by Lisa Wingate
Would he really do that?
My cell phone rang in my purse. For just an instant, I hoped it was him. I wanted him to make all of this go away, to explain everything. He probably could. David was a consummate salesman.
That wouldn’t make it true.
In my heart, I knew what was true. He didn’t love me. He was forty and trying to talk himself into the idea that it was time he got married again.
I was thirty-four and tired of being single in the city.
It was a lethal combination.
Grabbing the phone, I switched it to vibrate. It was only Paula. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I couldn’t. All I could do was stumble across the room, climb onto the fuzzy bedspread, twist my fingers into the thick artificial fur, bury my head, and cry all over Beulah’s pink satin pillows.
Chapter 16
Imagene Doll
In the morning, I didn’t hear noises in the house and think about Jack. I was busy dreaming of the roller coaster, and I reckon Jack wouldn’t have wanted to wake me up and spoil the ride. He joined me in my dream. Where Avery had been by my side as the Lightning Snake crawled up the first hill, now it was Jack. The sight of him filled me with joy, but I was confused, too, because he couldn’t be there.
“They said you died,” I told him. “They said you were gone.”
He smiled at me, his eyes twinkling the way they used to when I prodded him to reveal what was inside my Christmas packages.
“You look good,” I said. He did look good—like the tall, straight navy gent who stole my heart the first time I saw him.
The coaster made it to the top of the hill, and we hovered for just a minute at the crest. Jack put his fingers over mine on the bar, and even though I could see him touch me, I couldn’t feel it. He lifted up his hand, and I let mine follow. The coaster started down the hill, and we threw our arms in the air and laughed and laughed.
I woke up sometime before the ride was over, and for a minute, I just laid there thinking about it. My first roller coaster ride with Jack. If the Anderson boys hadn’t talked me into stopping by the fair last night, if Amanda-Lee and I hadn’t made that pact to get on the roller coaster, it never would’ve happened. I couldn’t have ridden the roller coaster with Jack in my dream, because I wouldn’t know what the roller coaster felt like. Because I’d gathered up my courage and tried something new, it was like Jack got to do it, too.
It hit me that I hadn’t been much fun to be with this past year—moping around the house every night, not wanting to get out of bed in the mornings, turning down my sons’ invitations to go along on family trips and whatnot. I hadn’t been showing Jack’s memory a very good time since he passed on.
Throwing off the covers, I made up my mind that I would start doing better. Today was the beginning of it. Helping Amanda-Lee get Amber and the filming crew into the fair would be an adventure, for sure. Jack would love every minute of that.
Slipping into my housecoat, I crossed the room to shut the door, so as not to wake the Anderson boys while I was moving around getting dressed and puttering about the place. The old wood floor squeaked under my feet, and down the hall, one of the boys caught a breath and sighed, the bed squeaking as he turned over. That was Avery, probably, down in Jack Junior’s room. Either Andy or Amos was snoring like a little old man in the bedroom across the hall. I stood in the doorway for just a minute, listening to the sounds and remembering the days when every inch of our house was full—full of kids, full of chores to be done, homework to be checked, dirty laundry needing washing. Full of life. It felt good to have the house alive again.
Once this adventure with Amanda-Lee was over and school let out for summer, I’d invite all the grandkids up for a long visit. That would be fun. It was high time I opened the house for company again.
The phone rang, and I hurried to close the bedroom door and grab the receiver before the noise woke everybody up. Donetta was on the other end, and I knew right away something was up.
“GiGi, we got a problem,” she said. Her voice was low, like she didn’t want anyone to hear. “You still got the Anderson boys over there?”
“Yes, I do.” I couldn’t imagine why me having the Anderson boys would be a problem, since their granddad was probably still laid out somewhere, after a long night hugged up to a bottle. “The kids’re sleeping. We went to the fair last night on the way home. I rode the roller coaster. Three times.”
“I heard about that.” Donetta didn’t sound as surprised as I thought she would. “Betty Prine’s already been on the phone this morning, telling everyone about you cozying up to the Anderson boys because their sister’s gonna be famous.”
The hackles rose on the back of my neck. Darn that woman.
She could make a sow’s ear out of a silk purse. “Oh, let her talk. I don’t care. Betty Prine’s not worth my time. Those boys and I had fun. They’re real sweet children—grateful, and polite. Betty Prine can just—”
“I ain’t got time to talk about Betty Prine this morning,” Donetta said. “We got bigger fish to fry. Is there anyone out in your front yard?”
I sat down on the edge of my bed, scratching my ear through the nest of roller-coaster hair. “Donetta, did you slip and hit your head in the shower again? Why in the world would there be someone in my front yard? It’s just me and the boys here, and they’re all still asleep.”
“Just check, GiGi. Just check if there’s anyone in your front yard. Don’t let them see you looking.”
“Donetta, what—”
“Just check. Go look out the window.” Netta was in no mood to mess around. When Donetta Bradford takes that tone, you get up and go look out the window if that’s what she wants.
I stood at the curtain and pulled it aside, just a little. The yard looked quiet, all the way down to the front gate, and Hamby, my across-the-pasture neighbor’s big cow dog, was lounging out under the oak tree. “Not a sign of anyone outside. Hamby’s there under the tree. If there was someone around, he wouldn’t just lay there like that.”
Donetta blew out a quick sigh. I pictured it tinted with Rumba Red #5. “Good. They didn’t find their way out there. Imagene, you got to stay at your house, and whatever you do, don’t come to town.”
“Donetta, what in heaven’s—”
“Just listen. I don’t have much time. Lucy’s out front cussin’ at people in Japanese. She’s pretending she don’t speak English.”
“Donetta …”
“Listen,” Donetta hissed, and I stepped back from the window. The last time Donetta got that sharp with me was when she came to make me get out of bed for Jack’s funeral. “There’s reporters and TV people, folks with cameras, and I don’t know who else all over town. They’re in the café, the hardware, the grocery, down at the Baptist church, and just now when Lucy opened up out front, they come bustin’ in here, saying they knew American Megastar was here, and did we have Amber Anderson hidden upstairs? Forrest and Buddy Ray are headed over from the jail to come get these people out of here, and then I’m gonna lock the door and not let anybody in, except regular customers.”
“Donetta, what …” My mind started spinning like the Tilt-AWhirl at the fairgrounds, and my peaceful morning whiffed right out the window quick as a puff of smoke. I looked out at the front yard again, checked the bushes and the trees, and tried to see behind the stone pillars at the gateway. “How in the world? How could all that happen overnight?”
“Don’t know. From the sounds of it, Verl hit half the watering holes in the county after he finished up here yesterday. He was at it pretty hard, and his tongue a-waggin’ the whole time about how Amber was in the Final Five, and there was people from American Megastar in town, and he was gettin’ rooms fixed up at the Daily Hotel for the rest of the crew, and Amber’d called him last evenin’ saying she’d be home Saturday morning with a big surprise.” She paused, and in the background I heard Forrest hollering, at least a half-dozen voices chattering back, and Lucy yelling in Japanese. “Lands,
Imagene, there’s no tellin’ what that old fool said, and to who, but word’s out. They’re after it like hounds on a cottontail. They’re lookin’ to stake out anyplace Amber might come to and anybody she might plan to see. They’re lookin’ for Verl, they’re lookin’ for Amber’s brothers, and they’re lookin’ for the American Megastar people.”
“Oh mercy,” I said, and Donetta added a quick amen. Pacing back and forth beside the bed, I tried to think. Somehow, we had to get this mess under control before Amber, Amanda-Lee, and the filming crew got to my house later this morning. “All right, DeDe, listen. I’m getting an idea, but it’s gonna take some help.”
“Whatever we got to do for Amber, you know we’ll do it.” Donetta would, too. Anytime anyone ever needed help, she was right there. She’d be the first in line with a shovel at a ditch diggin’.
I sat on the edge of the bed and started jotting down notes. The call waiting rang on my line—probably one of my boys checking on me, but I didn’t answer it. “First of all, get that darned Betty Prine and lock her in a closet if you got to, but shut her up about the Anderson boys being with me last night. If the reporters track us down, everything’ll be ruined. I got to tell you something top secret, DeDe. Promise me you won’t tell a soul. Nobody. I mean it.”
“GiGi, this ain’t the time for games.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise. You know I’d never tell a secret.” That wasn’t exactly true, because anyone who talked as much as Donetta had spilled a secret or two, but never with the intention to hurt anybody.
“All right. The American Megastar crew is coming here later this morning. They’re coming straight to my place from the airport, with Amber. They’re gonna film her seeing her family again, and then we’re gonna load her in a horse trailer and take her to do a concert at the fairgrounds. You can’t tell anybody.”
It took Donetta a minute to answer. “Imagene, you experiencin’ any blurred vision, any headache, numbness in your extremities, any disorientation this mornin’?”
“I ain’t havin’ a stroke, Netta.” It was aggravating that she didn’t believe I was involved in the American Megastar plan. “Now hush up and listen. I called down the road last night and got a pickup and a horse trailer on loan from my neighbor who’s been keeping old Magnolia for me since Jack died, but there’s still things to do—we need someone who can drive the pickup, for one thing, because my neighbor’s tied up this afternoon. Now, on top of that, we got these reporters to worry about.”
I continued on, not giving her time to interrupt. “You call over to the café and tell Bob to keep them reporters busy as long as he can. Tell him to be slow with the food—get the countertoppers to brew up some wild stories about where Amber might be and when she might come in—anything that’ll send them away from the fairgrounds and away from my place. Pass the word around town. Also, call Miss Lulu at the RV park and tell her that if she’s still got that spiky-haired lady or her crew out there, go out and lock the park gate and pretend she’s lost the key. That lady reporter sure enough knows where the Anderson place is, and we don’t need her going out there and catching Verl half sloshed this morning—if she hasn’t already.”
I stopped a minute to write some things on my notepad, and Donetta started to talk. “Wait,” I said. “I got more. Call Brother Harve and O.C., and ask them to check for Verl at home, and if he’s not there, to hightail it over to The Junction. Verl’s probably laid out in his truck in the parking lot, as usual. Tell Harve and O.C. I don’t care if they have to pick him up and carry him here, I need him over to my place. They can’t let anybody follow them. If they think they got a tail, they’ll have to take evasive maneuvers.”
“Good gravy, Imagene, you’re making this sound like a spy movie. O.C. and Harve are gonna laugh me off the phone.”
“Just tell them it’s important. Tell them it’s for Amber. Brother Harve’s always had a soft spot for the Anderson kids.”
Donetta sighed. “All right. I’ll do it. Anything else?”
I stopped to think, looking at my list. “See if you can line us up someone who knows how to drive a pickup that’s haulin’ a fourhorse slant trailer. Someone who ain’t busy this afternoon. Don’t tell them who it’s for yet. Where’s Amanda-Lee?”
“Still in bed, I think. I haven’t heard a peep from her so far this morning. Carter passed through here on his way back from breakfast a while ago. He said he guessed she’d turned in early yesterday evening. He helped her plug her computer into the phone line when they got home from the fair, and that was the last he heard of her.”
A sense of something not right tickled the short hairs on the back of my neck. Why would Amanda-Lee sleep past eight o’clock on the day her crew was headed up from Austin to film Amber’s show? “Well, that don’t seem right, does it—considering she’s got a big day today and all?”
“No, it don’t,” Donetta agreed. “Reckon I ought to go wake her up? I haven’t even heard a toilet flush up there or nothin’ all morning. Women always go to the pot first thing.”
“Donetta, for heaven’s sake.” Some of the things Donetta would talk about!
“Well, they do. That’s always how we knew when to put out the breakfast trays—soon as the toilets started flushin’.”
“That’s just two things it don’t seem should be associated—breakfast trays and toilets flushing.”
“Well, you know, out one end, in the other.”
“Donetta!” I couldn’t help it, I laughed and DeDe laughed, too. For a minute, I forgot what we’d been talking about and why I was at the window with a notepad in my hand.
“You know, when she leaves here, she’ll be followed.” Donetta’s words floated loosely around a thought about the low branches on the live oak trees needing to be trimmed.
“Who’ll be followed?”
Donetta coughed into the phone. “Amanda-Lee. Wake up out there, Imagene. When Amanda-Lee leaves the hotel, these reporters are gonna follow. You shoulda heard them asking Lucy did we have the people from American Megastar registered here, and was Amber and Justin Shay upstairs, and so forth. They’re hanging around by the doors, waiting for anyone to come out of the hotel. When they see Amanda-Lee’s car pull out, they’ll be hot on her tail.”
“We can’t have that. She’ll lead them right here.” I stopped to think about the problem. “All right, I got an idea. Give Harlan a call on his cell phone and find out how soon he’s gonna be back through town on his mail route. Whenever he comes by the Hair and Body, he can go around back and pull on into the garage. Amanda-Lee can load up in the back part of the wagon and have Harlan drive her out here, and them reporters won’t have a clue.”
Donetta was quiet for a minute. I had a feeling she was staring at the beauty shop windows, trying to get a vision of whether or not the plan would work.
“It might do,” she decided finally. “It just might do.”
“It’ll have to do. I don’t have any other ideas. You?”
“If I did, I woulda said so.” Donetta sounded a little peeved. It wasn’t normal for me to be the one doing the planning and giving the orders. It felt good to be thinking on my own. All my life, I’d had someone else thinking for me—first my daddy, then Jack, now these last months Donetta and my sons. It was a powerful thing, finding out I had a mind of my own. I felt like I was on the roller coaster again—bold and free and full of life. “Have the countertoppers get busy serving up some Amber Anderson stories. Maybe Brother Ervin can offer to show them the church where Amber used to sing, maybe even let them think she might show up there today—that wouldn’t be a lie exactly, would it? To let them think that, I mean? Ervin could hint without actually saying so.”
“I think it’d be all right. It probably ain’t a sin to mislead reporters, anyhow.”
“No, probably not, I reckon.”
Donetta let out a long sigh, and I could hear her fingernails tapping the phone. “What exactly are you gonna be doin’ while I’m calling h
alf the county?”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, Netta, I can’t spend all morning on the phone. I got boys to feed, and then after that I got Hollywood comin’ to my very doorstep. I need to get busy and clean my house.”
Donetta just smacked her lips, huffed into the phone, and hung up, of all things. Even with all the years we been friends, there’s times when Donetta Bradford can be just plain hard to get along with.
Chapter 17
Mandalay Florentino
The Ferris wheel sat waiting with one empty seat as David and I strolled through the fairgrounds, taking in the scent of funnel cakes and corn dogs, the richly blended sound of voices, the mechanical clicks and swishes of rides, and the tinny melodies of carnival music. By the Ferris wheel gate, the old ticket taker stood waiting, his body bent and wrinkled, a stark contrast to the smooth satin of his candy-striped vest and tall white top hat. He waved me over, and I tugged David’s hand, pulling him toward the Ferris wheel.
David leaned away, laughed, and said, “What’s the hurry?”
The ticket taker beckoned, and I tried to pull David closer. Any minute now, the gate would close, the Ferris wheel would spin upward, and we’d miss the ride. “Come on,” I pleaded. “It’s almost too late.” High overhead in the seats, I could see my sisters, my nieces and nephews, and Paula in her bridesmaid’s dress with her laptop computer, cruising Mydestiny.com.
Mydestiny.com. Something vaguely disturbing, mildly threatening, crept through my mind. I looked up at the blanket of night sky overhead. What could possibly be wrong here?
The ticket taker was closing the gate, his movements slow and deliberate. “Let’s go,” I said, trying to move forward. The gate was closing. David’s fingers slipped from mine, and I didn’t look back but ran for the opening, slipping into the last seat as it started upward.
“Pardon me, ma’am.” I turned, and Carter was standing on the girders, riding the upward swell like a sailor on the rigging of a pirate ship. “I have to test this ride for safety.” Swinging forward, he landed in the seat beside me.