Photographs of Claudia

by KG MacGregor

  on finishing his project too, so he can come home for good. He’s

  only been back to the states about six times in the last year and a

  half. And before Taiwan he was in Bangkok for two years.”

  “Wow, it’s a wonder you ever met.”

  “I’ve known him forever. Our mothers play bridge together,

  and they’re both on some committee for historic preservation.”

  She leaned over and lowered her voice. “My dad says their main

  objective is keeping the so-called wrong people out of the county.

  It makes him nuts the way they go on about the Mexicans or the

  Vietnamese. Anyway, the first time I saw Mike was at a Christmas

  party at the country club when I was thirteen years old. He was

  an absolute dreamboat, home from college at Southern Cal, all

  suave and handsome. You know how it is when you’re thirteen

  years old.”

  Leo scrunched her lips and tipped her head thoughtfully.

  “Does having a crush on Susan Saint James count?”

  “Same thing,” she said with a chuckle, appreciating that Leo

  trusted her enough to make a joke about her sexuality. “I liked

  her too, but I wanted to be like Lindsay Wagner.”

  “Didn’t we all? But I interrupted your story. You met Mike

  when you were thirteen?”

  “Right, and I fell in love at first sight, but I didn’t see him

  again for six years. Same Christmas party, but then it was my

  turn to be coming home from college. The first thing he said was

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ and we did. We ended up spending the

  entire holiday together and then I went to Bangkok for spring

  break and again for the whole summer.”

  “Sounds like you got swept off your feet.”

  “That’s what it felt like. Never in my life had anything hit

  me like that. Mike has this uncanny ability to focus. Not like you

  focus…because you really focus.” They both chuckled. “When

  he’s working, that’s all he thinks about. But when he turns his

  attention to me…wow. It’s like I’m the only person in the whole

  universe. It’s such a powerful feeling.”

  “Sounds like love.”

  “I guess that’s how I knew Mike was different from all the

  rest.”

  Leo raised her glass in another toast. “Good for you. How

  long is he going to be overseas?”

  Claudia smirked. “Believe me, we’ve had that conversation

  more than once and it hasn’t been pretty. At first he said he just

  needed to get some on-site experience. It was only supposed to

  be that job in Bangkok, but then his father had a small stroke

  last year. That worries me because Mike and his dad are so

  much alike. They’re both big and barrel-chested, and they have

  the exact same personality. Anyway, now he says he’ll have to

  shoulder more of the load. In other words, he’ll probably work

  abroad a couple more years. But I figure that gives me time to get

  settled into a job, and it gives my mother time to plan the most

  ostentatious wedding imaginable.”

  “Maybe you’ll let me shoot it for you—at the friend’s

  discount.”

  “Thanks, but don’t count on it. If Mike has his way, we’ll

  elope. In fact, if it were up to him we’d do it as soon as I got out

  of school.”

  “So soon?”

  “If there’s one thing he hates, it’s a drawn-out spectacle. Once

  he makes up his mind, he’s ready to do it. Married? Check. Kids?

  Three. He’s the same way about everything.”

  The waiter returned with their pasta and the conversation

  turned to food. It was clear to Claudia they had crossed a

  threshold toward friendship when they sampled each other’s

  entrée, even sharing a fork to polish off a piece of cheesecake.

  After a spirited protest she allowed Leo to pick up the check, but

  only after insisting they would go out again soon at her treat.

  “If we walk to the end of the boat dock, we can catch the

  sunset,” Leo suggested as she zipped her jacket against the stiff

  breeze.

  Claudia looped the elastic headband around her hair and

  turned up her collar. “This is so beautiful. I was supposed to be

  doing my lesson plans today. I didn’t know I was going to play

  hooky with you.”

  “So you’re saying I’m a bad influence.”

  She followed Leo’s gaze to a cluster of seagulls that seemed

  to hang in the air behind a sailboat. “I wouldn’t call it bad at all.

  Gosh, if I lived as close to this wharf as you, I’d be out here all

  the time.”

  “It’s one of my favorite places. When I was a teenager I used

  to walk this dock every day dreaming about my life and making

  all the plans in my head for how I would get there. I don’t know

  why I stopped coming.”

  “Maybe because your dreams are coming true now.”

  Leo shrugged. “Or maybe because I know some of them won’t

  ever come true. I used to walk out here and think about how I’d

  build the business with my dad. Instead I ended up having to

  scale back to just the jobs I could manage.”

  “Like school pictures?”

  “And sports teams, weddings…studio work. A lot of it’s

  pretty mundane. I always wanted to branch out into some of the

  high-art stuff like magazine work, but I don’t have time to do

  that on my own because it means I’d have to go out there and

  sell myself to a whole new audience. I’m too busy just trying to

  pay the bills.” She sighed. “Besides, that kind of work calls for

  skills and connections I don’t really have. I was hoping for an

  apprenticeship or something, but I can’t do that and leave my

  studio sitting empty.”

  “It sounds like your whole world was turned upside down

  when your dad died.” She had nearly come undone when her

  beloved grandmother died, but that didn’t compare to losing a

  parent.

  “That’s what it felt like, but at least he trained me well to do

  what I do, and he left the studio in good shape. It could have been

  a whole lot worse.”

  “Still, it says a lot about you that you held on.” Claudia was

  beginning to wonder if Sandy was mistaken about Leo being shy.

  She had talked about her first girlfriend, her mother’s feelings

  of exclusion from the family and now her father’s death, all in

  what Claudia considered very personal terms. Maybe these were

  just surface emotions she shared with everyone, but Claudia felt

  privileged to see them.

  It was fascinating that someone so young had taken on the

  burdens of a business while dealing with the loss of her father.

  She couldn’t name a single friend from home or college who

  had proven so much—with the exception of Mike, who was

  only twenty-nine and already heading up a whole division of

  his family’s company in Asia. Her recognition of the similarities

  between Mike and Leo made her realize how much she valued

  maturity and self-sufficiency. It was one of the main reasons she

  wanted to teach for a year or so before getting married—to prove

  she could stand on her own t
wo feet.

  They reached the end of the wharf, where Leo indicated

  a wooden staircase leading down to the marina. “I’d suggest

  walking out to the end, but with all these people spraying off

  their boats, we might get wet.”

  “This is far enough for me.” They leaned over the rail to

  watch the activity below. “So tell me about this party. Do people

  go in costume?”

  “Not me, but Sandy keeps a basket of masks by the door.

  Anyone not wearing a costume has to put one on when they

  come in.”

  “That sounds fair. I have a biker chick costume I wore to a

  party a couple of years ago. The only problem was that in Santa

  Cruz nobody realized it was a costume.”

  Leo laughed. “You in a biker outfit? That I’ve got to see.”

  “You want to ride together? I can swing by and pick you

  up.”“Sure.”

  Claudia caught herself grinning to realize she had just asked

  a lesbian for a date. That would have raised some eyebrows back

  in San Simeon, but no way was she going to tell Mike she was

  going to a lesbian party. He would surely disapprove.

  They turned back after sunset, strolling silently across the

  wooden planks of the marina, then past the storefronts on the

  wharf. It was a comfortable quiet because Claudia felt satisfied

  she had wrung as much as possible from Leo in one day. They

  would see each other again in only a week and she might probe

  to see how Leo balanced her professional life with her personal

  one. Of course, that would mean Leo would have to open up

  more about the personal side.

  When they reached the old house, they stopped at the end

  of the sidewalk.

  “Would you like to come in again? I can fix some tea…or I’m

  sure I have some coffee somewhere if that’s what you like.”

  “Thanks, but I need to head home. Mike always calls on

  Sunday night. How about a rain check?”

  “Absolutely. Stop by anytime you feel like walking back down

  to the wharf. If I’m not here, you can park around on the side and

  save a few quarters on the parking meters.”

  “Better be careful what you ask for. I could make a habit of

  this.” She rounded the corner of the house and looked over her

  shoulder to find Leo still standing in the same spot watching her

  retreat. She smiled and waved goodbye. “Next Saturday for sure.

  Around seven.”

  Chapter 6

  Present Day

  Leo’s gut tightened when the door to the bridal suite opened

  behind her, and she glanced quickly over her shoulder with

  anticipation. A thin woman bent low to drop a small prissy dog

  onto the carpeted floor.

  Lon leaned into Eva and covered her mouth with her fingers.

  “What kind of idiot brings a dog to a wedding?”

  “Aunt Deborah! How nice you look,” the bride said

  animatedly, holding a hand over her brow as she peered from the

  bright terrace into the room.

  Nice wouldn’t have been the word Leo might have chosen.

  More like anorexic. Her gold silk gown was probably a size

  two, and its low-cut collar revealed razor-like collarbones and a

  prominent sternum.

  “Has your grandmother been here?” the woman queried, not

  even acknowledging the compliment.

  0

  “Not yet, but she’s supposed to come any minute for her

  sitting. Do you want to come be in our picture?”

  “I’ll just wait here.” She poised primly on the sofa and scooped

  the dog into her lap.

  Leo wanted badly to snap a candid photo just to preserve the

  incongruous scene. She had photographed a recording artist’s

  wedding several years ago in Healdsburg in which four golden

  retrievers had run free, but that ceremony had been held at a

  family winery, not a five-star resort.

  “Girls, I have all the formal poses I need. Let’s take a few just

  for fun. What do you say?”

  “Absolutely! Definitely!” they answered in unison.

  She walked in front of them holding out a plastic nylon bag.

  “Reach in here and grab something.”

  One by one the girls donned frivolous disguises, including

  oversized sunglasses, a moustache and beard, animal ears, eye

  patches, a Toucan bird beak, and for the elegant bride, a pig

  snout. They could barely contain their giggles as Leo positioned

  them for the final shot.

  Suddenly Eva’s face broke into a broad smile. “Grandmother,

  what a beautiful dress!”

  The bridesmaids murmured their agreement, and Leo

  stiffened to realize someone had slipped into the room without

  her noticing. She had the whole day scripted in her head and

  didn’t want any surprises.

  The new arrival was Marjorie Pettigrew, the matriarch of the

  family and the one who was footing the bill for the elaborate

  wedding. Without turning to acknowledge her, Leo forced

  herself back into work mode, peering through her viewfinder to

  frame the portrait. Light and composition. “All right, ladies. Show

  me some attitude.”

  On cue the women assumed looks of playful defiance behind

  their newly-donned masks.

  Leo snapped the first shot from the camera on her tripod

  and the second from a squatting position that caused her forty-

  nine-year-old knees to scream in protest. “That one’s a keeper,”

  she announced.

  Mrs. Pettigrew emerged onto the terrace, twenty minutes late

  for her photo session, and tugging uncomfortably on the seams

  of a deep blue dress that might have been one size too small. Her

  gray hair was teased high, accentuating an elaborate sapphire

  necklace and dangling earrings that Leo found gaudy. “Take

  off those silly faces and get to your positions in the Miramar

  Room,” she barked. “It’s time to order the processional and put

  an end to this childishness. A wedding is supposed to be a serious

  occasion.”

  “No, it isn’t, Grandmother,” the bride said with gentle

  reproach. “It’s a celebration. Besides, Todd and I will have years

  to be serious. We want everyone to have fun today.”

  The elder woman harrumphed with undisguised

  condescension as the bridesmaids scooted from the suite like

  children being scolded for their foray into frivolity.

  Every wedding had a Marjorie Pettigrew, Leo thought,

  someone for whom the event itself was far more important

  than the occasion. Her attention to the festivities likely had

  less to do with honoring the solemnity of her granddaughter’s

  vows of loving commitment than with putting on the most

  ostentatious spectacle imaginable. From the looks of things, she

  had succeeded.

  Chapter 7

  October 1986

  The elderly gentleman took his wife’s hand and looped it

  through the crook of his elbow as he guided her into the studio.

  “Let’s follow Miss Westcott so we can have our picture made.

  Won’t that be nice?”

  “Do I look all right?” Claire Compton anxiously looked first

  for her husband’s approval and then for
Leo’s, as she had done

  twice already in the short time since they had arrived for their

  appointment. It wasn’t vanity that prompted her to repeatedly

  seek assurance, Leo knew. Dementia had stolen Mrs. Compton’s

  discretion.

  “You look lovely, darling,” Melvin Compton said patiently

  for the third time, patting her hand with unbridled affection.

  Their oldest son, Randall, had called Leo a week earlier to

  schedule the portrait as a commemoration of his parents’ fiftieth

  wedding anniversary. His voice had broken as he explained the

  importance of capturing their devotion on film one last time

  before his mother’s condition deteriorated further. Leo had

  promised a photo he and his brothers would cherish.

  Since Melvin towered over his wife, Leo seated him on a

  padded stool and positioned Claire behind him with her hands

  on his shoulders. As she framed the shot through her lens, she

  recalled her parents’ similar pose in their last portrait together,

  which she had taken just weeks before her father died. In that

  instant, she felt Randall’s heartbreak acutely.

  “How does this feel? Is it comfortable for both of you?” she

  asked.

  Melvin gave her a wistful look. “I think it’s fitting. Claire’s

  been standing behind me all my life.”

  The woman’s brow furrowed with confusion, a sure sign she

  hadn’t understood her husband’s metaphor.

  Leo’s usual approach to taking portraits was to build a rapport

  through casual conversation, whatever might distract from the

  formality of the session. Her goal was to elicit candid expressions

  that family and friends would recognize as genuine, and the only

  way to do that was to get her subjects past their instinct to pose

  for the camera. That proved difficult with the Comptons because

  of Claire’s anxiety about the unfamiliar setting. Her uncertainty

  seemed to grow as Leo probed for information about her

  hobbies and interests, anything that might help her relax. After

  ten minutes, Leo had yet to coax an authentic expression.

  “Bear with me while I make a few adjustments,” she said,

  tilting one of the reflective umbrellas to cast more light onto

  the scene. If she increased her shutter speed and took multiple

  photos in a span of several seconds, she had a greater chance of