Kenneth was seated on his small sofa staring at the sculpture when we entered the studio. He looked up so casually I realized he hadn't even known I had left earlier.
"Lunch time, huh?" he said.
"No Kenneth. I brought you that sandwich you have wasting away on the table there," Holly said, nodding toward a plate on a tray. He gazed at it.
"Oh? You brought it to me? What about Melody?"
"I've been home and back, Kenneth," I said. "There didn't seem much for me to do here and I had to pack to move in with Grandma Olivia, remember?"
"Right, right," he said. "So. I forgot to eat lunch, huh?" He reached over and grasped the sandwich. "Looks good. What is it, Holly, sprouts, tomatoes, herbs?"
"Just eat it, Kenneth," she said. He took a bite, smiled, and chewed. Then he took his first real look at me.
"What's happening? If you went home to pack, why are you here?" He looked at Holly for some hint. "She has something to show you, Ken."
"Oh?"
I handed him the catalogue, opened to the page Alice had folded. He gazed at it a moment, put the sandwich down, and sat up. Then he looked at me, his eyebrows dipping toward each other.
"What is this?" He turned the catalogue to the front. -En Vogue."
"My girlfriend in Sewell sent it to me. Her mother orders clothes from that company. She just happened to be browsing through this latest copy and saw those pictures of that model who resembles Mommy."
"Latest copy?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and turned to the fine print on the inside of the cover.
"Does it look like her, Ken?" Holly asked.
"It is a remarkable resemblance," he muttered. He got up and went to his tool table, shifting some things around to find his magnifying glass. Then he thumbed through the pictures. He stared ahead for a moment and shook his head gently before looking again.
"I thought if anyone knew my mother's face and could decide about those pictures, it was you," I said. He nodded. I held my breath, waiting.
"It might be something she did before the accident," he offered. "But it's Haille. No doubt about it," he concluded.
A surge of heat moved up my neck and brought a crimson flush to my cheeks. I used to wonder what it was like for the families and loved ones of actors and actresses to turn on the television set and see them on the screen. I imagined it had to be wonderful and painful at the same time.
"But if it is Mommy, why is her hair black?" I asked. "Even her eyebrows."
"It might just have been what the company or the photographer wanted for this shoot," Holly suggested. Kenneth looked at the pages again.
"I don't see why. Actually, Haille's real hair color would have worked just as well with these shots and the color of these clothes."
"Maybe she had just done something else, Kenneth. There are a dozen reasons for it, I imagine," Holly said. He nodded.
"I'm sure," he said. He stared at the magazine as if he couldn't let go of it, couldn't stop looking at the picture. He flipped to the front again and reread the fine print. "Charlie Dunn could probably find out more about this for us," he said. He looked up at me. "Charlie's a friend of mine in Boston who is big in advertising."
"What do you expect him to find out, Ken?" Holly asked. I caught the way she moved her eyes toward me to suggest he was doing something wrong, but Kenneth was intrigued on his own and not just for me. I could see it in his face and in the way his eyes continued to look at the pictures.
"Just to settle our minds about it," he replied softly. "When the pictures were done. Was this Haille?"
"I thought you said it was," Holly said.
"Nothing's for sure, but it sure looks like her to me, especially that turn in her lips, the way her cheekbones stand out, the way she's holding her head just a little to the right."
He went quickly to a drawer in the table and riffled through some papers before coming up with a photograph. He placed it beside the pictures on the catalogue page and studied the two. I drew closer. The picture he took out of the drawer was a picture of Mommy taken on Judge Childs's dock.
"The face in this picture is about the same size," he muttered. He began to make some measurements with a thin ruler and then nodded again. Apparently, he knew Mommy's face so well, he remembered the inches between her nose and mouth or across her forehead. "If it's not her, there was a twin I never knew about," he concluded.
"When are you going to call this friend of yours in Boston?" I asked softly.
He thought a moment, looked at his sculpture and then shrugged.
"How about right now? It's time for a break," he said. "Let's go down to the Mermaid and have a brew while I call Charlie. You can have a root beer," he told me and smiled.
"What? You're actually going to set foot out of this studio during my lifetime?" Holly kidded.
"Is this still your lifetime? I thought we were already living another spiritual existence," he replied and went to change his shirt and wash his hands and face before we drove into town in his jeep.
I found myself holding my breath every time my thoughts went to the catalogue and the things Kenneth had said. Mommy had never written to tell me she had modeled for this catalogue, nor had she mentioned it the few times we had spoken on the telephone. Wouldn't she have been proud of it? Perhaps it was as Holly thought: someone who just happened to have a close resemblance.
The Mermaid was a small pub on a side street. I had never actually been inside, although I knew Kenneth went there whenever he spent any time in town. There was a short bar on the right with thick, cherry wood tables and captain's chairs on the left. Everything looked worn and weathered, presenting the illusion that this tavern had been here to greet the first pilgrims. There were whale bones on the walls, pictures of fishermen and sailors, sailboats and trawlers. A net filled with fishing gear and accessories dangled from the ceiling, and there was a large ship's bell at the far corner of the bar. There were only a half dozen customers, all of whom knew Kenneth and gave him a warm, loud greeting. He ordered a mug of amber ale for himself and Holly and told the bartender, a short man with curly light brown hair, to give me a cold root beer.
"Sure she's old enough, Kenneth? Our root beer has a bite to it, you know?"
"Just give it to her with none of your jokes, Clancy," Kenneth said and winked at us. Holly and I sat at a table in the corner as Kenneth went to the rear to use the pay phone. All of the drinks had been delivered to our table when he returned.
"Charlie's doing the research for us and promises to call back within the hour. He knows this company well," Kenneth said. He spread the catalogue before him and stared down at the pictures. "Tell me about the man your mother went off with," he asked and I described Archie Marlin and how as soon as we left Sewell, I was instructed to start calling him Richard.
Kenneth sipped his beer and listened, his eyes taking on a deep, dark glint as I spoke.
"Changing his name sounds suspicious, doesn't it, Ken?" Holly asked. Kenneth nodded and then shook his head.
"Haille was gullible, trusting, eager to believe in fairy tales," he said, "especially if the teller of the tale made her the princess. So," he said, sitting back, "Olivia told Sara and Jacob what she wanted you to do?"
"Yes." I described what it had been like when I returned to the house. "Uncle Jacob practically salivated at the prospect," I added and Kenneth laughed.
"It sounds as if you will be better off at your grandmother's, Melody," Holly said.
"She's not really my grandmother. My real grandmother is shut up in that home. I'm sure it won't be easy living with Grandma Olivia, no matter what she promises," I added.
Kenneth and Holly exchanged looks but Kenneth said nothing. I had no reason to blame him, I thought. A teenage girl is quite a responsibility to take on at this point in his life, and he would be the first to say he wasn't stable enough for it. He was a free soul. Right now if he had the artistic impulse to drive off and stay away for days, he would do so. He couldn't if he had me to wat
ch over.
A little over a half hour later, we heard the phone ring and the bartender called Kenneth.
"It's for you," he said. As Kenneth got up and went to the rear of the tavern, my heart started thumping again. Holly smiled at me and put her hand over mine.
"I'm sure this is all going to be easily
explainable," she said.
I nodded, but my heart felt as if it had doubled in size and would soon hammer itself through my chest. We watched Kenneth as he listened. He nodded, turned his back, spoke softly, and then he cradled the receiver and just stood there without turning around.
When he started toward us, I knew it wasn't going to be easily explainable.
"That layout was done a little more than two months ago," he said. "The model on the page is someone called Gina Simon."
"When did you mother pass away?" Holly asked. "It's been a little more than two months. About the same time," Kenneth said.
"So, that could be her in the catalogue," Holly said. "But if it's my mother, why did she change her name?" I asked.
"Someone might have suggested it, told her it sounded more professional," Holly suggested. "Right, Ken?" she asked. He didn't respond and so I looked up at him. His face was pale, his eyes troubled.
"What is it, Kenneth?" I demanded.
"Charlie said the guy he spoke to in L.A. told him Gina Simon was currently doing another shoot. She got the job because of this catalogue."
"Oh," Holly said.
My heart seemed to have stopped beating. It was as if all the world, all movement, all time, had frozen.
"What else did he say, Kenneth?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I wasn't sure I had even spoken. Perhaps it had just been a thought. Kenneth shook his head.
"He said her manager--"
"What?" Holly asked quickly.
"Was someone named Richard Marlin."
I shuddered as if a wave had crashed against the tavern. Someone laughed loudly and then another man entered the tavern and everyone greeted him. Kenneth gulped his ale and took a deep breath. Holly sat back, dumbfounded.
"What does it all mean, Ken?"
"I don't know. Haille supposedly died in a car fire. The remains were sent back here for the funeral and burial. The police had identification, right, Melody?"
I nodded.
"Amnesia?" Holly suggested.
"I don't know."
"That woman in the catalogue is my mother, living under a different name," I said because I had to hear the words spoken.
"Ken?"
"I don't know what to tell you, Holly."
"Well, Melody can't just be left with that," Holly said.
"I'll make some more calls, find out where this Gina Simon lives and--"
"And I'll go there," I said quickly. They both stared at me.
"Go to L.A.?" Holly asked, sitting back.
"Yes. I have to go there. Don't you see? You understand, don't you, Kenneth?"
He ran his hand through his hair.
"Why would she do this? Even after her death, she does overwhelming things. I'm right in the middle of this work. I--"
"I'm not asking you to go with me, Kenneth." He stared at me.
"I couldn't go anyway," he said. "I couldn't get myself to go chasing after her. Not anymore."
"You're not just going to put her on an airplane and send her to Los Angeles, Kenneth Childs, are you?" Holly said.
"No. It's not my decision anyway. You had better talk to Olivia about this first, Melody," he said.
It was as if I had swallowed a rock.
"Don't look at me like that. I can't be the one who sends you off looking for your mother. I'm not one hundred percent sure it's your mother."
"It's like ninety-nine percent," Holly quipped.
"I can't just forget about it, Kenneth. I won't," I insisted. "I don't care what you or Grandma Olivia say," I shouted, tears burning under my eyelids.
"Don't get yourself upset, sweetheart," Holly said putting her arm around my shoulders. "We'll figure out what to do. Won't we, Kenneth?" she asked sharply.
Kenneth nodded.
We were all silent a long moment and then Holly sighed.
"I'll call my sister and tell her to meet you in Los Angeles if you go. She'll do me a favor and look after you. I'd go, but I have to get back to the store."
"You have a sister in Los Angeles?"
"Dorothy Littlefield is her married name. She and I get along as well as oil and water, but she's very well off. Lives in Beverly Hills, drives a Mercedes, shops on Rodeo Drive, eats nouvelle cuisine, but probably knows a lot about models and fashions. Her husband is an accountant. She's an Aries, born March twenty-second. As an Aries," Holly recited, "she has a quick temper, is inclined to hold a grudge, which she has against me for about twenty years, is aggressive, self-willed, and determined. But she's very intelligent and was always an A-plus student with little effort. She is really a good businesswoman. They have no children," Holly added. "Thank God. But I know she would do this. She likes to be needed."
"Debbie Novell is out there, too," Kenneth said. "I think she just got divorced, didn't she?"
"That was five years ago, Kenneth. Debbie Novell is a ditz anyway. I wouldn't trust my cat with her. Remember when she left her car running all night in front of the dorm? What am I talking about? That's not the worst of it. She left her four-year-old at the pharmacy and didn't realize it until they called and told her hours later."
"Yeah," Kenneth said, smiling. "I remember now, but I thought she was a big deal in California real estate."
"So?"
Kenneth shook his head. Then he turned to me and nodded softly.
"Okay,I'll make the call and find out what I can about this so-called Gina Simon. What do you want to do now?" he asked.
"Go see Grandma Olivia," I said. "I'm going to ask her for the money I'll need to make the trip."
"Olivia? You expect her to fork over the money?" Kenneth asked. He was about to smile.
"When she finds out what it's for, I think she might double the amount," I muttered.
Kenneth thought about this and then laughed.
"I think Melody's capable of taking care of herself,. Holly," he said. Holly raised her eyebrows.
"I'll take her to Grandma Olivia's, Ken. In fact," she said, turning to me, "I'll take you to New York and get you on the plane, if you'd like."
"Would you?"
"It's the least I can do. We'll leave tonight," she added.
"I could," I said thinking about it. "I'm already packed."
Loretta nearly smiled when she opened the door this time. I wondered if that meant she had accepted the fact that I was to live in this house.
"I had your suitcases taken to your room," she said. Then she saw Holly standing just behind me and her eyes widened. Holly was wearing one of her tiedyed dresses, a pink and yellow headband, and John Lennon sunglasses. Her lipstick was tangerine.
"Where are Grandma Olivia and Grandpa Samuel?" I asked.
"Mrs. Logan is in her garden and Mr. Logan is out back reading his papers," Loretta said, unable to take her eyes from Holly. "Would you like me to show you to your room?"
"I have to speak to my grandmother first," I said.
"We'll just go around to the garden, Loretta. Thank you."
The sight of Grandma Olivia down on her knees with a gardening fork in hand and that widebrimmed hat on her head took Holly by surprise.
"She doesn't look so tough," she muttered. "She looks like anyone's little old grandmother."
"You haven't met her yet," I replied dryly.
Grandpa Samuel saw us from his lounge chair before Grandma Olivia did. He put down his papers and waved, standing as he did so.
"Well, hello there, my dear. Welcome," he called.
"Hello, Grandpa Samuel. This is my friend Holly Brooks. Actually, she's Kenneth's friend and now mine," I added. He widened his smile and nodded.
"Pleased to meet you, Holly. Any friend
of Kenneth's is a friend of mine, and that goes double for any friend of my granddaughter here. Visiting the Cape?"
"I was," Holly said. "I'm leaving tonight."
"Oh. That's too bad. I was looking forward to getting to know you," Grandpa Samuel said.
"Somehow, I expect you'll live through the disappointment, Samuel," Grandma Olivia said. She had risen and stood wiping her hands on her apron. "Your things are up in your room," she added. "I know. Loretta told me. This is Holly--"
"I heard all that," she snapped. "This isn't exactly the best time to be entertaining people. I would advise you to first settle yourself in, learn our schedule, including when it's proper and not proper to invite guests, and--"
"I'm not staying long, Grandma Olivia," I said quickly.
"What's that?" Grandpa Samuel said, turning to her. "I thought--"
"What does that mean? You're moving in with Kenneth Childs?" she asked.
"No. I'd like to show you something and then explain," I said.
She glared at me and then walked around the border of the garden toward the lounge chairs and table. She peeled off her gardening gloves, poured herself some iced tea and watched as I approached, the catalogue in hand.
"A friend of mine from West Virginia mailed this to me," I said, holding it out to her. Grandma Olivia gazed at it as if I were about to hand her something dirty or smelly.
"What would I want with that?" she asked.
"Just look at the woman modeling the clothes on this page," I requested.
She put her glass down slowly, reached into her apron, and came up with a pair of glasses. Grandpa Samuel moved to her side and gazed over her shoulder. They stared at the catalogue and then they both looked at us, unsure what it meant.
"That's Haille, right? What happened to her hair?" Grandpa Samuel asked.
"She obviously dyed it black," Grandma Olivia said and handed the catalogue back to me. "Are you here to tell me this proves your mother was some sort of success?"
"No, Grandma. Kenneth phoned a friend and it turns out the woman in those pictures is still alive and living under the name Gina Simon."
"Gina Simon?" Grandpa Samuel said. "Let me see that again," he said. I handed him the catalogue. "Looks like Haille to me."
Logan 02 Heartsong Page 33
