A Daughter's a Daughter

by Irene Vartanoff

She found Dorothy flipping through the magazines Max had placed on a side table in the living room. “Arizona Highways. A beautiful magazine. I only subscribe because my sister loved it. She went to college in Arizona,” Dorothy said, as if she hadn’t told Pam this a thousand times.

  Pam plopped down on the couch next to the table, and picked up the top magazine. “It’s got pretty pictures. I thought we could have Max and Molly cut some out to paste and color if the weather turns sour. Or in the unlikely situation that they get tired of the beach.”

  Dorothy made a sound of derision. “They’ll be too tired. In all my years here, I’ve never had a child visit who got bored enough to do an art project.”

  “We’ll run them up and down the beach so many times they’ll need naps each day,” Pam said. She was happy they’d cleaned up the mess of the dining room, but didn’t dare say so. No need to remind her mother of their fight over the mail. The mail Pam had stolen. At least the dining room was usable again, returned to its former glory. She had even placed a beautiful crystal bowl in the center after dinner. Tomorrow she’d put some flowers in it.

  Maybe sometime she could suggest her mother reduce the number of her subscriptions, so the backup of magazines wouldn’t happen again. None of the newspapers had been read, either. That subscription ought to be canceled.

  Instead, she basked in the moments of peace with the mother whose active lifestyle had always intimidated her. Dorothy wasn’t even criticizing her as much as she always had.

  The next two days passed swiftly, with plenty of laughter and fun for all. There was one disturbing moment when Bruce cornered Pam on the patio and kissed her. She’d automatically kissed him back before pushing away angrily.

  “What are you doing?” she cried, although some of her anger was at herself for responding. No wonder he thought she was a pushover.

  “Trying to communicate without words that I am a man you can trust,” he said.

  “Attempting to manipulate me with sex, you mean.” He’d succeeded, too, until she regained her senses.

  The children were already running down the steps to the beach after Yappie. Dorothy, who had gone into her suite for a moment to retrieve a sweater, stepped outside then, ready to take her daily walk with Bruce.

  “I’m a simple kind of guy,” Bruce said. “What you see is what you get.”

  “I see ulterior motives,” was her icy reply.

  Bruce’s face fell. “Can we talk this out? Please?”

  “Not now,” she said. “I have to keep an eye on the children.” She followed them down the path to the beach, leaving Bruce to escort Dorothy.

  Pam’s thoughts roiled. Did he think a few kisses would wipe out his lies? Or had he assumed that because she hadn’t caused any scenes in front of her grandchildren that all was forgiven? Her body clearly did not care about Bruce’s ethics, but her mind and heart did.

  The next afternoon, the visit drew to a close. “I hate to leave,” Pam said. “We’ve had such a good time.” She and her mother stood on the patio watching Max and Molly take a last short romp on the sandy area just below their steps.

  Dorothy said, “Steve looks undergrown for being ten years old. Have you checked with a doctor about him?”

  “That’s not Steve. That’s his son, Max. He’s only eight. Those are Steve’s children, my grandchildren.” She cocked her head in enquiry as she looked at her mother. Had Dorothy mistaken them?

  “Oh, of course,” Dorothy said.

  “Max looks a lot like Steve,” Pam offered, automatically smoothing over the gaffe. Then she did a mental double take. When during the weekend had her mother addressed the children by name? Only once, immediately after they had been introduced to Bruce. Had Dorothy spent the entire weekend thinking these were Pam’s children?

  That couldn’t be. It was merely a flash, because so many children in the family had played on this beach. For a second, her mother must have confused this moment with some other beach visit from long ago.

  Dorothy nodded. “Of course.”

  She said that phrase a lot lately. Was her mother being very clever? Covering up with polite nothings when memory drew a blank?

  “Now, Pamela, don’t let up on your foundation project. Your initial success is nothing to coast on.”

  That was more like it.

  “Mom, I plan to make the Bright Side Foundation a big success.”

  Later, driving the children to their home, she thought about her mother’s second of confusion. Was this what Bruce had noticed? That Dorothy was a little unsure of who was whom these days? Especially if she hadn’t known the person for a long time, as she knew her own daughter?

  Chapter 31

  Linley rejected Jason’s attempt to get her to dine with him. She knew what he wanted. The same as what she wanted. They couldn’t have it. She stuck to that mantra throughout the next two weeks as their show got into its stride and became more secure. Amazingly, they found topics to argue about every single day.

  They never ran out, because their points of view were so different. Tweeters and bloggers kept commenting on what a conservative she was, how tough she was on the ordinary citizen. She and Jason incorporated the comments into the show.

  “Here’s an email from Average Joe in Indiana. He thinks you’re way too hard on the average citizen, Linley.” Jason had the devil in his eyes as he said it.

  Linley faced the camera. “Average Joe, do you owe the American average of nine thousand dollars in credit card and other non-secured debt?”

  “He doesn’t say that.”

  “If he’s representing the average citizen, Joe is in debt and he doesn’t do anything to save for a rainy day. Joe, it’s raining. What are you going to do now?”

  Jason winced dramatically. “That’s harsh. How could Joe or any other person have anticipated the mortgage crisis or the collapse of major financial institutions?”

  She shook her head. “You don’t get it. Everyone experiences troubles. That’s why we’re supposed to save for a rainy day. Because they happen.”

  “Come on, Linley, you’re being too tough on Joe. He couldn’t know that real estate would take a massive nosedive.”

  She cocked her head and let an expression of disbelief settle on her face. “Did you listen to what you just said? All financial bubbles pop. It’s an immutable law of money.”

  “Now you’ve got Joe ready to hang himself,” Jason said. “What do you suggest he do?”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s obvious, Jason. Stop using credit.”

  “Get real,” Jason acted disgusted. “The entire American economy is based on every one of us being consumers. You’re completely unrealistic about all the temptations out there for the average person.”

  Linley pretended to take offense. “Oh, really? Then answer this. Should an alcoholic cruise bars?”

  “Of course not.” Jason acted puzzled and impatient. “What’s your point?”

  “It’s the same principle with money,” she said heatedly. “If you’re short of money, don’t go where you’re likely to spend.”

  She swung to face the camera again. “Joe, if you’re listening, take your credit cards out of your wallet and leave them at home.”

  “Your idea isn’t new. It won’t work,” Jason said.

  “Don’t be a nay-sayer,” she said. “Joe, how about trying what I’ve suggested? Email us in a couple of weeks and tell us how you’re doing.”

  Once the show had ended, she said, “That was too easy.”

  Jason said, “I’m right and you’re wrong. Nothing’s going to stop people using credit and debt as their way of life.” His tone was passionate.

  Marty interrupted. “Save it for another broadcast. Come to my office, you two.”

  They walked out of Marty’s office five minutes later, both reeling. Their show had hit big numbers. Salaries had been more than doubled. Linley was getting an office. Jason was getting an assistant and an audition to host a late night television show for their netw
ork.

  Jason took her arm in the hall and said in a deadly whisper, “If you don’t come to my office right now, I’m going to call Barbara Walters and have phone sex with her.”

  She looked up at him. Jason was so happy he was blazing, and he wanted to be with her in his moment of triumph. She let him drag her into his office. She let him close and lock the door, and then turn off the lights, so their movements wouldn’t be visible through the windows. She let him back her up against the door. His face was rigid with passion.

  “Yes or no? This is it, Lin. Now or never.”

  Something inside her loosened and relaxed, even as the rest of her tensed up with the longing for sexual release. She started to deliberately unbutton her blouse, all the while staring directly into his eyes.

  “Yes.”

  Their coupling was awkward and intense. They groped at pieces of flesh still robed in clothing. They fought to get access to each other. Jason lifted her skirt, pulled down her underwear, and impaled her against the door. She grabbed his back and held on desperately. They caressed each other fiercely as they pressed their hips against each other with manic intensity. In seconds, they both came.

  They didn’t separate. Her knees wanted to buckle, but Jason’s strong arms held her upright. He held her against his chest as if she was precious, the way she’d once imagined.

  This was more. This had to be more. She knew it. He was much more than a pretty man from a casual hookup. If only he would say something. Admit that this was more than sex. Then she could admit it, too.

  “I want to be with you openly from now on.” His voice sounded deeper all of a sudden. “Move in with me. Marry me. Whatever you want.”

  Whoa. Marriage? Exponentially different. She hadn’t thought past a relationship. “I—I want to be with you, too, but I don’t know about the rest.” She should be relieved. Ecstatic. Instead, she was fretting about her career again.

  “We have to be together,” he insisted.

  Making a commitment was scarier than she’d imagined. “It could mess everything up for the show,” she said.

  “Nah. What’s the worst that could happen? We’d be angrier with each other on air. The viewers would eat it up.”

  “What if we get so lovey-dovey we can’t fight anymore?”

  Jason smiled. It was a clear, happy smile. “Let’s find out.”

  They were still joined intimately, and suddenly Jason was moving inside her again. Thought fled. She offered herself up to him blindly, moving as he urged, gasping with pleasure at every shift. This time was slower, intense in a different way. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Then she lost it entirely. When she could think again, she was lying on the floor with Jason. He had her firmly pressed against him from head to toe.

  Time passed. She could hear the sounds of people leaving for the day. Finally, she spoke. “We’ll need to go by my place so I can get some of my things.”

  His arm tightened. He let out a long breath, then turned so they looked each other in the eye. “You’re going to marry me,” he promised.

  #

  She didn’t remember how they got themselves together enough to leave the studio. She was sure they must have looked like the besotted idiots they were. She didn’t care. At her apartment, she started to gather underwear from her dresser, but found Jason behind her. His embrace made her forget what she was doing. They made love on her bed, this time hurling off all their clothes as they kissed and caressed each other to completion.

  Hours later, Jason again asked her to marry him. She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t say no. The night passed with more lovemaking and a few stretches of sleep.

  Finally, morning came. They both had shows to report to. She sighed. He gathered her in his arms. “It’s not the end. It’s the beginning.”

  Chapter 32

  Steve and Callie arrived home on schedule. They were both smiling and lightly tanned. They ran to the children and scooped them into their arms, crying, “We missed you so much.”

  Max and Molly squirmed with delight. They talked mile a minute about their weekend at the beach.

  “Great-grandma almost has a dog. His name is Yappie,” Molly said.

  “Is that so?” Steve smiled, ruffling her hair.

  Callie had already begun fussing over her children, neatening their hair, straightening their clothes, and more. They stood it well. Callie’s love was in every touch. “You’ve been eating right? You brushed your teeth every day?”

  Molly nodded, but continued her dog theme. “He lives next door, with Nana’s boyfriend, Mr. Bruce,” she said.

  “Does Nana have a boyfriend?” Steve teased, looking at his mother in inquiry.

  “He’s Dorothy’s neighbor,” Pam demurred.

  “He kissed you. I saw him,” Max spoke up. “Isn’t he your boyfriend, Nana?”

  Steve raised an eyebrow but soon diverted the children to the presents they had brought from Tahiti.

  Later, as Pam was getting ready to leave, Steve asked, “Do you really have a boyfriend, Mom?”

  “Oh, maybe. I’m not sure I can trust him.” She quickly laid out the story of Greta, and Bruce’s secrecy about his identity.

  Steve’s open, pleasant face showed his shock. “Grandma with a gun? I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s puzzling,” she replied. “I need to hear the story again. Bruce wants to, too.” She explained more of the situation, including her plan to investigate Bruce.

  “Do the children have it wrong, then? This Bruce is not a new love affair for you?”

  “His intentions toward my mother concern me more,” she said, not wanting to talk about her intimacy with Bruce.

  “You would have found some evidence of foul play by now. You know. Big checks written to him, or whatever.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Steve what she had discovered about her mother’s finances. She decided not to burden her son with that information.

  He continued, “Get the detective. To be sure. I’ll help pay for one. The soonest I can bring everybody out for a weekend is a month from now.”

  “I’m going again in a few days.”

  By now they were walking to her car. “Thanks for taking care of the kids, Mom.” He looked rested and happy.

  #

  Finally returned to Ardsley, Pam looked around her home as if it was an alien place. She had lived in this house a long time, but it no longer represented her life. Should she get an apartment in the city? Or move out to be with her mother and protect her from questionable men like Bruce? If she did, would she be a making a big mistake, submerging her life into her mother’s? Could she stomach living with her mother? They had only recently begun to be more at peace with each other. Dorothy still fussed at her and called her a fool. For her part, she still cringed over some of Dorothy’s pronouncements and habits.

  Living together might be hellish. Why was she even thinking of it? Because her mother’s grasp on her life appeared to be diminishing?

  Did Pam have a martyr complex? Dorothy didn’t need a savior, nor was she helpless. Dorothy had always been one of the least helpless people she’d ever known. Other girls had envied her having such a cool mom. Pam had found her mother difficult to live up to and resented being associated with such a superwoman. People expected Pam to be a rabble rouser, too. Not the shy, retiring type she was.

  What did she owe her mother in her declining years? What could she reasonably give, and still have something left for herself?

  #

  Bruce wondered what his next step should be. He felt under obligation not to pester Dorothy when she was alone, much as he wanted her to retell the story of his parents’ last days. Given what he believed about her increasing mental deterioration, it wasn’t ethical to ask for more without someone there to protect her interests. He’d already put himself on incredibly shaky ground with Pam. He didn’t want to blow it altogether. Then she might refuse to speak to him again, and deny him any access to Dorothy despite his b
oast she couldn’t. Not his finest moment. He’d been daring enough to keep up their daily walks, but if Pam became adamant or sicced the law on him, he’d have to desist, and he’d lose Pam. If he hadn’t lost her already. They needed to talk.

  What if Dorothy did have a gun that night? What if she shot his father two weeks later and orchestrated the car crash? She wouldn’t have had to do more than wing him, probably. Enough to even the odds between a hulking male in his prime and a slender female. Why had Nora told him? Had his father murdered his mother?

  Dorothy was not someone he believed. Talk about an unreliable narrator. She bent facts to suit her notions. Her tale had sounded like a Joan Crawford movie melodrama, not something real. Had Dorothy killed his father? Even if she admitted to cold-blooded murder, what could he do about it? He couldn’t call the cops and order them to lock up an eighty-seven-year-old woman who was a pillar in her community. He’d be run out of town on a rail.

  What did he want?

  Justice. The truth.

  Pam, if he could get her. She was proving elusive, and that was entirely his fault. They’d had something. He wanted it back, and he wanted it to grow. Despite her recently started effort to be like her mother and raise money for a cause, Pam was far too soft to take to it with the gusto her mother was famed for. Pam took to making love with plenty of gusto. He’d like her in his bed again, but he’d have to win back her trust. She’d made that clear.

  Chapter 33

  Linley and Jason still simmered with repressed desire, and they snapped at each other and disagreed with each other as violently as before. Now they went home after a long day at the studio and released their desire in fierce lovemaking that went on into the night.

  After one such marathon, it was nearly midnight when Jason and she finally were eating a light dinner. He wore athletic shorts only, and she had donned his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

  “You look sexy, babe. Come here,” he said.

  She shook her head. “I’m starving. I need to keep up my strength.”