by Rhett DeVane
Hannah propped her feet on a hassock and settled in for a long phone counseling session. “The things she says sometimes—I feel like I can’t ever do enough.”
“You can’t. You can’t make her young and healthy. You can’t bring your father back. And you can’t take her days and make them exciting and full.”
“When I try to do too much, she crawls all over me. Like today—she couldn’t run me out of her room fast enough.”
“She’s tired of you being up her butt-hole.”
Hannah laughed. “You do have a way with words.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Okay, my beloved counselor, what am I supposed to do?”
“Leave her alone for a few days,” Suzanne said. “I’ll get Hal to call and check on her. Helen will be phoning—you can bet money on that. Mae knows where you are if she needs you.”
A sharp stab of pain reminded Hannah of her impending dental appointment. “Crap!”
“I don’t think it exactly calls for that much emotion, hon. You off your pills?”
Hannah massaged her jaw. “No, my tooth’s doing a tango again.”
“You need me to ride over to Tallahassee with you tomorrow?”
“Nah. I’ll be okay. Just numb afterwards. And believe me, it will be a relief to get this taken care of.”
“Hope you took the day off. I’d hate to think of you banging away at your computer with your tooth like it is.”
Hannah sighed. “I’ve been so spacey the past month, I think my boss looks forward to a day without me. I’m amazed I still have a job.”
“You don’t stop being down on yourself, I’m going to ride over there and slap you silly. Then you’ll have more than a toothache!”
Hannah laughed. “I’ll be the first woman in history who takes off to one of those women’s refuge houses to get away from her sister-in-law.”
Chapter Nine
Squinting in spite of dark sunglasses, Hannah negotiated a tangle of traffic with the right side of her face and jaw numb and her pupils fully dilated. Perhaps scheduling a root canal and a yearly eye exam in the same day had not been such a great idea. Her cell phone chimed.
“Mom?”
“Yeth baby?”
Justine hesitated. “You sound funny.”
“Jus num-bah.” At the next stop light, she dug in the console for a tissue and dabbed a line of saliva from the corner of her mouth.
“Oh, yeah. Right. Grand-Mae just called and wanted you to call her back A-SAP.”
“Did she say what she wanted?”
“Nope, just for you to call.”
“She sound upset?”
Hannah heard Justine’s labored sigh. Though she couldn’t see her daughter, she knew Justine was rolling her eyes and standing with her hip jutted out to one side.
“I don’t know, Mom.”
“I’ll call her. You going to be home this evening?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Did other parents have as much trouble getting a simple, sensible answer from their teenagers? Hannah clamped her teeth together, then jerked them apart. Stop, you idiot! Do you want to pay for another root canal and crown? “When your father gets home, either you or he needs to call out for supper. Pizza, chicken, I don’t much care. I don’t feel like cooking.”
“ ’kay, Mom.”
“Where’s your brother?”
“On the ’puter playing stupid video games. Where else?”
“I’ll be home in about forty-five minutes or so. I’m just now getting onto the Interstate.”
“Drive carefully, Mom.”
Hannah pressed the Bluetooth earpiece to end the call and returned full attention to the merging traffic. “Must be the spring break thing. She’s being awfully accommodating and suck-up sweet.” She used the voice command to dial her mother’s number.
Mae answered on the second ring. “Lordy! I’m surely glad you called. I plain-out forgot to ask you about the party.”
Hannah turned the volume down on the classical piano CD. A semi roared past in the other lane, rocking the SUV with its slipstream. “Party?”
“The St. Patrick’s Day party! It’s too late now, to get Helen to come over here. I know Hal won’t even get home until after six. It’s a family thing. They’ve got the dining hall all gussied up and a band’s coming to play Irish jig music.”
Hannah released a slow exhalation. If someone from the family didn’t show, Mae would be depressed for days, counting herself with the “poor throw’d-aways.”
“What time, Ma-Mae?”
“Five thirty.”
She glanced at the digital dash clock. Three forty-six. Exactly time to drive home, change clothes, and schlep back out to Rosemont. “Sure. I’ll be there.”
“Good. Oh, and honey? Wear green so Barney doesn’t feel he has to pinch you. He always aims straight for the butt.”
“Festive.” Hannah glanced around the Rosemont entrance parlor then signed the visitor’s register.
Shiny green curled ribbon and four-leaf clover cut-outs glommed to every vertical and horizontal surface, and clumps of emerald and white balloons bobbed in the corners. A massive arrangement of white carnations, ferns and green-tinged flowers stood on one end of the reception desk. In the hallway, two residents shuffled by, pushing tinsel-clover, garland-trimmed walkers.
“Wait till you see the dining room,” Beth said.
Catharen O’Kelly, the new social director, swept by, trailing a line of streamers.
Beth smiled. “I’ll be surprised if there’s any room left for the residents and family members. Catharen has really outdone herself.”
“I assume she’s Irish?”
Beth nodded. “Very. Wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she’s wearing green underwear too.”
“She seems to be working out well.”
“I worried, after April left, that we’d have a heck of a time finding someone good to fill her position. We’ve really found a gem in Catharen. She loves the residents to death, and they love her.”
Mae walked around the corner, clad in shades of green. Even her walking cane bore an emerald ribbon. “Glad you got here. Maxine’s saving a couple of seats.”
Beth finger-waved. “Y’all have a good time.”
“Want us to bring you some supper, Beth?” Mae asked.
“I’ll be on down later. Thanks.”
Mae turned her attention to her daughter. “You look mighty nice.”
“This sweater was all I could find, and I stole it from Justine’s closet. It’s not that I don’t like green, I just don’t wear it often.” A nerve in Hannah’s tongue sparked. Some of the numbness had faded from her lips and lower jaw. At least she could drink and eat something soft without dribbling.
“It’s becoming. You should.” Mae smoothed the front of her shirt. “Found this shoved in the rear of my closet. Made it years ago. Your mama can sew, you know. Or I used to, before this old ‘author-itis’ crooked up my fingers. I can barely thread a needle anymore.”
Both she and Helen had bounced through childhood wearing Mae’s whimsical creations: dresses with rows of smocking and pinafores trimmed with intricate hand-embroidery. Hannah had learned the basics in a home economics class in high school, but who had the time to sew, or to even shop for clothes? If not for Internet stores, she’d be naked.
“They’ve been cooking up a storm. Irish food. Green cake. Even green beer!” Mae’s face glowed with excitement.
“I’m so glad you’re feeling better, Ma-Mae.”
“My energy isn’t back up to par just yet,” Mae said as they joined the line leading to the spacious dining hall. “I can’t keep up the pace I did before I went to e-Bay. My get-up-and-go has got up and went.”
Midway through the Irish-themed party, as the last plates filled with cabbage, corned beef, and beef stew were delivered to the long tables, a four-member Celtic ensemble began to play.
Hannah spotted Barney standing at the end of their table
, his eyes trained on Maxine.
“Uh-oh,” Mae leaned over and mumbled behind her hand, “trouble’s brewing.”
Though he could have taken a more direct route to his seated family members, Barney chose the pathway immediately behind his arch nemesis. Flame and pitchforks shot from Maxine’s eyes. She slid her chair back to block Barney’s passage. Everyone clapped furiously as the band played a fast-paced jig.
Barney stood beside Maxine’s human barricade and scowled. “Move it, old woman! Let me by!”
Maxine crossed her arms across her ample chest. The muscles of her jaw pulsed as she clenched her teeth. Barney leaned over and hoisted Maxine, chair and all, a few inches off the carpeted floor, then dropped her with a loud grunt.
The hand-held drum beat a demented pace to accompany the fiddle.
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Barney!” Mae called out in a loud voice. “Find another way to go!”
Before the little man could hunker down for another pass at upending Maxine, the social director appeared with an aide. “Come on now, Mr. Thompson. Come with us, please,” Catharen coaxed.
Barney shook his head and pointed down to Maxine. “Make her move!”
“Now Mr. Barney. I don’t want either of you upset. Your family’s wondering where you are.” Catharen tugged gently on his arm.
“C’mon Mr. Thompson.” The aide towered a good two feet over Barney and outweighed him by at least sixty pounds. “Let’s not ruin the party, eh?”
Barney shot one final squinty glare down at Maxine, huffed, and allowed the social director and aide to usher him to the far end of the room.
Maxine hopped her chair back into place and sipped her green beer. The Irish reel came to an end, everyone clapped and cheered, and the servers appeared with rolling carts of green-colored cake with cream cheese icing.
After the party, Hannah and her mother walked down the hall toward room 104.
“I didn’t know we’d get drama along with dinner.” Hannah chuckled. “He picked her up! Who would’ve thought he had that kind of strength?”
Mae shook her head. “Those two just beat all.”
“Why do they dislike each other so fiercely?”
Mae slowed her pace. “Like I told you before, he’s a player. This started before I moved in, but I’ve heard talk. Seems Barney had intentions, or so he acted, toward Cynthia. She’s the one sits opposite of me at the dining table. Good woman. Sweet woman. Barney broke her heart. Maxine’s one of Cynthia’s best friends from way back, so there you go. More wars have been fought over misunderstood affections than over all the gold in China.”
Chapter Ten
Elvina Houston, head of the Chattahoochee little-old-lady hotline and front office manager for the Triple C Day Spa and Salon, glanced up and smiled when Hannah entered. “Morning, Miz Hannah.” Elvina grabbed a red felt-tip pen and placed a checkmark on the appointment book. “Right on time.”
“I’m not really sure why I’m here. Norm dropped me off.”
Elvina stepped from behind the antique mahogany desk and led Hannah to a cushioned high back chair in the lavish parlor. A small fountain trickled water music. “You’re here, dear, because your husband and children ordered our Day in Paradise package for your birthday.” The old woman moved to a teak side table and picked up a porcelain tea pot. “You take sugar, artificial sweetener, or Tupelo honey?”
“A little honey, please.”
“This is chamomile tea. Good for the relaxation process.” She handed Hannah the rose-patterned china cup and matching saucer. “I have decaf coffee brewed in the kitchen if you’d prefer.” Elvina’s black-painted brows lifted.
“This is fine. Don’t go to any trouble.”
“It’s not a bother at all, Hannah. That’s what we’re here for.”
When Elvina moved her head, the pastel silk butterflies clinging to her bun vibrated slightly. Not only had the seventy-plus-year-old assumed the administrative duties of her bosom buddy Piddie Longman, she had morphed into a facsimile of her deceased friend. Elvina’s bun could never reach the height of Piddie’s beehive-on-steroids, but her swirling gray hair mimicked the artful presentation. Elvina wore an ELF-Wear designer spring dress by Evelyn Fletcher, Piddie’s daughter. Samples of Evelyn’s signature line hung on long suspended poles behind the front desk.
“How’s your mama?” Elvina asked. “Heard she was back at Rosemont.”
“Better. It’s been slow.”
“Takes awhile for us senior citizens to bounce back.” Elvina patted Hannah on the shoulder. “I won’t run my mouth, much as I’d love to. You’re supposed to be relaxing. Sit back and savor your tea and Stephanie will be out to get you in—” she glanced at her diamond watch “—about ten minutes.”
Hannah absorbed the serenity of the massage therapy room: pale blue walls and ceiling painted with billowy, white clouds; blue-gray slate tile floor; a thick, tufted wheat-hued rug. Soft light filtered through linen-draped windows.
“This your first massage?” Stephanie glanced up from Hannah’s health history form.
“I had one in college from a muscle-bound woman with forearms like a marine sergeant. Felt like I’d been slugged and spit out.”
“I’m no brute, so I hope you’ll feel more relaxed this time.” She motioned to one corner. “You can undress behind the folding screen. Most folks remove everything, but go to your level of comfort. Though I would suggest no bra. Too confining. I’ll have you fully draped at all times.”
Stephanie moved to the massage table. “Tuck yourself between the sheets, face up. I’ll let you get settled and I’ll knock before I come back in.”
Under the therapist’s expert coaxing, Hannah’s taut muscles released the collected tension of the past few weeks. By the time Stephanie finished an hour later, Hannah felt like a simmered noodle.
“Take your time getting up,” Stephanie said in a soft voice. “A robe and slippers are waiting for you. I’ll be back to escort you to the next part.”
Hannah had died and gone straight to heaven. Had she fallen asleep and drooled on the rug through the horseshoe-shaped head rest? Probably. She had managed to snore during a root canal. She sat up and gathered her clothing. Wrapped in a terry robe, Hannah shuffled behind Stephanie to the wet treatment room for an hour of exfoliation, then to the hair salon.
Stylist Mandy Andrews patted the cushioned seat of her chair. “Sit yourself down, hon.” She flipped a plastic shoulder drape into place and ran her fingers through Hannah’s damp hair. “Your ends are a little damaged.” Mandy studied her client’s reflection in the work station mirror. “What do you think about updating your style?”
“You mean move into this century?” Hannah smiled. “At this point, after a massage and that decadent scrub-down, you could talk me into shaving my head.”
Mandy laughed. “I knew there was a good reason why we let Steph get a’hold of you first.” She rested her hands lightly on Hannah’s shoulders. “I think you’d look smashing in a shorter style. Maybe a little up-flip on the ends, some layers to add a little more bounce.”
“You’re the boss.”
“I love it when someone tells me that.”
Melody, the manicure specialist, walked by carrying a basket of nail enamels. “I get you next. And I just received my shipment of spring colors.”
“There’s more?” Hannah asked.
Mandy snapped her gum. “Oh yeah, hon. You still have a mani-pedi to go, after I glam you up.”
Wanda Orenstein Green, the second master stylist, strolled in carrying an enameled tray of sliced carrots and cucumbers, finger sandwiches, and chocolate-dipped strawberries. “How ’bout a little snack?” She held the dish in front of Hannah. “I’ll get you a drink. Water, soda, coffee, tea?”
Hannah nibbled on a strawberry. “Water will be fine, thank you. Do y’all treat everyone this way?”
Mandy led her to a shampoo station. “The ‘Day in Paradise’ is all about total sensory overload.” She worked Hann
ah’s wet hair to a soapy froth. “How’s Miz Mae?”
“Much improved. Still a bit more tired than usual. I need to get her in to you for a fresh perm. She was fussing yesterday. Since she had her hair cut short, it’s easier for her, but she needs some curls.”
Mandy clucked. “Your mama’s a card. She’ll let Adrian at Rosemont do her wash and roll-ups, but swears I’m the only one who can handle the chemicals.” The stylist’s experienced fingers massaged Hannah’s scalp as she talked. “Let Elvina set up an appointment for Miz Mae before you leave.”
Later, when Mandy twirled her around to view the new style from all sides, Hannah marveled at the woman reflected in the mirror. The short bouncy cut drew attention to her hazel eyes. “I look so much better!”
“You have excellent bone structure. All you needed was a hairdo to complement your face shape,” Mandy said. “And no offense, hon, but it looked like you’d been trimming your bangs with a butcher knife.”
Melody stood behind them. “I think you should go all-out and choose a bright color for your polish. If you’re going to look years younger, might as well let it extend to your fingers and toes.”
An hour later, Norman whistled softly when he spotted Hannah in the Triple C parlor. “If you weren’t already my wife, I’d have to court you.”
They heard Elvina chuckle in the reception room. “You better watch out for her, Norman Olsen. She’s one hot number now!”
Norman offered his arm. “You ready to go home, birthday girl?”
“If I don’t leave soon, I might as well move in. This must’ve cost a bundle.”
“Not really,” Norman said, “considering how much stress you’ve been under lately. The kids have a surprise for you at the house.”
“What, did they clean their rooms?”
“Won’t wedge a word from me. I don’t want to spoil it. They’ve been working all afternoon.”
When they walked into the house, the aroma of garlic and oregano greeted her.
“Wait!” Jonas called out. “Don’t look yet, Mom.”