I tried being the bad cop with him. “You don’t have a home, Richard. You sleep in an alley and eat garbage out of the trash bins. Remember?”
“But, Richard,” Chris played the good cop, “three months is as long as you have to bear it, and by the end of those three months, you’ll be a new man, with your own apartment, new clothes, and plenty of food to eat.”
“And don’t forget, if you stay sober a month after that, I’ll give you one hundred thousand dollars.” I pulled out my wallet and showed him the ten one hundred dollar bills inside. “I have a hell of a lot more than that in my bank, big guy.”
His eyes opened wide, and he rubbed the stubble on his chin.
“Don’t blow this, Richard,” Chris said. “You could have everything you ever dreamed of. All you have to do is step through that door and sign yourself in.”
He surprised me when he asked, “And you’ll come in with me?”
“Sure, if that’s what you want,” I said.
He nodded, and with trembling hands and wobbling knees, he opened the door, and stepped in. I think he was probably the bravest man I had ever met.
*
We stayed with Richard all afternoon, as he filled out papers, gave blood to chart his alcohol content, was given a physical, met the psychiatrist, and finally given scrubs to wear in exchange for his street clothes. After all that, they showed him to his room, which was too barren for my taste, but Richard seemed to like it. He bounced his butt on the bed and smiled.
It was pretty tough for us to leave him there, but the center had a strict policy about visitation during detoxification. Chris told Richard that we would call every week and see how he was doing, and that we’d be back in three months to pick him up and take him to his new apartment. That seemed to calm his anxiety a bit.
We stopped by the director’s office before we left, and I made him promise that if Richard needed anything, or had an emergency, he was to call me or Chris. We would be responsible for all his financial needs as well. I wouldn’t leave until I was sure we weren’t abandoning him to strangers. I think the director understood that, because he seemed very sincere about helping Richard. Chris, bless her heart, cried as we left his office.
I came up with an idea to help relieve some of Chris’s stress, as well as distract her from Sunday’s meeting. When Chris excused herself to use the restroom to freshen up, I took the opportunity to ask the director where the best place was to get a spa treatment, some good food, and a hotel for the night. He told me about a hotel that had all of that and more.
“Hey, babe.” I got her attention as we waited in the lobby for our taxi cab to arrive. “What would you say to one of those hot springs mineral baths the brochure talked about? And afterward we can get a massage, have dinner and end the night making love in a suite at the Arlington?”
She looked up at me and I thought she was going to cry again. The poor girl was on the edge, and it killed me to see her that way.
“You read my mind.”
“All right then, here’s our cab now,” I said as the taxi pulled up. “Let’s go spend a relaxing evening together, and forget about the rest of the world for a few hours.”
“That sounds wonderful, Melinda. Thank you for thinking of it.” Chris stole a kiss from me before she climbed into the cab.
On the way to the hotel, I called Norma to give her an update on Richard, and to let her know that we wouldn’t be home until tomorrow. Norma was very pleased that Richard went through with it, and I think she allowed herself to hope.
When we got to the hotel, I asked for the best suite they had, but that one was occupied, and they offered their second best, which was named the Al Capone Suite. How cool was that. I would have asked for that one anyway, had I known. Since we didn’t have any luggage, we didn’t need to go to our room right away, so instead, we went straight to the spa.
We signed in and secured our wallets and cell phones in a security box they provided. Then we were greeted by a personal assistant, who handed us each a plush robe, and showed us a room to undress in. As we changed clothes, I could sense an eagerness in Chris, one that I hadn’t felt in a while, and my heart filled with pride. I had been able to help her, however small it was.
We went with the works. We started out with a seaweed body wrap, which was supposed to detoxify and exfoliate our skin. I thought it would smell bad, but surprisingly, it didn’t. However, it looked horrid and felt weird. It was either that one, passion-mango or the mud, but it didn’t matter which one we did, as long as Chris was happy. Next came a mineral water whirlpool bath, and then a full body forty-minute massage. I must say, by the time we were done, I was very relaxed and rejuvenated, just like the brochure said I would be.
I could tell it did a world of good for Chris as well, but she wanted to finish the evening in our suite and order room service. Of course, I thought that was a wonderful idea.
So we spent the evening in Al Capone’s suite. It is said that room 442 was Capone’s favorite suite because it over looked his favorite gambling establishment, the Southern Club, on Central Avenue. That club was a refuge for some of the biggest gangsters of that era, because they considered it sacred ground. Capone liked to come and go from his suite unseen, so he had a secret door in his closet that led down to some tunnels underneath the streets of Hot Springs. Unfortunately that secret door was locked, or I would have gone down there.
As fascinated as I was with the suite, and Capone, I wasn’t thrilled with him watching us eat. There was a picture of him with his hat on, hanging in the dining area, and I’d swear he was watching my every move. Chris thought I was being silly, and I probably was, but as soon as we were done eating, I suggested we stretch out on the bed and watch a movie.
We climbed into bed, and Chris snuggled up in my arms, giving me a feeling of closeness and protectiveness that I love so much.
“Thank you, for today,” she said quietly.
“I’m glad it was a good day for you,” I replied.
“Do you think Richard will be able to see it through?”
“I’d like to think so, but he’s been drinking all of his adult life. It’s hard to quit a lifelong abusive habit like that.”
Chris yawned and cuddled closer. “I think he’ll do it, if only to reunite with Norma one last time.”
“You are such a romantic, and I love that about you.”
“I’m not the one who thought of this wonderful romantic weekend. I wish we never had to leave.”
I desperately wanted to tell her that I could make that happen for her. That we could stay here forever. But I knew that my suggestion would only add stress to her already overstressed mind, because she wouldn’t accept it. She couldn’t not be there on Sunday. So instead, I offered some hope for something to look forward to after Sunday.
“If we never left here, you’d miss my big surprise for Valentine’s Day next week.”
“Is that next week? I’d forgotten all about that,” she said sluggishly through another yawn. “I can’t wait to find out what your surprise is. I’ll dream about it tonight…” she said, just before she fell asleep.
I smiled, and wrapped my arms tighter around her sleeping body, and whispered to her, “Dream of how much I love you, Chris.”
She mumbled in her sleep, “I love you, Melinda.”
Chapter Fifteen
Have I Got A Story for You — Chris Livingston, Melinda Blackstone, Felicia Livingston, Norma Shelby, and George Kirk
We flew back home the next morning and made a stop at the jewelers to retrieve Richard’s secret before we went home. My mother was waiting for us, with Norma in the breakfast nook. Konani had brunch prepared, which was wonderful because I was starving. But first, we needed to make a presentation, so we asked Konani and Charlotte to join us.
Melinda stood beside me and cleared her throat. “In the category of best supporting actress, the Oscar goes to…” I pulled the now shiny, gold statuette from behind my back. “Norma Shelby for her
wonderful performance in Mr. Washburne Takes a Wife.” I walked over and handed it to her, and then everyone stood up and gave her a standing ovation.
“Oh my,” she cried, “how wonderful.” She hugged the statute to her chest and shook her head. “I never thought I’d see it again.”
My mother handed her a tissue, and she wiped her eyes, then looked at us. “How did you find it?”
Melinda told her how Richard wanted to right some wrongs, before he went into rehab. Personally I got the feeling he thought he was going to die and didn’t want to let the secret go with him to the grave, but I didn’t tell Norma that.
Norma began to cry again. “I always thought he had sold it to buy liquor with.”
“We asked him that, Norma,” I said, happy that I could tell her the truth of it. “He said he couldn’t do that to you, but that he couldn’t return it either, because he was too much afraid of facing you again.”
She looked at me and smiled. “Do you know what this means?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but we shook our heads anyway. “It means that he’s going to make it this time. It means that one day soon, I might be able to see him again without being afraid.” She held the Oscar to her face as if it was Richard she was holding.
Oh yeah, there’s definitely still love there.
We spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon answering Norma’s questions and describing our romantic evening at the hotel. Norma seemed especially intrigued with the Al Capone portion of the story.
“You know, I met Capone once, in that very club,” Norma said casually.
“Norma, you didn’t?” It’s not that I didn’t believe her, it’s just that it was unbelievable.
“Oh, but I did, dear.”
“How is that possible?” Melinda asked. “I mean, I know that you’ve got a set of gorgeous gams on you, but he was so much older than you. Wouldn’t that be against the law, even in the 1930s?”
I laughed, leave it to Melinda to think it was all about sex.
Norma smiled. “I didn’t say I slept with him, dear, I said I met him.”
Melinda shook her head. “I’m confused. Why else would anyone dare intrude on the crime boss of that century?”
“My father carried me into the club, because he needed to pay a debt to Mr. Capone. How he smuggled me past the maître-d, I’ll never know. I was only eight years old, but I still remember staring up at the large, round, pudgy, sweet man who gave me a cigar and told me that I was cute as a bug’s ear. I remembered arguing with him that bugs don’t have ears. He looked at my father and suggested that he ship me off to a convent so I didn’t grow up to be somebody’s moll.”
“How did your father come to owe a debt to Big Al?” Melinda asked.
“I was too young to understand about such things, but I vaguely remember that our car had broken down right in front of Capone’s suite, the same one you stayed at. I guess he saw us through the window and sent one of his henchmen down to help us out. As ruthless as Capone could be, he could also be generous to a fault. I don’t remember much about what he wore, other than his wingtips, because I could see my face in them. Anyway, the car, which my father had bought used, was a Ford roadster that was made in the 1920s I think. It needed a new part that he didn’t have the money for. Capone loaned him the money.”
Melinda was infatuated. “Wow. Did your father know that it was a Chicago crime boss that loaned him the money?”
Norma shook her head. “Not that he told me, but then of course he wouldn’t want to frighten me. But he was insistent on repaying the man and had my mother wire the money as soon as she could borrow it from her parents. My father was an extremely proud man, so I imagine he was pretty desperate if he would borrow money from his in-laws.”
“Norma,” I had a question now, “where were you traveling to?”
“We were living in Texas at the time, and my mother was sickly, so my father loaded us all up in the car and we drove to Hot Springs, where the spring mineral water was said to heal people of their ailments. I remember being terrified that they were going to drown my mother, so my father scooped me up and we went for an ice cream at the local drug store down the street. That’s when the car broke down.”
“And did the water help your mother?” I asked.
“She thought so, my father wasn’t convinced though.” Norma wiped the side of her eyelid. “Because she died of consumption six months later.”
“Oh no, I am so sorry, Norma.” I had unintentionally taken her back to when she was a little girl and then made her relive her mother’s death.
“It’s all right, dear. I came to terms with it years ago, and welcome any opportunity to remember my mother. You see, it helps me retain those memories, so I’m grateful.”
Leave it to Norma to find the positive in a negative.
My mother finally found a chance to join in the conversation. “Norma, what did your father do after that?”
“We packed up and moved to California, and he remarried shortly after that.”
“That was quick,” Melinda said.
“Back then, men didn’t stay single for too long. Especially with an eight-year-old to raise.”
“Norma, have you ever written your biography?” my mother asked.
“No, I never have. I was asked a few times by different publishers, but at that time, I wasn’t interested in revisiting my life.”
“What about now?” Melinda chirped up. “I would hate for all those wonderful stories to go to the grave with you… uh, in another fifty years or so.”
Norma laughed at her. “Oh, I hope you’re wrong about that, dear. I don’t want to live another fifty years.”
“No, don’t say that, Norma!” I was already grieving for her. “Melinda and I would be so lost without you.”
“I’ve had my life, dear, and it was a wonderful life, too.”
“Don’t be so selfish, Norma,” Melinda chastised her. “You haven’t had your life with us yet.”
Norma thought about it for a moment, and said, “You have a point, Melinda. And I am enjoying my new life with your girls, very much.”
Melinda shook her finger at Norma. “So then no more talk of kicking the bucket anytime soon, all right, young lady?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Norma laughed.
“And while you’re enjoying your new life, maybe you could jot down a few memories about it, so that Melinda can tell her children about you.” I meant it as a joke, for Melinda, but Norma’s eyes welled up again.
“I would like that very much, Chris, but I don’t have the energy to write for very long, and I fear I may not see it finished.”
“Don’t you worry about that, Norma, you’ve already met your biographer.”
“I have?” Norma searched her memory, and then realized who she was talking about. “Oh, do you mean George, that nice young man upstairs?”
George always did have perfect timing, because he walked in just as Norma mentioned his name.
“Oh, there’s a nice young man upstairs, and you didn’t introduce me?” George slicked his hair back and straightened his shirt.
“Rein it in, George, she was talking about you.”
“That’s so sweet of you, Norma. I wish I was that young, oh and nice, too.”
“Compared to me, dear, you are still a young man.”
“But compared to you, my dear Norma, I should be so nice.”
Norma smiled, pleased with his response.
“George, I want to hire you to write Norma’s biography,” Melinda said, as George slid in beside Norma.
He looked at Norma. “That would be divine, Norma.”
“Does it take a very long time, George?” Norma asked, seriously considering the idea.
“No. It shouldn’t take any time at all,” George replied. I heard a thud and suddenly George yelled, “Yeow!”
Melinda had kicked him under the table.
“What did you do that for?” he asked, reaching down to rub his shin.
&
nbsp; “I don’t want you to mislead Norma, George. Of course it will take some time, because she has so much history to share.”
I smothered my laughter as George looked at Melinda for a moment, and then stuttered, “Oh, uh, yes, Blackie is right. It could take a while, but I will give you my undivided attention, Norma.”
Norma looked from Melinda to George, and then back to Melinda again, then smiled and said, “I have no doubt, George, that you will go as quickly as Melinda will allow you to.”
We all laughed together, and I felt such a sense of peace, being with my loved ones.
Pulling an All Nighter — Melinda Blackstone, Chris Livingston, Felicia Livingston, Norma Shelby, and George Kirk
It had been a very long day, for all of us, and it was starting to take its toll on Chris. At dinner, she barely ate a thing, and although each of us, Norma, Felicia, George, and I, tried to keep a conversation going, it was hard to produce something on demand for that long of time. After dinner, we gathered in the living room, where Charlotte had a roaring fire burning in the fireplace for us. Norma sat in one of the overstuffed recliners with the two kittens curled up in her lap, giving each other a bath before they purred themselves to sleep. Felicia, Chris and I sat on the couch, and George took the other recliner.
“You know, it’s not too late to change your mind, honey,” Felicia suggested to Chris.
“Yes, it is too late, Mother. I can’t turn back now, otherwise I will never know peace,” Chris replied.
It was past midnight, and no one was willing to leave Chris, not while she was still awake. Even Charlotte stayed up, I guess in case we might need something. We had talked about everything we could think of, and then sometimes we were quiet for a few moments, until someone had to move just to stay awake. I had no problem with the lateness of the hour, because that used to be my most active time. But Norma really should go to bed, I could tell she was fighting to stay awake. I think Chris could tell it also.
“Mom, why don’t you escort Norma up to her room,” Chris said. “She should really get some sleep.”
Combining Riches (Riches to Rags Book 2) Page 17
