Twanged

by Carol Higgins Clark

  “Oh,” Regan said. “Where do you work?”

  “I’m a private nurse in Nashville.”

  “Will you meet up with them at all during the tour?”

  “I’m planning on it.”

  Regan turned to see Brigid walking over to them, the cordless up against her ear. She was laughing. “Hold on a second, Roy. Regan, Pammy, guess what? My album’s gotten some great reviews!” Brigid turned back to the phone. “What’s that, Roy?” She looked at Regan. “They said my voice is ‘rich and pure and’ . . . what? . . . ‘and has a wide range. Brigid’s songs will make you laugh and cry. She’s someone to watch.’” Brigid stomped her foot. “All right!”

  Regan raised her hands over her head and clapped them. “Brigid, that’s great.”

  “Wonderful,” Pammy murmured.

  “Who else has called?” Brigid asked into the phone. She was laughing and giddy, the demons of the night seemingly banished from her thoughts. “Hey guys, Garth and Clint and Dolly have already called Roy this morning to make sure I’m okay. They saw the papers. Hey Roy, anybody else? No!” Brigid guffawed. “Well, it’s still early. Hey, maybe that fiddle is bringing me good luck after all!”

  Regan sat back in her chair. It was great to see Brigid looking so elated. Elated because she’s getting great reviews for the album somebody took the trouble to smash. Inwardly, Regan shuddered.

  Pammy was across the table, bent over the newspaper.

  “Yes!” Brigid yelped as she turned off the cordless phone and plopped it on the table. “Things are looking good!”

  “That is fantastic!” Regan said.

  Pammy looked up. “Congratulations, Brigid.”

  “Thank you both!” Brigid sank into her chair. “Suddenly the day doesn’t look so gloomy. I just wish that festival wasn’t three whole days away! I want to get out there and make some music!”

  “Once you start on Friday, you’ll be doing it practically every night all summer!” Regan said.

  “I can’t wait!”

  Pammy got up with her cup of coffee. “I’m going to see if Kieran is awake yet. I’m sure he’ll want to hear the good news.”

  Brigid’s smile faded ever so slightly. “Please tell him.”

  “Oh, I will. Now let’s hope nothing happens to ruin this fun for you, Brigid. We wouldn’t want you to have another day like yesterday that you dream about tonight.”

  “Oh, I bet my dreams tonight will be good ones,” Brigid assured her with a smile. “Because having my first album well received is a dream come true. A dream I’ve had all my life.”

  Pammy smiled at her and nodded as she walked out of the room.

  Regan turned to Brigid. “We’re in for some lousy weather. How about a walk on the beach before it starts?”

  “I’ll be walking on air,” Brigid said. She jumped up. “Let’s go!”

  42

  Ned and Claudia were at their office bright and early on Tuesday morning. Ned had insisted on it. Thanks to his appearance on the radio, their office had been deluged with calls for consultations about feng shui, and Ned was practically out of his mind with joy. Claudia had to drag him out of there on Monday night to go home.

  “I don’t want to miss a call,” he’d complained.

  “That’s why we have voice mail,” Claudia had said. She’d been firm with him. Loving but firm. “You need your rest.”

  From one day to the next, Ned’s self-esteem had quadrupled.

  Claudia was now at the table in her office poring over plans for a house that the owner kept changing his mind about. Ned had tried to tell him he should by no means have a bathroom by the front door. It was bad luck. But the owner had wanted one for guests, and that was that. After catching the show on the radio the home owner had made an emergency call to Claudia. Scrap the bathroom by the front door, find a new place for it.

  How about in the backyard? Claudia had thought. She’d spent hours on the plans, and now he was rushing her to change everything before the builders started their work. But she was happy that he was finally listening to her beloved.

  Ned poked his head in the door. He was wearing a blazer, shirt and tie, and a pair of blue jeans. He’d decided that this would give him the air of being conservative yet a little hip. The shoes were a bit off, but it was a vast improvement.

  “I’m going to Darla Wells’s house, honey,” he called.

  Claudia looked up. Today her headband color combo matched a blue-and-green cardigan.

  “Good luck!” She flashed him the victory signal.

  Ned gave her a thumbs-up and turned on his heel. He was off to give feng shui advice to someone who could send a lot of business his way in the Hamptons. She had called yesterday afternoon and wanted him to come over first thing this morning. If she talks it up to her friends, who knows what could happen?

  All of this because of the dinner party at Chappy Tinka’s house! What a night that turned out to be! Ned climbed into the Range Rover and steered into the traffic of Main Street in Southampton. Darla lived in East Hampton, which could take more than a half hour to get to. But he’d left plenty of time.

  He glanced at the cloudy sky as he headed toward Route 27. We’re in for some bad weather, he thought. At least it’s good for the shopkeepers and theatre and restaurant owners. Everybody will be looking for something to do.

  Humming to the music on the radio, he drove along, thinking about how busy he was, about how important this meeting could be for his future. Exactly fifty-seven minutes later, when he turned down Darla Wells’s block, he groaned audibly.

  A cul-de-sac! She lives on a cul-de-sac! That was very very bad for feng shui. He shook his head back and forth. I guess we’ll just have to make do.

  He inched his vehicle down the long white graveled driveway. He was happy to see that the property was level and no trees were blocking the front door. No bad luck to worry about there. And thank God she didn’t have a number four in her address.

  The house was impressive-looking. It was large and white and exuded the traditional Hamptons look. A wraparound porch and columns and a vast lush lawn with trees and flowers completed the picture of old money.

  Ned walked up the porch steps, rang the bell, then stood there, nervously tapping his folder with his fingers.

  He waited.

  He looked at his watch. It read 9:30 A.M.; he was prompt, as always. He had even parked his car in town for a few minutes and grabbed a cup of coffee so he wouldn’t be early, which was as bad as being late, if harmony and balance were your goals in life.

  With a sinking feeling, he rang the bell again. He could feel his body starting to cave in.

  Suddenly the door burst open. Darla Wells, wearing pink stretch pants and a black top, started to apologize. Ned hadn’t met her but had seen her picture in the society pages of Hamptons magazine and Dan’s Papers. Her highlighted hair was shoulder length. Her doelike brown eyes and olive skin made him think she looked exotic. A completely different type from his Claudia.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, running a hand laden with a big diamond ring through her hair. “I just got off the phone with my agent. We’re deciding which songs I should sing on Friday night at the concert.”

  “Oh, how wonderful,” Ned replied as he followed her inside and into the living room.

  “Well, I don’t know how wonderful,” she said. “It’s hard to choose. I’ve got so many good ones I want to sing and not enough time.”

  Ned’s eyes were roaming the room wildly. Although it was furnished tastefully, it could use a lot of work.

  “I heard about you when I was having my hair done yesterday,” Darla commented. She indicated from him to sit down on the couch.

  “Oh, I thought you heard the radio show,” he said, easing himself into a pristine white couch that he was relieved to see was properly placed.

  “I shut it off after Brigid O’Neill’s interview.” Darla sat down at the opposite end.

  Terrific, Ned thought.

 
; Darla continued, “Someone at the salon was talking about your interview and said it was very interesting.”

  “Good,” Ned said. “Good.”

  “So what’s Brigid O’Neill like?”

  “Very nice. She likes feng shui.”

  “Feng what?”

  “Feng shui.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That’s what you called me here for, isn’t it?” Ned laughed politely.

  “Oh, of course! Of course! You rearrange furniture.”

  Ned clenched his jaw. “It’s a little bit more involved than that. It’s about living harmoniously using the energy of your surrounding environment to create wealth, happiness, and fame.”

  “That’s right!” Darla crossed her leg and started swinging it. “I don’t have to worry about wealth. It’s the fame I’m interested in.”

  Ned scratched his chin and looked around. Before he could answer, Darla asked another question.

  “Have you done this for Brigid O’Neill?”

  Ned looked at her. “No. How could I? She lives in Nashville. But she told me yesterday she wants me to fly down there after her tour and take a look at her house.”

  “So she’s gotten famous without feng shui.”

  “Yes. But she’ll get more famous after she puts it into practice. GUARANTEED!” Ned said forcefully.

  “She’s staying over in Southampton,” Darla observed.

  “Yes,” Ned said. “At the Chappy Compound.”

  “I hear you were there at that dinner party they wrote about in the paper yesterday.”

  “Yes. And they wrote about Brigid O’Neill again today. In the national newspapers, no less.”

  Darla’s stomach turned. “Why?”

  “A couple of kids came right up to the Compound yesterday, pretending to want to interview her for the school paper. She let them in and they tried to rob her of her fiddle. But she has a bodyguard who took care of things.”

  “She has a bodyguard?”

  “Yes. Do you want to talk about feng shui?”

  “Of course.”

  Ned stood up. “I’d like to walk with you through your house and show you little things you could do.”

  Darla nodded. “I’ll follow you.”

  “First of all,” Ned said, “you should have a crystal in the far left, which is the wealth-and-power corner of a room . . . put mirrors behind the kitchen stove to create more wealth. . . face your bed toward the door. If you were single, I’d tell you not to put it up against the wall because you might not open up to a relationship. . . .”

  Darla tailed him, eagerly taking notes. Anything to make me famous, she thought.

  An hour later, he drove home happy that she had signed up for an in-depth analysis of her Four Pillars of Destiny and seemed anxious to tell her friends about him.

  He had agreed to come backstage with Claudia and say hello to Darla at the concert Friday night. I’ll have to bring flowers, he thought. Butter up the client.

  He couldn’t wait to tell Claudia about the meeting. I know what else I want to do, he thought. This afternoon I’ll drive over to the Chappy Compound and take a look at the guest house. A free feng shui consultation. I won’t even tell Chappy. Let it be a surprise for him. After all, it’s thanks to him that things have really started rolling along.

  Ned smiled, pleased with himself. There was only one thing bothering him. Why did Darla Wells keep questioning him about Brigid O’Neill?

  43

  Regan and Brigid walked barefoot down the beach quite a way before turning around and heading back. The sky looked as if it could open up at any time, and they didn’t want to be caught in a downpour. It felt good to be out in the air meandering along the cool sand.

  Brigid picked up a couple of rocks and threw them in the churning water. “I’m so excited, Regan,” she said. “Those reviews are so important. Roy says it means the difference in getting booked on important shows, too.”

  “You should let Austin know the good news,” Regan said. “And you should let him know about yesterday’s adventures before he reads about them in the paper. He was really worried about you.”

  “I know,” Brigid said. “He’s such a good cousin. We’re more like brother and sister. I’ll call him when we get back to the house.”

  They came upon Chappy Compound and the area where the tour bus and Peace Man’s camper were parked.

  “So that’s where you’ll be spending the summer?” Regan smiled as she pointed at the bus.

  “Sleeping with feet facing front in case we stop short.”

  “Really?” Regan said. “I guess it makes sense.”

  All of a sudden the sound of Bettina’s mutt barking her head off assaulted their ears. Tootsie came bounding around from the front of the house and started barking at Peace Man’s RV.

  Bettina’s voice could be heard following behind. “No, Tootsie. No. Mama says no bark. No.”

  Apparently Tootsie didn’t agree. She stood there between the tour bus and the RV barking her head off.

  Bettina and Garrett appeared from around the front of the house.

  Regan waved at them as she and Brigid passed. “Hi!” she called.

  “Oh yeah, hi!” Bettina said.

  Is he selling her stocks or are they discussing the lease on the summer house? Regan wondered. Or is something else going on between them?

  Peace Man came out of his trailer and gave the peace sign to Bettina and Garrett.

  “Forgive us, Peace Man,” Bettina said. “Tootsie is a little wound up today.”

  Peace Man nodded, locked the door of his camper, jumped on his bicycle, and drove off.

  What a weirdo, Regan thought.

  Back in the kitchen, Teddy, Hank, and Kieran were sitting at the table having breakfast and reading the papers. Pammy was busy refilling their coffee cups.

  “Congratulations,” Kieran said to Brigid. “Great reviews!”

  “We’re proud of you,” Teddy added sweetly.

  “That’s right,” Hank agreed.

  “Proud of us!” Brigid corrected. “You guys are a part of it, too.”

  With that pronouncement, a clap of thunder boomed and rumbled across the sky.

  “Drumroll, please,” Brigid said as she looked up at the ceiling.

  Another booming noise filled the room.

  Everyone laughed as the rain started to thrash down.

  Pammy handed Kieran the rubber ball he used for therapy. “Why don’t you squeeze this while you read the papers, honey?” she suggested.

  “Later,” he said.

  The rain bounced off the roof as thunder and lightning cracked the air. and they all spent most of the next forty-eight hours in the guest house as it rained and rained and rained.

  Later that afternoon, after everyone had nibbled and read and watched TV, Brigid went upstairs and Kieran and Pammy and Hank and Teddy went into town to buy food for dinner. Regan was on the couch reading when there was a knock at the door. She looked up and saw Ned Alingham standing there holding an umbrella over his head.

  She got up and let him in.

  “Hello, Regan,” he said.

  “Ned, what’s going on?”

  “I don’t want to disturb you. I thought I’d take a quick look at the living area here to see what I can do to make it better. I want to surprise Chappy. After all of you have gone, I’ll take a look at the bedrooms and rearrange the whole house. For free, I might add.”

  Regan raised her eyebrows. “Great,” she said, silently wondering how it was possible to meet so many strange people in such a short period of time.

  Ned put down his umbrella and glanced around the room. “Aha!” he exclaimed. “Will you please tell me what that couch is doing in front of the window when it should be against the wall facing the window and that beautiful ocean?”

  “I haven’t a clue,” Regan said.

  “Care to help me move it?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Regan said.

  The
couch felt like a ton of bricks. Grunting, the two of them pushed it against the wall in front of the door with no handle.

  “I’ve never seen a door with no knob like that,” Ned declared. “I’ll have to look up what that means in feng shui. Because it has no handle, I see no reason to not have the couch right in front of it.”

  Regan sat on the newly placed couch. “This is much better,” she said. She also didn’t mind having the door blocked. What could Chappy be hiding down in that basement? From the windows outside it looked dingy and empty. She wished they weren’t too small to squeeze through.

  “It opens up the room to peace and harmony,” Ned announced proudly. “I promise you, you will feel the difference.”

  He looked around the rest of the downstairs. “Not too bad,” he said. “I don’t want to disturb your quarters at this time. As I said, I’ll be back when you’re gone. Don’t mention anything to Chappy that I was here. I want to surprise him when the whole house is done.”

  “My lips are sealed,” Regan assured him.

  “See you at the concert.”

  “Right.” Regan walked him to the door and watched as he stepped outside and opened his umbrella with a flourish. Energetically he bounced down the walkway to his car.

  There goes someone who enjoys his work, Regan thought. She turned and looked at the newly placed couch. He’s right, though. It does look a lot better. The question is, what will Chappy think?

  44

  He looked out the window of his shack and sighed. Look at that rain! It was coming down in cats and dogs, like his mother used to say.

  Now what? He couldn‘t exactly go walking on the beach near Brigid’s house. Not in this weather. They’d lock him up for being a nut.

  And I’m not a nut! he thought.

  He turned on the television set. So many of his favorite game shows had been canceled over the years. Why did they have to take “Supermarket Sweep” off the air? And “Hollywood Squares”? And “I’ve Got a Secret”?

  He laughed out loud. “I’ve Got a Secret.” That was a good one. I’ve got a secret, too, he thought.