“I don’t know,” Rosie shrugged.
“Anyway, I’m out of the hair business for good. It’s too limited. I’m mean how many ‘updos’ can one girl design? There are only so many ways you can wrap hair around a woman’s head. Now it’s just nails. Only not just colored nails. I’m talking nail art.”
“So you work in a salon.”
“Not work in, baby, I’m the owner. At least that’s what I was in New York. Out here in Wisconsin I don’t know what I am.” The impact of her own words hit her. She’d struggled so long to make her salon a legitimate business, a place where the wealthy would come to have her unique designs painted on to their nails. Without her and her talent there, it was just another one of the masses. She trusted Francesca, the other girl who did manicures with her, to keep the place going, but how long would it take before people began to seek out someone new?
“So what are you doing here?” Rosa May wondered. “Not that I’m complaining. So far you’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my life. I don’t know that many people yet, but I bet even if I meet a hundred people, none of them are going to be as neat as you.”
Neat. Was that still a word? Apparently it was in Sun Prairie. What to tell the kid? No doubt Ted…Ross wanted to keep her shielded from the ugly side of life. It was why he’d left the Bureau, at least that was what MacCurdy told her. He couldn’t be a farmer, a proper husband and father if he was always surrounding himself with the wrong element. Whatever the heck that meant.
The way Claudia saw it, protecting a kid from the “wrong element” was impossible. There were too many threats, too many obstacles, too many bad people out there to shelter a kid forever. The best thing a parent could do was to be on the level and teach a kid that just because bad people were out there, it didn’t mean that they were always out there to get you. Necessarily. She would also teach her kid never to mess with mob business. It was a lesson she’d been taught early on, but must have forgotten somewhere along the road.
“I’m here because I’m trying to help the police. And they’re trying to help me by hiding me.” Simple and to the point.
“Oh,” Rosa May breathed. “You’re hiding out. Like in the Witness Protection Program? Who are you hiding from? The mob, I bet. I saw this episode of NYPD Blue and this guy was ratting on this hit man and he had to go into the Witness Protection Program. Only the bad guy found him and popped him between the eyes.”
“Not an encouraging story, honey. Remind me to tell your father that you shouldn’t be watching that show. I already know one person that it’s corrupted.”
“I didn’t know she was watching it.”
The voice was as large as the man. Low, rough, with a slow drawl to it that wasn’t Southern, but was distinctly country.
“Dad it was just that one time. You fell asleep in the chair remember, and I didn’t want to turn off the TV because I was afraid I would wake you,” Rosa May offered sincerely, her eyes as innocent as an angel.
Claudia began to applaud. “Wooh! That excuse ranks a nine-oh out of a possible ten. You absolutely reeked of sincerity. If only I were young again and could use that excuse. That was priceless, honey.”
Unabashedly, Rosa May bowed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you very much.”
“Please don’t encourage her,” Ross warned. “I’m already afraid she’s planning to run away to Hollywood. I don’t need anyone giving her rave reviews.”
Ross smiled down at his still beaming daughter and tried to tousle her bangs. Only his fingers came back sticky with hairspray. “What in the heck…”
“A little poof, you know, for support,” Claudia explained as if a “little poof” made all the sense in the world to Ross.
“Yeah, Pop, just a little poof,” Rosa May repeated brashly. A stern glance from her father, however, silenced her.
There was love there, Claudia thought. The girl for the father, the father for the girl. It reminded her of the relationship she had had with her own pop and she couldn’t help but feel wistful. Boy, she missed him. Almost as much as she missed her ma. For a moment, she tried hard to imagine her almost-boyfriend Marco smiling down at their daughter like that. The image never came.
“I brought your luggage upstairs. And the trunk. It’s out in the hall.” Because I couldn’t carry it any farther, Ross finished silently. “What do you have in that trunk?”
“Supplies,” she stated, “I never travel without them. Thanks. Can you believe I had to make do with only four bags? I mean jeez, do the Feds expect me to wear the same outfit every day or what? I’m barely squeaking by with what I brought. But you know how it is when you’re on the run. You gotta travel light.”
Light? This wasn’t going to work. Ross knew it was a recurring thought, but he couldn’t seem to shake it. How could they possibly survive living together when she was the antithesis of his wife in every way imaginable? Susan knew how to pack conservatively, dress conservatively and speak conservatively. Ross wondered if this woman knew what the word conservative meant.
Not that he was thinking of her as anything other than a guest, but just in case he became a bit tempted by her tiny frame and her pretty face, he made a mental note to quash it. This woman was not for him. That issue settled, Ross knew it was time to get down to business.
“I’m sure you are exhausted after your trip and your uh…adventures.” No need to mention that she’d been shot at, or Rosa May would have her up on a pedestal before he could blink. “Why don’t you take some time to settle in? When you’re ready we’ll discuss what your responsibilities are going to be during your stay.”
“Responsibilities?” Claudia repeated, confused by what he meant. The way she saw it, her only responsibility was to stay alive to make it back to her shop.
“This is a farm. Everyone who lives on the farm must contribute to it. That includes you, Miss Brooklyn.”
Smiling facetiously, Claudia retorted, “You got the wrong girl. Miss Brooklyn was Marie Verdino. She had big you-know-whats, and hair as high as the ceiling, but she came in a disappointing fourth at the Miss New York Pageant.”
He didn’t even crack a grin.
“What are you-know-whats, Dad?” Rosa May wondered.
Not even then.
But Claudia laughed freely. She never felt a need to stop laughter. Who would? “In a year or two…How old are you again, honey?”
“Practically twelve.”
“Eleven,” her father answered simultaneously.
“Yep, two more years, and it will all start to make sense.”
Ross actually groaned.
Claudia chuckled, pleased to see that he wasn’t all bark, bite and brawn. This was going to work just fine. “Now, I believe somebody said something about settling in.”
“See you later,” Rosa May said, skipping out the door as if it was an everyday occurrence to have strangers from Brooklyn take shelter in her home.
Ross watched his daughter leave, amazed at her ability to adapt to the situation. “She likes you,” he said grimly.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Claudia retorted. “Many people like me. I’m a likable person. Besides, she’s practically a teenager. It appears to me that she is the only girl on this farm. It also appears to me that this farm is the only place for miles and miles around. She probably needs a little feminine companionship.”
“I agree.”
There was a “but” in there somewhere. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out where it was. “But you wish that companionship wasn’t a girl from Brooklyn on the lam.”
“Yes,” he answered. He wasn’t sure which part bothered him more, though—that she was from Brooklyn and looked it. Or that she could possibly bring danger into his daughter’s life.
Claudia felt a stab of disappointment that she couldn’t define. Maybe it was because she really liked the kid. Maybe it was because she had already somewhat gotten used to the smell. Or maybe it was because there was something in the stalwart way he
stood that seemed to beckon her closer. Like a haven in a storm. Regardless, her next offer was a sincere one. “I could go. MacCurdy doesn’t think there will be any more attempts. And I’ve got a life waiting for me back in Brooklyn. You didn’t ask for this. You more or less got stuck with me.”
More than less. And it seemed she was offering him a way out. Ross couldn’t have refused a request from his former employer, even if that relationship was many years old. Frank had saved his life. That debt was unpayable. But she was offering to leave. He certainly couldn’t be responsible for the decision a grown woman made.…
Stop it, Ross told himself. She was in trouble and she wasn’t going anywhere. The mob had made two attempts. If she returned to New York, she’d be nothing more than a sitting duck. Chivalry wasn’t completely dead. Besides, he didn’t have the energy to carry her luggage back downstairs. “You’re in trouble. Whether you realize it or not. You’ll be safe here, so you stay here. You should get settled in. We’ll talk later.”
A grin spread across her face. While he crossed his arms over his fabulous chest like a king who’d just made a formal proclamation, Claudia realized that everything he said was in the fashion of an order. She thought it best to clarify her position on taking orders. But the truth was she was tired, and she had the feeling that particular conversation was going to require a great deal of energy. After all, nobody told her what to do.
“See ya,” Claudia said.
Ross nodded and turned to leave. Oddly, he felt the strangest sensation that her eyes were pinned to his butt. So much so he was tempted to cover the body part with his hands. Then he realized he was being ridiculous. Of course she wasn’t staring at his backside.
Mamma! What a butt. Tight, hard and packaged in the softest blue jeans imaginable. Her lips were pursed in the ready stages of a wolf whistle, but Claudia managed to contain herself until he was gone. Then she allowed herself a little relief. “Wheew. I didn’t know what I was missing in the city all those years.”
She took a deep breath, then paused.
“Well, I sure as heck wasn’t missing that smell. A back alley on garbage day doesn’t even come close. You’re talking to yourself, Claude. Not a wise move. He might overhear. He’ll think you’re crazy, and that is not how you want this relationship to start out. Not that this is a relationship.”
That said, aloud, she collected the rest of her belongings off the bed and returned them to the fifth dimension found deep in the recesses of her bag. Not ready to face the trials of unpacking, Claudia opted for a nap. She removed her coat, hopped up onto the bed and wrapped herself in an afghan she was sure someone’s grandmother had made. In minutes she felt herself drifting off to sleep and her last conscious thought was that for the first time in weeks she felt no fear. None.
SETTLING IN over the next couple of days was easier said than done. Crucial issues needed to be addressed. First, she needed a larger mirror in her bedroom. The only mirror in the whole house as far as she could tell was in the bathroom. And even that was only eleven-by-sixteen inches. What happened when Ross and Rosie needed to match their shoes to the rest of their outfit? She wouldn’t comment, but she had a sneaking suspicion that they often left the house clashing. Claudia had to resort to sitting on the sink while she lifted her leg high enough into the air to get her pants, blouse and shoes all in the same reflection.
The kid had caught her in that position. It wasn’t one of her finest moments.
Second, after unpacking all her bags, she realized she was woefully short on closet space. All her clothes were forced to touch all of her other clothes. Wrinkle city! When she asked the muscle man if she could have an additional closet for her belongings, he snarled at her. When she asked for an iron and ironing board, she was directed to the pantry closest.
And finally, there simply wasn’t enough light in her bedroom to accommodate her work. Nail art didn’t just happen. Each of her designs were first drawn then practiced on fake enamel nails. Her trunk held a one-piece bench that once unfolded stood at just the right height for her to work without leaning over too far. It also carried a clip device that held the fake nails at the same height and in the same position as a normal hand would be. This way she could anticipate the particular strokes that would cause the most difficulty and might lead to color smudging—a nail artist’s worst nightmare. There was only one small window in her bedroom that faced the east, and without sufficient light, she had a difficult time determining if the colors were right. When she asked muscles about adding another window, he mentioned, in a tone even less congenial than before, that she might consider waking up early enough to catch the rising sun. Claudia assumed he was kidding.
After two days however, Claudia was beginning to feel comfortable in the farm home. Which meant it was time to talk to Ross about her…gulp…responsibilities. Checking the clock next to her bed stand, she saw that it was already late afternoon. Too late to start on her responsibilities today, she decided on another nap instead. She would join the two downstairs for dinner and discuss what her options were. That settled, Claudia wrapped herself in her now favorite afghan and once again felt the security of the blanket, the house and the farm overwhelm her.
Later, she woke gradually, enjoying the comfort of the blanket and the soft bed. She could have lingered forever, but her stomach was calling the shots, and it was hungry. Not one to deny her basic human urges, she rolled out of bed. First stop was the ridiculous mirror in the bathroom.
She took a quick peek and decided that her hair was almost unsalvageable. Almost, but not quite. From among the throng of beauty supplies that now filled every ounce of counter space on the small vanity around the sink, Claudia found a can of hair spray. Bending her body in half, her head bobbing upside down between her knees, she proceeded to spray in circular motions. When she lifted her head, she was dizzy, but her hair was back in top shape. The key to beauty was volume. Lesson number one at the Brooklyn Academy of Beauty.
As she made her way down the stairs, she heard voices below and off to the right. They must be in the kitchen. For the most part, Claudia had kept to her room the last two days, but she’d wandered around the house enough to get a feel for the place. There was a living room-slash-family room: very comfortable. A dining room with a formal table and chairs: pretty stuffy. A den with a computer and tons of books: very manly. A homey sort of house overall, she decided.
“I don’t want you spending every waking moment with her, that’s all.”
Ross’s voice, Claudia recognized. Not that it was hard to distinguish it from Rosie’s. She held her position on the stairs. Something told her they were talking about her. Something also told her it wasn’t good.
“But why?” Rosa May protested. “She understands me, even after only knowing me for a few days. We’ve bonded.”
“Bonded,” Ross repeated skeptically. “Where do you get that kind of language?”
“Oprah,” Rosa May informed him. “She’s helping the world get in touch with their inner feelings.”
Ross groaned, but quickly recovered. “Miss Bertucci is a guest who will only be staying temporarily. I don’t want you to become too attached. More importantly, I don’t want her influence rubbing off on you. No more bonding.”
“You can’t stop bonding, Dad. It just happens. Besides what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Jeez, Dad do I have to spell it out? Claudia may talk funny, but she’s awfully pretty. Like her mom. Maybe you could ask her out on a date or something. It has been a while since your last date. And Miss Harkim wasn’t your type at all.”
“I will not be dating Miss Bertucci.”
“Because of her accent? That seems like a petty reason to reject a person.”
“Because of her…everything,” Ross corrected his daughter. “She is not my type, and you are to get that notion out of your head once and for all. Now I’ve given you some orders in regards to Miss Bertucci, and I expect them to be followed. Understand
?”
“Capisce,” Rosa May responded reluctantly.
“It’s almost time for bed. Why don’t you go upstairs and read for a while?”
He made her sound like she had some kind of contagious disease, Claudia thought. And what did he mean, Because of her everything? Who did this guy think he was? She was a catch back in the neighborhood. A beautiful woman with means. He was nothing more than some dumb overinflated farmer. Why, she ought to march down these stairs and punch him in the nose. No, better yet, she’d punch him in the—
“What are you doing Claudia?” Rosa May asked.
Claudia was caught midstairs with her hands balled into fists and her face scrunched up in fury. She hadn’t just been thinking of revenge, she’d been acting it out on the stairs.
“Hi sweetie. I was…” Think, think, she commanded her brain. “Exercising?”
Rosa May smiled. “Seven point two. Lacks plausibility. You are on the stairs.”
Great, Claudia snorted, she was rubbing off on the girl.
“Don’t mind what my dad says. He can be a real dope sometimes. But don’t tell him I said so, okay?”
“Okay,” she agreed. “You know you’re too smart for your age.”
“It’s the twenty-first century. Children are maturing much quicker these days. It’s the adults that are having the difficulty adjusting.”
“Yeah. The twenty-first century.” Claudia repeated as if that explained everything.
“Good night,” Rosa May called out, as she bolted past her up the stairs.
“Good night, sweetie.”
Claudia continued her journey in search of food, which ultimately led her down the hallway toward the kitchen. For the first time she noticed the pictures that lined the walls, and couldn’t help envying the family scenes. Rosie, as a baby, seemed to be the subject of choice. But there were also pictures of parents and other life events. In one frame Ross stood with a class of very serious-minded-looking men and women. Naturally there were a few wedding pictures. She stopped at one particular portrait.
The Doc's Double Delivery & Down-Home Diva Page 18