Bad Heiress Day

by Allie Pleiter

  Darcy stopped what she was doing and laughed at herself. She’d wiped the same faucet four times now, was dreaming up expansion plans for The Restoration Project, and they hadn’t even made it through their pilot run. Whoa, girl. Life is complicated enough as it is.

  By the time she pulled the back door shut and drove to lunch at the Rockwood Pottery Restaurant, no disaster had come calling. No salon called to report the catastrophic results of any treatment, no assistant principal called with yet another “issue” regarding Mike’s behavior, and no one within one hundred yards had thrown up or contracted any virus. Darcy considered that the day might just prove itself successful, and tried to calm her stomach for lunch.

  She got there fifteen minutes early, determined not to let Kate and Glynnis meet each other without due supervision. When she thought about it, Jack was right—Glynnis was kind of like Kate. Slightly unconventional, fun loving, direct. But Kate was Major Babe to Glynnis’s Mrs. Claus—Kate was smart and sassy to Glynnis’s warm and gooey. Then again, Glynnis had her smart and sassy side. Kate, however, didn’t seem to have a warm and gooey side. You could imagine, if you really let your mind go, that Glynnis may have been a bit like Kate when she was younger. Maybe they would get along.

  Stop kidding yourself, Dar, you know the real reason you think they’ll clash. Lunch with Glynnis is like tuning into the all-God-all-the-time channel. Sure, she wasn’t pushy about it, but God was such a pervasive part of Glynnis’s life, such a constant in her everyday existence, that two minutes didn’t go by before spirituality came up in the conversation.

  She didn’t think Kate was ready for that. Darcy had barely brushed up against the topic in conversations with her, and it was always uncomfortable when she did. Darcy thought to call Glynnis back several times this morning to ask her to go easy on Kate. She realized, though, that Glynnis knew an awful lot about Kate and their relationship from Tuesday Morning Prayers in the Henhouse. And, when it came right down to it, asking Glynnis to go easy on the God stuff was rather like asking her not to breathe.

  She checked her watch—11:20. She’d done worlds of worrying in the space of five minutes. Then she heard Kate’s infectious laugh coming through the doorway and turned just in time to see her arrive.

  With Glynnis.

  Arm in arm.

  Laughing like they’d known each other for decades.

  “Oh, there she is!” Glynnis cried with embarrassing glee. “Quick, Kate, get it out!”

  Kate produced a bright-red shopping bag, thrusting it toward Darcy.

  “How did you two…?”

  “Oh, we’ll tell you in a minute, just open it!”

  With no small amount of trepidation, Darcy slipped her hand in through the tissues to produce a twinkling, princess-worthy tiara.

  A tiara.

  “Isn’t it just grand?” Glynnis cooed. “I decided to come a little early and do a little shopping, and was in the store when I saw a woman asking about this.” She elbowed Kate with a clear air of conspiracy.

  “Oprah wasn’t very interesting, so I cut out early and went shopping. I found this in a store and was explaining about it to the clerk, seeing if I could get him to come down on the price—you know these antiques stores have a huge margin and they expect you to try and—oh, well, anyway, I’m telling a bit of the story and she comes up behind me saying, ‘Oh, my, you’ve just got to be Kate Owens.’”

  Darcy tried not to feel trumped. She tried to remember that although she’d spent no less than seventeen minutes crafting the proper introduction, it was far better that they’d introduced themselves and struck up such an instantaneous friendship. Really, it was better that way. Really. She held up the sparkly crown. “Well, um, it’s lovely. Remind me to watch what kind of jokes I make around you, Kate. Why didn’t you call me to come out early with you?”

  “What? And admit that I skipped out on cleaning my bathroom? Not on your life. Well, you are going to put it on, aren’t you?”

  “Umm…”

  “No,” said Kate, grinning, “you have to.”

  Darcy shot the pair of them a look. “Won’t it be kind of embarrassing, doing lunch with Cinderella? The Miss America pageant is in May, ladies, and it’s January.”

  “Oh, no,” giggled Glynnis, with that look Darcy had come to recognize could only mean trouble. “You’ll fit right in.”

  With that Kate produced a second bag, from which emerged two other tiaras. Kate and Glynnis quickly helped each other don their crowns and then stood, hands on respective hips, waiting.

  It was hopeless.

  Sighing, then finally laughing, Darcy inclined her head toward Kate’s outstretched bobby pins. She tried not to turn a dozen colors when the hostess, not to mention half the waitstaff, applauded.

  Lord, I told you I wanted a distraction, but…

  In her head, as the waitstaff led this little spangled trio to their corner table, she heard Glynnis’s motto, “Don’t you just love it when God exceeds your expectations?”

  Chapter 24

  The Oreos of Life

  “Oh, you’re kidding.” Jack stared at the tiara in disbelief.

  “No, really. They both had one, too.”

  Jack finished the last of his soda and tossed the can into the recycling bin. He loved sitting in the kitchen at this time of night. Darcy—with a little “help” from Paula—had put away all the dinner things, the kids were in bed and she just had a few lights on here and there. It was cozy and quiet.

  Well, except for the fridge. That thing had a month to live, maybe two. And now, Darcy told him the dishwasher was making odd noises. He stared at the stove, daring it to join in the conspiracy. It was January already, and Mike’s final orthodontist bill—the big one—would be coming due next month. They’d feel the pinch, all right, if all of that kicked in within weeks of each other.

  Still, lean as the checkbook seemed, Jack couldn’t help but snicker at his wife twirling around the kitchen in jeans, a cardigan sweater and a tiara that looked like something from one of Paula’s Barbie dolls. Of course, once she laid eyes on the thing, Paula’d wanted her own “princess crown.” Evidently there’d be no worries about coming up with a theme for Paula’s February birthday party now, would there? Which also meant party purchases and a birthday present. It was going to be a tight month, all right.

  All the better to talk to her now.

  “Aren’t you glad you didn’t come to lunch with us now? Can you just see yourself in the restaurant, surrounded by royalty?”

  “Yes, I must admit, eating with a pack of nervous accountants is looking mighty good by comparison.” He caught Darcy’s arm, pulling her to him as she twirled past him with a roll of paper towels. She looked up at him, smirking. She’d spent the whole day in that silly crown. She might have groaned publicly about hating it, but she was like a queen traipsing around the house all evening. Mike was completely mortified, naturally, and that was particularly entertaining. “You’re having a lot of fun with this.”

  “It’s silly.”

  He leaned back against the counter, settling her in front of him with his arms around her waist. “If I want to have a serious conversation, do I need to remove it?”

  Her smile faded. “No, you don’t. What’s going on? How bad was it at work?”

  “Things are tense, but that’s not really it.”

  Jack took a deep breath, making his case as clearly as he could. “I checked in on my retirement program this afternoon, and my 401-K has taken a nosedive of monumental proportions. Everybody’s has. I’ve been reading some of those investing magazines. You know, just to bone up on this kind of stuff. From what I’ve read, the economy isn’t going to turn around anytime soon. There’s talk of war, tourism failing, all kinds of stuff. Three of our major customers have cut their orders down to the bare minimum, and I’ve got another two hanging on by their fingernails.”

  Darcy looked at him, a bit panicked. “Your job?”

  “Is still on solid footing
, but who knows? We have an appropriate—well, according to the finance guides, we’re on the lean side of appropriate—amount of money set aside, but those funds have taken a beating as well. Between Mike’s braces, Paula’s birthday and Christmas, and you not working anymore and—” he cocked his head toward the fridge “—our near-death appliances, we’re in for a lot of expenses soon.”

  Darcy stilled against him. “I need to go back to work, don’t I?”

  “Well, we need to look at the whole picture here. I think we need to explore all our options.”

  “Meaning…”

  “Meaning that I think we shouldn’t rule out accessing some of your dad’s money if it means this family will have better options.” The moment he said it, he felt her spine stiffen under his hands.

  “You want me to ignore Dad’s request?” She pulled out of his arms.

  He knew she’d jump to this conclusion. “No, that’s not what I’m saying, Dar. I think what you’re doing is important. Today was a big day, and I don’t want to make all that go away, but why do we have to think in absolutes?”

  She turned to face him, leaning against the other counter, arms folded in defiance.

  “Don’t you think there might be enough money in that pot to do more than just fund The Restoration Project?” he continued. “Do you really think, if your Dad were here now, facing what we’re facing, that he’d insist we give it all away? If it meant Mike couldn’t go to a good college or you had to go back to work full-time?”

  “Dad’s seen us have tight times before. He never offered the money then.” Her voice had a sharp edge to it. The pain of that secret was still fresh, to be sure.

  “Nothing like this. Dar, he never could have expected 9/11. No one expected what’s happening now.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Will you hear me out?”

  She stood still for a moment, and he thought about crossing the room to her, but opted to stay where he was. Eventually, she hoisted herself up to sit on the counter, and nodded.

  Jack smoothed his hands over his jeans. “I want us to talk to a financial guy. That guy that Ed Bidwell told me about. Let him explain to us what the long-term and short-term options for that kind of money are, and evaluate how the funds are currently invested.” She unfolded her arms. “Jacob did a commendable job, but there are people who specialize in this sort of thing. Would you agree that we need to pull in some people who can tell us what we’re really dealing with?”

  “Maybe.”

  Maybe was good. It wasn’t great, but he’d take it.

  He’d never told her about his final conversation with Paul. About how Paul told him there was so much in his life he regretted not sorting out. About his own promise—his sincere, heartfelt promise—that he would always take care of Paul’s little girl. “She’s all I have,” the frail old man had said, tears filling his eyes. It made Jack’s heart twist in two. “You need to be all for her now. Thank you for lending me your wife so she could be my daughter so much.”

  That had been his goodbye from Paul. An agreement between them. The next day Paul’s lucidity began to waver and he could only recognize Darcy. After that, Jack’s main job was to keep life at bay so Darcy could go about the business of death.

  Now, he would keep chaos at bay so that they could get about the business of life.

  He took her hand. “Just think about it. We don’t have to decide anything right now. Promise me you’ll mull it over, okay?”

  “Fair enough.”

  Suddenly, Jack remembered the little gift he’d bought on Tuesday, tucked away in the top cabinet especially for today. “Oh, and by the way, Your Royal Heiressness, I completely forgot about my little memento of the day. Sir Jack’s attempt to keep up with the ultimate gift lady. Close your eyes.” She resisted, and he pulled her off the counter, waltzing her around the room a bit. The mood definitely needed lightening, and he knew just the way to do it. “No, really, you’re going to have to close your eyes. You know I don’t gift wrap.”

  Reluctantly, a smile just catching on the corners of her mouth, she stood in the center of the kitchen. That ridiculous tiara sat a bit off-kilter on her head. She made a show of shutting her eyes.

  Jack turned around to the cabinets above the refrigerator—the ones too tall for Darcy to reach or see into without his help—and produced a bag of Oreos. Not store-brand “chocolate sandwich cookies,” but Oreos. Gift-wrapped at just his speed: one adhesive bow stuck on one corner. He rattled the cellophane wrapping, watching the sound intrigue her.

  “Put out your hands, my lady.”

  She did, her head cocked at an oh, puh-lease angle.

  “Open ’em.”

  It was a slow smile that spread across her face. He had a million things to say, a dozen speeches about how he wanted to give her the Oreos of life, that he didn’t want her to have a life of making do and knockoffs, but in the end he opted just to open up the package in her hands and feed her an Oreo. Somehow, watching the look on her face as she ate it, Jack guessed he would never be able to look at those cookies in quite the same way again.

  That was the great miracle of Darcy—she changed everything she touched.

  Pastor Doug and Meredith were already at the table in Meredith’s office when Kate and Darcy came into the room. It had seemed like an eternity over the weekend, waiting to hear how the first recipient’s “day” had gone. They’d decided, beforehand, that Meredith would get a report from the spa and Doug would meet with the recipients, so that frank and honest appraisals could be gained. Also, their help was necessary if Kate and Darcy were to keep their identities out of the picture. They’d go through all five recipients in this manner, using each experience to further tweak the program for the next person.

  “Sorry for the sweatshirt, folks,” Darcy offered, pointing to her bright-yellow Churchill Cheetah’s sweatshirt. “It’s spirit day at Paula’s school and I have to go straight there.”

  “And you wonder why I never volunteer to be room mother?” Kate quipped. “Can you imagine what that would look like on me with my red hair?”

  Meredith and Doug still said nothing, just sat at the table with odd looks on their faces.

  “Well?”

  Meredith fairly beamed. “I think we can declare recipient number one a complete success.”

  “Details, we need details,” Kate cued, her smile as wide as Meredith’s. “Who, what, when, where, how short, what color?”

  “We didn’t exactly take ‘before’ and ‘after’ photos, Kate.”

  Kate glanced around the room. “Why not? That’s a pretty good idea.”

  Darcy spoke softly. “Because this is more about what’s happening on the inside, than what’s happening on the outside.”

  “Granted, but it’s the outside seeping in that makes the difference.”

  “Still,” countered Meredith, “I agree photos are not a good idea. This is a respite, not a makeover.”

  “Okay, you have a point there. Let me rephrase the issue. Does she like the way she looks?”

  “According to the spa,” Meredith reported, “she was immensely pleased. Her friend went for a really drastic change, which made the day extra fun, but Jean mostly just took care of things that were long neglected.”

  Doug flipped through a notepad in front of him. “She used a particularly striking image, let me see…oh, here it is—‘I feel softer around the edges. Not so brittle anymore.’”

  Darcy could only nod. She knew what that was like. Her fervent wish had been granted; this woman had the same experience, the same reawakening she had known. It felt wonderful—deep down wonderful—to know she’d found a way to share that.

  “Actually, we’ve uncovered a surprise benefit, ladies. The salon people got as much out of it as the recipients. They were choking up just talking to me. They took their job very seriously. When you think about it, these are people who have always known the value of pampering. Now they get to apply their craft in a way that makes
a huge difference. All six of the people who worked with Jean and her friend just about begged me to do it again. And you can imagine how they reacted when they heard Jean was engaged. Two of them offered to come primp her for her wedding for free.”

  “Wow.” Darcy just couldn’t find the words for what she was feeling. As though she’d found her perfect spot, her unique place in the world. She’d always thought she had that as wife and mother, but this went so much further. “Wow.”

  “Any glitches?”

  “Well,” began Meredith, “if you can call it a glitch, we needed to reiterate several times that all the tips and such had been already taken care of. Jean and her friend kept trying to tip the salon workers, even though we’d told them several times that all costs had been covered. We worked it out, finally. It just became one big hugfest at the end of the day. Fun to watch, actually.”

  Suddenly noticing the peachy-rose color of Meredith’s fingernails, Darcy teased, “Got in on the fun, did you Meredith?”

  Darcy had never actually seen Meredith blush before. It was rather satisfying. “Who could resist?” she said sheepishly.

  “They look great,” admired Kate. “Your hands work hard. Why shouldn’t they get a little pampering now and then?”

  “Well, don’t count me in on that little trend,” offered Doug. “I’m sticking with my good old barbershop on Sycamore. I’m strictly here in a professional capacity.”