“I can’t make a living in Garrison.”
“I already told you what I’d pay you to stay. A lot more than you can make painting your stupid little pictures.”
“I like painting my stupid little pictures. What I don’t like is living in servitude.”
“I’m the one living in servitude,” Nita countered, “the way you boss me around. You’re so stubborn you don’t see that you’re turning your back on a golden opportunity. I won’t live forever, and you know I don’t have anybody else to leave my money to.”
“You’re one of the undead. You’ll outlive us all.”
“Make all the jokes you want, but I’m worth millions, and every one of them could be yours someday.”
“I don’t want your millions. If you had a shred of decency, you’d leave everything to the town. What I want is to get away from Garrison.” She braked at the stop sign before she turned out on Church Street. She was right on time. “Remember,” she said. “Be gracious.”
“I worked at Arthur Murray. I know how to be gracious.”
“On second thought, just move your lips and let me do the talking. It’s safer that way.”
Nita’s snort sounded almost like a laugh, and Blue realized how much she’d miss the old bat. With Nita, Blue could be her own cranky self.
Just like she was with Dean.
The balloon-festooned banner arching across Church Street read HAPPY 73RD BIRTHDAY MRS. G. Dean knew for a fact that Nita was seventy-six, and he had no doubt Blue was behind the deception.
About a hundred people had dutifully gathered in the park. More balloons waved in the breeze, along with red, white, and blue bunting left over from last week’s Fourth of July celebration. A ragtag group of teenagers in black T-shirts and matching eyeliner finished playing a punk rock version of “Happy Birthday.” Riley had told Dean they were Syl’s nephew’s garage band, the only musicians who would agree to play today.
Toward the front of the park, near a small rose garden, Nita had already begun cutting into a birthday cake the size of a putting green. Dean had missed the celebratory speeches, but judging from everyone’s expression, they hadn’t been memorable. More bunting draped long tables holding pitchers of punch and iced tea. He spotted April and Riley standing near the cake table, talking to a woman in a yellow dress. Some of the locals called out to him and he waved, but all the while he was looking for Blue.
Yesterday had been one of the worst and best days of his life. First his ugly encounter with Blue; then his painful, liberating conversation with Jack; and, finally, the dance marathon with April. He and April hadn’t talked much afterward, and there’d been no “fucking hug,” as Jack had put it, but they both understood things had changed. He didn’t know exactly what their new relationship would be, only that it was time for him to grow up and get acquainted with the woman his mother had become.
Once again, he scanned the park, but he still didn’t see Blue, and he wanted to. Somehow he had to make things right. Nita carried her plate to a chair reserved just for her while Syl and Penny Winters took over divvying up the cake for the crowd. Nita began shooting darts at the lead singer of the garage band, who was doing a demented Paul McCartney: “You say it’s your birthday.” Both Riley and the woman in the yellow dress had their backs to him. April gestured toward the band, and Riley broke away with her to get closer.
Syl spotted him as she dropped a square of cake on a paper plate. “Come on over, Dean. The frosting roses’ll go fast. Blue, drag him over here. I’ve got a piece with his name on it.”
He looked around, but he didn’t see Blue anywhere. Then the small woman in the yellow dress turned, and he got his first sack of the season. “Blue?”
For a moment, she looked as vulnerable as the child he’d accused her of being. Then her chin came up. “I know. I’m cute as hell. Do me a favor and let’s not talk about it.”
She was more than cute. April had turned Miss Muffet into a fashion plate. The dress fit her perfectly. It was exactly the right length and had the ideal drape for Blue’s petite frame. The bodice clung to her curves, and the trendy purple wedge sandals emphasized her trim ankles. He’d imagined her like this. That crazy rumpus of a haircut made the most of her delicate bone structure. Her makeup was flattering and ultrafeminine. He’d known it wouldn’t take much to make her look incredible. And she did. Beautiful, stylish, sexy. Pretty much indistinguishable from all the other beautiful, stylish, sexy women he knew. He hated her like this. He wanted his Blue back. When he finally got around to speaking, the wrong thing came out. “Why?”
“I got tired of everybody saying you’re the pretty one.”
He couldn’t even fake a smile. He wanted to stuff her back into her rat-hole clothes, fling those fragile little sandals into the trash. Blue was Blue, one of a kind. She didn’t need all this. But she’d think he’d gone crazy if he blurted that out, so he ran his thumb along her narrow shoulder strap. “April sure knows her stuff.”
“Funny. That’s what she said about you when she saw me. She thought you put me together.”
“You did this yourself?”
“I’m an artist, Boo. This is another canvas for me, and not a very interesting one. Now go suck up to Nita. So far, she’s avoided stabbing anyone, but the afternoon is young.”
“First, you and I need to talk. About yesterday.”
She stiffened. “I can’t leave her alone. You know how she is.”
“One hour, and then I’m coming to get you.”
But Blue was already moving away.
April waved at him over Riley’s head. The familiar trunk of his old resentments creaked open, but when he peered inside, he only saw dust. If he wanted to, he could walk over to his mother just to shoot the bull. Which was exactly what he did.
April had chosen to wear jeans to the celebration, along with a straw cowboy hat and a figure-hugging top that looked like vintage Pucci. She nodded toward the band. “With a lot of practice, the bass player might be mediocre.”
Riley piped up next to her. “Did you see Blue? At first I didn’t know it was her. She looks like a real grown-up and everything.”
“An illusion,” Dean replied tightly.
“Not from where I’m standing.” April peered at him from under the rim of her cowboy hat. “And I doubt those men who’ve been trying to get her attention would agree. She seems oblivious, but nothing much gets past our Blue.”
“My Blue,” he heard himself say.
April found that interesting. “Your Blue? The same woman who’s getting ready to leave town in two days?”
“She’s not going anywhere.”
April looked worried. “Then you have your work cut out for you.”
A man approached with a ball cap pulled low on his head and big silver aviators shading his eyes. Riley gave a little jump. “Dad! I didn’t think you’d come.”
“I told you I would.”
“I know, but…”
“But I’ve let you down so many times that you didn’t believe me.” He’d left his earrings and bracelets behind and dressed inconspicuously in an olive drab T-shirt and denim shorts, but nothing could disguise that famous profile, and a woman with a baby in her arms looked at him curiously.
April developed a sudden interest in the band. Dean’s head wasn’t screwed on straight enough right now to figure out what was going on between them.
“Do I see Blue coming toward us?” Jack asked.
“Doesn’t she look awesome?” Riley said earnestly. “She’s the best artist. Did you know Dean still won’t look at her paintings in the dining room? Tell him, Dad. Tell him how beautiful they are.”
“They’re…different.”
Blue popped up before Dean could ask what he meant. “Wow,” Jack said. “You’re a woman.”
Blue flushed the way she always did when Jack addressed her directly. “It’s temporary. Too much bother.” Jack grinned, and Blue turned to Riley. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but
Nita wants you.” Through a hole in the crowd, Dean saw Nita furiously beckoning from her chair. Blue frowned. “She’s going to have a heart attack if she doesn’t calm down. I vote we don’t rush with the CPR.”
“Blue always says stuff like that,” Riley confided to the rest of them, “but she loves Mrs. Garrison.”
“Have you been drinking again, young lady? I thought we talked about that.” Blue grabbed Riley’s arm and walked off with her.
“Looks like you’re getting company,” Jack said. “I’d better make myself scarce.”
As he left, Judge Haskins and Tim Taylor, the high school principal, came up to Dean. “Hey, Boo.” The judge couldn’t quite pull his eyes away from April. “Nice to see you here performing your civic responsibility.”
“However unpleasant it might be,” Tim said. “I had to give up my Saturday morning foursome.” Both men gazed at April. When no one said anything, Tim held out his hand. “Tim Taylor.”
Dean should have seen this coming. Since April stayed out of places like the Barn Grill, she hadn’t met either of them. She held out her hand. “Hi. I’m Susan—”
“This is my mother,” Dean said. “April Robillard.”
April’s fingers twitched. She shook hands with both men, but beneath the brim of her cowboy hat, her eyes began filling with tears.
“Sorry.” She waved her fingers in front of her face. “Seasonal allergies.”
Dean’s hand settled on her shoulder. He hadn’t planned to do this—hadn’t thought this far ahead—but he felt like he’d just won the biggest game of the season. “My mother’s been doing undercover work for me, using the name Susan O’Hara.”
That required a few explanations, all of which Dean made up on the spot while April blinked her eyes and faked an allergy cough. When the men finally left, April rounded on him. “Don’t say a single sappy thing to me or I’ll completely lose it.”
“Fine,” he shot back. “Let’s get some cake.”
Getting cake, he decided, beat the heck out of having to fake his own allergy cough.
April finally managed to separate herself from the crowd. She found a sheltered spot behind a row of shrubbery in the far corner of the park, sat in the grass against the fence, and let herself have a good cry. She had her son back. They’d need to test the waters for a while, but they were both stubborn, and she had faith they’d work it out.
In the distance, the garage band’s lead singer began a painful, white boy’s rap. Jack came around the corner of the shrubbery into her shady sanctuary. “Stop that kid before he harms innocent children.” He pretended not to notice her red eyes as he sat next to her.
“Promise me you won’t ever rap,” she said.
“Only in the shower. Although…”
“Promise me!”
“All right.” He picked up her hand, and she didn’t try to draw it away. “I saw you with Dean.”
Her eyes started tearing all over again. “He introduced me as his mother. It was…pretty wonderful.”
Jack smiled. “Did he now? I’m glad.”
“I hope someday maybe the two of you…”
“We’re working on it.” He stroked the center of her palm with his thumb. “I’ve been thinking about your aversion to one-night stands. Bottom line, we’re going to have to date like normal adults.”
“You want to date?”
“I told you last night that I’ve gotten used to real relationships. I need a permanent home base now that I have Riley, and it might as well be L.A.” He played with her fingers, filling her with a sweet, aching tension. “By the way, I’m counting this as our first date. That gives me a better chance to score the next time we go out.”
“Subtle.” She shouldn’t have smiled.
“I couldn’t be subtle with you if I tried.” The amusement faded from his eyes. “I want you, April. Every inch of you. I want to see you and touch you. I want to taste you. I want to be inside you. I want it all.”
She finally pulled her hand away. “And then what?”
“We do it all over again.”
“That’s why God made groupies, Jack. Personally, I like a little more structure.”
“April…”
She rose to her feet and headed off to find Riley.
Dean finally managed to cut Blue from the crowd and pull her around the corner into an old cemetery next to the Baptist Church. He drew her toward the shade of the cemetery’s most impressive monument, a sleek black granite plinth belonging to Marshall Garrison. He could see she was nervous but trying to hide it. “How did everybody find out April’s your mother?” she said. “The whole town’s buzzing.”
“We’re not talking about April. We’re talking about what happened yesterday.”
She looked away. “Yeah, what a relief, right? Can you imagine me with a baby?”
Oddly enough, he could. Blue would be a great mother, as fierce a protector as she would be a champion playmate. He pushed the image aside. “I’m talking about your asinine plan to leave town on Monday.”
“Why is it asinine? Nobody thinks it’s asinine for you to leave for training camp next Friday. Why is it okay for you to go but not for me?”
She looked too much like a grown-up. He wanted Miss Muffet back. “Because we’re not done, that’s why,” he said, “and there’s no reason to rush the end of something we’re both enjoying.”
“We’re totally done. I’m a travelin’ girl, and it’s time for me to move on.”
“Fine. You can keep me company when I drive back to Chicago. You’ll like it there.”
She ran her hand over the corner of Marshall’s monument. “Too cold in the fall.”
“No problem. Both my places have fireplaces and furnaces that work just fine. You can move in.”
He didn’t know which of them was more surprised by his words. She went completely still, and then her purple glass earrings jerked in her dark curls. “You want me to move in with you?”
“Why not?”
“You want us to live together?”
He’d never let a woman live with him, but the thought of sharing his space with Blue felt just fine. “Sure. What’s the big deal?”
“Two days ago, you wouldn’t introduce me to your friends. Now you want us to live together?” She didn’t look as tough as usual. Maybe it was the dress or those soft curls framing her sharp little face. Or it could have been the distress he glimpsed in her Bo Peep eyes. He tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “Two days ago, I was confused. Now I’m not.”
She pulled back. “I understand. I finally look respectable enough for you to show me off in public.”
He bristled. “How you look doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Just a coincidence?” She looked him squarely in the eyes. “That’s a little hard to believe.”
“What kind of jerk do you think I am?” He hurried on before she chose to answer. “I want to show you Chicago, that’s all. And I want a chance to think about where we are without a clock ticking.”
“Hold on. I’m the thinker, remember? You’re the one who stands in department store aisles and hands out perfume samples.”
“Stop it! Stop trying to deflect everything important with a wisecrack.”
“Look who’s talking.”
His current tactics weren’t working, and he could feel himself losing his cool, so he called an audible. “We also have some business to take care of. I paid you for those murals, but I haven’t approved them yet.”
She rubbed her temple. “I knew you’d hate them. I warned you.”
“How could I hate them? I haven’t seen them.”
She blinked. “I took the plastic off the doors two days ago.”
“I haven’t looked. You were supposed to show me, remember? That was part of our deal. For what I have invested in those walls, I deserve to see them for the first time with the artist who painted them.”
“You’re trying to manipulate me.”
“Business is busin
ess, Blue. Learn to distinguish.”
“Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll drop by tomorrow.”
“Tonight. I’ve waited long enough.”
“You need to see them in daylight.”
“Why?” he said. “I’ll mainly be eating in there at night.”
She turned away from the monument, from him, and headed for the gate. “I have to get Nita home. I don’t have time for this.”
“I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“I’ll drive myself.” Her ruffled hem whipped her knees as she left the cemetery.
He poked around the gravestones for a while, trying to get his head together. He’d offered her something he’d never offered another woman, and she’d tossed it back as if it meant nothing. She kept trying to play quarterback, but she was a lousy leader. Not only didn’t she know how to look out for the team, she couldn’t even look out for herself. Somehow he had to change that, and he didn’t have much time.
Riley dumped a load of paper plates into the trash and returned to sit next to Mrs. Garrison. A lot of people were leaving, but it had been a good party, and Mrs. Garrison had been pretty polite to everybody. Riley knew she was happy that so many people had showed up and talked to her. “Did you notice how nice everybody’s been to you today?” she said, just to make sure.
“They know what side their bread’s buttered on.”
Mrs. Garrison had lipstick on her teeth, but Riley had something on her mind, and she didn’t tell her about it. “Blue explained to me about what’s happening in the town. This is America, and I think you should let people do what they want with their stores and everything.” She paused. “I also think you should start giving free ballet lessons to kids who can’t afford them.”
“Ballet lessons? Who would come? All kids care about nowadays is hip-hop.”
“Some of them would like ballet, too.” She’d met two middle school girls today who were nice, and that had given her the idea.
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