In an attempt to distract myself, I thought about Vernon and Glenna. What was going on between them behind that closed office door? They make an unusual couple, although it’s not hard to get what they each see in the other. He has a gorgeous young woman doting on him, and she has a rich, powerful man taking care of her. A match made in heaven? Given Glenna’s religious beliefs, maybe she sees it that way. She probably believes God chose Vernon to be her soulmate. But Vernon didn’t look too happy when we left. I wondered whether he was having second thoughts about her, given her nasty behavior this afternoon.
I was disappointed that I hadn’t had any chance to talk to Vernon about Gramma’s trust account. Since his office is at his house, I figured I’d have to think up a way to see him without running into Glenna and any stones she might have handy for throwing.
I got to my destination before I’d had time to put the afternoon in perspective. Usually I take a few minutes to enjoy the view from the front yard of Elisa and her husband Jack’s gorgeous house in the foothills before I ring. But today I was so preoccupied I headed straight for the door and punched the doorbell.
Elisa came to the door wearing a big smile, slim jeans and a honey-colored sweater that matched her hair. The lively strains of Abba’s “Super Trouper” drifted out behind her. My mood took an instant uptick. “Cleo, honey, come on in and join me in a glass of wine. Jack got held up with some clients and you’re a little late, so I’m in here drinking by myself.”
I followed her through her huge living room, barely glancing at the beautiful moss rock fireplace and walls of windows. “I need to be careful with the wine,” I said. “I already had a drink and I’ve had kind of an unsettling afternoon. I want to be able to drive home.”
“Sweetie, you do look like you’re in a flap,” Elisa said. “Have some wine and fill me in on the gory details. Don’t worry about driving home. You can always stay over in our guest room.”
As we settled in the cozy family room off the kitchen with glasses of a slightly fruity fume´ blanc, I began to relax and describe what happened at Vernon’s, ending with Glenna’s threatening outburst.
“I’ve had some negative reactions to my Contact Project, been called a fraud, but never anything like this,” I said. “It was scary thinking about having rocks thrown at me with deadly intent.”
“Ouch,” Elisa said. “I can see why you were in a dither. What’s the deal with Vernon Evers and the dishy babe anyway? Do you think she’s finding ways to rip him off financially behind his back?”
“Who knows,” I said. “Not to be callous, but that’s not my problem. I expect Mr. Evers can take care of himself. Although he does drink too much. I saw him drunk at a wedding up in Estes last week, and today while I was at his house he downed at least four drinks. He was definitely wobbly when we left. That probably gives Glenna some opportunities to line her pockets if that’s what she’s up to.”
“I wonder what Mirabel thought about her dad hooking up,” Elisa said. “If that were my dad, getting together with a gorgeous young woman, I’d be checking it out. But enough about that. As you say, he’s not your problem. My predictions about how much trouble the Townes family can be for you are on the mark though, you’ll have to admit.”
I sighed. “That family is a mess, it’s true. It’s worse than you know.” I gave her the nasty details of Judith and Derrick’s visit, their plan to start Angelica on Ritalin and to send her away to school, and Judith’s warnings for me to stay away from Angelica. Once again I was grateful that Elisa is my therapist and clinical supervisor as well as my friend. I can tell her everything and she will keep my confidences.
Elisa listened and then spoke quietly in what I’ve come to know as her I’m-totally-serious-about-this voice. “Cleo, I’m advising you again to back away from this. I know you like to help people, and I know you believe Angelica needs you, but take my word for it, Judith Demar is not an enemy you want to make.”
“She’s full of herself and pushy, but I’m not afraid of her,” I said dismissively.
“Listen Cleo, I have first-hand knowledge of her nastiness.” Elisa said, grimacing. “A couple of years ago she got pissed off at a couple of her graduate students who wanted to be listed as co-authors on a paper she was writing that included some of their research. I knew one of them pretty well from work we were doing together at Democracy for Colorado. Anyway this student told me that Judith planned to give them credit in a footnote, but not to give them author credit. They asked to be co-authors, but she refused, insisted all the original work was hers.”
Elisa leaned forward, the pitch of her voice rising to incredulity. “I couldn’t believe it. They took their case to the chair of the Sociology department, but Judith managed to turn the whole thing around, and the students wound up getting kicked out of the program. I tried to talk to the department chair myself in their behalf, but he’d closed his mind against them. That Judith is one powerful bitch.”
“I’d agree with that,” I said. “I’ve seen her in action. She can be cruel and controlling. Thinks the world revolves around her, and if you don’t agree, she’ll make your life miserable. But, like I said, I’m not afraid of her. I can push as hard as she can if I need to.”
Elisa refilled my glass and hers, then said, “Let’s move this conversation out to the kitchen. We need to eat if we’re going to keep guzzling this wine. Jack said we should go on and eat and keep him some for later.” She stood up and went over to the refrigerator where she began getting food out and tossing it on the counter.
I followed her and sat on one of the high stools at the center island. Her kitchen is sleek with granite counters and stainless steel appliances, but also has warm touches like custom cabinets with glass fronts and open shelving. Elisa loves to cook and she does it with such ease that watching her is like poetry. That night she was fixing a dish of spicy rice with shrimp and peppers, and a spinach salad with oranges and almonds.
As she chopped and sautéed the peppers, and I peeled and separated the segments of the oranges, we talked more about Judith. “You’d think she’d be a little more in the background, since it’s been only a few months since Mirabel died,” I said. “But she’s front and center, taking over the family, trying to run their lives. Plus, her overall attitude to Lacey and Angelica is just plain rude.”
“I think she’s marking her territory,” Elisa said. “She plans to marry Derrick and she wants her claim to be clear. So she’s asserting her authority as a substitute parent.”
“I suppose Derrick’s an especially good catch now that he’s inherited Mirabel’s money,” I said. “Although from what Shane told me, a lot of her money will be going to the Church of Scientology.” I dumped the pre-washed baby spinach leaves out of their plastic bag into Elisa’s bamboo salad bowl and added the orange segments.
“I know Mirabel was pretty deeply involved with Scientology,” Elisa said as she dropped shrimp into oil sizzling in a wok. She tossed the shrimp expertly, adding garlic and spices as they browned. She continued talking as she cooked, raising her voice a bit so I could hear over the spitting oil. “After Kari died, Mirabel used to talk to me about how awful she felt about missing the seriousness of Kari’s anorexia until it was too late. But once she joined Scientology, she stopped talking about Kari. When I brought her up once, she said Scientologists aren’t supposed to talk about any of their problems to anyone except their Scientology auditor. Good grief! Not only do people who join that cult cut off their friends, but I’ve heard they pay huge amounts of money to discuss their problems with the auditors.”
“I guess she thought they were worth it,” I said as I added nuts and dressing to the spinach and tossed the salad. “Shane thought Derrick had convinced her to make a new will that left the Scientologists out, but apparently no one can find a new will so it looks like she chose the Scientologists over him.”
Elisa stirred the sautéed peppers into the spicy shrimp along with cooked rice, cilantro and chopped green onions
. We filled our plates with the shrimp dish and salad, refilled our wine glasses and took it all over to a small table in the family room overlooking the city below. Great view. Great food. Great wine. I felt pampered and snug. So I took a risk and threw out another tricky topic.
“Thinking of Scientology,” I said tentatively, “you’ll never guess who I ran into the other day who is now a Scientologist. Totally blew me away.”
“I don’t even have a hunch,” Elisa said. “So spill it. Who?”
“Remember Brian—the guy I was involved with about ten years ago, after Pablo took off for Mexico? Pablo and I ran into him last weekend at Faye’s gallery. Turns out he’s been back in Boulder for a year. He said he’d been planning to call me to let me know he was back, but he hadn’t gotten around to doing it. Anyway, according to Faye, he’s a Scientologist now.”
“Whoa, whoa! Hold on a minute.” Elisa put down her fork and waved her hands in front of my face. “I remember Brian. Short, stocky, dark-haired guy. Right? I always thought of him as super stud. His default was set at schmooze. Hard to picture him as a Scientologist, but I guess if it works for Tom Cruise, it can work for Brian.”
“I agree that he came off as a stud. But no false advertising there. He was great in bed. Just what I needed at the time. Totally took my mind off Pablo. But if you remember, Brian had a wandering eye that led him off to be great in beds all over town. As I recall, you got good and sick of listening to me complain about his bed-hopping before I finally broke it off with him.”
Elisa laughed. “Right. I was cheering you on to get rid of him. So where’s he been all these years?”
“California as far as I know. At least that’s where he said he was going after we broke up. He’s a graphic artist, so L.A. looked like the land of opportunity. Now he has his own graphic design business here in Boulder. He gave me his card so I could call him.”
“Are you going to?”
“I wasn’t, especially after Faye told me he’s been trying to convert her to Scientology. But there’s more. He knew Mirabel Townes. In fact, he came to the gallery to see Angelica’s work. And later I found out from Angelica that a Scientologist named Brain used to visit Mirabel at home. So I’m thinking I might call him and get together to see if I can pump him for some information about how she was getting along with the Scientologists before she died.”
Before Elisa could start in telling me what a mistake it would be to talk to Brian about Mirabel, we heard Elisa’s husband Jack from the front hall. “Hi, I’m home,” he yelled. “And whatever you’re eating smells amazing.” He headed out to us, gave Elisa a big kiss, me a big hug, and went straight to the kitchen to fill a plate with food.
Jack is a lanky, sandy-haired man, easy-going and sociable. I love him like a brother. He and Elisa got married in their early twenties and had their daughter, Maria, right away. I met them through a friend who told me they were looking for a part-time nanny. I was a twenty-three-year-old struggling artist, so I applied and got the job. We’ve been like family ever since. They’re both forty now and I’m thirty-seven, so it’s been a while.
“Hey, Jack,” Elisa said. “Cleo’s been spending some time with Mirabel Townes’ kids and she says a huge chunk of Mirabel’s estate is going to the Scientologists. Have you heard anything about that from Derrick?”
Jack brought his plate and a wine glass over to our table, sat down and took a few bites. “Tastes as good as it smells,” he said with a smile. “Sorry to be so late. Had some very indecisive clients. Anyway, about Derrick. I haven’t seen him in a while. But from what I hear, it’s no secret that his business has had some big losses. His financial picture isn’t pretty. If he doesn’t inherit most of Mirabel’s estate, he could be in quicksand.” He went back to his food and Elisa jumped in.
“I agree. Derrick must be fit to be tied if he’s not inheriting the majority of Mirabel’s money,” she said. “From what I’ve heard, he’s always needed it, which is probably why he never divorced her even though he’s been involved with Judith for years.”
“But why didn’t she divorce him?” I asked. “Didn’t she know about Judith?”
“I don’t know. She never said anything and I never asked her. We mostly knew each other from political work and because Kari and my Maria were such close friends. She didn’t talk about Derrick. The message I got was that her marriage was off limits and I respected that. But I figure she did know. It’s not exactly a secret around town.”
“I wonder why she stayed with him.”
“She was a very loyal person. Steadfast. Never gave up on a cause. They’d been married over twenty years. She probably figured he’d come around eventually. And she was an idealist. Her passion in recent years was for her community work, political campaigns and environmental movements. I got the impression her marriage was on a back burner.”
We talked a little more about the Townes family but none of us had anything new to add and I was eager to change the subject to escape more of Elisa’s warnings. So we kicked back, shared some gossip, a few laughs, and more wine. After which, I slept soundly in their guest room, without any dreams of the Townes family.
Chapter 18
The next morning, after a quick breakfast at Elisa and Jack’s and a brief stop at my house to change clothes, I drove over to Shady Terrace to visit Gramma. A week had gone by since the announcement of the closing, and the nursing home was bustling with family members—unusual for a Saturday morning. In the parking lot I saw a couple loaded down with bulky bags and boxes that they were stacking in their SUV. Looked like the moving-out process had already started. So much for my desperate hope that somehow the closing edict would be reversed.
As I entered Gramma’s unit, I noticed Tanya the charge nurse coming out of Gramma’s room. The multicolor-flower-patterned scrubs most of the nurses and aides wear here don’t flatter her short wide figure, but her thick curly hair and huge brown eyes transform her into a beauty.
She hailed me as I walked down the hall. “Oh, Cleo, I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Martha is agitated this morning. Keeps asking for your grandfather, James. This week, even the confused residents know something’s up. Flora Gypsum refused to get dressed this morning—you know how she usually likes to get dolled up with jewelry, high heels and a hat. Right now she’s still in her nightgown. And Peter Luth got so upset at breakfast, he threw his coffee cup on the floor. When it smashed, coffee splashed on Harriett Benesh and she threw a roll at him. It’s affecting them all. They may not be able to talk about it, but they’re tuned into the feeling of crisis.”
I felt tears well up at the thought of my sweet Gramma being upset by cruel circumstances that she couldn’t even understand, much less control. “It’s so unfair,” I said, holding back the tears. “Moving will upset them even more. And who knows where most of them will end up. It’s not easy to find good places.”
Tanya shook her head in agreement. “Don’t I know it. All of us on the staff need to find new jobs and it’s slim pickins out there.”
Of course. The staff would be looking for new places too. Maybe I could get some leads from Tanya. “Have you found any places where you think you’d want to work?” I asked. “Gramma likes you and it would be nice for her to be where you go.”
“The only offer I’ve gotten so far is from Easy Living Care Center,” she said. “I’d rather scrub floors than work there.” She headed off to answer a call light.
I continued down the hall to Gramma’s room, remembering my own bad impression when I visited Easy Living and saw aides chatting with each other in the dining room when they should have been helping residents. Nothing about this move was going to be easy.
I took some deep breaths to calm myself. Gramma’s sensitive to my moods and if she was already agitated, I didn’t want to add to that. I found her in her bathroom trying to brush her teeth with a cake of soap. “It’s too big for me,” she complained, waving the soap in my face. “I need a different one.”
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sp; I gently put my arms around her shoulders. “I’ll get rid of that one for you,” I said, reaching around and removing the soap from her hand. I gave her a kiss and a hug, helped her brush her teeth with her actual toothbrush, and eased her out of the bathroom into her bedroom. I pointed her toward the comfortable overstuffed chair she usually favors, but she was too jittery to sit. “Where’s James?” she asked, pacing restlessly around her room. “He should be here by now.” She looked worried.
I’ve long since given up telling her that Grampa is dead. She doesn’t believe me and it’s not something I want to argue with her about. So I make up reasons why he isn’t there. Usually she accepts my excuses and quits asking for him. “He had a lot of meetings today,” I said. “So I came to see you instead. Would you like to walk down the hall and see the fish?”
Watching the colorful tropical fish swim around in the extra-large aquarium worked its usual calming magic on Gramma, but didn’t do much for me. I couldn’t stop worrying about finding a good place for her. I wondered if there’d be a fish tank wherever she ended up.
All of which reminded me that I should check out more of the nursing homes in the booklet Tim had given us at the meeting. Not that I had forgotten—more like I’d put it in the back of my mind next to other unpleasant tasks I postpone like making dentist appointments and getting the tires rotated on my car. But I knew I had to move on this, so I told myself to suck it up and go visit more places. I gave Gramma a hug and said, “I need to go now. Do you want to stay here with the fish or go back down the hall?”
“Stay,” she said.
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