IT TURNED OUT the girls didn’t have to talk any sense into their buxom friend. Gabe did it for them. After Jackie jiggled her key in the door, she walked in to find Doris once again on the phone but, this time, she was beaming.
“I will,” she crooned, smiling. “Oh, gotta go. Jackie’s home. Thank you so much, Gabe. You’re the best.” Doris hung up and perched on a kitchen chair. Her back was straighter and she was radiant in her new makeup. “Hi, Jackie.”
Jackie approached, cautious. “Which of your nineteen personalities is this?”
“Stop.” Doris giggled, flushing. “I’m fine. Sorry about the other night. Do you want some dinner? There’s some leftover chicken in the fridge.”
“No,” Jackie said, cringing. She still remembered the last time she had made the mistake of eating Doris’s rubbery chicken. “I had a late dinner with George. How are you?”
“Better,” Doris said. She made a move to push up her glasses and shook her head, remembering they were no longer there. Leaning forward, Doris said, “Gabe called to check in on me, to see whether or not I had put on my glasses yet. We had a bet that I couldn’t make it through forty-eight hours. If I do, I get a movie date.”
“Ah,” Jackie toyed with the ruby pendant on her necklace. “You do realize you have to take them out to sleep.”
“I already did.” Doris nodded, contemplating this for a minute. Smiling broadly, she said, “Oh, he is so bad! Should I call him back and tell him I figured it out? Ooh. I can’t believe he’s taking me to the movies.”
“Call him later,” Jackie said. “So . . . what’s going on? Anything?”
Doris paused for a moment, as though having trouble remembering. She got up and started adjusting the Thanksgiving decor she’d laid out—orange and red placemats, cutouts of autumn leaves, carved napkin holders. Picking up one of the napkin holders, Doris cocked her head, squinting. “Can you tell they’re supposed to be turkeys? I think they look like little shrunken heads.”
“Doris . . .” Jackie sighed. She wished she had stayed at George’s and gone to bed.
“Sometimes you think I’m stupid,” Doris said, looking up. “You had dinner with George. So, you were there when I called. We’re best friends,” Doris said, setting the napkin holder in its proper place. “Just ask me what I’m going to do.”
Jackie stuck out her lower lip, embarrassed. “Are you pulling out?”
Doris shook her head. “No.”
In a quick gust, Jackie let out the huge breath she’d been holding. The sounds of the house came back into focus—the refrigerator running, the hallway clock ticking, distant music from Mandy’s room. Her fantasy about the grand opening of the restaurant resumed. In it, she was Marilyn Monroe singing “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend,” being passed from gorgeous man to gorgeous man.
“Yay,” Jackie whooped, hitting the table. All the decorations bounced and Doris pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, but I really thought Doug was going to . . .”
“I’m sure he’ll try,” Doris said firmly. “But Gabe said Doug lost his right to dictate family decisions when he left the family.”
“Is Gabe in the mob?” Jackie asked, innocent.
Doris didn’t even crack a smile. Instead, she clutched her hands to her chest and whispered, “No. But he’s so handsome. I had such a good time yesterday. I feel different.”
“You look amazing,” Jackie said. “This is a big step, you know.”
Doris nodded, pleased as a little girl. “I want to do something with my life, Jackie, just like you said. I really thought I was going to die, trapped here cleaning and cooking and knowing I’m not good at any of it anyway. I’m turning forty. I’ve got an entire life left to live. You know, I’ll kill Doug before I let him take the restaurant away from me.”
“I knew there was a killer in there somewhere,” Jackie said.
“I’m really proud of us,” Doris said. “We’re opening a restaurant.”
“I know,” Jackie squealed, jumping around. “It’s going to be huge.”
“To quote my daughter,” Doris added primly, “Get it?”
Chapter Thirty-nine
THREE DAYS LATER, THE THREE WOMEN WERE STANDING IN A cloud of perfume and hairspray, nervously posing for photos in Doris’s living room like they were about to head off to the prom. But tonight, Doris would not be having sex for the first time in some hotel room. Cheryl would not be vomiting before the dance even started. Jackie would not be thanking everyone for her crown. Instead, the three friends were going to launch their first restaurant.
Doris practically hugged herself in excitement.
“You look lovely, ladies,” Anthony cried. “Smile!”
The girls, the managers, and George were all at Doris’s house, having a pre-party. They had enjoyed a cheese and cracker spread, toasted to the opening, and then lined up for photos.
“Doris, that dress is perfect,” Gabe insisted. “You look radiant.”
Doris blushed, adjusting the neck of her gown. He had helped her pick out an elegant gown with an empire waist that perfectly accentuated her cleavage. The material was soft and flowing, adorned with accent crystals.
“You look beautiful,” Gabe said again, touching her arm.
Mandy glanced from him to her mother.
Coloring prettily, Doris deferred to her friends. “No, they look better,” she said.
“Jacqueline is a work of art,” George confirmed, “as always.”
Jackie was breathtaking in a simple white satin dress that clung to her body in all the right places. Her hair was done up like a film star’s, all pin curls and bejeweled combs.
“I’m in costume,” she said in a breathy whisper, blowing him a kiss with her white-gloved hand.
Cheryl shifted slightly in her simple designer dress. She held up her perfectly toned arms as though to say “What about me?” and the men hooted and applauded. The dress displayed her toned and tanned body to the max.
Anthony snapped picture after picture.
“Let’s get a photo with Mandy,” he suggested. At Anthony’s suggestion, Mandy sidled over, positioning herself between Jackie and Cheryl.
“Say cheese,” Anthony sang.
Mandy showed her crookedly pretty teeth. Anthony fired away, the flash pulsing like a strobe light. Then he winked and said, “Now just with your mom, please.”
Mandy looked at her mother. As Cheryl and Jackie pulled out of the shot, Mandy shifted awkwardly. “Congratulations, Mom,” she finally said, putting an arm around her mother.
Doris’s heart pounded until she thought it might break but the moment Anthony lowered the camera, Mandy scampered back over to the table with the food. She had been very quiet since the phone call with Doug.
“Where’s your bathroom?” Anthony asked, putting away the camera.
“Use the one down the hall,” Doris said.
Gabe had been walking that way and he stopped, looking back over his shoulder. Doris noticed. She added, “There’s one in my bedroom. Gabe, can you show him?” After the words were out, Doris blushed, afraid she had given the false impression that Gabe had been in her bedroom. It didn’t matter; no one was paying attention. Mandy was texting a friend, Cheryl was nibbling at a piece of cheese, and Jackie was giggling at something George had said.
Doris was just about to head to the kitchen for some seltzer water to ease her nervous stomach when the doorbell rang. Peeking out the window, Doris spotted a dark blue sedan parked in the driveway. A man dressed like a lawyer stood on the doorstep.
“What on earth?” Doris mumbled, throwing open the door.
“Doris MacLean?” the man said.
“Yes?” Coldness spread through her chest. She hadn’t vandalized anyone lately—why was another formal-looking stranger standing at her door?
“I am appearing on behalf of Doug MacLean, serving you with papers for a divorce.” The man’s voice seemed to fade into a tunnel as Doris put her hand to her head, immediately blocking out
the sound. He was holding out a clipboard and a large envelope, handing her a pen.
“I won’t sign,” Doris said, angrily pushing the clipboard away.
The man didn’t look surprised. “It’s just to say you received it.”
As Doris signed her name and took the package, Cheryl walked by with the cheese platter. “I’m going to put the rest of this in the . . .” she started to say, but noticing Doris’s expression, she stopped. “What’s going on?”
Doris gave some sort of a strangled cry, but the words didn’t come. The man was already walking back to his car, mission accomplished. Cheryl rushed to the door. The blue sedan was pulling out of the driveway.
“Who was that?” Cheryl asked.
“Papers . . .” Doris managed to say. “He sent papers.”
“Papers?” Cheryl repeated. “What?” Suddenly, understanding dawned on her face. She turned to Doris, hand to her mouth. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”
Out of her peripheral vision, Doris could see that from across the room, no one had even noticed what was happening. Mandy was still on her phone, Jackie and George were in the middle of some animated conversation, Anthony and Gabe still off in the bathrooms.
“What do you need me to do?” Cheryl asked.
Doris stood numbly, holding the package. It was soft in her hand, like a new magazine she’d been looking forward to. “I . . . I just need five minutes,” she finally mumbled.
“Five-minute warning,” Cheryl shouted over her shoulder. “Then we should head out!” To Doris, she whispered, “Go to your room. Splash some cold water on your face and we will deal with this later. Fuck him. We are not going to let him ruin our big night, okay?”
Doris nodded. The weight of her heels sank into her heavy carpet as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Halfway up, she stopped suddenly and clutched the railing. Her gut hurt, like someone had punched it. Slitting open the envelope there on the staircase, standing underneath a painting she and Doug had once picked out for their new home, Doris pulled out the cover letter. Her eyes settled on one sentence, “Contingent upon execution of restaurant opening.” So, if she still pulled out of the restaurant, the request for a divorce didn’t apply?
Uncharacteristically, Doris felt rage fill her. Cheryl was right. Fuck him. Fuck Doug. Doris had put so much work into The Whole Package. How could he do this on her special night? How dare he?! Doris was so proud of everything she’d done. How could he try to take that away from her?
After all of Doug’s years of nagging about dust and dirt, Doris knew there was something a little extra special required to get the restaurant in top form. Doris had been wholly responsible for making the place beautiful. She had taken the initiative to commission a detailing service. It had come in and given old Millstines the deep cleaning of its life.
When the detailers finished the job and Doris looked around at the sparkling setup, she put her hands to her heart, remembering the time Cheryl had told her she might be good for business after all. It seemed Cheryl had been right.
The next day, Doris had dragged Jackie and Cheryl to the restaurant to reveal her surprise. When she threw open the doors, Jackie and Cheryl stared at the sight of the cherry wood tables glistening in the low light and how the leather booths lining the walls had transformed from dark burgundy to a bright, cheerful red.
Cheryl grabbed Doris and squeezed her in a tight embrace. “I am so thankful for you. This is incredible.”
Doris blushed. Gesturing at the mirrors that lined the restaurant, Doris indicated there was more. Cheryl didn’t see it at first, but Jackie did. Her eyebrows lifted. The frames were copper. So were the rest of the fixtures in the restaurant. When properly cleaned, the green calcification had fallen away and they looked like works of art. If the Millstines had walked in then to pay a last visit to their place, they probably would have dropped dead on the spot, knowing they could have cashed out for a much, much better condo down in Florida. Maybe even Oceanside.
Pulling her shoulders back, Doris swept up the remainder of the stairs. She was determined to throw the whole damn packet into her top dresser drawer and leave it there. Pushing open her bedroom door, she pulled back in surprise to see . . . well, she didn’t know what she was seeing.
“Gabe?” she said, horrified.
Gabe was standing with his back to her, arms around Anthony as though in an embrace. At the sound of Doris’s voice, he turned suddenly. Dropping his arms, he said, “Thank goodness you’re here. Where’s your contact solution? I’ve been trying to help Anthony get something out of his eye.”
Doris was instantly confused—was she out of her mind or had they been . . . kissing? She put her fingers to her eyes and pressed them hard. No. This night had already been too much for her to start seeing ridiculous things. Doris threw the papers into the dresser drawer and bustled forward.
“It’s in the bathroom, Anthony,” she said briskly. He followed behind her. Doris peered at his face, deciding his eye was indeed a little red. She smiled, relieved. “We’ve got to be quick about it, though. It’s time for us to go.”
DORIS WAS SWEATING bullets. She pulled on one of the headsets Cheryl insisted they all wear, then patted her face with a handkerchief, letting her eyes survey the room.
The waitstaff was prepped and ready, waiting for the guests in the entryway as planned. On several well-placed chairs, they sprawled out like a male version of the Garden of Eden. It was a group of perfectly coiffed Adams and Steves, dressed in next to nothing and proudly displaying their wares.
“How’s it looking in there?” Cheryl said, voice crackling over the headset.
Carefully pressing the Talk button, Doris said, “Great.” The earpiece gave a slight squeal and Doris fumbled to adjust the sound. She hoped she hadn’t just blasted Cheryl’s ear out. “Cheryl?”
“I’m here,” she said. “Is everyone in their places?”
“Yes.”
“Are you okay?” Cheryl’s voice sounded concerned. “You holding up?”
“Fine,” Doris said, instantly picturing the papers Doug had sent. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Anthony walked up to the host stand, coiffed and handsome in black spandex bottoms and a bow tie. “Hi, are you excited?” Doris asked, then confirmed into her headset, “Cheryl, if you can hear me, I’m trying to talk to Anthony.” When Cheryl didn’t answer, Doris shook her head and tugged at the cords. “This thing’s confusing.”
“I can fix that,” Anthony said. He reached forward and slid the set off her head and around her neck. Turning up the volume, he said, “Say something.”
“Cheryl, can you hear me?” Doris practically shouted.
“Yes,” a tinny voice said from somewhere around her neck.
Doris brightened. “Thanks. Much better.”
“It’s the least I can do,” Anthony said, leaning forward and air kissing her. “I’d be blind if it wasn’t for you. I’d be blind.”
Back at the house, Doris had doused Anthony’s contact in saline solution, then watched closely as he placed the thin piece of plastic back in his eye, Gabe hovering behind.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “Do you feel better?”
“My eyes do but my body is just roasting,” Anthony said, indicating his sculpted form. “I made the mistake of applying body makeup to highlight my abs. Such a bad idea. I forgot how heavy Pancake was. I feel like I’m standing in the rain forest at high noon.”
Doris patted a muscular shoulder. “Well. You look very handsome.”
As Anthony adjusted his bow tie, Doris peered out the door. “Have you seen all these people?”
The line of women dressed in warm jackets, mufflers, and hats stretched down the block. An impressive group of press and photographers were also waiting patiently, eager to get a first look at what the press kits promised to be the “ride of their lives.”
“I can’t look,” Anthony said. “I had oatmeal for lunch because I was too nervous to eat. I was too nervous
.” Glancing around at the restaurant, he swiveled his hips, silently mouthing the words to one of the dance numbers. After dancing for a brief moment, he slumped against the wooden stand. “Maybe I should try to eat something,” he said. “Everything smells so delicious.”
The smells wafting from the kitchen certainly were tantalizing: smoky meats, tangy garlic, and hints of rosemary and sage. Greg had outdone himself, even working with the limited opening-night menu Cheryl had insisted on. Even though Greg had originally protested the mini menu, the crowd at the door would probably get him to change his tune.
Regardless of how the dancing would be received, the patrons were in store for an excellent meal. The first course was either garlic-grilled prawns or sautéed scallops in a light coconut sauce, followed by a traditional Caesar or warm goat cheese salad with mixed greens. The entree options were herb-encrusted, fresh grilled salmon or a charred six-ounce filet. For dessert, Greg had prepared a to-die-for flourless chocolate cake.
“People are going to love the food,” Anthony said, rubbing his palms together in anticipation. “And the men.”
Doris gave him a grateful look and then said a silent prayer of thanks. The Whole Package was going to be a big success. Her heart ached that Doug wasn’t here to see it but there was no point crying about it. If he wouldn’t support her in the coming success, well . . . it was simply his loss.
“I love this music,” Doris said to Anthony, drumming her fingers against the host stand. Sexy salsa music trilled in the background, the beat slow and sensual. “Was it your pick?”
Anthony nodded, grinning. “You’ll like the music for the dance numbers, too,” he promised.
Doris bit her lip, suddenly nervous. The numbers were hot, maybe too hot. That morning, she had shot up from a dead sleep, worrying about it. Doris had watched many of the rehearsals, but had been so busy staring at the way Gabe moved his hips that she hadn’t spent much time wondering whether or not the dancing could be construed as offensive.
When Doris brought it up at breakfast, Jackie had laughed. “Oh, you just don’t want other women to even look at Gabe,” she teased, flicking a piece of muffin at Doris.
The Whole Package Page 29
