“It was nice meeting you,” she said politely, adding an equally polite smile.
“Allen said you’re going to be in town for a while.”
“A couple more weeks at least.”
“I have tickets to some kind of concert this Wednesday; how about going with me?”
“Some kind of concert?” she repeated. “Another grateful client, I suppose?”
“Something like that. If you need to know who’s going to be there, I’ll look and call you when I get home. Otherwise, we could just live dangerously and both be surprised.”
“I really hate surprises.”
“Then I’ll call.”
“No, don’t.” She had no business going out with him. She was there to work, not play.
“Decided to be adventurous—I like that. I’ll pick you up at six. That way we can grab a hamburger first.”
He smiled, and she was tongue-tied, incapable of putting together the words that would get her out of a date she’d had no intention of making. “Do you need directions?”
“To the concert?”
“To my grandmother’s house.” As soon as she’d said it, she realized she’d been had. “I’ll see you Wednesday. If I’m not home, go ahead without me. I’ll meet you there.”
“But how will you know where to go?” A second later he grinned. “You got me. Nice going.”
When Karla came downstairs the next morning, Anna was in the living room waiting for her. She looked up from the book she was reading and motioned for Karla to sit next to her.
“Come see what I found in that box you brought in from the garage yesterday. It’s been so long since I looked at what was out there, I’d forgotten most of this stuff existed.”
Karla sat on the cushion next to Anna’s. “What is it?”
“A scrapbook your mother put together when she was a junior in high school.” Anna slid the leatherbound album halfway onto Karla’s lap. “This was the program from her first big dance.” Something slipped out of the pages. “Oh, and look . . . one of the flowers from her corsage.” She gently turned to the next page as if she were afraid it would disintegrate in her hands. “And this is the letter she earned playing varsity tennis.”
“She played tennis?”
“All four years.” She pointed to a faded color photograph of two young girls standing behind prison bars. “I’d forgotten all about the time we took Marie and her friend Donna to San Francisco for Marie’s birthday.”
“Where were they when this was taken?”
“Alcatraz. It was the middle of May and bright sunshine outside, and still we almost froze before we got off that island.”
“I don’t remember Mom ever talking about a Donna. Were they good friends?”
“Best friends—until she stole your mother’s first serious boyfriend and dropped out of school six months later to have his baby.”
“Mom must have been devastated.”
“She was, for about a month or so, but then she met your father.”
“Did you like my dad back then?”
“Not one bit. I could see from the first time she brought him home that it was serious between them. She was only sixteen, he was twenty, in the Air Force, and out on his own. They were married the summer she graduated and left for Arkansas a month later. Did you know they stayed here with me and your grandfather when they got back from their honeymoon? It was only a couple of weeks, but I loved every minute they were here.”
Karla shook her head. “Maybe she was saving that to tell me when I was older.” She picked up a picture of her mother and father that had been tucked behind another program, this one for a school play. They were standing in front of an old car. “She looks so young here.”
“She was. They both were.”
“She was only a year older than I am right now when she died,” Karla said. “I’ve thought about that a lot lately, about how much she missed. It’s hard to imagine her growing old. She’d be a grandmother now—with gray hair and glasses.”
“Gray hair, maybe, but not glasses. I can’t remember one member of our family ever wearing glasses.” Anna turned the page. “Here she is on the homecoming float.”
“Where?”
“The one in the lumberjack costume.”
Karla opened the dance program for that same homecoming that had been glued to the opposite page. There was writing inside. Her mother’s. She leaned forward and read aloud what it said. “Tonight was the best night of my life. I didn’t think I was going to get to go to the dance because Dad said we didn’t have money for a new dress. But Mom found some material and she made me one that looked like it came from the Weinstocks’ downtown. No one could tell it was homemade. None of my friends have mothers like her. She’s the best there is. I love her to pieces.”
Karla glanced at Anna. “Did you know this was here?”
“I never looked at this without your mother.” She read and reread the long-ago written note. “It’s almost as if she sent you here to find it for me.”
Karla closed the book. “Come with me.” She stood and held out her hand to Anna, a gesture that would not have happened just a week ago. “I’m taking you to breakfast.”
“Are we celebrating something?”
“Indeed we are. I’m not sure what it is, but I don’t care.” She felt wonderful and she felt free and didn’t question that she didn’t know why.
Chapter
10
So, how’s it going?” Heather asked. “You were supposed to call me last weekend.”
Karla balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder and opened the closet door. Not knowing how to dress, she’d checked the paper to see what concerts were playing in the Sacramento area and had come up with everything from chamber music to Clint Black. “I forgot.”
“How’s Grandma?”
“Fine.”
“Fine? That’s it? You can’t elaborate a little?”
“Could I call you back later?” She took a sweater out and studied it. Too bulky. “Tomorrow, maybe? Anna and I just got back from the bank and I’m running late.”
“All I want is five minutes.”
“I still haven’t decided what I’m going to wear and Mark—” She caught herself, but too late.
“Whoa . . . Did I hear you right? Could you possibly have said a man’s name in connection with looking for something to wear? Does this mean you actually have a date?”
“It isn’t exactly a date.”
“Then what is it exactly?”
“He’s the father of a friend. He happened to have an extra ticket to a concert and didn’t have anyone to go with him. So I said I wasn’t doing anything and he asked me if I’d like to come along.” The truth, but stretched farther than the old Rubber Man could have managed, even on his most flexible day.
“How disappointing.”
Karla pulled out a second sweater, a short-sleeved, burnt orange cashmere more in keeping with the lower temperatures that had moved in on Monday. “How are you feeling? Better yet, how’s the baby? Still using your bladder for a trampoline?”
“She’s been quieter than usual lately. I have an appointment next week to talk to the doctor about it. Bill thinks it’s my imagination. He says I’m anxious for the baby to get here so I can get Anna moved in with us. I don’t know, maybe he’s right.”
Karla started through the limited clothing she’d brought with her all over again. “When was the last time you talked to Anna about moving in with you?”
“I know, she says she doesn’t want to, but that’s because she’s worried about being a burden. As soon as I convince her that it’s something Bill and I really want, she’ll change her mind.”
“She likes living in Rocklin, Heather.” Karla added a brown wool skirt and jacket to the growing pile of clothes on the bed. “She doesn’t want to give up her home and friends. Susan is wonderful with her, and I have an appointment with an agency that does in-home care. As soon as Anna and Dr. Michaels think it’
s necessary, she can have someone come and stay at the house with her.”
“Why would you do that?” Heather said angrily. “You know how much I’ve been looking forward to having her stay with me.”
“Isn’t what she wants more important?”
“Since when do you care what Grandma wants?”
“Can we please talk about this later?”
“Promise me you won’t do anything more about hiring someone until we do.”
“Okay, I promise.”
“How is Susan?”
“Heather, I really do have to get ready.”
“It would take you less time to tell me than to complain about it.”
“She’s fine.”
“Just like Grandma, huh?”
“The same.” Karla kicked off her shoes and unzipped her jeans. “Now I’m going to hang up on you.”
“Give Grandma my love.”
“Give it to her yourself. She’s just downstairs—I’ll put her on the phone.”
“Love you,” Heather said.
“Love you, too.” Karla opened the door to call to Anna, waited for her to pick up the phone, and said, “Bye . . . talk to you soon.”
She glanced out the window as she replaced the receiver and saw a dark green Jeep Grand Cherokee turn into the driveway. “Damn—wouldn’t you know it, he’s right on time.” She raced for the bed and her clothes. “I should have known, he’s just the type.”
She wiggled out of her jeans, pulled her sweatshirt over her head, grabbed a pair of panty hose and her skirt and sweater, and managed to get everything on except her earrings before the doorbell rang. Stepping into her shoes, she ran a brush through her hair, added spray and a quick spritz of perfume, and was halfway down the stairs by the time Anna had Mark seated in the living room.
“Hi.” She actually managed to make it sound casual.
Mark smiled. “Ready?”
“Just have to get my purse and jacket. I’ll be right back.” This time she took the stairs at a more reasonable pace, pleased that she’d been on time at least once that day and discovering that she was actually looking forward to her night out.
“You look great, by the way. I meant to tell you earlier. Whatever color that sweater is, it’s become my new favorite.”
“Burnt orange. And thank you.” Not to be outdone, she gave him a quick once over. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” He had on tan slacks, a striped shirt open at the collar and a navy blue jacket.
He grinned. “I’m pleased you noticed. It takes a lot of thought to put this stuff together—which is probably why I don’t go out very often. Has to be someone or something special.”
She was tempted to ask which applied this evening, but thought better of it. He would undoubtedly come up with some outrageous compliment she’d know was a lie but would believe anyway, and where would that get her?
“You haven’t asked what we’re seeing,” Mark said. “Not even a little curious?”
He had the kind of voice that narrated nature shows, deep and empathic, every distinctly spoken word flowing easily into the next. “I’m past caring. After the day I’ve had, I’m up for anything.”
“Good or bad?”
“Both, in a way. Anna had an appointment with her lawyer to go over some papers this morning and to set up a living will. Then we went through her safe-deposit box this afternoon and found a bunch of things she thought she’d lost, including her wedding ring.”
“That must have been hard.”
“You’d think so, but she’s remarkably accepting of what’s happening to her.”
“I meant for you. Susan said she was more a mother to you and your sisters than grandmother. It has to be hard to see her purposely tidying her life in preparation for the end.”
“Actually, it was my idea.” She steeled herself for his disapproval. “I thought it would give her peace of mind to know everything was taken care of. I know it would me.”
“I never looked at it that way. I figure as long as I’ve made sure Cindy is taken care of, the rest can take care of itself.”
“Obviously, you’ve never had to settle anyone’s estate. I worked for a CPA who specialized in estate planning, and even when everything is spelled out in a will, people can still go at each other. I saw two brothers almost come to blows over a set of cuff links they both privately admitted they didn’t like.”
“I’ve never lost anyone who wanted me to have anything,” he admitted as he stopped at a red light and turned to look at her. “I guess that means I should keep my mouth shut until I know what I’m talking about.”
It was a good thing he’d given her a wink as he said it or she would have taken him seriously. “Enough about what I’m doing in Rocklin. Since you’re plainly not going to volunteer the information, I guess I’m going to have to ask. Whose concert are we attending?”
“It’s a sixties revival—one of those Dick Clark kind of things where they gather everyone who had a hit during the decade and is still capable of walking on a stage and send them out on tour.”
Somehow she’d missed seeing the notice in the paper. While she’d never purposely choose a revival of anything—short of Shakespeare—as a way to spend an evening, the more she thought about it, the better it sounded. “What fun.”
Mark laughed. “You did that really well.”
“I’m serious. It does sound like fun. I can see now why you suggested hamburgers. It’s a theme thing you’ve got going. If I’d known, I would have worn a poodle skirt.”
“Wrong decade. Poodle skirts were in the fifties. My mom had an original that she wore when she chaperoned my sister’s high school dances.”
“She saved you the embarrassment of wearing it to your dances, or was the skirt worn out by then?”
“Neither. I skipped my high school dances. I was king of the nerds back then and dead sure no one would go with me, so I wisely decided to save myself the rejection.”
Nerds didn’t come in Mark Taylor packages. She had no doubt half the women who brought their pets to him did so as much for themselves as for their animals.
“You’re kidding, right?” She’d reached the point where she couldn’t tell.
“Nope. I was more interested in hanging out with the local vet than I was girls back then, and that kind of thing gets you a reputation.”
“I imagine it would. Especially if the vet were female and good-looking.”
“Oh, I like that. You catch on quick.”
“So do you still have a thing for older women?”
“Now it’s the other way around. I like them young. As a matter of fact, I’ve got a real thing going now for a little charmer who’s about to turn five.”
Karla smiled. “I can see why.”
“She likes you, too. And I’ve never known Cindy to be wrong about people.”
Mark pulled into the turn lane and waited for the traffic to clear. “You were serious about the hamburgers,” Karla said as soon as she saw where they were going. “I forgot In and Out had finally made it to Sacramento. I love this place.”
“It was as close to a sixties hamburger joint as I could come up with.”
“It’s perfect.” She didn’t know whether it was knowing she would be gone in less than three weeks and would likely never see Mark again or the need for a night that allowed her to escape witnessing Anna’s battle with her disease, whatever the reason, she embraced the feeling of freedom and sat back to enjoy the evening.
On the way home they sang songs from the show. Mark led and Karla followed—it was that or sit and listen. Mark’s enthusiasm made up for his lack of talent; she worked to keep them in tune.
They reached the house far too soon. Karla wasn’t ready for the night to end but said nothing. Mark had told her earlier that he had surgery first thing in the morning and a full day of appointments.
He opened her door, a politeness she liked and was pleased to see making a return, and walked her to the door.
“I had
a lot more fun than I expected,” she said, teasing him. “Please thank that ‘grateful’ client for me.”
He laughed. “When did you figure it out?”
“I had a hunch as soon as you told me where we were going. It’s hard to imagine anyone giving someone tickets for a sixties revival as a way to show their appreciation.”
“I’m wounded. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to get those tickets?”
She decided to play along. “I can’t imagine.”
“Damn hard.”
“That’s it?”
“All right, if you must know, I had to promise to play golf with one of my partners next week.”
“You really did that for me? I’m so impressed.”
Grinning, he said, “And I’d do it again.”
“Golf or date?”
“Both.”
Without giving herself time to think or change her mind, she said, “When?”
“Saturday,” he shot back. “Are you up for a day with me and Cindy at the park—weather permitting?”
“Uh . . . I don’t—”
“Come on, don’t start getting indecisive on me.”
“I told Anna I’d take her to get her hair done. and the only appointment her hairdresser had open this week was on Saturday.”
He thought a minute. “What time?”
“Eleven-thirty. And afterwards we were going to lunch.”
“Where do you want to meet?”
She wasn’t sure she understood. “You want to go to lunch with us? You and Cindy?”
“Is there a problem with that?”
“No. Anna would love it. So would I.” They set the time and place. “I’ll see you then.” Karla extended her hand.
Mark looked at her hand and then at her. “Sorry, I’m not that kind of guy. I never shake hands on a first date.” He put his foot on the step where she was standing and came forward. “Now a nice, friendly kiss is another matter altogether.”
His lips were on her cheek before she could react. She was both surprised that he’d kissed her and disappointed that his aim hadn’t been more accurate.
As if he could read her mind, he said, “Next time.” He turned to leave, caught his foot on the bottom step, and had to wave his arms wildly to keep from falling. When he’d regained his balance, he grinned sheepishly, stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked up at her. “Damn—” he said, plainly embarrassed. “All I had to do was make it to the truck and I would have pulled it off.”
Things Remembered Page 10