by Mary Bowers
“Walk with us, Betty,” Patty called, and I couldn’t have agreed more.
Patty had a pretty pink shade hat on her head, very similar to the one I’d gotten out of the back seat of my SUV and put on, and she looked cool and fresh in a white tee shirt and khaki capris. Her pink-and-purple walking shoes and cuffed white socks looked very neat, even adorable. She was ahead of us by about 20 yards, going out to take her walk along the tide line where the wet sand is the firmest.
“Just let us just get rid of this thing and we’ll be right over,” I called, hooking Coco’s arm and moving her bodily to where we were going to lay out our blanket.
* * * * *
Once we got going, Betty looked at me and said, “Jason was asking about you, and I’d just seen you chasing after Smokey with little Kate, so I pointed him in the right direction. Did he find you?”
“No. I don’t know what he wanted with me, but I bet he decided it could wait until Kate wasn’t around. She’s a little hard to get away from. By the way, it’s Mokey, with an M.” I told them the story of the dog’s christening while digesting the fact that Jason was stalking me. I decided to mull it over later. This needed some deep thought, maybe even a conference with Michael.
“And Candy stopped by our condo,” Patty said. “If he came back, he must have heard her voice and decided to try again later. You can’t help but hear her voice if you’re within half a mile.”
“Candy!” Betty huffed it out like an expletive. “Yes, if he realized she was there, he would’ve turned himself right around and walked away. At the party, when Fred wouldn’t give her the time of day, she went over and played the vamp with Jason. The really sad part of it was, she was trying to make Fred jealous and he didn’t even notice.”
“I didn’t meet her at the party,” I said. “She must have zipped out of there right after the ambulance left.”
“Yes, I noticed that too,” Betty said. “She wasn’t about to do any of the clean-up work. I half-suspected she was following Fred to the hospital. If Edith hadn’t gone, she would have.”
“Besides being old friends, was there, like, anything special between Edith and Fred?” I asked.
“No,” Betty said very confidently. “They were just friends. Did Candy tell you that?”
“Yes.” I described the scenario Candy had given us, with Fred playing the part of the faithful dog. I considered it highly unlikely, but still . . . .
Betty nodded. “She can’t understand it when men don’t fall for her. When she finally realizes they don’t want her, she always comes up with something to explain it. It’s never that he just isn’t into her. It’s always something ridiculous: he’s not interested in any woman because he’s gay; he realized he wasn’t worthy of her (she actually said that once); he really wants her but she’s not interested anymore. I’m not surprised she told you that about Edith. She doesn’t like her. Smearing a little dirt on her, implying that she was playing Fred against her own husband, is just like Candy. I just ignore her.”
“Or avoid her, like Jason,” Patty said, laughing.
“She’s not that easy to avoid. Even with that red hair, you never see her coming. She must stand by her sink window looking out all day, waiting for somebody to pounce on. She’s got the end unit at the block across the main driveway from the pool, and I’m right behind her in the next block, closer to the real estate office. In order to get to the beach, I have to go past her condo, and every time I go for a walk she runs out and wants to go with me so she can gossip about men. First it was Harold, then Fred, sometimes Jason. I’m surprised I got away without her today. I’ve stopped trying to hide the fact that I can’t stand her, and it hasn’t made any difference.”
“Jason has a few admirers,” I commented. “Kate was telling me all about him.”
Both women laughed.
“You should have seen her at the party. She was so cute, following Jason around, talking a blue streak,” Patty said.
“Was he annoyed?” I asked.
Patty smiled. “He was pretty good about it. Crystal and Jerry were busy trying to control the boys and Mokie, and since Kate wasn’t running around or breaking anything, they weren’t watching her. Jason was a little disconcerted, but he took it well. I think after the way his boss was acting, he appreciated having a distraction.” She looked at Betty. “Did Terri seem mad about something at the party? She certainly wasn’t happy with Jason for some reason. Did you notice?”
“Well, I noticed she wasn’t herself, at least at first. Was it Jason she was angry with? Terri usually has her manager’s hat on. That means she has to be bright and cheery, whether she feels like it or not, so I was surprised to see her like that. Oh, I bet I know what it was. She was probably still a little irritated with Fred after that last homeowners’ meeting. She can usually turn on the charm and smooth things over, but first she needed to work herself up to it. They really got into it at that meeting.”
“Oh? What happened?”
“It was nothing new, really. Fred’s could always think of something to complain about. Things just got out of hand that night.”
“What was he complaining about?”
“Everything. The maintenance crew is getting slack. The emergency reserve is too high. The monthly fee needs to be lowered. The pet-friendly policy is being abused. There’s a two-pet limit, and some people bring more, sometimes a lot more. You had to understand Fred. If he didn’t complain, he thought he wasn’t doing is job. It wasn’t serious. Anyway, I never saw Terri actually manage to talk to him at the party. When he wasn’t absorbed with whatever Edith wanted, Candy was all over him. And then, of course, he saw you.”
I wasn’t going there. “Was Fred wealthy? Is that why Candy was after him?”
“Of course not, my dear,” she said loftily. “She’s an heiress. At least, she claims to be.”
“Really?”
“The only reason I believe her is that she gave such a déclassé reason her family was rich: she said they made all their money in junk. But as for Fred having money? We all have a certain amount of money, or we wouldn’t be living right next to the ocean. To some people he’d have been considered wealthy, I guess. Why?”
“Kate said he was. After all,” I said, looking wise, “he had Medicare.”
We laughed so hard we forgot all about the party and settled down to a camp meeting among Americans with the usual gripes. We’d gone as far down the beach as Betty wanted to go, and we agreed to turn around and go back.
I figured we’d walked off about 10% of our lunch calories, which was better than nothing.
* * * * *
When we got back to Coco, she was sitting up and looking pleased with herself. She gave Betty a friendly greeting and generally acted like she was back among the living and ready to cause trouble again.
When Betty went on to the walkover and left us on the beach, Patty looked at Coco and cocked an eyebrow.
“All right, Ms. Kaminsky, what’s with the cat-that-ate-the-canary look?”
She made us wait for it, then looked at me and said, “You left your cell phone in your beach bag.”
“You went through my bag?”
“Had to. Your phone was ringing.”
“Phones take messages when you miss a call these days.”
“They also tell you who’s calling. That’s a lovely picture of Michael that comes up when he calls you, by the way. Could you send it to me?”
“No. Michael called?”
“And of course, I answered. It would’ve been rude not to.”
“Coco,” I said steadily. “Because I once loved you, I’m not going to strangle it out of you. Just tell me what he wanted.”
“You still love me,” she purred. “And it was so sweet of you to remember.”
“Remember what?”
“To ask him to grub around at that golf club of his and find a couple of men for us.”
“You didn’t!” Patty said.
“You were on-board when
we talked about it,” I said. “You even said it was time you had a fling.”
“I didn’t mean it! You know me better than that!”
“Actually, I do. Don’t worry. Michael wouldn’t pair you off with a psycho.” I turned back to Coco. “So when is the triple event scheduled for? I hope it’s not tonight; I’m bushed. And still too full of Cuban food to want another big meal right away.”
“It’s tomorrow night.”
Patty dragged out a cliché. “But I don’t have a thing to wear!”
Coco got superior. “You see? You should pay more attention when you’re shopping with me. That dress shop we were in today – you didn’t even look around, although that place was more beachy than dinner-datey. Let me see . . . .”
“I have no luck shopping for clothes!” Patty wailed. “I’ll never find a dress that fast. I’ll pay too much for something I don’t like and then I’ll never wear it again.”
“Now, Patty,” Coco said. “Remember when we went shopping for your graduation dress? I found something for you, right?”
“You just proved my point! I never did wear it again. Thank God I was able to put my graduation gown over it. And the way you did my hair! I tried to put the mortarboard over it and it looked like somebody dropped a book on top of a strawberry sundae!”
“You looked sweet.”
Patty nodded vigorously. “Like a strawberry sundae!”
Coco clucked. “So negative. I don’t know why you’re getting yourself all worked up. It’s going to be fun.”
“But, but, but –“
“No problem. That dress shop in Tropical Breeze,” Coco said, turning to me.
“Sharla’s?”
“Is it any good?”
“It’s great. She’s great. Sharla has excellent taste, and an eye for who should wear what – and who shouldn’t. People come all the way from Jacksonville and Daytona to shop there.”
Coco turned back to Patty. “We’re going into Tropical Breeze in the morning. You’re going to feel like a princess tomorrow night.”
“You are not doing my hair!” Then, slipping into quiet despair, she added, “I’ll probably turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”
Coco patted her arm. “It’s the carriage that turned into a pumpkin, not the princess. It’ll be fine. Taylor and I will be there. If he turns out to be a bad boy, we’ll deal with him, right, Taylor?”
“Right.”
“It’s not him I’m worried about.”
“And after we find the perfect dress, we can have lunch at that nice little diner again.”
She looked at me with a beautiful smile, and I decided the diet cop may as well turn in her badge, gun and calorie counter. I’d try to repair the damage after they went home again.
* * * * *
They made the nut-crusted pork chops for dinner. It was a healthy, legal main dish, it smelled pretty good, and I wouldn’t eat it. I don’t eat meat.
It was also the first time I’d seen them cook. Actually, I saw Patty cook. Coco drank wine and supervised. I set the table.
I sat down with them and had a plateful of butt-ugly, plain, steamed-with-no-butter, mixed vegetables. For protein, I managed to find some yogurt in the back of the refrigerator, so I guess you could call it a balanced meal. Healthy. Low-calorie. High fiber. Awful.
Chapter 13
Since they knew the way to Tropical Breeze, I met them in front of Sharla’s. Coco was radiant in a little romper that should have been ridiculous on a woman her age, but wasn’t. She’d always had good legs, and the more of them she showed off, the better she looked, and she knew it.
“Where did you get those espadrilles?” I asked. They were exaggerated classics: faded blue-and-white striped canvas with fabric ankle straps that wrapped around and tied in a bow. The romper, of course, was the exact same shade of faded blue. The pedicure looked fresh, the manicure matched. Only in magazine ads do women actually dress like that, and she was runway-perfect enough to draw looks, which was the whole point, I guess. Sharla would be impressed.
They were both carrying coffee cups from Perks, across the street. I decided once I got them started (I fully expected this to take hours), I’d run across Locust and grab a cappuccino to keep me going until lunchtime. After that, I was leaving them so I could get back to the shelter and get some work done before the big night.
Patty looked like she’d just stepped out of the tumbrel and was bracing for the guillotine. Death, her eyes seemed to say, would be a welcome release.
“Well,” Coco said brilliantly, “here we go.”
We stepped into Sharla’s and looked around.
* * * * *
I don’t spend much time in Sharla’s. My wardrobe is focused on comfort, washability and ease of movement, since most of the time I’m working at the shelter. For nights out, I have a few cool, breezy dresses that are easy to accessorize and pretty enough to keep Michael interested.
I’d been glancing through my own closet that morning, thinking it over, and while I was looking through the jewelry box, I’d noticed a pendant on a long chain. It was the figure of a cat in bluish-green faience, and it happened to be laying face up, solemnly sentient, waiting. It represented the cat goddess, Bastet. Once I saw it, I couldn’t look away.
I reached for it, picked it up, ran the chain through my fingers and stared into the eyes that seemed to gaze back. There was music behind those eyes, but I couldn’t quite hear it. My eyelashes fluttered; I worked to stay focused. Mysterious etchings ran around the cat’s long neck, and for the first time, I wondered what they meant.
A friend had given that pendant to me, just after she had died. At least, that’s how it had seemed. After the matriarch of the Cadbury family, Vesta Cadbury Huntington, died, her collection of Egyptiana had been donated to Girlfriend’s. A volunteer had brought that pendant to me, out of the heap of rings, brooches and small figurines, and I had simply taken it and put it on. For months, I had worn it every day, sometimes even wearing it through the night. But one day I had simply forgotten to put it on, and one day became two, two became three. Finally, I took it off the dresser and put it away in my jewelry box. Seeing it lying there had started to make me feel uneasy.
I knew without thinking about it that I was going to wear it for the triple date. In fact, I put it on that morning over my lavender tee shirt, and when I did, something I’d forgotten about happened: a sense of calm fell over me. A feeling of being protected. I looked over at the bed, where my black cat was lounging, and saw that she was placidly staring at me. Suddenly I realized I’d been humming and made myself stop. When I did, Bastet looked more deeply into my eyes, held my gaze a moment, then slowly blinked. There was a strange lack of life in those eyes, a non-expression similar to that of the faience pendant.
During the drive to Tropical Breeze, I’d been aware of it lying against me. I usually didn’t wear jewelry, and I’d forgotten how heavy the pendant was. When I joined my friends outside Sharla’s, I noticed Coco’s eyes drifting down to it, but she didn’t say anything. Patty didn’t even notice it, poor thing.
But Sharla knew exactly what it was; she’d seen Vesta wearing it many times, and she knew the story of how I’d gotten it. She came toward us smiling, but she paused when she saw the figure of Bastet. Then she looked at me with worried eyes and murmured, “Again?”
“Again what?” I said.
“You know. Fred Rambo.”
She stopped and quickly reorganized herself. You don’t begin a fun shopping experience by mentioning the guy who’d dropped dead in front of the customers earlier in the week, and customers who are having fun tend to buy more. The subject went away and didn’t come back.
It struck me for the first time that Sharla was physically a lot like Coco. Small. Dark. Effortlessly slim and looking as if she could just throw on any old thing and look fabulous. Sharla was about ten years younger than Coco, but they could have been sisters.
“We have a date,” Coco told her, “and my fri
end, Patty, here, doesn’t have a thing to wear.”
“It’s tonight!” Patty added with a touch of hysteria.
Sharla gave Patty a comforting smile, then turned to me. “Casual or formal?”
“Dinner at Neptune’s. Casual, but not too.”
Sharla nodded. “Come with me, dear. Is Patty the only one shopping?”
“I’m never not shopping, but I’m all set for tonight,” Coco told her. “Still – oh, you have some lovely things! – I’ll just take a quick look around.”
“I’ll sit outside the dressing rooms and wait for Patty to model,” I said. I looked at my watch. I was going to give it an hour, then go over to Perks.
It took exactly four minutes. She tried on one dress.
“I thought you’d like that one, but I brought the others just in case,” Sharla said. “Sure you don’t want to at least try them on? No, I agree. That’s the one. Here, let’s accessorize. I picked something simple so we could play it up with an important necklace.”
It was a plain, unbleached cotton sheath with loose cap sleeves, the kind of dress that looks so simple and is actually so complicated. It takes a genius to do a casual drape over the human form and not have it look like somebody threw a bag over you. The dress came down just past her knees, and it had a relaxed, open neckline. The set of the shoulders was what did it, I decided. If it doesn’t fit there, it doesn’t fit anywhere. That dress sat on Patty’s shoulders as if it had been tailored for her. The hem moved lightly around her legs, floating, not flouncy, and she played with it, moving from side to side in front of the mirror. I could see that she didn’t want to take it off.
Sharla got a hug. “You’re a genius!” Sharla smiled. Sharla knew it.
“Now, let’s see about that necklace.”
Forgetting all about me, they moved on to the jewelry section, a couple of ingénues playing in the toy box. I relaxed in the comfy chair by the fitting rooms, tapped the Kindle app on my cell phone and read.
In the end it was Coco who kept us in the store for nearly an hour, and she walked out with more bags than Patty did.
