But where was Donny?
And then she saw him, crossing the little bridge connecting the front half of the park to the trailers on this side of the stream, and his arms were loaded with a huge bouquet of red, white, and blue flowers, a twenty-four pack of his favorite beer, and a bottle of what appeared to be champagne. He wore a cocky smile and walked in that floppy way of his, making a grand entrance out of his appearance.
“Hey, neighbors!” His voice was loud—too loud—and Edith cringed. Oh Lord, please don’t let him be drunk. “Ma! You made it! I thought maybe you were going to sleep through the whole party, and miss out on all the fireworks.” Then he laughed too loudly, too.
The mood among the guests shifted subtly, and although everyone went back to their conversations, it all sounded a little too bright to Edith’s ears, as if everyone was trying too hard to act normally in the wake of Donny’s intrusion. Edith glanced over at Eddie, and her breath caught at the sparks shooting from her older son’s eyes. Oh Lord, please don’t let him flip out, she silently begged. Was she going to spend the whole party praying?
And who paid for all that stuff Donny carried? She wondered if there was anything left in her candy dish. Taking a deep breath, she waved, beckoning him to come sit with her; no one else seemed inclined to have him join them.
He made his way over to her, stopping to banter with a few folks on the way, and bent over to kiss the top of her head, but didn’t sit. He crossed to the table of food, and set the patriotic bouquet of dyed carnations and white daisies in a blue vase among the casserole dishes. It did look awfully festive, Edith noted. And it was a nice gesture, bringing flowers to the hostess. She glanced around; no one else had thought to bring any.
Then Willow stepped out of her little place, having refilled her tray of hors d’oeuvres.
Chapter 5
Willow’s eyes lit up at the sight of the flowers on her table; he knew how to get to a woman. He stood back and watched smugly as she buried her nose in the bouquet, then lifted her eyes to scan the crowd, obviously looking for the person who’d brought them. When she saw him, her smile faltered.
What kind of game was she playing?
“Did you bring the flowers, Donny?” Her eyes were wary as they darted back and forth between him, the flowers, and the alcohol he held in each hand.
“I did. For you, the hostess with the mostest.” He winked at her, gave her the look again, and raised the bottle of sparkling wine. “And this is for you, too. A housewarming gift from me.”
“Thank you, Donny. The flowers are lovely.” Then she turned and called out to be heard above the rise and fall of various conversations, “Folks, look what Donny brought for all of us to enjoy! Aren’t they perfect for our party?” She glanced back at him and waved at the drinks he still held. “The coolers are over by the water. You can put the champagne in there, too. I don’t drink, but it would be a shame to waste that. I’m sure there are many here who would love to share a toast with you this evening.”
Um, no.
He’d just spent his mother’s hard-earned cash on a twenty dollar bottle of champagne in order to get in good with Willow. He wasn’t about to waste it on all the losers sitting around the patio. The beer? Sure. He knew others were contributing, too, so he could afford to share. Smiling nonchalantly, not letting on that he was even aware of the cold shoulder she sent him, he made his way over to the row of coolers and popped the lid open on first one, then another, then another. Not a single can of Bud, not a bottle of Corona, not even a foo-foo wine cooler in sight. What kind of party was this?
Donny glanced around. Surely Doc wouldn’t be hanging out here without his whiskey. And Al? That man didn’t leave his house without a six-pack dangling from his fingertips. But there they sat, over by Joe, trying to make his fancy woman blush, both touting sodas. Sodas!
Myra had to be sipping on her Sangria—but no, she had a tall glass of raspberry lemonade from one of the party drink dispensers on the food table.
Fine. He’d keep his beers to himself, too. Just because no one else felt like drinking, didn’t mean he was going to waste a holiday. Popping open the first can out of the box, he took a deep swig of the cold brew. Then he turned back to Willow.
“Hey, Ms. Willow Goodhope. Seems I didn’t get the memo, and I’m the only one who brought the suds. Can I put these in your refrigerator so they’re not a problem?” Her door stood open, a large, hand-painted sign hanging from a hook at eye-level read, “Restroom this way!” He’d have to make regular visits to the little boy’s room, but if no one else was sharing, he shouldn’t be obligated either.
“Sure,” she smiled brightly, falling for his ruse. She would never know that the box he carried wasn’t going to be full when he left at the end of the party. “Thanks. We have a few folks here who are trying to cut back, so we opted for a ‘Land of the Alcohol-Free’ party today.” She guffawed loudly, obnoxiously, and Donny almost grimaced. He’d have to make sure he didn’t get her laughing in the middle of any romantic moments. What a mood-killer that honking was!
A few hours later, fed and watered, and marinating in more than half-a-dozen beers on top of what he’d had before the event, Donny was feeling very relaxed. This party wasn’t so bad after all. Vivian was a hoot; a classy broad in her red leggings and navy blue and white striped shirt. How women managed in those shoes they wore was beyond him, but he liked watching her walk in her red heels. Al had slipped away several times, once or twice with Doc in tow, and Donny was pretty sure they weren’t off looking for croquet balls for the ladies.
Kathy from across the drive, and Shelly with the goo-goo eyes for Eddie, Patti Davis, and Ma had a rousing lawn game going, and they’d lost one of the wooden balls in the brush by the stream. Donny, along with Myra and Jack, her dead husband’s brother who had the hots for her, cheered the two teams on, and the younger couple—he forgot their names—from the upstairs apartment of the main building sat with Richard Davis, and his son, Ivan, deep in conversation.
Ivan intimidated Donny a little, although he’d never admit it. He was gay, for one thing, and Donny didn’t want Ivan getting any ideas, but he also seemed really close to his dad, and for some reason, it rankled Donny to see their two heads turned comfortably toward each other.
Willow continued to flit around the party making certain everyone had everything they needed, and Eddie was busy scrubbing the grill he’d used. Donny knew he was being watched, but he didn’t think his big brother had caught on to his secret nipping either. Besides, what was he going to do about it? Kick him out of the party?
Donny watched Shelly for a few minutes, curious about her story. According to Myra, she was the token cat lady in the park, but she didn’t seem whacked out. She held herself upright, she looked clean, she didn’t dress weird, and she spoke softly, sometimes using words he didn’t understand. And that dress she was wearing, even though it was red, reminded him of Julia Roberts’ polka dot dress in that chick-flick Sheena loved so much; the one about the prostitute who got her sugar daddy, Richard Gere, to fall in love with her. He glanced over his shoulder at Eddie, wondering if he was interested, wondering why he’d heard nothing about this girl up until today. She wasn’t ugly. She wasn’t a bombshell, either, but Eddie could do a lot worse. Eddie had done a lot worse. But Eddie was watching Willow, and Donny’s eyes turned to follow his brother’s gaze.
Willow held a large trash bag in her hand, and she was making another circuit of the patio, collecting trash. She bent over to pick up an abandoned plate and napkin, and when she straightened, she glanced over at Eddie and caught him studying her. She smiled warmly, and crossed the cobbled stones to where he was working. She asked him a question, to which he grinned, nodded, and said something apparently hilarious, because Willow threw her head back and laughed like a hyena.
This time, Donny did cringe, partly because of her raucous laugh—he hated it—and partly because of the way she was responding to Eddie. Eddie! The big tub of lard with the
greasy hair and greasier pants. Eddie, who sometimes smelled like he hadn’t made it to the toilet in time. Eddie, who hadn’t had a woman notice him—besides Sheena—in years, and now there were two of them hanging on his every word. What did they see in him?
And why weren’t they all over Donny?
He suddenly missed Sheena something fierce. Where was she today? Who was she with? Had she found another shoulder to cry on, just like she’d done with Eddie?
It wasn’t long before missing her turned to something a little uglier, darker. He knew she liked the fireworks, and he knew she preferred to watch them from under a blanket in the back of her truck. And he knew that for the first time in years, he wasn’t under that blanket on the 4th of July, watching the fireworks with her.
Pushing himself up too quickly, he stumbled a little, and Myra glared up at him with those wide eyes of hers. “Ai-yi-yi, Donny. You scared me. My heart, remember? I’m not ready to die yet.” Then she turned adoring eyes on her brother-in-law on the other side of her, and said, “I have a very good reason to stick around a little longer, right, Jack?”
“Sorry,” Donny mumbled, not really caring a lick about Myra’s perfectly healthy heart. “I just need to use the little boy’s room.” He headed inside, glancing over his shoulder to see who was paying attention. He stopped at the little fridge first, and pulled out two more cans. The box seemed emptier than it should, but he didn’t have time to count how many he’d already downed—the last thing he needed was Willow, or worse, Eddie, catching him in here, a beer in both hands. He hurried to the bathroom, put the lid of the toilet down, and sat. The first beer, he chugged, the second, he drank a little slower, swishing the cold liquid around in his mouth. If he sat in here long enough, he really would need to empty his bladder.
“Convenient, at least,” he said aloud.
There was a full-length mirror on the back of the bath-room door, and because the room was so small, he could see himself in all his ridiculous glory. Hiding in the bathroom like a teenager, downing beers like there was no tomorrow, wanting Sheena, wanting Willow. Heck, he might even settle for Shelly if Eddie didn’t want her.
Tired of looking at himself, he let his eyes wander around the tiny room. There was a shelving unit built up over the back of the toilet where Willow kept folded towels and washcloths, a basket of girly stuff like bottles of shampoo and conditioner, lotions, and other assorted things. He breathed in deeply, entranced by the way her place smelled. It permeated everything, but when he stood and popped the caps off the products on the shelves, none of them had that same aroma.
He gingerly opened her medicine cabinet, the magnet on the mirrored door making a loud click as it released its hold and swung wide. Cringing, he paused, ears pricked, but his eyes wandered over the items in there, too. Tylenol, nasal spray, Q-tips, cotton balls, nail polish, the usual stuff. He reached up and took a little packet off the top shelf. Birth control pills? With no man around? Something wasn’t adding up.
Feeling a little bolder, he pulled open the small cupboard below the sink. He found paper towels, bathroom cleaning supplies, and a stack of rags folded neatly. Face down on top of the pile was a small, framed photograph. He flipped it, and peered down into the eyes of a child that looked exactly like Willow. Exactly. Unruly, wild, curly hair, wide sparkling eyes, a smile that hid mischief of one kind or another; it had to be her. She sat on the lap of a dark-haired man, whose head was bent forward whispering something into her ear, but his eyes were lifted toward the camera, smiling just as openly as the child.
It didn’t seem to be an old photograph, though, and although Donny figured Willow probably wasn’t any older than thirty, the picture didn’t look like it was taken twenty-five years ago. Maybe it was a copy. Prying the back off the frame, he carefully removed the padding that kept everything in place. Sure enough, on the back of the picture, the words, “Daddy and Me” were scrawled in a careful hand.
But why was the thing face down in her bathroom cupboard?
He put the pieces back together, and returned it just the way he’d found it. What did he care? Maybe she was mad at her dad and didn’t feel like looking at his pretty face. Donny certainly understood that feeling. Besides, it wasn’t like he could go out and ask her. “Hey Willow! I was snooping around your bathroom while I was downing my contraband beers and I found that picture you hid of you and your dad. So what’s up?” Right.
Tap-tap-tap! The sharp whack of knuckles on the bathroom door startled Donny so badly he dropped the can he still held, the remaining contents spilling on the floor. “Donny? What are you doing in there?”
Eddie! Turning the water on high and flushing the toilet at the same time so as to block out any sound he made, Donny pulled the roll of paper towels from under the sink and began sopping up the spilled beer. It wasn’t much, but if Eddie was going to stand out there waiting for him, he’d smell the beer, easy.
“Can’t a man take a leak in private? You my babysitter or something?”
“Or something. Open up.”
“Seriously? Give me a minute, will you? I—I think I ate too much this afternoon.” And what was he going to do with all the paper towels he’d used?
“You have five minutes. If you’re not out in five minutes, I’m coming in to get you out.” Eddie’s voice low and rough; a tone Donny recognized as trouble.
“All right, all right! I’ll be out in a few minutes.” Getting caught was bad enough. Getting caught by Eddie was even worse. Getting caught doing something he had every right doing—drinking—was absolutely ridiculous. He should just walk out with the beer in his hand. What were they going to do; make him go home? Well, maybe it was about time he bail anyway.
Yanking open the door, one hand clutching the wad of paper towels, both empty cans crumpled in the other, he stormed out into Willow’s little place.
But no one waited for him, no one was watching for him. Through the large window that looked out over the patio, he could see the rest of the neighborhood residents enjoying the late afternoon, relaxing in the shade, some with their feet in the little stream that ran along Willow’s patio. Willow was handing out plates of some kind of dessert; one of those fancy layered cakes with white frosting and fruit between the layers. Even from here, it looked tasty. In fact, from here, Ms. Willow Goodhope looked pretty tasty herself.
Chapter 6
Edith accepted two plates from Willow and tried to smile brightly up at her hostess. Where on earth was Donny? The last time she’d seen him, he was heading inside to use the bathroom. Was he still in there?
At that moment, he came out Willow’s front door, and Edith frowned when she saw the cans in his hand. Why? Why did he have to drink when no one else was, when everyone else was committed to making this an alcohol-free party? She held one of the plates aloft.
“Donny!” she called, catching his attention. “I grabbed one for you, too. Come and get it.” He came toward her, and she breathed in deeply through her nose, trying to gauge by smell how far gone he was. Only two cans wouldn’t mess him up, but something told her that there were probably more than two cans missing from the twenty-four pack he’d brought.
Whew! The air around him was ripe, sour. “Is everything all right, Donny?” Maybe he should go home and try to sleep it off. He could always come back in an hour or so, in time for the fireworks. Doc and Eddie had scrounged up a box of them from somewhere, and no one asked about those that might not meet California regulations for do-it-yourself firework shows.
“I’m fine, Ma. Quit babying me.” He didn’t sound fine. He sounded angry. Petulant. Like a little boy who wasn’t getting his own way.
“Okay,” she said, trying to keep a light, conversational tone in her voice. “Just checking. This cake is delicious!”
“Oh, yeah. Delicious.” The way he said it, slowed down and a little slurred, made her so anxious she nearly dropped the plate she held out to him. He was openly staring at Willow, his eyes drifting freely over her slim body, lin
gering in places that weren’t proper.
“Donny!” She kept the smile on her face but her whisper was harsh. “Stop it now!”
“Back off, Ma. Nothing wrong with looking.” His words were definitely slurred, and he didn’t sound much like the mischievous boy he usually was.
“Yes, there is. It’s rude. Stop it. Please behave.” She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, then held the cake in front of him. “Have some cake, honey.”
“Please behave,” Donny mimicked her, his lips drawn up in a snarl. “Be a good boy, please. Don’t be naughty, please.” He spit on the ground near their feet. “Stop treating me like a little kid, Ma.”
Edith was shocked. Why was he talking to her like this? And here, of all places? She quickly scanned the group; where was Eddie?
Doc planted himself directly in front of them, his solid mass clearly intended to block their view. He spoke quietly, and wore a grin, his water-blue eyes bright and clear as he looked from one to the other, then landing and staying on her son. Doc took another bite of the cake he held, and chewed slowly. Edith could almost feel Donny’s discomfort.
“Hey there, Donny-boy. Whatever happened to that box of brewskies you brought over with you?” It was asked in such a way that to any bystander, there would have been no reason to sound the alarm. But Edith knew the question was weighted heavily, and she was pretty sure Doc was asking something else entirely.
Doc waited patiently for a response, taking another bite of his cake, then another, before Donny finally cussed, and started to get up. The steel toe of Doc’s left boot landed strategically over the top half of Donny’s Converse-encased foot, and Donny dropped back into his chair. They faced off in silence a few extremely long moments before Doc removed his foot and nodded reassuringly at Edith.
Elderberry Croft: The Complete Collection Page 20
