Today, she had actually picked up the phone and called him, which meant she was thinking about him. That was progress and reason enough for him to smile. But his smile faded when she told him who had phoned her that day.
“You’re kidding,” he said, taking his arm from behind his head and sitting up on the edge of the bed. “And what else did he say?”
“Nothing. He just wanted to know why Howard wasn’t on the show anymore. I told him that he’d decided he wanted to live on his own and enroll in a program at the community college. He seemed happy about that, but mostly he just wanted to make sure Howard was all right. As soon as I let him know everything was fine, he said good and he was sorry to have bothered me. Then he hung up.”
“And that was it? He didn’t say anything else?”
“Not a word,” Mary Dell replied.
She sounded surprised and a little confused, which was understandable. Hub-Jay was a little confused himself. He couldn’t quite think how he was supposed to respond to this situation.
“When’s the last time you heard from him?”
“You mean actually talked to him? This is the first time since he left, close to thirty years. I’ve gotten mail from Donny for years, but he’s never called before. When I first opened the shop, he sent a calculator and a note, along with some money. So, somehow or other, he’d kept tabs on us.
“A lot of envelopes with cash or money orders arrived over the years, but I never spent it. It all went into a savings account for Howard, so he’d have something to fall back on if anything ever happened to me. Donny always sends money at Christmas and on Howard’s birthday too. I let Howard spend that however he wants.”
“Huh. And there was never a return address on the envelopes?”
“No. The postmarks were always from out of state. But yesterday, the caller ID showed a Texas area code. I tried calling back, but nobody answered.”
“Huh,” Hub-Jay said again, still feeling at a loss for words and a little bothered by the fact that Mary Dell had tried to call Donny back. Still, he supposed it was a natural enough reaction. Of course she wanted to talk to him, if for no other reason than to get some answers.
“So . . . do you think he’ll call again?”
“Oh, I doubt it,” she replied. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have hung up so quick. He just wanted to make sure that nothing had happened to Howard.”
Hearing the certainty in her voice, Hub-Jay felt a twinge of relief. Then, remembering that Mary Dell couldn’t obtain a divorce unless she could locate Donny and serve him with papers, relief turned to regret.
It was a missed opportunity. But they’d just have to cross that bridge when they came to it. First, he had to get Mary Dell to agree to marry him.
“Anyway,” Mary Dell said, brushing aside the Donny encounter with an ease that buoyed Hub-Jay’s spirits once again. “That wasn’t the only crazy thing that happened today,” she said. “Wait till you hear what Momma’s cooked up.”
Hub-Jay smiled to himself and lay back on top of the duvet again with a pillow behind his back while Mary Dell related the story of her argument with Taffy, accompanied by many embellishments, editorial comments, and laughter.
When she said, “Hub-Jay Hollander, I tell you what—I am sixty years old and have more gray hairs on my head than Carter has pills, but every time I get around my momma, I start acting like I’m twelve years old!” Hub-Jay laughed along with her.
He hadn’t spent too much time with Taffy, but enough to know that she and Mary Dell were the kind of mother and daughter who were just born to knock heads. They were stubborn, smart, strong-willed women, both of them, and more alike than either of them probably wanted to admit.
Just as Mary Dell finished her story, Taffy called from the kitchen, saying it was time for supper.
“My master’s voice,” Mary Dell said. “I tried to talk her into letting me make a salad for dinner, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She’s been in the kitchen for an hour, making meat loaf, mashed potatoes, green beans with bacon, and tapioca pudding. Meat loaf!” She groaned. “It’s eighty-five degrees outside and we’re having meat loaf.”
“Your mother likes to cook. It’s how she shows her love.”
“Well, if she loves me any more, I won’t be able to fit into my dress for the party. Oh, Hub-Jay! Wait till you see it!
“It’s red taffeta and very elegant,” she assured him, her voice as excited as a young girl’s. “I found it online at Neiman Marcus, but I called Howard and got his approval before I ordered. There’s a taffeta bow on the shoulder, so Howard said I should wear just a single strand of pearls. Because anything else would be too much with the bow.”
“Sounds beautiful. Can’t wait to see you in it.”
He heard Taffy calling from the kitchen again, more impatiently.
“Sorry. I’d better run before she blows a gasket.” Mary Dell paused for a moment. He could sense the hesitation in her voice. “Can I call you tomorrow?”
“I’d like that. In fact, I might just stay right here and wait until you do.”
She laughed and they said their good nights. Hub-Jay hung up the phone, moved his arm back behind his head, crossed his feet on top of the covers, and smiled, feeling happier than he had in a long, long time.
CHAPTER 30
Holly stabbed angrily at her cell phone before crossing her arms on the bar and flopping her head into them, like a kindergartener napping on her desk.
“They. Just. Keep. Calling,” she moaned, her voice echoing inside the cavern of her arms. “Don’t they ever get tired of hearing me say I have nothing to say?”
“Why don’t you just turn off your phone? Or not answer it?” Cady asked.
“Because it might be my mom,” she mumbled, head still down. “The ship is someplace out near Cozumel now, and when she calls from out of the country it doesn’t show her number. I have to answer in case it’s her.”
She felt Cady’s hand pat the back of her hair.
“Poor baby. You need a beverage. Hey, can we get a couple of margaritas here? Frozen. No salt for me. Holly, you want salt?”
“No,” she mumbled.
“Two, no salt.”
Holly lifted her head. “You know what I really hate?” she asked and started ticking off the list on her fingers. “People who post pictures of what they had for lunch on Instagram, people who talk on their Bluetooth in the grocery store, having to watch a forty-five-second ad so I can see a thirty-second YouTube video, cilantro, black licorice, and reporters.”
Cady gave her a puzzled look. “How can you hate cilantro?”
Holly elbowed her. “Shut up.”
The margaritas arrived. Holly took a sip.
“But do you know what really bugs me? Even though yesterday was rotten . . . well, only after Artie showed us the edited version of the first episode. It’s a mess!” she cried and shook her head. “Did Mary Dell tell you?”
Cady nodded and took a medium-sized swallow of her margarita. “She was in the shop this morning before she had to take Grandma to the doctor. She was pretty bummed about it.”
“Her and me both,” Holly said. “It’s so frustrating that we can both work so hard and then Artie just goes in there and screws it all up in the cutting room! And it’s not just me and Mary Dell who feel that way. I could see Gina, the assistant director, and some of the crew giving each other looks behind Artie’s back. They’re not saying anything, but they all know it’s total crap.”
Holly exhaled a big breath and returned to her point.
“Anyway, what really sucks is that, even with all that going on, until some blogger posted the pictures of my mom singing on the cruise ship and every scuzzball, ambulance-chasing, Dumpster-diving tabloid reporter on the planet started calling and wanting a quote on Rachel’s nosedive from diva to aging third-rate lounge act—a reporter actually said that to me! He called my mother an aging third-rate lounge act!”
“Idiot,” Cady grumbled, and took another sip of
her drink.
“Until then,” Holly continued, “this started out to be a really great day.” She took a sip of her margarita and looked at Cady with a small but victorious smile. “Stormy let me put a riding blanket on his back this morning.”
“You didn’t tell me that. That’s great!”
The two women lifted their glasses and clinked the rims together.
“I know, right? It was so cool. I brought the blanket over, held it up to his nose so he could smell it, then laid it down on the ground and had him walk over it so he could see there was nothing to be afraid of, and after that he just let me put it on his back like it was no big deal. He’s really starting to trust me now, you know?”
“That’s fantastic,” Cady said. “You’ve done an amazing job with Stormy.”
“Oh, stop,” Holly said modestly. “It wasn’t me. I really had no idea what I was getting into with Stormy, which is probably a good thing. Otherwise I might not have done it. But Rob Lee coached me through everything. It was all him. I just keep doing what he tells me to do.”
“But it’s still pretty neat,” Cady said, putting down her drink and reaching for a nearby basket of tortilla chips, “the way you’ve gentled him. And, I’ve got to say, I think you’ve gentled my brother a little too. He’s much less of a grouch than he was even a month ago. He actually took Linne for a ride yesterday. She was so happy I thought she might float away.”
“Really?” Holly tipped her head to one side and smiled. “Aw. That’s great. But I can’t take credit for that either. Rob Lee seems better to me, too, less tense and more talkative. A little bit, anyway. But I think it’s because of Stormy. He’s been working with him every day, even when I’m not there, and I think it’s sort of . . .”
She paused, looking for a way to explain the changes she’d seen in Rob Lee, but it was impossible to point to one particular thing or moment. It was slow, an inch-by-inch alteration, and, she sensed, far from complete.
“I think he and Stormy just relate to each other somehow. They’ve both been through a lot, but neither of them can talk about it.”
“Maybe,” Cady said. “But I think you’ve helped too. I think Rob Lee likes you.”
“Oh, well. I like him too,” she said casually. “He’s nice.”
Cady gave her a chiding slap on the arm. “Oh, knock it off. You know what I mean. I think he likes you. Or if he doesn’t, he should.”
Cady lifted the glass to her lips and, after a sip and a moment of consideration, she said, “Hey, do you want me to talk to him? I will if you want me to. You’d be a great sister-in-law!”
Holly started laughing and nearly choked on her margarita.
“Wow,” she said, blinking her eyes. “Where did that come from? Are you sure this is your first drink?”
“First one,” Cady said. “I’m a cheap date. That’s one of the things Nick liked about me. He said that all he had to do to get lucky was wave a drink under my nose. It kind of runs in the family,” she said. “The Fatal Flaw.”
“Okay,” Holly said, and pulled Cady’s glass away. “Then have some more chips, girlfriend. Pace yourself.”
“So,” Cady said, taking a big breath and then letting it out. “Speaking of Nick . . .”
Holly was quiet, waiting for Cady to go on. When she didn’t, Holly repeated, “Speaking of Nick . . . ,” and made a circular motion with her hand.
“I have been. Speaking of him.”
Cady looked at Holly, waiting for her to connect the dots. When Holly didn’t respond, she spelled it out.
“I’ve started seeing a therapist in Waco. Dr. Gillespie gave me a referral.”
“Really?”
Cady bobbed her head, looking a little sheepish about her admission. Holly leaned over and gave her a squeeze.
“That’s great, Cady. Good for you.”
“Don’t say anything to my grandma.”
“Okay. But why not?”
Cady shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t want to upset her. People here don’t go in much for that kind of thing, especially older people. That’s why I had to go to Waco to find somebody to talk to. Do you know there isn’t a decent psychologist in all of Too Much? Which is pretty bad considering the number of crazy people there are in town. Some of them are related to me.”
“Huh,” Holly said, a little surprised by this information.
Too Much was a small town, of course. Really small. But Holly had a hard time getting her head around the idea of any town that didn’t have at least one mental health professional. In LA there was a shrink on practically every block. When she was in high school, half the kids in her class were in therapy and the other half probably should have been.
“So, who do people go to when they have a problem?” she asked.
“Mostly nobody,” Cady said. “A lot of people around here think it’s a sign of weakness to have to talk your problems out with somebody and that you should just keep your mouth shut and get over it. Some people even say it’s a sin.”
When Holly’s eyes went wide with disbelief at this, Cady nodded and said, “It’s true. I’ve actually heard people say depression is just a sign of unconfessed sin in a person’s life.”
“But that’s ridiculous!” Holly said. “That’s not why you don’t want to tell your grandmother you’re seeing a therapist, is it? Taffy wouldn’t think that about you. She’s crazy about you.”
“I know. She’d just be worried about me. And Grandma’s old-fashioned. In her day, you’d talk to your minister. That’s what most people still do around here, if they’re really struggling. That’s what I did, too, at first. It helped some.
“But you know,” Cady said quietly, her eyes becoming shiny, “there’s a lot of layers to all this. Reverend Crews was the one who suggested I go and ask Dr. Gillespie for a referral. It’s going to take a while to work through it.”
“Then I’m glad you did.” Holly lowered her head a bit, so she could look into Cady’s eyes more directly. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
Cady shook her head. “No, I’m good. I just wanted you to know because I might not have done it if I hadn’t met you.”
Holly tipped her head to one side and frowned a little. Though she was happy that Cady was getting the help she needed, she couldn’t imagine what she’d said or done to propel her in that direction.
“It’s just that, having a friend again, but also seeing how”—Cady’s gaze floated to the ceiling as she searched for the right phrase—“how enthusiastic you are about life, how brave you are about seeing what you want and going for it, taking chances, made me realize that I’m still too young to be old. You reminded me of how I used to be. Happy.”
Cady reached for the glass that Holly had pushed away.
“I decided I want to feel like that again. And I just wanted you to know I’ve got you to thank for it. I’m glad you came to Too Much.”
“So am I. And I’m really, really glad that you’ve decided not to give up on happiness. But it’s all you, Cady. I think you’re really brave.”
Cady drained the dregs of her melted margarita.
“Thanks. I think so too.”
She laughed. So did Holly.
“Do you want another one?”
Cady shook her head. “Maybe a Coke this time.”
They sat at the bar for another couple of hours, drinking their drinks and sharing an order of fried cheese sticks and Buffalo wings, talking a lot and laughing a little.
Holly politely turned down invitations from two cowboys who asked if she’d like to dance and hung up on four pushy reporters looking for a quote. Cady did have another margarita after her Coke, which left her feeling and acting, not drunk exactly, but tipsy enough that Holly thought it’d be a bad idea to let her drive home.
Just as Holly was trying, not very successfully, to convince Cady to hand over her car keys, Rob Lee came walking through the door of the Ice House.
“Baby brother!” Cady cried out when she spotted
him. “Get over here, right now.”
Rob Lee walked over to the bar. “Hey,” he said, then cocked an eyebrow at his sister’s empty glass. “Looks like you’re enjoying your margarita.”
“Yes, I am,” she confirmed. “It’s a little strong, but it’s good. You know what else is strong and good? You are. I mean it. It was so, so, so sweet of you to take Linne riding. I’m serious. Meant the world to her.”
“Good. I’m glad she had fun. So, Sis?” He shot an amused look in Holly’s direction, which she returned. “How long have you been here?”
“Couple hours. We’re just getting ready to go.”
Cady closed her eyes and started humming along with a song that was playing on the jukebox, making no attempt to rise from the barstool.
“Don’t worry,” Holly said. “I’ll drive her home.”
“That’s okay,” Rob Lee replied. “I’ll take her.”
“Are you sure? You just got here.”
“Yeah. I . . . I was actually—” He scratched his ear, cleared his throat, and was interrupted by his sister, whose eyes flew suddenly open as she spun around on the stool to face them.
“Hey, Rob Lee! You know what I was just saying to Holly a while before you came in? That she would be a great sister-in-law! Seriously. You two should get married. What do you think?” Cady looked from her brother to her friend.
Holly covered her face with her hand and shook her head. “Wow. That was awkward. Sorry.”
“What?” Cady said, throwing out her hands in a gesture of innocence. “You’d be perfect for each other!”
Rob Lee, who was grinning—it was the first time Holly had seen him with a full smile on his face, and she couldn’t help but think it made him look even more handsome—ignored his sister and addressed Holly directly.
“Don’t worry about it. Cady never could hold her liquor. Nick always said—” He stopped himself. His smile faded, not completely but some. “Anyway, it’s okay. My aunt Mary Dell’s just the same. Worse. Give her two beers and she starts to sing.”
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