by Joan Kilby
“Think of it as an investment in your future. Then once you look the part, you’ll need some attitude,” Carly said.
Annie pretended to search the shelves. “What I need is a big ol’ box of sass.”
“Seriously, fake it till you make it really does work,” Carly said. “I applied for a position above what I was qualified for. I got the job and sure, I’m on a learning curve but I’m coping.”
“I’m not a professional,” Annie said. “I don’t have a degree. Heck, I barely finished high school.”
“You’ve got street smarts,” Carly said. “You’re stronger than you think. You deal with disgruntled customers, the lunch rush, coworkers, and at home you help take care of your little sisters.”
Annie sighed. “My sisters are great and I love them, but they make a mess of our room.”
“You share with them?” Carly said, trying to picture four girls in one bedroom. “How old are they?”
“Twelve, ten and seven.” Annie examined a tube of mascara. “Last week they got into my makeup while I was at work and ruined everything.”
“Why don’t you move out on your own?” Carly asked.
“Can’t afford it,” Annie said matter-of-factly. She put the mascara back on the shelf. “I can’t afford to buy a lot of stuff for this audition, either.”
“You can pay me back after your first gig.” Carly dropped the mascara into her shopping basket. “Let’s check out the next aisle.”
They tested lipstick and foundation on their wrists, laughed over sparkly blue eye shadow and tossed it in the basket along with a growing assortment of cosmetics. It was fun, Carly thought, like having a younger sister to shop with. Annie didn’t realize how lucky she was.
They left the drugstore with bulging shopping bags and walked around the block to the thrift store. Carly headed past shelves of secondhand books and dishes to the racks of clothing.
“We’ll go with a retro look to complement the classic rock Finn says the band plays.” Carly flipped through the racks and picked out a black leather sheath with a plunging neckline and a high hemline. “You would look so hot in this.”
Annie held it up against herself. “It’ll be tight on me.”
“In other words, perfect,” Carly said.
Together they found a few more outfits—leather hot pants, slinky tops, short skirts and a new pair of fishnet stockings. Annie carried them off to the tiny changing room in the corner of the store.
Carly drifted over to the shoe section hoping to find a pair of thigh-high boots for Annie. An older woman with curly dark hair wearing a navy blazer over white shirt and dark blue jeans was sifting through a pile of shoes for the match to a brown loafer.
“Excuse me,” Carly said, edging past her to get to the boots.
The woman moved out of the way and as she did so, glanced up. “Carly?”
She did a double take. “Mrs. Farrell?”
With a little laugh, Nora Farrell pressed a hand to her chest. “I didn’t know you were still in town. How are you?”
“I’m okay,” Carly said. “How have you been?”
“Fine. I’m so sorry Bob and I couldn’t make it to the funeral. We...had another commitment that day.”
Or had Nora not gone because she thought Finn would be there? It was so sad and so wrong that Finn and his mom held a grudge all these years. Families were supposed to forgive each other.
“Finn missed the service, too, but came to the reception,” Carly said. “He’s been helping me fix up the house for sale.”
“He’s still here?” Nora said.
“I feel badly that I’m hogging his time. I’m sure you would like to see more of him,” Carly added, feeling the other woman out.
“Finn does what he wants. He always has.” There was both sorrow and resentment in her tone. She found the brown loafer and dropped it to the floor to slip a foot inside. “He came by the house but I wasn’t there and he hasn’t contacted us again.”
“He sent you a text the other day. He was kind of bummed that you didn’t reply.”
“I didn’t get it.” Nora fished her phone from her purse and scrolled through her messages. “No, nothing. He probably doesn’t have my new number.” Her mouth twisted. “I’ve only had this phone for two years.”
“Um...it’s short notice, but would you and your husband like to come to dinner tonight?” Carly said impulsively. Meeting on neutral territory might help thaw the frost between mother and son.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Nora took a half step back and glanced around as if looking for an escape route. “I’m sure you’ve got too much to do without having dinner guests.”
“It’s no trouble,” Carly said. “My boarder is cooking. It’s nothing fancy but judging by the food piled up in the kitchen we’ll have enough to feed an army.”
“Well, in that case, yes, I would love to,” Nora said. “But you should check with Finn first.”
“I’ll call him right now.” She got her phone out, a bit nervous about putting him on the spot.
Nora discreetly moved to the other side of the shoe display, but she was still in earshot. She glanced back with a look so vulnerable that Carly’s heart ached for her. Finn needed to see how much his mother missed him.
“He’s not answering,” she said when his phone went to voice mail. “But I’m positive it’ll be fine. Come by at six o’clock. You remember where Irene’s house is, don’t you?”
Nora smiled drily. “I must have made that trip a million times over the years.”
“Yo!” Annie swaggered toward them in figure-hugging black leather. Grinning, she struck a pose, hand on jutted hip. “So, what do ya think?”
Carly laughed out loud. “Perfect.” She turned to Nora. “This is Annie, Finn’s protégé. She’s going to be the next big thing in rock music. Annie, this is Finn’s mother.”
“I’m sure she’ll be a great success,” Nora said politely.
Annie deflated, hunching and pulling on her ponytail. “I’m not a professional singer yet. Carly, are you sure this is the right look for me?”
“Wait till we do your hair before you question it.” Carly gave her a meaningful look and Annie slowly straightened up. Carly turned back to Nora. “Annie’s just starting out. She’s got a tremendous voice.”
“Well, I hope she lives up to her potential,” Nora said.
O-kay. There’d been a distinct note of frost in Nora’s tone. Carly was starting to have misgivings about the dinner invitation. Nora might yearn for her son but she was a tad judgmental. “She will, with the right encouragement and support.”
“Bob and I will see you tonight.” Carrying the pair of loafers, Nora wended her way to the cashier.
“Let’s go home and do your hair.” Carly looped an arm through Annie’s. “Can you stay for dinner, too?” She hoped Finn and his parents would talk but the more people around to act as buffer, the smoother the evening would go. Break the ice with food, then the Farrells could take it from there. If they chose to.
“Really? Thanks!” Annie did a little skip.
“It’s only spaghetti,” Carly cautioned. “Taylor’s not an experienced cook.”
“I don’t care,” Annie said. “Tonight is sausage night at home and if I’m not there then the girls will get my share. They’re growing and need the protein.”
A lump formed in Carly’s throat.
“When my mom’s on shift, my stepdad cooks,” Annie went on. “He thinks he’s some kinda chef and dumps in ingredients without measuring anything. Half the time it’s indelible.”
“Do you mean inedible?” Carly said, repressing a smile. Annie was too cute.
The girl tossed her hair. “Yeah, that’s what I said.” Then she shrugged. “But we eat it because we got nothing else. At least I get a square meal at Rhonda’s on the days I work.”
“How many days a week is that?”
“Three usually,” Annie said. “And if someone’s sick I get called in.”
“Would you like another part-time job?” Carly asked, making her second impulsive offer of the day. “I need someone to help me sort out my aunt’s things and get the house ready for sale. I can’t pay much but you could have room and board on top of wages.”
Annie’s eyes lit. “I’d have to go home for a couple hours every day and check on my sisters, make sure they’re doing their homework.”
“That’s fine,” Carly agreed.
“Cool.” Annie grinned. “I’d like that.”
* * *
“YOU INVITED MY parents for dinner?” Finn’s hands collapsed on the keys in the middle of a delicate musical phrase with a discordant clang. “A little warning would have been nice.”
“I called but your phone went to voice mail,” Carly said. “Then you were out when I got home. I’ve been upstairs doing Annie’s makeover all afternoon and I didn’t hear you come in till you started playing.”
He tried the passage again but his fingers wouldn’t cooperate. “Did my mother say why she didn’t reply to my text?”
“She didn’t receive it. She has a new number.” Carly came closer to the piano. “What’s wrong? I thought you wanted to reconcile.”
“I do. And I don’t.” The fight had been so acrimonious he hated to stir that up again.
“You should have seen Nora’s face when she spoke about you,” Carly said. “She’s hurting but she’s ready to forgive and forget, I’m sure of it.”
Finn snorted. “Forgive? That would imply I have something to apologize for. She knew I didn’t want to go to Juilliard and she kept pushing me.”
“I don’t mean you should apologize for pursuing your own musical interests,” Carly said. “But for your part in letting the estrangement continue for so long.”
Finn’s fingers moved of their own accord into a dark moody piece. Nora’s lack of support for his own music hurt just as much now as it had when he was eighteen. He could feel the anger rising in him, anger he’d tamped down for years.
Carly drummed her fingers on the polished surface of the piano, putting his nerves even more on edge. “The longer this goes on, the harder it will be to overcome. You don’t want to wait until she’s on her deathbed and be trying to make up for lost time at the eleventh hour.”
“So I should just put the past behind me and act like nothing happened?”
“Would that be so terrible?” Carly asked.
The thought of letting go of the resentment he’d been carrying around left him feeling strangely empty. In a weird way, that whole episode had defined him for so long he hardly knew who he used to be. Or who he might have become if it hadn’t happened. What if he’d wasted the past twelve years of his life?
“How long are you going to blame her for you not being able to perform?” Carly persisted.
Finn glanced up sharply. “I don’t do that.”
“Maybe not consciously,” Carly said. “But deep down, I wonder.”
Was there something in what Carly said? If Nora hadn’t put so much pressure on him he wouldn’t have been too upset to play the night of the concert.
“All I want is for her to accept my music,” he said. “If she did that I’d meet her halfway.”
The doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it.” Carly crossed the living room and went out to the foyer to greet his parents. “Come in. It’s nice to see you both. Can I take your coats?”
“I’d forgotten how beautiful your aunt’s home was,” his mom said, slipping off her wrap. “Bob, look at that crown molding. And the leadlight transom, oh my.”
Finn got up from the piano but his feet felt stuck to the Persian carpet. His hands curled and uncurled at his side. His mom was talking too fast, a sure sign she was nervous. He cast a glance at Irene’s portrait over the mantelpiece. If you’re listening, beam down a little fairy dust to help me through this evening.
They might all need it. Taylor, clearly freaked about cooking for a large group, clattered pots and pans in the kitchen as if playing cymbals in the “1812 Overture.” While Nora, Bob and Carly were still standing in the foyer, Annie descended the staircase. Her jet-black hair was teased and set into a beehive and she wore heavy makeup and a miniskirt with a tight top. Seeing his parents, she froze like a deer in headlights and then slipped unnoticed around the corner in the direction of the kitchen.
“Nora watches those home renovation shows,” Bob confided as Carly led them into the living room where Finn waited. “One day I came home and she’d ripped up the carpet looking for hardwood flooring.”
“All I found was plywood,” Nora said with a trilling laugh. “But this house, this is the real deal.”
Finn came forward and shook his father’s hand. “Hi, Dad.” He paused. “Hello, Mother,” he added stiffly.
“Finn.” Nora gave him a peck on the cheek.
An awkward silence fell. Even Carly didn’t seem to know what to do. Fortunately, just then Taylor came in bearing a steaming platter of spaghetti topped with a rich red meat sauce followed by Annie with a bowl of salad. There was a moment of confusion before everyone found a place at the table. Once again Carly and Finn were at the ends. Taylor and Annie sat on one side and Bob and Nora on the other with Nora somehow ending up next to Carly, the farthest point from Finn.
Carly opened the wine and poured for everyone except Taylor, who politely declined, and Annie, who was underage. “Please help yourself to the food and pass things along.”
“I don’t eat red meat,” Nora said, apologetically, handing the platter of spaghetti to Bob.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Carly said, taken aback.
“When did you become a vegetarian?” Finn asked.
“I gave it up years ago.” Nora’s pursed lips stifled a sigh as if to say, if you cared you would know that about me.
This was even harder than he’d thought it would be. He hadn’t expected they would instantly reconcile but he hadn’t anticipated this stiff reticence either, especially after the heated arguments of the past.
“Have some bread.” Carly passed the basket to Nora. “I made it myself.”
“Would you like salad, Mrs. Farrell?” Annie handed across the bowl.
“Thank you,” Nora said. “Didn’t you have brown hair this afternoon?”
“Yes,” Annie said, twirling spaghetti on her fork. “I’m having a makeover for a music gig.”
“I think you look awesome,” Taylor said. When Annie smiled shyly at him, he blushed from his bobbing Adam’s apple to the roots of his blond hair.
“So, Mom...” Twelve years apart and Finn couldn’t think of a thing to say to his mother. “Are you still working at the liquor store?”
“I’m an administrative assistant at the primary school now.” She buttered a slice of bread. “What are you doing?”
“Writing songs,” he said. “Playing backup on studio recordings.”
“Not performing?” Her voice was carefully neutral, but he heard undertones of disapproval.
“No.” He concentrated on winding noodles around his fork. Only Nora could make him feel ashamed and angry at the same time, like a child caught doing something wrong.
Another awkward silence.
“What do you do, Taylor?” Bob asked. Taylor launched into an enthusiastic description of his research into pulsars.
At the other end of the table Carly seemed worried by Nora’s meager dinner. “Did you have enough to eat? If you’d told me your food requirements we could have prepared something else as well.”
“I don’t like to cause a fuss.” Nora reached for another slice of the sourdough. “I hope Finn isn’t imposing on you too much.”
“Not at all,” Carl
y said. “I don’t know what I’d do without his help in fixing up the house.”
“You don’t have work to do in LA, Finn?” Nora said.
Again, it wasn’t so much what she said that got his back up as the faint note of implied criticism. “I’m my own boss.”
Nora’s mouth opened to speak. Bob touched her hand in a silent warning.
“Finn’s very successful,” Carly said. “One of his songs was in the top ten.”
“Rock music?” Nora said as if she’d tasted a worm in the salad.
“Not exactly, although there are similar elements,” Carly said, floundering for definition. “It’s hybrid, right, Finn?”
“Right.” He shouldn’t have to explain it to his parents. They should know.
Just as he should have known his mother was now vegetarian and had gotten a new phone number. And that his dad had gone gray and wore glasses.
“Are you married, Carly?” Nora asked, changing the subject.
Carly choked on a sip of wine. “I’m focusing on my career at the moment.”
“Finn’s not the settling down kind, either,” Nora said.
“Maybe there are reasons Finn hasn’t settled down,” Carly said with a pleasant smile. “Maybe he’s never met the right woman.”
Nora shrugged. “He’s had plenty of girlfriends.”
“How would you even know that about me?” Finn demanded.
“Joe tells us things.” She turned back to Carly. “You, I imagine, will end up with someone on Wall Street.”
In other words, not her son who didn’t have anything to offer a woman with Carly’s background? Finn grimaced. He didn’t want to react to everything his mother said but he couldn’t stop himself. This was exactly the kind of tense situation he hadn’t wanted to drag Carly into.
“Let me take your plate,” Annie said to him, jumping up to gather the empty dishes.
“I’ll give you a hand.” Taylor gathered the platter and salad bowl and the pair beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen.
A beat passed then Nora said, “Finn, are you ever going to go back to playing classical music?”
Okay, that was it. He rose abruptly. “I’ll put the kettle on for coffee.”