Antiques Flee Market

by Barbara Allan

  Mother drifted out of the room, looking a little shell-shocked. I was a trifle surprised myself—Grace had turned out to be an Old Testament gal, too, hadn’t she?

  But in the car, Mother lowered her head and began to cry. I got a handkerchief out of her handbag and gave it to her. It was quite touching right up to where she blew her nose with a definite honk.

  “I thought you were all for getting even,” I said.

  “What that woman did wasn’t getting even, it was taking advantage. She ‘feathered her nest’ on the bones of her baby. How horrible. How terrible. And Ivan—no wonder the years twisted him, facing one blackmailer after another…and I was the last, wasn’t I? The one who sent him over the edge.”

  “He was an awful man.”

  “He was flawed. I can’t justify what he did to Ella Jane—who would, who could? But we weren’t there to see it. We weren’t young boys facing war, either, like he and all the others were. Perhaps Ivan might have come back and made amends through public service—I believe he tried to—but the past wouldn’t let him.”

  “Keeping secrets buried,” I said, “can be costly, Mother.”

  “What…what do you mean, dear?”

  “Nothing. Just what I said.”

  On New Year’s Eve, Brian and I went out to dinner at a new French restaurant on the bluff overlooking the frosty Mississippi. Brian, looking handsome in the brown cashmere Armani sweater I had given him for Christmas, seemed cheerful, although a little distracted, which I assumed was due to a heavier-than-normal work schedule at the police department over the holidays.

  I wore a black satin Donna Karan dress that I’d been saving for just such an occasion, and I tried to act happy even though I was miserable, because I hadn’t told him yet about my offer to carry Tina and Kevin’s baby, which my friends had gratefully and joyously accepted three weeks ago.

  After dinner, we went back to Brian’s small apartment, which he had cleaned for the occasion, and he popped open a chilled bottle of champagne—which almost always cheers me up, but this was one of the “almosts”—and then, because the room didn’t have a romantic fireplace, he put a DVD of one on his big-screen TV. (Who couldn’t love this guy?)

  As we sat together on his couch, sipping bubbly, basking in the DVD/TV crackling fire, Brian, his arm around me, finally said, “Brandy…we need to talk.”

  Had he noticed that our seemingly perfect evening was off kilter?

  I said slowly, “Yes…I have something to tell you.”

  “And I, you.” He removed his arm from around me.

  This sounded serious, and I twisted my torso to gaze at him. “You go first….”

  “Ladies first.”

  “No…. You started this.”

  Brian sighed, gazing at the TV fireplace. “We’re going to have to stop seeing each other for a while.”

  Whatever I might have guessed he’d hit me with, this was not it!

  I reared back. “You’re breaking up with me?” Nobody has ever broken up with me! Not counting my divorce, anyway. I couldn’t help feeling crushed.

  I sputtered, “It’s Mother, isn’t it? She drives you crazy, right?”

  “No. I mean, yes, she drives me crazy…but then she drives everybody crazy, and…that’s not the reason.”

  I waited.

  Brian swiveled on the couch to face me. “It’s…it’s Bonnie, my ex-wife….”

  Oh, no! The dreaded ex-wife! He was still in love with her.

  But Brian was saying, “It’s our older girl. She’s really having some problems.”

  “I’m sorry….”

  “It’s an eating disorder. Pretty serious. Very serious, actually…and Bonnie is freaking out, and my younger girl is a mess, too. I have a responsibility, Brandy. My girls are going to need me.”

  I blinked a couple times, processing that. By “girls” did he mean his daughters, or his wife and daughters? But I couldn’t bring myself to ask. What I did ask was: “But…I thought they lived in Wisconsin…?”

  Brian nodded. “And I’ll be making regular weekend trips there to see them. For counseling sessions, and just…being there.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s a Dad thing.” He touched my face. “Let’s think of it as a hiatus, okay? Still, I can’t expect you to wait for me…and I’d understand if you, well, decided to move on.”

  Date others. But where would I find someone as sweet as Brian? And how could I compete with a family that needed him, a family he’d made before he ever even met me? And how could I be mad at him for wanting to help someone he loved? Wasn’t that what I was doing for Tina?

  All I could do was nod numbly.

  Brian cocked his head. “You said you had something to tell me, too. What was it?”

  I waved a dismissive hand. “It was nothing. Really.”

  Why go into my surrogacy offer? Now that Brian was out of the picture. Maybe I’d write him a letter about it. I could always send it to Wisconsin….

  Brian got to his feet. He looked pale, even stricken. “I…I suppose you’ll want me to drive you home now.”

  I looked up at him. “Not really. I hate to waste a roaring fireplace DVD and a perfectly good bottle of champagne.”

  And I pulled him down to me.

  The following afternoon, to commemorate the beginning of a new year, Mother and I made a pact. We trooped outside to the backyard, dug a small campfire in the snow, and burned our raccoon coats. (The stench was terrible, and a few of the neighbors called to complain. But I had no regrets.)

  Which brings me around to the “cast, crew, and others” party at our house after the first night of Mother’s new Agatha Christie production, which opened to a packed audience.

  Mother had been right about Chaz’s acting chops: The funky little Brit was terrific in her role of the amateur sleuth, providing much-needed comic relief, most of it intentional. Mother, wearing dual hats of both director and actor, was similarly strong. Her part as the murder victim, although small, garnered gasps from the audience at the staging of a real car seemingly running her down on stage. (Chief Cassato, in the front row with other local dignitaries, appeared to enjoy the stunt maybe a little too much, but that could just have been my imagination.)

  After the performance, our house was crawling with people (in a good way): cast and stagehands, friends and neighbors, and a few folks I’d never seen before, who probably spotted the party from the street and decided to cash in on the food and drink. (I would.)

  Mother, tiring of answering the door, hung (or is it hanged?) a sign outside, borrowing words from that hippie song: WALK RIGHT IN, SIT RIGHT DOWN.

  Among those dropping by to offer their congratulations on the Playhouse’s latest hit were Tina and Kevin, though they didn’t stay long, Teen feeling pretty tired after her first chemo treatment, though she’d made it through the play.

  Right before she left, Tina asked, “Where’s Brian?”

  I hadn’t told her yet; I hadn’t figured out how. “He had something else tonight.”

  “Oh. Too bad.”

  Even Joe Lange stopped by. He seemed a little ill at ease, so I assured my old friend that all had been forgiven and forgotten, even though the lump on the back of my head hadn’t quite receded.

  “I’m going to stay on my meds, from now on,” he said. “I promise.”

  “Same back at ya.”

  “You’re not mad? You’re really not mad?”

  I gave him a hug.

  “Roger that,” he said with a goofy grin.

  Just as the party was really kicking in around eleven, Chaz made a grand entrance on the arm of boyfriend Ben. She looked chic and sexy in a short red sweater dress, a departure from her usual all-back leather, her black hair changed to a softer shade of amber; Ben also had had a makeover, traveling from grungy to preppy, although truth be told, he seemed a tad uncomfortable in the very new clothes.

  Knowing I should be in the kitchen dealing with dirty dishes, I buttonholed the pair.
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  I smiled at Chaz. “You look great. Radiant.”

  “Thanks, Bran,” she said, smiling back.

  I turned to Ben. “And that’s a new look for you, too, isn’t it?”

  He blushed. I swear he did. “Chaz picked ’em out…and, well, I do what she wants.” He looked adoringly at her, the poor whipped puppy.

  “Yeah, well, ‘e’s goin’ to college now, innit? An’ I want ’im to look the part. First rule of actin’, your ol’ lady says.”

  That explained the Tommy Hilfiger clothes. “That’s great!” I said, pleasantly surprised. “Where? Studying what?”

  Ben grinned. “Community college…night classes mostly. I want to run my own auto-parts business.”

  “That’s really swell.” I looked at Chaz. “And what are your plans? After the play, I mean….”

  The girl screwed up her face in that adorable way. “Well, I can’t say jus’ yet…be busy with the new ’ouse, for starts, innit?”

  My eyebrows went up. “You’ve bought a home?”

  Ben said excitedly, “Chaz sold her trailer, and I sold mine, and we’re gettin’ a new double-wide.”

  I looked at the beaming pair and wondered if I’d ever been that happy.

  “An’,” Chaz interjected, “with the money we got from peddlin’ the Ape Man book, we can fix up the caravan super nice!”

  Mother had sneaked up beside us. “How much did you get?” she demanded, then, “I wish you’d consulted me, my dear!”

  Mother often felt strongly proprietorial about things that were in no way hers.

  Chaz tossed her head back. “Naw, Miz Borne, we got it sorted proper—forty thousand dollars! An’ you know ’oo bought it?”

  Mother and I shook our heads.

  “That nasty bloke from the flea market!”

  Mother gasped, “Not Harry Potthoff?”

  Chaz nodded. “The very one. ’E’s got a posh wife, now, yeah? Filthy rich, she is, and a right collector of books and that. And he ponied up the cash right and proper, or anyway she did.”

  Apparently, Pudgy had also been scouting for a well-heeled wife.

  Mother said grudgingly, “Well, you seem to have done adequately, my dear…but I’m sure a better price may have been possible if—”

  I interrupted, “Why don’t we let Chaz and Ben mingle, Mother. I’m sure there are other guests who’d like to offer their congratulations on Chaz’s star turn.”

  And I took Mother by the arm and led her a few steps away.

  “Let it go, Mother,” I whispered. “What’s done is done.”

  She went tsk-tsk. “Yes, I suppose—money under the bridge. But I could have gotten them much more, I’m sure of it! Why don’t people ever learn to listen to me?”

  “I’ll get back to you on that. Just don’t make trouble for those two. They’re happy as clams.”

  She sighed deeply. “All right, dear. I’ll let this one go. But remember—the clams in Alice in Wonderland were happy, too, and look what happened to them!”

  Then Mother shifted into her hostess-with-the-mostest persona, flitting over to a group of new arrivals, and I disappeared into the kitchen to do a little scullery maid duty.

  Noticing that we were out of clean glasses, I was standing on tippy-toes to reach some on the top shelf of a cupboard when an extra pair of hands appeared to help me out, and a male voice said, “Let me get those.”

  I turned to see Tony Cassato, his black trench coat unbuttoned, revealing a crisply pressed blue shirt and gold tie.

  Surprised by his presence, I could only manage, “Thanks.”

  “Where do you want these?” he asked.

  “On the counter’s fine.”

  The chief set the glasses down.

  I said, “Nice of you to come to the play.”

  “It was fun.”

  “Right—particularly when Mother got run over.”

  He gave up a smile.

  “Does your stopping by mean you’re speaking to her again?” I asked.

  He twitched a tiny smirk. “Yeah. I find it’s better to keep the lines of communication open, where Vivian Borne is concerned.”

  “Ah—you’re learning.”

  An awkward silence followed; then Tony cleared his throat. “I just dropped by to say…” He paused, looking uncomfortable, and I felt a quick chill, wondering if new charges were going to be filed against Mother.

  “…I’m sorry about you and Brian.”

  This was an incredibly un-chieflike thing for the chief to say; he had never even acknowledged that Brian and I were seeing each other.

  I said, “You heard we broke up?”

  “It’s a small station. Word travels fast.”

  “Well, in Brian’s defense—”

  But Tony cut me off. “You don’t have to tell me the details. Frankly, I prefer you wouldn’t.”

  “Hey, he didn’t just drop me, no matter what the department rumor mill says. He had a perfectly good reason.”

  “Hard to think what that could be.”

  That was a compliment of sorts, but I was on the spot. It was perfectly possible Brian hadn’t told the chief about his personal situation, and that he’d be running in and out of state on his days off for a while. And it wasn’t my place to tell him.

  I plastered on a smile and tried to sidestep. “I wouldn’t think who one of your officers was going out with, or not, would even get on your radar.”

  “Yes. Yes, it did. It’s just that….” Taciturn Tony was having trouble finding the right words. How the hell did he pull off interrogations, anyway?

  He tried again. “I always like to know about anything that might affect the work of my men, who’re out on the line every day.”

  Suddenly, I was pretty sure it wasn’t Brian’s welfare he was really interested in….

  Okay, I thought. Let’s see how supportive the chief really is.

  I said, “You may as well know something else—it’ll be all over town soon—but my best friend’s fighting cancer and she and her husband can’t have kids. So I’m going to be a surrogate mother for them.”

  Funny. I could never have told Brian that in such a straightforward way.

  Tony was nodding, saying, “Well, great. Well, that’s great.”

  I smiled. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”

  Mother flounced into the kitchen. Her face went from startled, to pleased, to smug in five seconds. “Oh, dear me…I didn’t mean to intrude!”

  And she traipsed out again.

  Tony asked, “What was that about?”

  I laughed a little. “Don’t pay any attention to Mother. She has this wild idea that you and I might get together someday, and then she’d have access to all kinds of confidential information.”

  “Is that right?” he said with a one-sided smirk.

  “I’m mentioning this so you won’t get caught up in her matchmaking web.”

  Tony didn’t say anything for a moment, then, “What if I don’t mind?”

  I stared.

  “What I mean to say is,” the chief said quickly, just a shade of embarrassment in his tone, “I really wouldn’t mind, Brandy, if you and I were friends and not just acquaintances.”

  “Uhhh, I thought we were friends.”

  He nodded. “Good.”

  I nodded. “Fine.”

  What was that all about?

  Tony shifted awkwardly, “Well. I guess I should be going.”

  I thanked him for coming to the cast party, and he nodded again, then left.

  My mind whirling, I watched Tony weave his way through the crowd to the front door.

  Was Mother right? Was Tony Cassato “sweet” on me?

  Impossible.

  And even if he were, a romantic relationship with the chief of police was one place I could not go. Mother would be absolutely intolerable! We’d be looking into every Serenity crime from shoplifting on up.

  Peggy Sue entered the kitchen. She was wearing beige woolen slacks with a matching sweater
set that I recognized from the winter Ralph Lauren collection.

  Sis said, “You look beat, Brandy. Why don’t you let me take over in here?”

  Another shock. Peggy Sue, rolling up her cashmere sleeves to do dishes? When exactly had I gone through the City on the Edge of Forever portal into the alternate Brandy universe?

  I asked, “What’s Mother doing?”

  “Enthralling her friends from the Red-Hatted League in the music room with the gruesome details of your latest case.”

  I grunted. “The party could go on all night….”

  As Peggy Sue replaced me at the sink, I ventured, “Peg….”

  Since I rarely called her that, she turned to look at me with interest. “What is it, Brandy?”

  And I told her the whole spiel about the baby thing.

  At the end, Sis raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows and said, “I would never under any circumstances do that to my body…but then, we’re different, aren’t we? So you have my blessing.”

  Not that I needed it; still, it did make things easier between us.

  I said, “I have the first in-vitro procedure next month.” Then I warned her, “So you know there’s bound to be talk.”

  Peggy Sue knew I was referring to her prized and protected social standing taking a hit because of her wayward sister, but again she surprised me.

  “If my friends don’t like it,” she stated flatly, “then they’re not really my friends, are they?”

  “Could you go down to the basement with me?”

  “Why?”

  “I want to check and see if your pod is down there.”

  She laughed and so did I.

  It looked like Peggy Sue and I really were going to have a different relationship now. Free of hostility and secrets.

  “Thanks, Sis,” I said, patting her arm.

  Then she did something truly astounding: She kissed my cheek.

  Upstairs, I found Sushi asleep on top of my bedcovers; the commotion of the party had been too much for her. She’d started out the evening yapping and dancing and yapping and dancing, but now she was spent. I kissed her furry little face, and she rolled over for me to scratch her soft tummy.