“No problem,” she said as she waved him away.
Ed was trying to look nonplussed but Claire could tell he was disturbed.
The whole time Frank had been in the salon, Ed kept looking at Frank and then at Claire, with knitted brows.
“Quite a fella,” he said after Frank left. “Big fella, too.”
“Yeah,” Claire said. “I felt sorry for him.”
“Kinda makes me wish you felt sorry for me,” Ed said, and then smiled at Claire as he left.
Claire’s next appointment was with a woman named Candace, nicknamed Candy, with whom she had gone to school from kindergarten through high school. In kindergarten her hair had been white blond; now it was a mousy brown with dated-looking frosted highlights. Candy squealed and hugged Claire as soon as she saw her.
“When I heard you were back, I just couldn’t believe it,” Candy said. “I’m so sorry it took me so long to welcome you back, but Bill and I took Caitlyn on a cruise to the Bahamas for her graduation present, and then we had orientation at LSU, where she’s going this fall, and then Billy had soccer camp, and after that a Grand Canyon trip with the Eagle Scouts, so what with all that’s been going on I just didn’t have time to stop by and see you. How are you? I can’t believe it’s been twenty years! You look just the same. Although I think you had red hair then, and maybe you were a little heavier, but whatever! You look great now!”
Claire took a deep breath and smiled so hard she sprained a cheek muscle. Before she could respond Candy took a quick breath and continued on.
“Anyhoo, I always ask your mom how you are when I see her. I was so sorry to hear about your dad, by the way. That’s just heart-breaking. I said to Bill, I said, ‘That’s just heartbreaking.’ To think how he used to be chief of police and drove our kids’ school bus and now … well, anyhoo, it’s just so sad. So your mom has kept me up on where you were and what you were doing. You worked for some famous Hollywood actress, I guess …”
“Sloan Merryweather.”
“She’s the one who was in that film about the prostitute? Directed by her husband? And he left her for the actress who played her daughter? I didn’t see it; I don’t support films that portray women in such a demeaning way, but I guess she won the Oscar for it? And her dress fell off at the awards show or something?”
“That’s the one,” Claire said.
“Well, anyhoo,” Candy said. “Your mother told me all about all the exotic places you went and how well you were doing, so I just couldn’t believe it when I heard you came back here. I said to Bill, I said, ‘Rose Hill will seem awfully boring to Claire after her glamorous Hollywood career.’ I guess you did hair and makeup, like on film sets or something?”
“Yes,” Claire said. “That’s what I did.”
Claire actually did whatever menial task Sloan asked her to, whether that meant going out at three in the morning, in a country where she did not speak the language, to find the exact brand of mineral water Sloan had to have; or lugging a mountain of heavy baggage up a rocky footpath to the Italian Villa Sloan had rented, because the driveway had washed away in the last rainstorm.
No matter what outrageous thing Sloan would ask of her, Claire would grit her teeth, remember the huge paychecks she received, and find a way to make it happen. Sloan was so routinely rude to service people that Claire knew how to say, “I’m so sorry,” in seven different languages, and always carried a pocketful of local currency with which to soothe their bruised feelings.
“Well, Rose Hill probably seems mighty dull to you after that,” Candy said. “While you were gallivanting around the world the rest of us just kept on living our boring little old lives.”
“I don’t think your life is boring,” Claire said, but Candy rushed on as if she hadn’t heard her.
“Bill and I got married right after college. I was a Tri Delta? At Penn State? You didn’t go, did you? I could swear I remember you were there. No, that’s not right. You didn’t go to college; you quit high school and went to beauty school, instead.”
“I got my GED and worked at the Thorn for awhile before I went to beauty school,” Claire said. “I wish I had stayed in school and gone to college. I would have loved being in a sorority.”
“Anyhoo, we got married right after graduation, had a fabulous honeymoon in the Cayman Islands, and then Bill went to work for his dad at the insurance agency. We had Caitlyn and then Billy, and our lives pretty much revolve around them. Just boring old family stuff, you know.”
Since Candy didn’t seem as if she was going to take a breath long enough so that Claire could speak, Claire walked backward toward the shampoo bowl. Candy followed her there, and sat down, still talking.
“We just went to Hawaii for our twentieth anniversary, can you believe it? Twenty years. Where does the time go, right? It really was paradise, just like they say,” Candy said. “I’m sure after the places you’ve been and the things you’ve seen that must seem really tame, but it was the trip of a lifetime for little ole me.”
“Sounds like a wonderful way to celebrate such a milestone,” Claire said.
“We’re building a house, out in the new housing development off Pine Mountain Road? Eldridge Point? Near the new golf course? It’s going to be a gated community, very exclusive; home-owners association and everything. No clotheslines in anyone’s backyard, no cars up on blocks in the driveway. What with the lower-class element, the college students, and tourists, Rose Hill has really gone to the dogs since you left.”
“Surely it’s not that bad,” Claire said.
“It used to be if you lived on any street above Rose Hill Avenue it was all right, but now there are student rentals on every block. The tourists are buying up anything they can get their hands on, and then renting them out to anyone with cash.”
Claire, who had grown up on a street below Rose Hill Avenue, felt the familiar sting of the thoughtless snobbery that seemed to prevail everywhere. No matter how small or large the pond, there were always big fish looking down on the little fish.
“At Eldridge Point there will be a community center, an Olympic-sized swimming pool, and regulation-sized game fields, all for the exclusive use of the residents,” Candy said. “There will be a guard on duty at the gatehouse twenty-four-seven, so no one who isn’t a resident can get in without permission.”
“It sounds perfect for you,” Claire said.
“Oh, it will be,” Candy said. “I can’t wait to be there.”
“That’s great,” Claire said. “I’m so glad for you.”
“Anyhoo, I’m pretty active in the PTA, and Bill’s president of the Rotary; we both do Pine County Boosters, and although I don’t have to work I do sell Elegance 42. Have you ever heard of it? It’s mostly tote bags and jewelry and home décor items. I’ll leave you a catalog.”
“Great, thanks,” said Claire.
During Candy’s virtual soliloquy, Claire had washed her hair, moved her to the hydraulic chair and now met her eyes in the wall mirror.
“What are we doing today?”
“Just a trim,” Candy said. “Nothing fancy, no big Hollywood hairdo. Just a plain old boring trim of my plain old housewife haircut. I said to Bill, I said, ‘I might come home looking like a movie star,’ and that rotten egg, he said that was fine by him.”
“I like your haircut,” Claire said. “Denise is an excellent hairstylist and she did a great job. I’ll just trim it up for you.”
Claire began to work, and while she did so Candy told her all the gossip about every person they went to high school with, starting after high school graduation right up to the present. The prevailing theme seemed to be who had done well and who had failed, with all outcomes narrowly defined by Candy’s stringent social standards. By the time Claire had finished Candy’s hair she felt like she knew way more than she ever wanted to know about everyone she had ever known.
“So, we need to get together sometime,” Candy said as she paid. “I’m so busy right now, what with the ki
ds and the committees, and building this house is just like a million decisions that have to be made every day, you know? What with the window treatments and tile to pick out, you know?”
“When things settle down, then,” Claire said.
“Sure!” Candy said. “Anyhoo, it was great seeing you, and welcome back! I’m just so, so glad to see you and I’m sure your mother is thrilled to have you back home.”
She hugged Claire and when she let go, Claire was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
“Heartbreaking!” Candy said. “It’s just heartbreaking about your dad.”
Claire handed her a tissue and Candy wiped under her eyes.
“My dad,” Candy started, and then was overcome with emotion and had to stop.
“What’s going on?” Claire asked, and handed her another tissue.
“He’s got cancer,” Candy said. “Prostate cancer. He’s not … well, he’s just not doing well. The treatments they tried didn’t work, and then he had surgery, then radiation, but he’s not getting any better.”
“How’s your mom holding up?”
“She’s being strong for everybody, you know her,” Candy said. “She puts on a brave face and does her best to keep positive, but I know she’s struggling. We all are. If it weren’t for our faith, I don’t know what we’d do. I said to Bill, I said, ‘I know God has a plan for us so we just need to put our trust in Him and be thankful.”
“I’m so sorry to hear about your father,” Claire said. “You just never think your parents will get old or sick.”
“I know,” Candy said. “And we will, too, right? I’m just so glad I have such wonderful children to take care of me when I’m old, just like we’re taking care of Dad.”
“That’s a blessing,” Claire said.
“Oh, look at me, boo-hooing like a baby and my mascara probably everywhere,” Candy said.
“You look fine,” Claire said. “You look great.”
“Well, I’m off,” Candy said. “Places to go, things to do; it just never stops, right?”
“Take care,” Claire said. “Call me when you have time for lunch.”
After Candy left, Claire stood for a while, looking out the window, just thinking. Twenty years ago, when she left Rose Hill, everywhere she went she had looked for the place where her real life would begin; “real life” meaning having someone to love, to make a family with, to work together toward a secure future. Now she wondered if while she ran around in circles all over the globe perhaps she’d missed out on her real life right here in Rose Hill.
Chapter Three - Tuesday
Late in the afternoon Claire’s cousin Hannah came in, holding a tiny black kitten with big blue eyes.
“No, Hannah,” Claire said.
“He’s not for you,” Hannah said. “I’m just killing time until I can take him to the new owner; she won’t be home until five.”
“In that case let me hold him,” Claire said. “He’s so cute.”
“He looks just like you,” Hannah said. “Black hair and blue eyes.”
“My hair is not black,” Claire said. “It’s Mysterious Nightfall and Wing de Raven with just a hint of Hot Caramel.”
“Well, pardon me,” Hannah said. “I guess that makes mine Mysterious Mouse with just a hint of Head de Bed.”
The kitten was very tiny and mewed pitifully as Hannah transferred it over. Claire cuddled the tiny ball of fur up against her chest and rubbed his neck and head. He began to purr and squeezed his eyes shut at her.
“He likes you,” Hannah said. “Too bad he’s spoken for.”
“He’s so sweet,” Claire said. “But I don’t want one, and don’t you bring me one, Hannah. I mean it. I have enough to worry about without adding another dependent.”
Her cousin sat in the second hydraulic chair and spun it around a few times. Then, without asking for permission, she rooted around in Claire’s handbag until she found an energy bar. Hannah was tiny in stature, but her ferocious metabolism gave her the appetite and energy of a man three times her size.
“This tastes terrible,” she said with her mouth full. “Don’t you have any candy?”
“No candy,” Claire said. “But Kay brought cookies.”
Hannah spit out the bite of energy bar into the trash can, and tossed the rest of it in as well. Claire handed her the plastic container of cookies.
“Excellent!” Hannah said. “Kay makes the best cookies. That’s reason enough to vote for her. She’s asked me to run for city council, you know.”
“Are you going to?”
“Sure,” Hannah said. “She promised to bake for every meeting.”
“Are you campaigning?”
“Don’t have to,” Hannah said. “I’m pretty popular, you know; kind of a local celebrity, really. I’ve been known to do some pretty heroic things in the name of justice and the American way. Around these parts I’m known as the Masked Muttcatcher.”
“Ah, yes,” Claire said. “I’ve heard many a tale of your daring do.”
“Plus all the women want to be me and all the men want to sleep with me,” Hannah said. “Or vice versa.”
Hannah had close-set hazel eyes and a prominent nose, and did nothing to improve her appearance with makeup. She was dressed in her usual summer uniform of faded Rose Hill T-shirt, khaki shorts, wool ankle socks and work boots. Both her arms and legs were deeply tan with a light dusting of fine golden hair on them. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail anchored by a ball cap that had “Noodleheads” printed on it under a noodle-shaped cartoon character. Noodleheads was Hannah’s new favorite fast food joint, which had just opened up near the interstate north of town.
“I’ve probably done something for every long-term resident in this town,” Hannah said. “If I haven’t removed a raccoon from their attics, I’ve found homes for their kittens or rounded up their lost dogs.”
“You shouldn’t have any trouble then,” Claire said.
“It’s in the bag,” Hannah said. “What’s up with you, pussycat?”
“The usual craziness,” Claire said, as she sat down opposite her. “Plus my father now thinks my mother is having an affair with Doc Machalvie.”
“It could be true,” Hannah said. “Doc Machalvie is a silver fox.”
“You know it’s not true,” Claire said. “It’s just a new phase of his dementia. The trouble is he really believes it, and he’s obsessing about it.”
“If he mentions it to me, I’ll set him straight,” Hannah said.
Police Chief Scott Gordon came in, took one look at Hannah, and pretended he was going to leave. He always put Claire in mind of a minor league baseball player; at least that’s how she had cast him in her imaginary movie. He had caramel- and gold-colored hazel eyes with long, thick curling lashes, and although his auburn hairline was receding, he had strong enough facial features to compensate for it.
Today he had on his summer police uniform, which consisted of a navy blue Rose Hill Police Department T-shirt, khaki pants and work boots. His muscular arms were tan, and he had a scruffy five o’clock shadow that made him look a tiny bit wicked. There was something about a man wearing a holster with a gun in it that just got Claire’s blood moving. She was imagining him with his shirt off when she caught herself. Ashamed, she reminded herself that he was engaged to her cousin Maggie.
“You’re not still mad,” Hannah said. “I said I was sorry.”
“You’re a menace,” he said, pointing at her. “You disturbed my peace, with malice aforethought.”
“What did you do?” Claire asked Hannah.
“She got somebody to call Maggie, pretending to be Sister Mary Margrethe,” Scott said. “She said June dates were filling up fast, so Maggie needed to reserve the church for our wedding.”
“That’s just wrong,” Claire said to Hannah. “You should never poke a bear.”
“The joke’s on all of you,” Hannah said. “That was Sister Mary Margrethe and she went along with it. She got a huge kick out of
it.”
“How mad was Maggie?” Claire asked Scott.
“On the face-flush scale she wasn’t quite up to code red scarlet, but it was close,” Scott said. “I had trouble convincing her I wasn’t somehow involved.”
“If you leave it up to her, she’ll never set a date,” Hannah said. “What we need to do is plan a surprise wedding, and then trick her into showing up.”
“I would prefer not to have to trick somebody into marrying me,” Scott said.
“Give her an ultimatum, then,” Hannah said.
“Because that’s worked out so well in the past,” Scott said.
“What’s the hurry?” Claire said. “Aren’t you happy with things the way they are?”
“I’m fine,” Scott said. “I’ll take her anyway I can have her. I’m in this thing for as long as we both shall live, with or without Father Stephen’s blessing.”
“She needs to get it over with,” Hannah said. “The trouble is she’s stewing about it.”
“That’s not good,” Claire said.
“Get it over with, huh?” Scott said. “That’s just great.”
“It’s not you who’s the problem,” Hannah said. “It’s Maggie thinking about dealing with her mother, who will want to control everything; it’s having a father in a wheelchair who will be too drunk to escort her down the aisle; it’s having to go up in front of a church full of people looking at her, judging her, and not being able to give them all the finger; it’s the five hundred decisions she’ll have to make and the five hundred people who will all have opinions about whatever she decides.”
“I can see why she’s reluctant,” Claire said. “Sorry, Scott.”
“I offered to elope,” Scott said. “She said no.”
“You would think Maggie would be the perfect candidate to elope,” Hannah said. “But she doesn’t want anyone to think she’s ashamed to marry Scott in a church in front of God and everyone. Because she isn’t, Scott. That’s the truth.”
“Thanks, Hannah,” Scott said. “I feel a little bit better.”
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