Gray Hair Don't Care

by Karen Booth

  Donovan pulled off to the side and put the car in Park. Mere moments later, as they were climbing out, a pack of dogs escaped from the front door and scrambled out onto the lawn. “Oh, great.”

  Trailing behind them was a woman Lela could only assume was Eileen, Donovan’s mother. Like Lela, she had long gray hair, although Eileen’s was more white than silver. It was piled on top of her head, held in place by black enamel chopsticks. She wore a shapeless linen dress in a color that could only be described as periwinkle. But that wasn’t what Lela was focused on right now. It was the dogs surrounding them and barking their heads off.

  Eileen came to a halt, stuck her thumb and middle finger in her mouth, and unleashed an earsplitting whistle. The dogs scampered off and were at her heel in a flash, except for a Pomeranian that decided to pee on a rose bush instead.

  Lela, Donovan, and Echo started up the walk with their suitcases while Lucius veered off, trying to coax the one stray dog to join the group. Eileen greeted Echo first, taking both of her granddaughter’s hands and peering up into her eyes. “I’m excited for you to marry Lucius, darling. He’s so handsome,” she muttered under her breath. “That’s important. If you ever want to kill him, it’ll make you think twice.”

  “Grams…” Echo leaned down to hug her grandmother.

  Donovan snorted, which caught his mother’s attention.

  “My handsome son,” she embraced him warmly, making Lela doubt at least some of what he’d said about his mom.

  “Hi, Mom. How are you?” The tone of his voice was quiet and resigned, but there was a glimmer of affection.

  “I’m happy as a clam. I have my two boys here and my granddaughter is getting married. I can’t think of a single thing I might want. Except perhaps a gin and tonic.” She glanced over at Lela. “You must be Echo’s new business partner. And the makeup artist.”

  Lela tamped down any disappointment she might have had at the fact that however Donovan had briefed his mother, he had not mentioned that he and Lela had been friends in college. “Hello, Mrs. James. It’s very nice to meet you.”

  She waved it off. “Please. Call me Eileen. Life is too short for formalities.”

  Out through the door came a bald, muscle-bound man. He was wearing khakis and a button-down shirt, which first read “banker”, but he was also barefoot and wearing chunky diamond stud earrings, so Lela was unable to draw any conclusions at all about what he might do. He was holding a sizable carved wood box with a brass lock on the front. “I’m here for everyone’s phones.”

  Eileen smiled wide. “Stuart, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Stuart.”

  He kissed Eileen on the cheek, then presented the box to Donovan. “You must be the oldest son.”

  “You must be the new boyfriend.”

  “Donovan. Manners,” Eileen said.

  “Mom. I’m fifty-one. Plus, isn’t he actually your new boyfriend?” Donovan dropped his phone into the box.

  “I don’t mind. It doesn’t bother me at all.” Stuart moved on to Echo and Lucius, then made his way over to Lela.

  In many ways, she was happy to be rid of her cell for a few days. Work had been so non-stop, that the idea of forced unplugging for a weekend was like to a trip to a spa. “Thank you.”

  “Wonderful,” Eileen said. “Let’s go inside and get you all settled. We’ll meet for cocktails at five, and dinner will be at six. For now, I need a nap.”

  “Where’s Austin?” Donovan asked her.

  “He got here a half hour ago. He’s upstairs unpacking. Genevieve’s flight was delayed, by the way, so she won’t be here until later.”

  As they all filed inside, Lela overheard Eileen. “Lucius, do you know the origin of ‘happy as a clam’?”

  “I don’t,” Lucius said.

  “It refers to a clam at high tide. They’re happy because they have a short reprieve from death,” Eileen said.

  “Oh,” Lucius replied.

  Lela felt as though she was getting her first glimpse of what might be off with Donovan’s mom.

  As they walked into the yawning yet cluttered foyer, it took a moment for Lela to take it all in. Kitschy 1950s-era floral wallpaper in aqua and cream blanketed the walls, while a Louis XIV settee upholstered in what was surely historically inaccurate lime green velvet sat waiting for a visitor to rest their tired feet. There was a carved marble bust of a man topped with an actual fedora, and a vast collection of nudes—sketches, oil paintings, and watercolors, in mismatched candy-colored frames. Ahead was a grand flourish of a staircase with a delicate wrought-iron handrail ascending to the right, then looping back around to a landing on the other end. Anyone who went upstairs had no choice but to go out of their way.

  Suitcases in tow, Lela and Donovan started up the hardwood steps, which were covered in an ornate eggplant carpet runner. “Did it look like this when you were growing up?” she asked.

  “Sort of. She’s constantly at rich people’s estate sales, so she’s added quite a bit since I was a kid.”

  She followed him down one of several halls. “But isn’t she a rich person herself?”

  “Yes, but she’ll never come close to spending it. She’s cheap as hell.”

  “Did she grow up poor?”

  “No. I think she enjoys squeezing the life out of things.”

  Lela couldn’t ignore the possible double meaning in this answer. “And she grew up in this house, too?”

  “Virtually all by herself, other than a caretaker, gardener, and a nanny. She was an only child and my grandparents traveled extensively.” Donovan stopped in front of a door and opened it. “Mom said she wanted you in here. We call this the pink bird room.”

  “Like flamingos?”

  “No. Pink. And birds.”

  Lela stepped inside and immediately caught Donovan’s drift. She really loved pink, but this was a whole new level of rosy adoration. Everything, from the bed to a mountain of throw pillows, from the heavy Dupioni silk drapes to a pair of chairs near the window, and even a faux-fur ottoman were decorated in shades from soft and pale to vibrant and electric. Littered about the room were dozens of antique bird cages, painted in a non-pink array of colors. They hung in clusters from the ceiling and two had been turned into lamps on the bedside tables. They were perched on shelves, and a few had been left on the floor in the corner. “Got it. Pink. And birds.”

  “Except no actual birds. Just their little jail cells.”

  “That’s a lovely thought.”

  He laughed quietly. “I’m sure you know by now to ignore me.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed and bounced up and down to check the firmness. She patted the spot next to her. “Come here. Sit.”

  Donovan artfully arched both eyebrows. “I thought we decided we were done with that.”

  “We did. This is just you and me, talking as friends.”

  He did as she asked, sitting next to her. “I like the idea of that. As long as this isn’t a lecture.”

  “Maybe a little one.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  “I want to make sure you’re going to take the time to enjoy this weekend. I understand things with your mother are complicated, but your daughter is getting married. It’s a big deal. It would be a shame if you didn’t have at least a little fun.”

  He cleared his throat and leaned back, propping himself up with one arm. “I’ll try. I feel like I have one foot in the grave. How do I have a daughter that’s old enough to get married?”

  Indeed, as slowly as time moved when you were young, it moved equally fast when you got older. “Don’t think about that part. Just try to enjoy it.”

  He looked over at her and allowed himself a smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I am, too.”

  “I hope you still feel that way after spending time with my mother.”

  “She’s fine, Donovan. Really. She’s quirky, but who doesn’t love that? My mom is perfectly predictable.”

  “Your mom is awesome.”r />
  “There you are.” A good looking man who resembled Donovan ever-so-slightly appeared in the doorway. Lela could only assume it was his half-brother Austin. He was nearly the same height, similar thick brown hair, although Austin’s was cut in a far more conservative style. He had that same easy confidence, but in a slightly slicker package. Not only were his expensive leather shoes gleaming, his teeth were too. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  Donovan popped up from the bed and hugged Austin, but it was more the bumping of shoulders and a clap on the back. “Hey, Austin. I want you to meet Lela.”

  Austin narrowed his sights on her. “Hold on a minute. I’ve seen you somewhere.”

  “Hello.” Lela reached out for a handshake, but he raised her fingers to his admittedly soft lips. “I don’t think we’ve ever met, but it’s nice to meet you now,” she said, ready to have her hand back.

  Donovan closely studied Lela and Austin’s interaction. “Probably the ad campaign. Austin lives in Boston. That’s one of our first wave markets.”

  “My God,” Austin said. “Lela B. Damn. Those photos are hot.”

  Heat flushed Lela’s face so fast she nearly passed out. She still maintained that wasn’t her in those photos. It was an ideal of her, with great lighting and the right angles. “It’s not me. It was all the photographer’s doing.”

  “Come on, Lela,” Donovan said in an admonishing tone. “Don’t say that. It’s you. It’s all you. No photographer can capture what isn’t there.”

  Lela almost asked Donovan to watch himself. If he was going to go around complimenting her and being nice like he had over the last few weeks, he might give her a reason to start thinking about stupid things like kissing him.

  “I hope we get to spend some time together while you’re here, Lela,” Austin said.

  Donovan was in her peripheral vision, bugging his eyes and shaking his head “no”.

  “I’m sure I’ll see you around.” She wasn’t sure what else she should say. She didn’t want to be rude.

  Austin grinned. “Fantastic.”

  “I’ll let you get settled, Lela,” Donovan said. “Do you need anything?”

  “I’m good. Echo and I are going to get together in an hour so I can practice on her hair.”

  “I’ll see you at five for cocktails?” he asked, starting for the door.

  “I’ll be there with bells on.”

  Donovan and Austin left Lela to herself and she turned to take another look at the room. She found Donovan’s mom’s style quirky and fun. Unconventional. Whimsical. Still, she could see how if you were a kid, and she was your mom, it might come off as something else.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Donovan practically had to drag Austin from Lela’s room. As soon as they were out of earshot, he delivered a warning. “Step off.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Austin trailed Donovan down the hall to his room, which was around the corner, on the back of the house overlooking the pool.

  “Lela doesn’t need you drooling all over her.” Donovan wandered into what had once been his bedroom. Thankfully, his mother had redecorated many years ago, transforming it into something completely unrecognizable, unleashing her odd sense of style with dark navy walls, black wainscoting, and dozens of clocks that didn’t work. Donovan tried not to do anything but sleep in that room. Otherwise, it felt too much like he was a prisoner of time.

  “Hold on a minute.” Austin grabbed Donovan’s forearm and froze. “I’m just now realizing. Is Lela college Lela?”

  “Yes. How many women named Lela can there be in the world?”

  “How did she end up working with Echo?”

  “It was total chance. A fluke.”

  “Are you two a thing?”

  Donovan bit down on his lower lip, if only to remind himself that he and Lela were definitely not a thing. Although there’d been a noticeable softening between them in the last few weeks. He wasn’t sure if that was all one-sided or if Lela felt it, too, but he had to think she did. Not that it mattered. Echo would lose it. “No. We’re not.”

  “Hmmm…interesting.” Austin narrowed his up-to-no-good eyes. “But you two slept together?”

  “We did. All the more reason for you to stay away.”

  Austin flopped on to Donovan’s bed, tucked his hands behind his head and crossed his feet at the ankles. “She’s so hot, and her gray hair is sexy. I’m definitely into older women. They know what they want. There are no games.”

  “She’s a year older than you, so not sure that qualifies. Then again, you’ve never been good at math.”

  Austin smirked. “I still reserve my right to admire her.”

  Donovan heaved his suitcase onto the bed next to Austin and began unpacking his things. “I reserve my right to beat on you.”

  “And I, you.” Austin got up and wandered over to the window, leaning against the casing and looking outside. “I need to ask you something. Do you think Mom looks skinny?”

  Donovan had noticed exactly that when he hugged his mom. Like his arms went around her a little too far. “I did. Do you think something is going on? Health-wise?”

  “Not sure. I asked her about it and she told me that she loves being called skinny, which is ridiculous. It felt like she was deflecting.”

  “I wonder when she last went to the doctor.” Their mom had always been skeptical of western medicine.

  “I’m sure it’s been years. Her room is full of crystals and astral charts, and there are countless homeopathic remedies on the kitchen counter.”

  “I’ll try to find a way to ask.”

  Austin pushed off from the wall and slugged Donovan on the arm. “Finish up so we can go for a walk.”

  “Yeah. Yeah. Just let me hang up my tux and I’ll do the rest when we get back.”

  A few minutes later, the two were back on the ground floor, walking out through one of the many French doors opening onto the flagstone patio and pool area. Beyond that was the rose garden tended by their mother, even though it was more than enough work to have the landscaping crew handle it. She’d always insisted on doing these things herself. Part of it was her penny-pinching ways. Part of it was her reluctance to give anyone else control.

  Donovan and Austin strode down the grassy slope that led to the pond. When they were kids, they spent hours out on this lawn and in the water—swimming, throwing a football, building forts, and scheming up ways to get in trouble. There had been days during the summer when they didn’t bother to come home until well after dark. Their bond had always been tight, but the dynamic was sometimes difficult to navigate, a loving tug-of-war.

  The brothers came by any rivalry between them honestly. Austin and Donovan had different fathers, but they’d only known Austin’s dad Noel. Cocky and irreverent, with the good looks to back it up, he was like Han Solo-era Harrison Ford. He’d been careful and kind with the boys, and Donovan remembered always feeling safe with him. But Donovan had also been keenly aware that Noel was Austin’s real father, and that any affection he showed Donovan was out of generosity, rather than a parental bond. Seeing it as an adult years later, Donovan thought that love freely given was better than something of obligation. But at the time, the message couldn’t have been any more clear—Donovan was the one it took effort to love.

  Noel and their mother had a tumultuous relationship. They were either deeply in love or despised each other, and any gray area in between was flyover country, not their true destination. Eventually, their mother cried uncle and divorced Noel when the boys were nine and seven. It was probably the right call, but in Noel’s absence, her impetuous nature no longer had any guardrails. She imposed no bedtime, they could eat whatever they wanted, ride their bikes through the grand dining room, and bring home any animal they decided should be a pet. She wanted the boys to feel free. There were times when they’d craved that autonomy, but growing up with virtually no one in charge meant that they were saddled with a great deal of responsibility. One could argue that p
erhaps that had been his mom’s plan all along. She’d been teaching them to care for themselves. There was only one problem with that theory—his mom did not plan.

  As for Donovan’s dad, Buck, he was little more than a sperm donor. He got Eileen pregnant, stuck around to enjoy her money and the lavish surroundings, but ultimately decided that commitment wasn’t for him. The story went that he left the day before Donovan’s first birthday. Eileen had baked a cake for the celebration, but she’d forgotten powdered sugar for the buttercream. She sent Buck into town, and no one heard from him again. Eileen met Noel two days later, and on the rare occasions she invited anyone to the estate, she made a grand production of telling the story—it was kismet that Donovan’s dad had walked out of her life, making room for Noel.

  Now that they were down by the pond, Austin asked, “How’s work?”

  “Great. Amazing. I love working with Echo. It’s seriously one of the best things I’ve ever done. I feel like I’m making up for lost time. I know it’s not exactly the same as being there for her when she was little, but hopefully it means more now?” Donovan drew a deep breath as he took in the view of the calm water. With cattails bending in the summer breeze and ducks paddling along, it really was peaceful. “Does it sound like I’m rationalizing?”

  Austin shrugged. “I don’t think so. I think you’re being present and you’re trying. That’s all that matters.”

  Donovan wanted to believe that. “I hope so. I hope she feels that way.”

  “Maybe you should ask her.”

  “I don’t want to do that. It’ll seem like I’m asking her to absolve me of my sins. That’s not her responsibility. I’m still the parent. Any blame is squarely on my shoulders.”

  “I’m probably not the person to consult with on this topic, anyway. Not a parent and not the best when it comes to relationships.” Austin was just as handicapped in this department as Donovan was, but when it came to romance, he’d been a tad smarter, never getting married, although there had been at least two broken engagements. “Speaking of Echo, how long has it been since you’ve seen Genevieve?”