By five o’clock she was approaching the neighborhood where Matthew Harmon lived. Well, Matthew and the little woman. It was an older development not far from Beverly Hills. It wasn’t quite as impressive as she’d expected, but the ranch houses looked fairly large and sprawling, and most of the views up here appeared to be pretty nice. She even stopped a few blocks away from Matthew’s street to take the top down on the light blue Mustang. It wasn’t an expensive car, but it was cute and fun, and anyway it was just a rental. Besides, it went with her dress.
But after slowly cruising down Matthew’s street a couple of times, she realized that she might be looking a bit conspicuous. She also realized that there might be a flaw in her plan. What if Matthew wasn’t around? What if he was off shooting on location? But that wouldn’t be likely. He had told her that he was filming on the lots. And the research she’d done on him confirmed this. Still, she couldn’t just keep driving up and down Matthew’s street. Someone might think she was a stalker and call the police.
She considered driving over to the movie lots, since she knew where he was supposedly shooting, but she knew they wouldn’t let her on. Instead, she got out a map and figured out which was the most likely route for him to use between the lots and his house. And then she parked in what she hoped was an inconspicuous place, in front of a convenience store, and waited. She knew from her research that Matthew had two vehicles he regularly drove. One was a bright yellow Hummer, which would be easy to spot. The other, a black Porsche 911, might be a bit harder to detect. It seemed that dark sports cars were fairly common down here.
By the time the sun went down, Kendall still hadn’t spotted her man. She began to fear that her perfect plan might be flawed. Still, she wasn’t ready to give up. The night was still young, and she knew some of the clubs where Matthew sometimes hung out. She just wished she had a friend to go barhopping with her. Why hadn’t she considered bringing Lelani along? But then she remembered how much attention Lelani had gotten at that wrap party last week. Chances were, Lelani would come down here, strut her stuff, and walk away with a movie contract or marriage proposal. And Kendall would be left in her dust. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. Kendall was determined to come out on top this time. She would do whatever it took, and when she was done, she would have her man. She just knew it!
Seventeen
Megan
“Yes, yes! Those chairs are just what the room needed,” Mrs. Fowler gushed to Megan. “I knew that you would find the right ones, dear.”
Megan tried not to look too pleased, since Vera was with her today. She wasn’t sure why Vera had insisted on coming, especially after experiencing the wrath of Mrs. Fowler on Tuesday, when Vera showed up with her catalogs and sketches but without Megan. Vera had made sure that Megan heard all about that little fiasco, acting as if it too was all Megan’s fault.
“You’re sure these chairs are right?” asked Vera with a creased brow.
“Perfect.” Mrs. Fowler beamed at Megan. “And much better than waiting for some silly custom chairs. Goodness gracious, at my age, I don’t have time to wait for a delivery from halfway around the world.”
“Well, I’m glad they work for you,” said Megan. “We were lucky to find them.” Okay, the use of the word we was a stretch. Megan had found them completely on her own, and only after Vera threw another hissy fit, then tossed the project back in Megan’s lap. Of course, Vera had been certain that Megan would fail. Megan felt fairly sure that Vera hoped she would fail. But somehow this pair of plum-colored club chairs hit the target. And Megan thought they actually looked pretty nice. “They sort of cozy it up in here,” she said as Mrs. Fowler sat down.
“And they are comfortable.”
Megan scooted the plaid ottoman over for her. She had chosen it on a whim, since it had both the green and plum shades. “And you’re sure you want to keep this, too?” she asked. “I can easily return it.”
Mrs. Fowler put her feet up and smiled. “The ottoman stays. And so does Megan. Let’s have some tea, dear.”
Vera cleared her throat now but didn’t say anything.
“I’d love to stay, Mrs. Fowler.” Megan glanced at Vera. Her arms were folded across her chest and she was scowling. She had driven them over, and Megan was sure that she was ready to go. “But we have work to do. So we should probably take a rain check.”
“Well, if you must.” Mrs. Fowler nodded sadly.
“Maybe I could visit you on the weekend,” offered Megan.
The old woman brightened. “Would you?”
“Sure. How about Saturday morning. Around ten?”
“I will look forward to it.”
“Have a nice day,” called Megan. “And enjoy your parlor.”
“Have a nice day,” mocked Vera as they walked to the car. “Good grief, I think I should start calling you Pollyanna!”
“What’s wrong with being polite?”
“Polite? You’re a brownnosing schmoozer, Megan.”
“Thanks a lot,” said Megan as she got into Vera’s car.
“That might be okay for some lines of work, but when it comes to design, you need to take control.” Vera sighed loudly. “Although I doubt that you’ll ever have what it takes to be a good designer.”
“And why is that?” Megan was accustomed to Vera’s sharp jabs and insults, and usually she tried not to engage, but today Vera seemed thornier than usual, and Megan was fed up.
Vera laughed. “Because you are a wimp, Megan. You’d let the client push you around until the design ended up looking like a bad day at the flea market.”
“I happen to like flea markets.”
“Exactly my point.”
Rude or not, Megan decided to interrupt with a call to her mom, just to make sure they were still on for lunch. If nothing else, it would end this frustrating conversation.
“I wanted to make sure you’re still meeting me,” she said after her mom answered.
“I’m just heading out to the car. I’ll be there at high noon.”
“Cool.” Then, to prolong the conversation, Megan told her a little about Mrs. Fowler and her parlor. “It was fun to see her really pleased with how it turned out,” she continued. “She lost her husband last year and it’s been hard for her to face the holidays.”
“Well, I suppose we know a thing or two about that, don’t we?”
“I even invited her to the Christmas Eve party,” continued Megan. “I thought it would be nice for her to meet you.”
“Well, uh, let’s talk about that at lunch, okay? I’m just pulling out of the driveway now, and you know how I can’t drive and talk on the phone simultaneously.”
“See you in half an hour.” Megan closed her phone.
“You invited Mrs. Fowler to spend Christmas with you?” Vera’s voice was a mixture of amusement and disbelief.
“Just for one evening.”
“You are a brownnoser.”
“I wish you’d quit saying that.”
“Why?” Vera laughed. “Does the truth hurt?”
“For one thing, it’s not the truth. I don’t treat Mrs. Fowler any differently than I’d treat anyone. Well, anyone who’s even slightly civil.”
“Meaning me, I’m sure.”
“You can be a little prickly, Vera.”
“I simply like to keep the upper hand. Perhaps someday when you’re older and more experienced, you will understand.”
“Perhaps.” Megan turned to look out the side window, then rolled her eyes. More than anything, Megan hoped she would never turn out like Vera. Cynthia told her that Vera had been in and out of several marriages, like that was supposed to explain everything. If anything, Megan suspected that Vera had driven her husbands nuts—what could be worse than being married to a temperament like Vera’s?
�
�Everything all worked out for Mrs. Fowler?” asked Cynthia as the two of them entered the design firm building.
“Why don’t you ask Little Miss Brownnose,” said Vera as she swaggered off to her office.
Cynthia gave Megan a sympathetic smile.
“Mrs. Fowler was very pleased with the new chairs,” Megan informed her. “She even liked the ottoman.”
Cynthia patted Megan on the back. “Good girl.”
“But I don’t think Vera is too happy.”
“And that surprises you?”
“No, I suppose not.” Megan wanted to ask Cynthia if anything ever pleased Vera. But then Megan thought she knew the answer to that. As far as she could tell, only two things seemed to make Vera happy: money and adoration. Neither of which Megan felt she could spare.
To Megan’s relief, her mom was already waiting for her at Demetri’s Deli when she arrived. “So, you didn’t stand me up again,” said Megan as they exchanged hugs.
“I felt so bad about that.”
“It’s okay.” As they stood in line, Megan told her about running into Gwen. “She actually gave me some good advice.”
Mom looked doubtful. She knew Megan’s sentiments toward her old friend.
“She told me to be honest with Vera about wanting to help Mrs. Fowler.”
“And Vera was okay with that?”
“Actually, she was so frustrated with Mrs. Fowler by then that she was relieved to have me call, although, being Vera, she didn’t show it. Even today, when everything was all smoothed out, Vera acted ticked and called me Little Miss Brownnoser.”
Mom frowned. “That woman. I don’t know how Cynthia puts up with her.”
“Because she has rich friends?”
Mom laughed. “You’re probably right.”
They placed their orders and found an empty table. “So what did you want to tell me about the Christmas party?” asked Megan as she hung her coat on the back of her chair.
“Oh, that …”
Megan could tell by the way her mom said, “Oh, that,” that she wasn’t about to hear good news. “What’s up?”
“Well, Louise is feeling lonely again. She’s been trying to talk me into going down to Mexico for Christmas this year.”
“Mexico? For Christmas?” Megan frowned. “Seriously?”
“She has a timeshare down there that she has to use before the New Year. And, well, we had such fun on the cruise, we really did manage to cheer each other up. I thought it might be nice.”
“But it’s Christmas, Mom.” Megan felt a lump growing in her throat. How could her mother—her only living parent—suddenly decide to abandon her during their first Christmas without Dad?
“I know, I know.” Mom nodded. “That’s exactly what I told Louise. I said that you and I need to be together for Christmas, and that I couldn’t even consider going to Mexico. I shouldn’t have even told you about it, Megan.”
But she had, and somehow Megan knew that meant something. It meant that Mom actually wanted to go to Mexico for Christmas!
“I’ll call Louise as soon as we’re done here and tell her it’s impossible and that she should find someone—”
“No, Mom,” said Megan. “Don’t do that. Maybe it’s a good idea. I mean, you did have a great time with her on the cruise. And you probably are good medicine for her. It’s cool that you’re getting reacquainted. I think you should go with her.”
“Really?” Mom looked surprised but pleased. “You’d really be okay with that?”
“I’m a grown-up, Mom. Besides, we’re doing our Christmas party, and that’ll keep me pretty busy.”
“You really won’t feel bad?”
Megan firmly shook her head. “No. I’m fine, Mom. And I even promised Gwen that I’d help serve Christmas dinner at the mission on Christmas Day.” Megan didn’t mention that she’d hoped her mom would join them. “And I think that Marcus might come and help out too.”
“That sounds great, Megan.” Mom reached across the table and squeezed Megan’s hand. “I don’t deserve such a sweet daughter.”
Megan shrugged.
“You should hear Louise talking about her kids. Oh, my. That woman has been through the wringer. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I give the credit and thanks to God.” Mom smiled. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Louise the good news. She is even going to let me use her frequent-flyer miles for my ticket. Really, it’ll be a very economical trip.”
Megan forced what she hoped looked like an enthusiastic smile. “I’m sure you guys will have a great time.”
“Yes.” Mom sighed. “I hate to admit it, but I wasn’t looking forward to being home … you know, in the house … without you and Dad … during the holidays.”
Megan considered this. It probably would be hard being alone in the house. In fact, she suddenly wondered how her mom had managed to deal with it these past few months. It hadn’t even occurred to Megan that her mom might be extra lonely, by herself day in and day out.
“So how are things with you and Marcus?” asked Mom when their order came.
Megan frowned. “I guess I’m still feeling a little unsure. I mean it’s cool he’s willing to help at the mission. But when I talked to him about coming to the singles group at the church, he said he wants us to go listen to his friend play jazz at a bar instead. And I’m not really sure how I feel about that.”
“Can’t he do the singles group another time?”
“I guess. I’m just not sure we’re on the same page, Mom. I mean I have a feeling I could get him to do some church things with me, but I don’t really like the idea of dragging him there, you know?”
Mom laughed. “Well, dragging him might be a bit extreme. But sometimes people need encouragement, Megan.”
“Maybe. But I still wonder if it’s a mistake.”
Mom dipped her spoon into the Hungarian mushroom soup. “He seems like such a nice boy. I really like him.”
“Yes.” Megan nodded. “I like him too. But just because you like someone doesn’t mean you need to be involved. Gwen was pointing out that dating a guy who doesn’t go to church is asking for trouble.”
“Since when did you start taking Gwen so seriously?”
Megan sort of laughed. “See what happens when you stand me up?”
Mom smiled. “Okay. I’m going to tell you a little story.”
“A true story?”
“Yes. A story that your father didn’t want me to tell you.”
Megan grew concerned now. “Why?”
“Oh, I think he was afraid that I might corrupt you.”
“Corrupt me?”
“Yes. You know how your father prayed for the man you’d one day marry? You know how he wanted you to hold out for that strong Christian man, do everything just right?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Well, that’s not exactly how it was with your father and me.”
“Really?”
“Yes. As you know, we met in college. And we dated off and on. I was involved in a college fellowship group, but your father, well, he was a bit of a wild guy.”
“Dad was a wild guy?”
“Oh, not terribly wild. But he did smoke pot.”
“Pot?”
“You know, marijuana.”
“Weed? Dad smoked weed?”
Mom chuckled. “Yes. He and his buddies enjoyed a little weed now and then.”
“Seriously?” Megan stared at her mother. “That does not sound like Dad.”
“People change.”
“I’ll say.”
“So, due to your dad’s habits of smoking weed, as you say, and also his fondness for beer—”
“Dad was a beer drinker too?”
Mom nodded and laughed. “
Yes, I’m sorry to destroy your perfect image of him, Megan, but I think it’s for the best. Your father was a good, good man. But he did sow some wild oats in his early days.”
“Wow.”
“So, due to those habits, which I did not embrace, I finally broke it off with him. I told him we could be friends, but no more dating.”
“And?”
“And we were just friends.” Mom made a face. “Well, as much as possible. I suppose I blew it a few times. Your father was persuasive.”
Megan held up her hands. “Okay, not too many details, please.”
“During your dad’s senior year, a friend of his died suddenly.”
“Cliff?”
“Yes. You’ve heard him tell this part of the story.”
“I know it was a real wake-up call to him spiritually.”
“Yes. And he started going to church with me. And then he gave his life to God and, well, I suppose the rest is history.”
Megan slowly shook her head, trying to take that all in. “So, Dad, my father, was actually a wild dude for a while.”
“But he changed his ways.”
“It’s hard to imagine Dad smoking weed and drinking beer.”
“I know. You see, my point is that Marcus may seem like a lost cause to you, but in reality I don’t think he’s nearly as lost as your dad was once upon a time.”
“So, you’re saying I should keep dating Marcus?”
Mom seemed to consider this. “I don’t think I can tell you what to do, sweetie. I’m just saying that things aren’t always black and white. I’m saying that just because the Gwens of the world want to draw a dividing line between Christians and non-Christians, well, I don’t think that’s how God looks at it.”
“How do you think he looks at it?”
“I think he sees us all as his children. But some of us have figured it out and some of us haven’t.”
“Oh.”
They talked a while longer, and Mom shared some crazy stories about stunts that Dad pulled, which still seemed strangely out of character, and then it was time for Megan to go back to work.
Let Them Eat Fruitcake Page 15