California Girls

by Susan Mallery

  She thought about the whole wheat waffle barely covered by nut butter and organic berries she’d had for breakfast and the gross protein shake she’d brought with her.

  “I would kill for a maple bar,” she whispered. “But you can’t tell.”

  “Your secrets are safe with me. See you soon.”

  Zennie was still smiling when she pulled onto her mother’s street. She parked down several houses to give the shoppers the prime spots, grabbed her smoothie and a twenty-ounce BPA-free water bottle Bernie had given her, then walked the quarter block to her mom’s house.

  Lights were on and the garage door was open. Zennie spotted Ali sorting contents of boxes onto tables while Finola rolled out racks of clothes. Both sisters smiled at her.

  “What time did you get here?” Zennie asked, hugging Ali, then examining her cast.

  “I was here at six,” Ali told her with a smug smile. “I’m better than you.”

  “I guess so. Let me put all my stuff in the refrigerator, then I’ll be out to help.”

  “You can help me carry the tables,” Finola said, then wrinkled her nose. “Can you help me carry the tables?”

  Zennie looked at the folding tables stacked in the garage. “They weigh like ten pounds each. Yes, I can manage that.”

  She walked into the house and stored her things. Her mother came into the kitchen just as she was heading back to the garage.

  “Good,” Mary Jo said. “You’re here. I want to give you something before the estate sale starts.”

  “Sure.” Zennie kept her tone upbeat, even as she imagined old posters that were supposed to be donated, or a membership to Match.com. But instead, her mother handed her a box.

  Zennie opened it and saw it was filled with baby clothes. There were onesies and dresses with matching frilly hats, tiny shoes and a beautiful crocheted blanket done in different shades of pink.

  Her mother watched her. “Those were yours. I rescued them from the sale because, well, I thought you might want them. For the baby.”

  Zennie didn’t know what to say. “Mom, I’m not—”

  “Keeping the baby. Yes, I’ve accepted I’m never having grandchildren. Finola’s getting a divorce and you’re having a baby for someone else. Ali’s with Daniel now, so maybe they’ll get busy, but with my luck, I just don’t know.” She glared at Zennie. “You girls are not easy. First Ali and Glen break up, then Finola and Nigel. You refuse to commit to a man. God forbid you should fall in love, but have a baby for a friend? Sure. Why not?”

  Zennie impulsively hugged her mother. “I love you, Mom. I’m sorry I’m making things hard for you. That was never my goal.”

  Her mother hung on tight for a second. “Yes, well, that’s too bad, isn’t it?”

  Zennie touched the baby clothes. “Thank you for these. I’m sure Bernie will love them.”

  “I don’t care if she does or not. I’m doing it for you. To say that while I’ll never understand, I’m your mother and I love you, too.”

  “Good. Now we should probably go supervise what’s going on.”

  Zennie and her mom went out into the garage. They spent the next ninety minutes getting the estate sale set up, and the first shoppers arrived at seven forty-five.

  Two cranky-looking old guys blew through wanting to look at jewelry. When they found out that it was all costume, they left.

  “As if I would sell my good things like this,” Mary Jo fumed. “How ridiculous. I took every valuable piece of jewelry to the bank last week to store in my safe-deposit box. I’m not an idiot.”

  “Mom, you should probably go inside,” Finola told her. “That way you can make sure no one goes where they shouldn’t or takes anything.”

  The big pieces of furniture were in the house, along with the displays of Hollywood memorabilia.

  “Good idea. People are vultures. All of them.”

  When she’d left, Ali grinned. “So she wants to sell her stuff, but she resents anyone who wants to buy it?”

  “Don’t look for logic,” Zennie told her. “She means well, though.”

  “She does.”

  That was the last chance they got to talk for a while. More customers arrived and began looking through things. The furniture went quickly. By the time Clark arrived with doughnuts, the dining room table and hutch were being loaded into the back of a small box truck and two women were arguing over the living room furniture.

  Zennie found herself oddly happy to see the curly-haired man in glasses and even as she told herself it was more about the doughnuts than him, she knew she was lying. This Clark who didn’t ask for much and was just a friend was way more to her liking than the one who wanted to date her. Although if truth be told, she wouldn’t object to the occasional kiss or two, which was really strange considering how she hadn’t been upset when they’d broken up before.

  But there was no time to think about that. They barely had time to finish their doughnuts and for her to explain to her sisters that while she and Clark weren’t back together, they were friends, before more people arrived, wanting to look through everything.

  The clothes went quickly, as did the toys. The artwork sold fast, but the kitchen stuff just sat there. Clark stuck around, helping carry items to people’s cars. Around eleven, a sleek two-seater Mercedes convertible pulled up in front of the house and a handsome older man got out.

  “I saw online you had some Hollywood memorabilia,” he said to Zennie. “Can you point me in that direction?”

  She stared at the guy, frantically trying to place him. “It’s inside.” She pointed to the open front door. “My mom’s in there. She can show you.”

  Finola walked up to them. “You’re Parker Crane.”

  That’s who he is, Zennie thought. He’d been in a lot of movies when he’d been younger and now he had a successful detective series on TV.

  “I am.” Parker smiled. “I keep an eye out for sales like this. I’m always curious what fans have collected. Sometimes they have things I don’t.”

  Finola opened her mouth, then closed it. “My mom’s not a fan. What I mean is you, um, you knew her. After my father died.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I’m not sure why this is hard to say. My mother is Mary Jo Schmitt now but you knew her as Mary Jo Corrado.”

  Parker’s eyes widened and he swung his head toward the house. “Of course I remember her. She and I... Well, you girls don’t want to hear about that. I always regretted how things ended. Is she, ah, married?”

  Finola grinned. “Divorced. Why don’t you go inside and talk to her?”

  Parker nodded and slowly approached the house. Zennie pulled Finola into the garage and motioned for Ali to join them.

  “Mom had an affair with Parker Crane?” Zennie asked. “When, and how do you know this?”

  “What?” Ali yelped. “Are you serious?”

  “It was before she married Dad,” Finola said. “I just found out a few weeks ago when we were going through boxes. She has a bunch of stuff he gave her. Apparently it was hot and heavy and he just walked out on her.”

  “So he’s a dick,” Ali said firmly.

  “It was a long time ago.” Finola glanced toward the house. “He said he had regrets and it’s been a long time. This could be interesting.”

  “So we don’t hate him?” Ali asked. “Doesn’t it seem like we should hate him?”

  Zennie hugged her baby sister. “Times are changing. We’re going to have to change with them.”

  * * *

  Monday morning Ali was wrestling with the fact that her mother had gone off for lunch with Parker in the middle of the sale and had not returned. Around three she’d texted that they should shut down the estate sale at four and close up the house. Oh, and anything that didn’t sell could just be donated.

  The sisters had done as she’d asked. Daniel had come by with his truck.
He and Clark had loaded the remaining items into the back of it, then Daniel and Ali had taken it to a donation center.

  By noon on Sunday, all three sisters were texting each other to see if anyone knew where their mother was. Mary Jo had finally responded to their increasingly frantic texts with a brief, I’m at Parker’s, I’m fine. You all need to get a life. And that was that.

  Ali told herself that of course she wanted her mother to be happy. It was just all so strange and a little uncomfortable to think that her mother would have sex with some guy she hadn’t seen in decades. When she’d said that to Daniel, he’d pointed out that at least she had a little ammunition the next time her mother got judgy about her life.

  Ali spent Monday morning moving into Paul’s office. The owner of the company had surprised her with new furniture and carpeting, which was unexpected and nice. Paul would stay on as a consultant for a month, to make for a smooth transition. With the new responsibilities came a nice raise. Ali had run the numbers and figured she would be out of debt in six months. After that she could start saving and figuring out what she wanted to do about her living situation.

  Daniel was a big piece of that. While he hadn’t said the L word again, she thought about it a lot. She wanted to say it back to him, but before that, she wanted to be sure. Given what had happened with Glen, she wanted to be super, super sure. Her feelings for Daniel were totally different and they got along so much better, but was that—

  “Hello, Ali.”

  She looked up and saw Glen standing in the entrance to her office, as if thinking about him had conjured him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to talk to you.”

  Well, I don’t want to talk to you. Words that were both petulant and immature, she told herself.

  She motioned for him to take a seat, then carefully closed the office door before returning to her chair.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  He looked around. “This is new.”

  “The promotion? It is, but it’s all good. I’m excited about the opportunity.”

  He looked the same as always. Funny how she now saw him as a lesser version of Daniel. Lighter hair, lighter skin, thicker through the middle. She’d never cared about appearances, but having spent time with Daniel... Well, it was hard to think about going back.

  He pushed up his glasses. “I went by your apartment over the weekend. You don’t live there anymore.” His tone was faintly accusing, as if she’d done something wrong.

  “Of course I don’t live there. I gave notice because I was going to move in with you, remember? I’d already sold half my furniture when you dumped me. When I tried to get my apartment back, I couldn’t because they’d upped the rent to the point where I couldn’t afford it and they’d already leased it out to someone else. So I was stuck with nowhere to live.”

  She paused for breath and to dial down the energy. She wasn’t mad at Glen, exactly—it was more that he simply didn’t seem to get all he’d done to her.

  “You dumped me without warning,” she said, her voice more calm. “You didn’t have the decency to tell me yourself or give me an explanation. To this day, I don’t know why you ended things. You didn’t handle one single detail. Instead you left everything to me. I had to do it all, Glen. I had to make the calls and let our friends know and give away a wedding gown that wasn’t returnable. I did everything because you just disappeared.”

  He shifted in his seat. “You don’t have to make it sound so awful.”

  She was just about to shriek at him, then told herself it didn’t matter. Getting angry was too much energy and honestly, she didn’t care. Not anymore.

  “It was awful,” she told him. “All of it, but that’s not why you’re here. Tell me what you want.” So then I can ask you to leave, she thought to herself.

  “You have a new apartment?”

  The question was so at odds with what she’d been thinking, it took her a second to figure out what he was asking. “What? No. I’m living with Daniel.”

  She realized a second too late she should have phrased that differently, but oh, well.

  “What? With Daniel?” His face flushed. “I knew it. He always had a thing for you. He wouldn’t admit it, but I could tell. I should have guessed he would do this. He’s so damned sanctimonious all the time while he was planning on stealing you away from me. That bastard.”

  “Hey,” she said, her voice icy. “Stop it. There was no stealing. I’m not a vase on a shelf to be stolen. As for what happened, you ended our engagement and didn’t have the balls to tell me to my face. Daniel was a good friend. He helped cancel the wedding—something you couldn’t be bothered to do.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  She had figured out Glen was a jerk, but until this exact minute, she’d never realized how jerky. She’d been lucky that he dumped her. Lucky to get out in time.

  While Glen got worse the more she learned about him, Daniel was the complete opposite. He was kind and thoughtful and sexy and funny and smart. When she was around him, she felt good about herself. They brought out the best in each other. He was... He was...

  Ali half rose out of her seat, then sank back down. Holy crap, she was in love with him. Completely in love with Daniel.

  “What?” Glen asked.

  She smiled. “Nothing.” No way she was telling jerk Glen before she told Daniel. “You never said why you were here. It can’t be about the ring. I gave that back to your mother.”

  “She told me. It’s not about the ring.” He leaned toward her. “I thought we could try again.”

  Words genuinely failed her. She stared at him and could not make a sound, which apparently he took as a positive sign.

  “Ali, I know this has been hard and I had some part in it. I felt really trapped and I wasn’t sure we were right for each other. You were always so meek and you did everything I wanted.”

  “What a horrible thing to have to deal with,” she said, her voice returning.

  He ignored the sarcasm. “But this new version of you, it’s very powerful. You yelled at me and you have direction and I like who you are now. I miss you. I miss us. We were good together. We can be again.”

  She really should remember to keep a vase in her office. A big one she didn’t care about so she could have it to throw at Glen’s head.

  “No,” she said, proud of how calm she sounded. “No. I am not in love with you. I’m ashamed to say, I’m not sure I ever was. We were not good together, neither of us was happy. I don’t want to be with you. I’m with Daniel and I want to stay with Daniel. You were wrong to break up with me the way you did, but right to end things. It’s over, Glen. We are finished.”

  His shoulders slumped. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do. You’re not interested in me anymore. You’re just upset I’m with Daniel.”

  He stood. “You’re making a mistake. He’s never going to love you the way I did.”

  She wanted to say she didn’t need his kind of love in her life, but then remembered if all went well, Glen would be her brother-in-law, so best to keep things civil.

  “Goodbye, Glen.”

  He started to say something, then shook his head and walked out. Ali stayed in her chair, making sure she felt okay, then pushed all thoughts of Glen from her mind and went back to work.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Finola double-checked her appearance in the well-lit mirror in her temporary dressing room. Every hair was in place, the makeup was understated and the sleeveless dress had been tailored to fit her perfectly. She touched the bouquet of flowers Zennie and Ali had sent and smiled at the spray of balloons from Rochelle and the team back in LA. She was really doing this. In less than thirty minutes, she would be live on a national show.

  She sat in her chair and closed her eyes before inhaling for a count of four. She hel
d her breath as she counted to eight, then exhaled slowly.

  When her breathing exercises were done, she walked out of the dressing room and found the sound guy to help her feed the microphone under the front of her dress and around to the rear of the armhole before he clipped the pack on the back of her belt. One of the producers, a young, thin guy in his early thirties, rushed over.

  “You ready?” he asked, sounding anxious.

  “It’s going to be fine.”

  “If you say so. I wouldn’t have picked this topic in a million years, but it’s too late to change your mind now.”

  She smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

  Finola walked onto the set and faced the cameras. There were three and they were remotely controlled, which made it seem as if they were alive and moving however they wanted. She told herself not to be distracted, that she was going to be great, then smiled as she was given the count.

  “Five, four, three—”

  The two and one were done silently, then the red light went on.

  “Good morning. I’m Finola Corrado, filling in this week, and welcome to our ten o’clock hour.” She focused on staying relaxed and reading from the teleprompter.

  “In recent months, as many of you know, my personal life was in the news. My husband had an affair with a famous singer and I found myself being part of the story instead of reporting the story. This was a change for me, and not a very fun one.”

  She paused to flash a rueful smile. “I was scared, I was angry and I was hurt. I spent a lot of time feeling sorry for myself and maybe drinking a little too much wine. But then, as the wounds stopped bleeding quite so much, I started thinking. About my marriage and the other relationships in my life, about what it takes to make another person happy while staying true to ourselves.”

  She paused. “If you’re hoping for salacious details about my personal life this week, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. But what I would like to talk about instead is what makes a good marriage and how marriages go wrong. Unless there’s abuse, no relationship failure is just one person’s fault. Even mine. I might not have cheated, but I wasn’t the wife I could have been. I’m hoping the guests I’ve invited to join us will be informative and interesting and that we’re all going to learn something. So let’s get started.”