled around to Drew. “You screwed up, Sheriff.”

  “Me?” Drew pointed at Jane. “She cheated!”

  “And you fell apart under the stress,” the old man said.

  Drew could swear Oliver tsk-tsked.

  Judge Harper leaned forward. His big leather chair creaked. “Mishandled a termination. Sent a pet to certain death. And botched a marriage proposal.”

  “Everybody has a bad day occasionally.” Drew strove to keep his voice casual.

  “Or two,” Oliver murmured.

  Drew fought the frown trying to form on his face. He hadn’t expected his behavior to be under scrutiny. He’d abided by the visitation rules, hadn’t he?

  “You run the sheriff’s department alone.” The old man tilted his head and stared at Drew as if he were a bug in a science experiment. “You’ve been raising your daughter alone. You lost your composure under pressure.”

  Drew kept his mouth shut, certain this was a trap.

  “Judge Harper,” Rupert said, “with all due respect, my client didn’t leave town. He made tough decisions when he had to, and he’s stood by them.” He smoothed his very expensive-looking tie. “I’m sure you’ll agree that consistency is a sign of a good parent.”

  Judge Harper’s eyes narrowed. “It always comes back to that, I suppose.” He closed the file on his desk. “I don’t want to make a decision today. I want to wait a week. Continue visitation.” He nodded at Drew. “And get a job.” He nodded at Jane.

  Drew waited until he and Rupert were outside the courthouse alone to ask, “What does he want from me?”

  “Whatever it is, don’t worry.” Despite Rupert’s words, he looked worried. “The longer he gives us, the more likely Jane is to make a mistake.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Kevin told me she looks beautiful.” Barbara stood in the doorway to the viewing room
, hesitating. She’d been unable to bring herself to see her mother.

  Lola took pity on her. “I’ll be right by your side.” And by Marcia’s.

  There were fifteen minutes left for visitation before the service began. Everything was ready. Everyone was ready. Everyone had moved into the chapel. Except Barbara.

  Barbara took a few mincing steps into the room. She looked lovely in a black dress and conservative heels. And those dark roots? Gone. Barbara slid a half glance toward the casket but there wasn’t much to see from this angle thirty feet away.

  Lola had done an excellent job giving Barbara what she wanted. Marcia looked like a middle-aged mom. She had soft pink lipstick instead of bold red, and mascara on her lashes instead of extensions. Her white-blond bob softly framed her face. And if Lola felt she was betraying her husband’s mistress here at the end, she wasn’t going to say a word in front of Barbara. What good would it do? Marcia couldn’t argue.

  Not that Marcia seemed to have argued while she was alive.

  And Marcia wore Nana’s pearl ring. Lola was still torn about that. Barbara expected to see it on her mother…if she ever worked up the nerve to look at her. Lola would have an opportunity to retrieve it before the burial but she’d never be able to wear it in Sunshine. What if Barbara noticed?

  “I don’t need anybody,” Barbara said half under her breath. She took a step forward and then another. “I don’t need anybody.” She froze in the middle of the room, still too far away to see much more than her mother’s white-blond part.

  “You don’t have to do this.” Lola gave her the out she must have wanted. “You can turn around. No one’s going to fault you for wanting to remember your mother the way you saw her last.”

  “I found her,” Barbara whispered, mistaking Lola’s meaning. “She was sitting on the couch. She’d taken out the cushions for some reason. She was sitting on the springs in her underwear with the television on. Her hair looked as if she’d been electrocuted and left out to dry on a humid afternoon.”

  Well, at least she looks better than that now.

  Lola laid her palm on Barbara’s shoulder, intending to rub her hand across her back.

  Without warning, Barbara wrapped her arms around Lola and held on tight. And then she made a keening noise so sharp it hurt Lola’s ears. “What am I going to do? She was my rock.”

  “You’ll have to be the rock now.” Lola drew in a deep breath, realizing she had to heed her own advice. Maybe she’d rent a station at a salon in Greeley and give up her mortuary and retirement home clientele.

  Barbara’s perfume filled her nostrils. It took Lola a moment to process the scent.

  Is it…? Could it be…?

  Lola buried her face in Barbara’s neck and drew a deeper breath. “Is that Joy?”

  “Yes. Mother always gave me a bottle at Christmas.” Barbara pushed free and eyed Lola like a woman who’d just been unexpectedly groped.

  Lola wasn’t making any apologies for sniffing Randy’s lover out.

  “I’m…” Barbara hesitated at the sound of voices in the lobby. She was in uncharted territory—her mother in a casket on one side of the room and Lola, a person she needed to get through the services and burial of her mother, on the other. A hint of First Lady Barbara returned to her expression but it was only a hint, and it collapsed when her glance found her mother’s casket. “I only wear Joy on special occasions.” Barbara was off her game. Babbling. “The campaign trail, weddings, funerals, meetings, date night.”

  In other words, she wore it almost daily.

  Lola tried to look the part of the downtrodden, helpful mortuary employee but the anger that had made her burn Randy’s underpants had ignited in her chest and begun flowing in her veins. “It’s very expensive.”

  “They don’t sell it in Sunshine.” Barbara continued to try to regain queen of Sunshine footing. Her eyes darted about the room. Her feet shifted. “They don’t even sell it in Greeley. That’s why I like it. I don’t like to smell like anyone else.”

  No. But she did smell like the other woman.

  There was no mistaking the meaning of Joy. Barbara Hadley was married and one of Randy’s lovers. It was her near empty vial of perfume in Randy’s keepsake box. It was hard to imagine Barbara had ever been at rock bottom and fueled Randy’s rescue instincts.

  And at around one hundred dollars an ounce, Lola didn’t think Barbara had been buying Joy when she was in high school. If Marcia and Randy had been a thing for years, as Barbara claimed, that meant…ew. It was hard to think about mother and daughter having affairs with Randy at the same time.

  But that might explain the number of condoms missing from the box.

  Poor Marcia.

  Lola had talked herself into understanding Marcia’s motivation for keeping her thing with Randy quiet. They’d loved each other. But Barbara had the perfect husband and, by all accounts, an adorable little boy. She wanted to see Kevin elected to the White House.

  Okay, reality check. Barbara wanted the White House gig for herself.

  Whatever Barbara had had with Randy, he’d felt something for her, or he wouldn’t have kept the perfume bottle. But Lola couldn’t imagine any scenario where Barbara felt anything in her heart for Randy.

  Lola’s pulse was pounding, demanding action, demanding retribution. For herself. For Marcia. And maybe for Randy.

  Outside in the lobby, the last of the mourners were drifting toward the chapel at Augie’s urging. Barbara glanced toward the casket but didn’t move her feet.

  “If it’d help…” Lola’s mouth was on autopilot while her brain was a muddled mess. “You could just wait for the broadcast during the service.” They’d be moving the coffin into the chapel soon. Barbara had requested they open the casket one last time at the end of the service. A camera above would project Marcia onto the big screen.

  It was one of the grandest services Lola had ever been a part of. And Barbara had been involved in every step of its planning. When did Barbara find time to cheat? She cut hair. She ran a business. She attended all those events with her husband.

  “I could wait to see her,” Barbara was saying. “And no one would have to know that I couldn’t do her hair.”

  Oh, dear heavens above. Lola’s blood nearly boiled over. Barbara must have been telling people she’d done her mother’s hair and makeup. She was taking credit for Lola’s work. And it wasn’t even Lola’s best work, what with all of Barbara’s restrictions.

  Lola nodded, unable to speak.

  Barbara left the viewing room.

  That woman had everyone from Lola to Avery to her own mother—when Marcia had been alive—running scared, afraid to open their own salon, afraid to let anyone but Barbara touch their hair, afraid to buy some blue hair color at the pharmacy. It wasn’t right.

  Marcia was being presented to town the way Barbara wanted her to be remembered.

  Lola came to stand next to the casket. Marcia’s lips were starting to fade into her chin. It was all that pale color Barbara had requested. She looked as if she were seventy, what with her paleness emphasized by a yellow crew-neck dress embroidered with rosettes.

  “Girl, I wish I could do something for you.” Lola patted her hand, her fingers brushing over Nana’s ring.

  And there was still a decision to be made about that.

  Augie stuck his head in. “Are we ready to close her up for the move? Should I ask the pallbearers to come in?”

  Lola nearly nodded, nearly said yes. This was her job. Augie was relying on her.

  Her mouth opened, and words began to form. “She needs a touch-up. Can you give us a little privacy?”

  What am I doing?

  Augie closed the door.

  Lola was having an out-of-body experience. She went to the back of the room, where her supply case was half-hidden behind vases of flowers. She wheeled it over to the casket and opened it up.

  No one will forgive me for this. Not the town, not Barbara, not Drew.

  She’
d never belong.

  It didn’t matter. It had to be done.

  “You’ll thank me for this when I see you in heaven,” Lola said to Marcia, certain it was true.

  * * *

  Drew sat in an aisle seat in a pew next to Pris, who was the only family member besides Becky who was talking to him at the moment. Thankfully, Pris wore a blouse that covered her Taylor assets.

  Gary was a few rows behind them, wearing a suit. Aunt Cindy, Gary’s mother, sat beside his former deputy. Her death-ray glare was burning a hole in Drew’s head. A few rows up, Judge Harper sat next to Victor Yates, Jane’s father. And in the front row, Kevin sat with his arm around Barbara, who kept wiping her eyes and nodding to whatever anyone said about her mother during the open-mic eulogy portion of the program.

  Drew had attended many funerals in the mortuary chapel. Not everyone in town belonged to the church so it saw its share of business. But he’d never seen Lola stand to the side during a service. She usually sat in the back with Augie. But today…

  Lola stood against the wall near the stage stairs. She didn’t fidget. She didn’t slouch. She stood at the ready.

  Ready for what?

  The hair on the back of Drew’s neck prickled. He tried to concentrate on what the speaker was saying about Marcia.

  “She knew how to drive,” Darnell Tucker, a local mechanic, said. He glanced up at the assembled and added, “Not all of you do.”

  Truer words had never been spoken. About Marcia, who’d loved fast cars and been left enough money to indulge in that passion. And about most of the people in Sunshine, who slid off the road in ice storms, tumbled into ditches during rainstorms, and rear-ended their fellow man at Emory’s Grocery.

  “One spring, long after we had a thaw, Marcia was driving her convertible.” Darnell was surprisingly at ease with public speaking, even if the suit he wore wasn’t at ease with him. The sleeves looked like he might never get them off his big biceps. “It snowed. One of those fast, freaky storms that blow in and blow out without so much as a how-ya-doin’.”

  Heads nodded in the audience…in agreement, not sleep.

  “Marcia pulled up in the midst of it all, honked her horn, and told me to get my ass—sorry, my butt in the car.” Darnell wasn’t sorry. He was grinning. “We drove around—within the speed limit, Sheriff—listening to the Eagles and ABBA, and pretty soon the car had three inches of snow on the interior and on us. And do you know what Marcia said to me?”