Nell and Lady: A Novel

by Ashley Farley

  “I haven’t even started. It’s too noisy in here for me. I’m going home where it’s quiet.”

  When he moved to get up, she said, “Wait, Booker, before you go, there’s something I need to ask you.”

  He sat back down. “What’s that?”

  “It’s about this thing with my father and your mother.” She leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “I need to know the truth. Did he rape her or not?”

  Booker shook his head adamantly. “Your father did not rape my mother. He . . . well, let’s just say he mistreated her. I don’t feel like it’s my place to discuss the details. I’m sorry for misleading you. I was in a bad mood that day, and I took it out on you. That’s a sorry excuse, I know. Bottom line—I was wrong.”

  Her face was stricken with remorse. “Maybe I’ll never know what happened.”

  “Trust me, you’re better off forgetting about it if you can. Look on the bright side. Maybe we can use our prom date as a way to get our mothers together again.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” she said as she fidgeted with her earbuds.

  “Don’t be such a negative Nancy,” he said, chucking her chin. “Where’s that spunky Regan spirit I admire?”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “You’re right. We should keep trying. I’ll talk to Mom. Maybe we can invite your mom to come over for pictures beforehand.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Booker said, standing. “I need to get back to the books. We’ll talk more about the prom later.”

  When Booker returned to his table, Stuart and Owen were gone, and the noise in the library had dropped a few decibels. He decided to try one last time to focus. He was finding his place in his calculus book when his phone lit up on the table with a call from his father. What the heck does he want? Booker wondered as he turned the phone facedown.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  REGAN

  Regan burst through the front door and dashed up the stairs to her grandmother’s room, throwing herself across Willa in the bed. “I’m so happy to see you! I was so worried.”

  Willa stroked Regan’s hair. “I’m fine, child. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

  Regan felt a hand on her shoulder, pulling her off the bed. “Careful now, sweetheart,” Lady said. “Your grandmother’s still very weak.”

  “Stop your fussing, Lady. I’m getting stronger by the minute. Regan, I’d like you to meet my new best friend, Monique.” Willa gestured to the stranger sitting near the foot of the bed.

  Regan turned to the striking young woman of Asian descent. “Nice to meet you,” she said, and quickly returned her attention to her grandmother. “Guess what, Willa! I got asked to the prom. Do you think you’ll be well enough by Saturday to go shopping with me for a dress?”

  Willa chuckled. “I’m afraid that would require a miracle.” She shifted her gaze to Lady. “How about if I stay here with Monique and let your mother take you shopping?”

  Regan creased her forehead. “I guess that’ll have to work.”

  “What’s with the long face?” Willa lifted Regan’s chin. “You can text me pictures if you find something you like. I’ll give you my credit card. It’ll be my treat.”

  “Thank you, Willa. That’s really nice of you.” Regan looked at her mother standing next to her. “Do you mind going shopping with me? I know it’s not your favorite pastime.”

  Lady beamed. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do. We’ll make a day of it. Who’s the lucky guy taking you to the prom?”

  Regan had been dreading the question. Her mother was not exactly keen on Booker’s mother at the moment. “Oh . . . you know . . . he’s nobody. I mean, he’s somebody. He’s just a friend. I’m going with Booker.”

  Lady dropped her smile. “I see.”

  Willa snapped her head back. “Since when do you have a problem with Booker? He’s been Regan’s study buddy for as long as I can remember. Which isn’t saying much, now that I think about it, but you know what I mean.”

  “Since now that I know he’s Nell’s son,” Lady said. “For obvious reasons, I was hoping we could avoid further contact with their family.”

  “Those reasons aren’t so obvious to me,” Willa said. “Do you care to elaborate?”

  The color rose in Lady’s cheeks. “Can we talk about this another time?”

  “We need to talk about it now, Mom,” Regan said. “I was thinking we’d ask Nell to stop by for pictures when Booker comes to pick me up.”

  “I’d rather not.” Lady glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “Would you look at the time? Nine thirty already. Come on, you. Let’s get out of here so Willa can get some rest.” She placed a hand on Regan’s back and steered her to the door.

  “Did something happen with Nell that I don’t know about?” Regan asked her mother when they were alone in the hallway. She hadn’t seen Lady since Monday at the hospital, and the few times they’d spoken on the phone, they’d discussed only Willa’s health. “The last time Nell was here, you seemed happy to see her. I know she broke her promise to visit Willa, but she got called into work at the last minute. She can’t help that.”

  Lady slumped against the wall. “We had a little run-in at the hospital. Two run-ins, actually.”

  Regan recognized her mother’s exhaustion. For the four days Willa was in the hospital, Lady had left her bedside only long enough to come home to shower and change. “I’m sorry, Mom. I know you’re tired. We can talk about this another time.”

  “I need to get this off my chest now,” Lady said. “I know Booker is your friend, sweetheart. And that’s fine. I don’t want to get in the way of your friendship. But nothing good will come from having his mother in our lives.”

  “How can you say that, Mom? You saw how excited Willa was to see Nell when she visited last week.”

  “And Willa’s health tanked when Nell didn’t show up or bother to call after she promised to visit on Saturday. Our relationship with Nell is volatile at best. And Willa needs stability right now. Let it go, Regan. For all our sakes.” Before Regan could press her further, Lady pushed off the wall and disappeared down the stairs.

  Regan and Lady hit the stores bright and early on Saturday morning. They took an Uber to Upper King and worked their way down. They stopped in every shop that held promise. At the Copper Penny, she found a dress she loved with a black top and pink high-low skirt that was four sizes too big. The store clerk called the rep, but because the dress was last season’s design, they were out of stock.

  “You might try online.” The clerk jotted down the designer and style number on a scrap of paper and handed it to Regan. “Good luck.”

  Regan was hungry by the time one o’clock rolled around. “I give up, Mom. Let’s go home. I’m starving.”

  “And spoil this delightful weather?” Lady tilted her head up to the bright blue cloudless sky. “There’s a restaurant with patio seating a block away.”

  Regan raised an eyebrow. “What restaurant?”

  “I don’t know the name of it, but I’ve driven by it a thousand times. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “Where’s my sense of adventure?” Regan aimed a thumb at her chest. “This coming from a woman who hasn’t been out to lunch in six years.”

  “I’ve been cooped up in a stuffy old house with a sick woman for months. I need fresh air.” Looping her arm through Regan’s, her mother dragged her down the sidewalk to the Kitchen 208 restaurant, where they were seated at the last available umbrellaed table on the patio. After a quick glance at the menu, they both decided on the smoked turkey wrap.

  “Something’s different about you,” Regan said to her mother after the waitress had taken their orders. She’d been noticing the change all day, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  Pink spots appeared on her mother’s cheeks. “I decided to start wearing some makeup. I’m amazed at how much a good concealer and a little foundation can hide.”

  Regan leaned closer and narrowed her
eyes as she inspected her mother’s skin. “Oh, right. I see it now. Makes you look ten years younger.” Her eyes grew wide. “Oops. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sound old.”

  Lady laughed. “No need to apologize. I am old. I have a daughter going off to college in the fall.”

  Regan couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on any kind of outing with her mother. Something shifted in their relationship throughout their lunch. Away from Willa and the distractions at home, they were able to speak openly about themselves. They didn’t share any deep, dark secrets but kept the conversation light. They talked about the twenty pounds Lady was planning to lose and the nannying job Regan was hoping to get for the summer. Although Lady never admitted it in so many words, Regan realized for the first time how hard her parents’ divorce had been on her mother. She left the restaurant with a better understanding of Lady, not only as her mother but as a person.

  They passed a swanky hair salon a block away from the restaurant on their way home. Regan stopped to peek in the window. “I should probably do something about my hair before the prom.”

  “You know, I’ve been thinking about getting a new hairdo myself. Let’s go in.” Lady held the door open for Regan. “I bet they accept walk-ins.”

  “I doubt it. This place looks expensive,” Regan said under her breath as she brushed past her mother.

  The receptionist, a sophisticated woman with fabulous hair, informed them in a snooty manner that they did not accept walk-ins.

  “In that case, we need to schedule appointments,” Lady said, undeterred. “My daughter’s prom is next Saturday. Can you fit her in for a trim sometime this week in the late afternoon?”

  The receptionist’s attitude changed at the mention of the prom. “Let me see what we can do.” After checking for an available time, she smiled and said, “Becky is available next Saturday at three o’clock. Would that work? She’s one of our top stylists. After she cuts your hair, she’ll style it any way you like.” She came around from behind the desk to examine Regan’s hair. “Perhaps some soft curls around your face would be sweet.”

  Regan nodded her head eagerly. “I like that idea.”

  The receptionist turned to Lady. “What did you have in mind for your hair?”

  Lady ran her fingers through her stringy, mousy hair. Her mother was way overdue for a haircut.

  “I was thinking about cutting off several inches and adding some layers,” Lady said.

  The receptionist lifted a strand of Lady’s hair and rubbed it together between her fingers. “I would suggest adding some highlights as well. A lot of highlights, actually.”

  Lady clapped her hands together. “Let’s do it!”

  Returning to her computer, after a lot of scrolling and clicking, the receptionist found an opening for Lady on Wednesday afternoon at three.

  “What gives, Mom?” Regan asked when they were back on the sidewalk. “Something is different about you that has to do with more than makeup and a new diet.”

  “All right,” Lady sighed. “If you must know, I quit drinking. It’s been only a few days, and I didn’t want to say anything just yet in case I end up giving in to temptation. And believe me, the temptation is huge.”

  “Wow, Mom, that’s awesome!” Regan stopped on the sidewalk, and in the midst of a throng of Saturday strollers, she gave her mother a hug. “I’m so proud of you.” She drew away from her. “But you can’t give in to temptation. You have to go to AA.”

  “How do you know about Alcoholics Anonymous?” Lady asked, surprised.

  “Give me a break. Everyone knows about AA. But I have firsthand experience.” She hooked her arm through her mother’s and started walking. “Janie’s mom is a recovering alcoholic. She hasn’t had a drink since July 4, 2005.”

  Lady cast a sideways glance at her. “You know the exact date she quit drinking?”

  “Yep, I was with them at their condo in Wild Dunes that night. She was a mess, and that’s being kind. Mrs. Jensen is very open about her problem. She talks to Janie and me about drinking responsibly all the time.”

  Her mother was quiet for a minute before she asked, “Have you ever had anything to drink, Regan? You’ve never given me any reason to ask before.”

  Regan lifted a shoulder. “I’ve had a few beers here and there. Nothing major. UNC is a big party school, Mom. I hear horror stories about freshmen who’ve never had alcohol before making fools of themselves the first week.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” Lady said in a reluctant tone. “Just as long as you keep it under control. I don’t want you to turn out like me.”

  “You don’t need to worry about that.” Regan had no intention of following in her mother’s wobbly footsteps. “I don’t really like alcohol that much anyway. But seriously, Mrs. Jensen has sponsored lots of people for AA. She’d be happy to help you too, if you decide you want to try it.”

  Lady nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  They walked for a block in silence, lost in their own thoughts. “About the dress,” Regan said. “I gave myself an out. I warned Booker that I won’t be able to go to the prom if I can’t find a dress.”

  “You’re going,” Lady said. “How do you feel about vintage clothing?”

  “I don’t have any feelings one way or another. Why?”

  “Because I have an idea.” Lady increased her stride, dragging Regan along beside her.

  When they arrived home, they stopped in to check on Willa—who, with Monique’s help, was getting dressed after taking a bath—before moving down the hall to Lady’s room. Her mother had two small closets, one that housed her everyday clothes and the other reserved for cocktail and evening wear. Regan had played dress up with her fancy taffeta and ruffled dresses as a child, but she’d never dared to explore the contents of the zippered garment bags at the back of the closet.

  “I wore this to my senior prom,” Lady said, removing a black garment bag from the closet. “I’ll never forget the night. I took my best friend’s brother as my date. He was a freshman at USC at the time.”

  Her mother rarely talked about her high school days. “Was he your boyfriend?”

  “We had a thing, but it didn’t last long. Hank and Mindy, his sister, were Irish twins, only eleven months apart. She was my best friend, and he was like a brother to me.”

  “Have I ever met her?”

  “Once, when you were a baby. We fell out of touch after she divorced her first husband. But enough about Mindy.” She unzipped the garment bag. “I loved this dress more than I loved my own wedding dress.”

  Regan recognized the dress as a Lilly Pulitzer by the floral print‚ bright blue-and-green hydrangea-like flowers, and signature white embroidery around the neck and down the front.

  “It’s beautiful. It’s so . . .”

  “You.” Lady handed the dress to Regan and spun her around to face the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door. Regan held the dress up to her body. “I can’t believe it. How old is this dress? It’s like an antique, but it looks brand new.”

  “Now you are making me feel old,” Lady said, laughing. “Lilly Pulitzer’s designs never go out of style. It’s fresh and youthful and—”

  “Just what I was looking for.” Regan fingered the fabric. “What’s this fabric?”

  “Piqué, a heavy cotton with a raised pattern.”

  “Here.” She handed the dress back to her mother. “Help me try it on. I’ll die if it doesn’t fit.” Regan stripped off her clothes and stepped into the dress.

  “No need to worry. It fits perfectly,” Lady said as she zipped up the dress with ease. “I can’t believe I was ever as tiny as you.”

  Regan admired her reflection in the mirror. With bare arms and slits up both legs, the dress showed off enough skin without being provocative. “What kind of shoes would I wear?”

  “A low-heeled strappy sandal, which shouldn’t be hard to find this time of year.”

  “I can’t wait to show Willa
.” Noticing the look of dejection on her mother’s face, she threw her arms around her. “Thank you, Mama, for letting me wear your dress. I just love it. I promise to be careful. Maybe one day my daughter will wear it to her prom.”

  Lady’s lips broke into a wide smile. “Wouldn’t that be something.”

  Regan lifted the bottom of the dress as she headed for Willa’s room.

  “You realize, at some point, we’ll need to talk about your father.”

  Her mother’s words stopped her in her tracks, while all her excitement over the dress escaped her like air deflating from a helium balloon. She’d gone all afternoon without thinking about him. “Can we please not spoil the day?”

  “I agree. Not today, but soon.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  NELL

  Nell kept tabs on Willa’s recovery through a friend who worked as a nurse on the fourth floor. But by the time she got up the nerve to visit Willa again, she’d already been released from the hospital. After their recent confrontations, she felt obligated to ask Lady’s permission before visiting Willa at home. She texted and left messages on Lady’s cell phone, but on Monday, after several days with no response, she gave up and called the house line. She summoned the number from memory with ease, as if she’d been dialing it every day for the past thirty-seven years.

  A voice she didn’t recognize answered on the fourth ring. “Bellemores’ residence.”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes. Hello. I’m calling for Mrs. Bellemore. This is Nell Jackson,” she said, using her maiden name for the first time since Desmond left her. It sounded both foreign and fitting to her ears.

  “One moment, please.” Nell heard a rustling noise, as though the woman who’d answered the phone was pressing the receiver against her body.

  Willa came on the line. “It’s so wonderful to hear from you, Nell. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, Miss Willa. More importantly, how are you?”

  “Better now that I’ve heard your voice.” Willa broke into a fit of coughing that prevented her from talking.