Back to Blue

by Dillon Watson

  “She’s really not as crazed as she comes across,” Terri said to Summer in a loud whisper. “Just humor her.”

  “You two.” Keile shook her head. “Now that the humor portion of our program has been dealt with, I’ll take care of the kabobs.” She handed Chelsea off to Renny. “I didn’t invite you guys to make you watch the grill.”

  “Nope.” Jo stepped around her and plucked the plastic-wrapped platter from Haydn. “You just want to hog all the fun,” she accused Keile before slipping back out the door, followed by Terri.

  “Told you about the lure of the grill,” Keile said and shrugged. “You’ll have a chance to talk to them later. Despite evidence to the contrary, they’re definitely in the category of good friends to have around.”

  “Keile, you can go ahead and take the chicken into the dining room,” Haydn ordered. “And show Summer around before she thinks we only have a kitchen. And check on Kyle. He’s being entirely too quiet.”

  “Yes, boss,” Keile said with a snappy salute. She laughed when Haydn shot her the bird. “Later. Come on, Summer, you heard her.”

  Summer took one last look at Renny and the comfort of a relatively empty kitchen. Telling herself that mingling wasn’t the end of the world didn’t slow her heartbeat. Nor did it soothe her nerves. She focused on reciting the multiplication table, but couldn’t miss the buzz of conversation and laughter that grew louder as they approached the dining room.

  “Chicken and Summer,” Keile announced loudly as they stepped into the packed room.

  “Summer and swimming pools,” someone yelled back.

  “Swimming pools and bikinis!”

  “Bikinis and dieting.”

  Someone near the table groaned. “No talk of diets with all this good food around.”

  “Oops. Did I say ‘diet’? Really, I meant ‘chicken.’” A thin brunette with spiked hair transferred a piece of chicken to her empty plate.

  Summer relaxed and joined in the easy laughter.

  “Don’t pay any attention to them, Summer,” Lynn said, walking up to her, a toddler attached to her hip. “So, no trouble making it the rest of the way?”

  “Yeah. I mean, no. Uh, thanks, you know, for stopping earlier. Is this your child?”

  Lynn laughed. “No. You’ve already met my child, Terri. This little darling belongs to Edan.” She placed a hand on the brunette with the spiked hair. “Edan, this is Summer, the warrior who rode her bike in this weather.”

  Edan nodded. “You’re Keile’s friend from college.” She shot out a hand. “She’s really psyched you could join us.”

  “Seems safe as long as you don’t mention dieting,” Summer replied.

  “I said ‘chicken,’ remember?” Edan whispered and winked.

  After that, Summer had no trouble hanging around the periphery, occasionally getting drawn into conversations going on around her while nibbling her way through varied dishes. When Terri entered with the veggie kabobs, Summer discovered she was actually enjoying herself.

  It wasn’t until an hour later that she saw an opportunity to speak with Renny again. She drifted back into the dining room and hung around on the outskirts of the group Renny was in. When most of them left to grab more beer, she found her backbone. “Hey.”

  “Hey back at ya,” Renny said with a smile. “A live fan. Now I can be a bore and quiz you on my novels.”

  Summer liked the gentle teasing. “Be careful what you wish for. Which book do you want to start with?”

  Renny laughed. “You’re serious?”

  Summer’s heartbeat quickened, and she quickly tore through the multiplication table up to five. What had made her think she could fit in? “I’ll, uh, just go,” she said quietly.

  “Hey, wait.” Renny grabbed her arm. “I’d love to hear what you have to say. Sounds like you’re an avid reader. Nothing this author likes more.”

  Summer looked into Renny’s light brown eyes before she, haltingly at first, talked about the things she liked. From there they moved on to other best sellers, discovering they had some likes in common, but also areas of strongly held differences of opinion.

  “So what’s your favorite genre?” Renny asked, plucking a cherry tomato from Summer’s plate. “And be honest,” she warned with a shake of her little finger.

  Summer hastily swallowed a hummus-laden cracker. “I guess I have to say romance because it can be all genres.”

  “Lesbian or straight?”

  “Lesbian, but I read both. A good story is a good story.”

  “I don’t see you as an Oprah watcher, so how did you stumble onto my books?”

  “My mom’s library. I’ve spent a good part of the past two years reading my way through it. And she’s not really an Oprah fan. Not that I know what that has to do with anything.” She met Renny’s dubious glance head-on. “I was, uh, out of it for a while. Not up on current happenings.”

  “Were you on Mars?” Renny quirked an eyebrow. “You’re going to stand there and tell me to my face you don’t know about my mother hyping my book on Oprah? And FYI, that wouldn’t be considered a current event.”

  Summer’s nod seemed to harden Renny’s expression.

  “Next you’ll tell me you don’t know who the hell my mother is.”

  The note of accusation in Renny’s tone startled Summer. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and took a step back. What had just happened? What had she missed? “I, uh, I’d better go.” Summer fled, making a stop in the bedroom to pick up her coat and scarf. She managed to get to the back door without anyone stopping her—and then her manners kicked in. Backtracking, she found Keile, Haydn and a sleepy-looking Kyle on the sofa in the living room with a mellower crowd.

  “Leaving so soon?” Keile quizzed.

  Summer tried for a smile. “I made it past the ‘not staying very long’ stage, right?”

  “You need a ride?” Haydn asked. “It’s dark, as well as cold. I bet your bike would fit in the back of Keile’s Jeep.”

  “Oh, no. I’m good. I have a light and a beacon. Thanks for having me over. It was nice getting to see you and the kids.”

  “You’ll have to come back when the house isn’t so full,” Haydn said. “We didn’t really get a chance to embarrass Renny by fawning over her books some more.”

  “Sure” was the polite response. No sense telling Haydn that having Renny attack her for no discernible reason had ensured she wouldn’t read another one of her books. She put a hand on Keile’s shoulder as she made to get up. “I’ll see myself out.” As she walked her bike from the backyard to the street, she wondered if bad endings to outings like the two she’d had today were going to be her future.

  * * *

  “You didn’t have to stay and help with final cleanup.” Haydn plopped down on the sofa with a sigh. “But I’m glad you did.”

  Renny stretched out her legs, feeling pleasantly tired from dancing. “All I did was convince Kyle to go to sleep.”

  “That’s always the hardest part of cleanup.” Keile settled next to Haydn and pulled her close. “I had a great time. How ’bout you two?”

  “I obsessed over the food too much as usual,” Haydn admitted, turning sideways to rest her legs across Keile’s lap. “Don’t let me do that next time.”

  “As if there’s a way to stop you,” Keile and Renny said simultaneously.

  Haydn glared at Keile, then Renny. “Come on, I am not that bad.”

  “So, Renny, how’s the book going again?” Keile asked.

  “Real good. Making progress every day.”

  “See if I try to drum up sales for it,” Haydn said. “I’ll even wait to buy until it’s on the discount table. Better yet, I’ll borrow it from a friend.”

  Renny put a hand to her heart, affecting pain. “Now you’re getting vicious. How will you feel if I have to bankrupt my pride and ask my mother to go back on Oprah?”

  “Vindicated.” Haydn jerked when Keile pinched her thigh. “Hey!”

  Keile shook her
head. “Beautiful, but heartless.”

  “That’s me.” Haydn preened. “Renny doesn’t need me anymore. I noticed she and a certain someone seemed to talk for hours. She could be the publicity tour.”

  “Yeah, right.” Renny caught herself before she rolled her eyes. That was one of her mother’s trademark moves and she tried hard not to be like her mother. She didn’t want to talk about Summer. She was mad at herself for being taken in by her enthusiasm and, she was forced to admit, her flattery. Probably figured she’d suck up to me and get an introduction to Eve Jamison, the movie star, she thought with disgust. “Where do you know her from again?”

  “College. We lived in the same dorm when she was a freshman,” Keile replied. “What’s the problem? I thought you were getting along.”

  “Problem? No problem. I’ve dealt with her type too many times to count. Got taken in by a few before I wised up. For some stupid reason I didn’t expect to run across one in Seneca. Live and learn, right?”

  “Type? What are you talking about? Or should that be ‘who’?”

  Keile asked the question, but Renny caught a matching look of doubt on Haydn’s face. “That Summer’s one of those who plays head games. Come on. She tried to convince me she didn’t know about the whole Oprah thing. But she topped that by playing dumb about knowing who my mother is. I mean, really? I’m supposed to buy that crap in these days of instant media frenzy? That would be a big no.”

  “She’s telling the truth.” Keile rubbed her forehead. “Listen, there are legitimate reasons for her not knowing.”

  “Let me guess. She’s from Mars?” Renny rolled her eyes before she could help it.

  “It’s hard to believe, but there are extenuating circumstances, Renny. You’re reading her all wrong.”

  “If you say so.” Not wanting to end the evening on a bad note, Renny stood. They would have to agree to disagree about Summer Baxby. “Time for me to head out.”

  “I’ll walk you,” Keile said instantly.

  “I only live two houses over and it’s cold. I’ll be fine.”

  “I owe Can a quick walk for being confined most of the evening.”

  At the mention of his name, the black lab stood, stretched, then left the warmth of the fireplace to nudge Keile’s thigh.

  “How can I refuse such an escort?” Renny watched Can’s tail go into overdrive as Keile bundled into her coat. As soon as they stepped outside, a cold wind seemed to wrap around her. “Jeeze, February’s going out with a bang,” she said, wrapping her arms around her upper body.

  “Since it’s after midnight, this is the lion of March.”

  “March? That can’t be,” Renny said, shaking her head. “If it’s the first of March I should already have the gift I’m giving my father when I have dinner with him and Lisa…Shit, that’s tonight.” She exhaled, her breath a puff of white. “Damn, Sunday does come after Saturday, doesn’t it? This is what happens when the muse and I are clicking. I disassociate days and events.”

  “You have most of today to pick something up,” Keile said as they stopped at the end of Renny’s driveway. “And if you don’t, he’ll probably still be glad you’re making an effort to meet him halfway. When you and I talked earlier this week it didn’t sound like you were going.”

  She shrugged. “I decided it was time to grow up and stop judging him by what Eve has to say about him. He hasn’t done anything to deserve that from me. The opposite, in fact. I don’t know if it’s the town, but I see more clearly these days. I like it.” With a wave, she hurried inside.

  After completing her nighttime rituals, Renny slid under the thick down comforter and sighed in contentment. She would get a full eight, then worry about what to get her father. Turning on her side, she closed her eyes and waited for sleep.

  Ten minutes later she was still waiting. Her body was pleasantly tired. Her brain was another matter. She shouldn’t have thought about the gift for the father she didn’t know. The right gift was important. More so to show his wife she was making an effort than to please her father. And that was the wrong attitude to take, she told herself, bunching up a pillow. She didn’t want to fall into the same old rut. Lisa Gulatt was nothing like her mother or any of the mothers of friends she’d known growing up. For one thing, she came across as genuinely nice, never saying one thing with her mouth and something entirely different with her facial expressions. Not once had she made snide remarks about Renny’s weight, her past wrongdoings or the attention Renny was taking away from her or her daughter. Best of all, Lisa seemed to love her husband. Renny had to admire that, given the marriages she’d witnessed—her mother’s many, among them.

  Wine, she thought. She could get her father a nice bottle of wine. She remembered him saying he and Lisa liked to sit in the sunroom and talk over their day with a nice glass of wine. This way she would be getting something they both could enjoy.

  As she drifted off to sleep, Summer’s stricken face replaced thoughts of whether to buy white or red. A niggling feeling of guilt quickly followed. Maybe she had overreacted, but really! Anyone who knew as much about her books as Summer did should know how she had hit the big time. Eve was a huge part of that.

  Her first book had flown off the shelves after Eve hyped the book on Oprah’s show. A book tour had followed to keep the momentum going, and Renny hadn’t looked back, polishing stories that she’d woven as part of rehab into one bestseller after the other.

  So maybe she could be forgiven for being skeptical of Summer’s claim. The woman would have had to spend the last four years in a cave or on a desert island not to know about Eve and Oprah. Every time Renny released a book or did an interview Eve’s appearance on the show popped up as a question or a clip. It would be annoying if she didn’t know that at the same time Eve was getting peppered with questions about her daughter’s books.

  That had nothing to do with Summer, though, and the way she’d looked at her before she fled. Keile said there were extenuating circumstances, so maybe she’d have to think about apologizing next time she ran into her. Ask for a do-over. Because they had been having a damn good time up until then, and she couldn’t say that about a lot of the women she’d met.

  Chapter Seven

  Summer dusted off her hands with a great deal of satisfaction. Her weekend had been a nightmare, but Monday was turning out okay. Better than okay, she corrected, looking at the empty shelves that this morning had been filled with dusty files. Marcia was going to have no choice but to admit it was a job well done, she thought as a sneeze blew from her mouth.

  “Whoa. Summer, is that you behind that cloud of dust?” Liz jokingly waved a hand in front of her face.

  “Hey, following orders to clear off these bookcases, then the rest of the room.”

  Liz peered around the small dusty room that mainly served as a dumping ground for old files, outdated computer equipment and discarded furniture. “She must be running out of things for you to do. No one cares about this stuff in here.”

  “Oh no, there’s more filing. She said Gar told her to give me something different to do.”

  “I don’t think this is what he had in mind,” Liz said, frowning.

  “I don’t mind,” Summer said quickly. Marcia was already in a bad mood. The last thing she wanted was for Liz to go to Gar with complaints and feed the fire of Marcia’s dislike.

  “I’m sorry, but the cleaning service could have done this. It’s a total waste of your talent.”

  “If I had any talent, you mean. This type of work suits me.”

  “No talent? Who was it that divided the lunch tab into five, with and without tip, in her head on Friday?”

  “Lots of people can do that.” Summer shrugged and glanced away from Liz’s pointed look. “I just, you know, did it faster.”

  “Because the rest of us had to use our phones. And you’re the one who recited the multiplication table at the drop of a hat. Nobody outside of grade school can remember that stuff.”

  “Exactly. I�
�m functioning on a grade-school level. Cleaning and dusting is my level.

  “Is there a problem?” Marcia’s lips glistened as if she’d recently reapplied lipstick. The color matched her top, which had a neckline that almost plunged to her navel. Her black skirt was a conservative length for her, but that effect was somewhat offset by the patterned fishnet stockings she wore.

  “I almost finished one of the bookcases. Do we have any furniture polish?”

  “I certainly do not expect you to polish the furniture,” Marcia said, her gaze fixed on Liz. “And I certainly did not tell you to clean off the bookcases. You were supposed to be filing.”

  “No,” Summer disagreed, shaking her head vigorously. She might get some things confused, but the orders from Marcia had been very clear. She held up the dustrag. “Remember? You gave me this to wipe down the shelves once I found a place for the other stuff.”

  “Liz, would you excuse us? Summer might appreciate some privacy for the rest of our conversation.”

  “Summer or you?” Liz asked with a hint of a sneer. “I’m going,” she added before Marcia could respond.

  It wasn’t until Marcia closed the door that Summer realized how small and dimly lit the room was. She wiped the already clean shelf, waiting for Marcia’s rant.

  “You had to run and tattle to Liz, didn’t you? You think this is beneath you because you’re from a wealthy family? Think I’m beneath you because you’re from a wealthy family? I’m here to tell you you’re wrong on both counts.”

  Her heart pounding, Summer shrank from the vindictive tone and the hate in Marcia’s eyes. She didn’t do confrontations. Didn’t want to do confrontations. Instead she recited the multiplication table, faltering when she reached seven times seven. What the hell is seven times seven? she wondered as the air in the room seemed to thin and breathing became harder. Something bad was going to happen. Something she couldn’t stop.

  “Oh, now you have nothing to say,” Marcia charged, jabbing a finger in Summer’s direction.

  On one level Summer heard her. On another she was reasoning if six times seven was forty-two, then seven times seven had to be forty-nine. Eight times eight was sixty-four and nine…