“Hi, how are you?!” she said to every person, one by one, as she pointed and waved. “It’s so good to see you!”
Sam emerged out of the crowd, opened the front door of The Bee Hive, and gestured for Claire to come outside. Sloan turned and saw Claire.
“You did this for me?” she asked.
“All for you,” Claire said, and then opened the carrier and took out Mackie Pea, resplendent in her pink and purple coat.
She could see Stanley was about to implode.
“Sloan,” he said.
“Not now, Stanley,” Sloan said. “I’m talking to all these wonderful people.”
Claire started past Stanley and he grabbed her arm. Suddenly Sam was between them. Stanley made a funny “oof” sort of noise and had a weird look on his face. He let go of Claire and she went out front to have her picture taken with Sloan.
“Let’s get one of you holding Mackie Pea,” Claire said to her. “You know how people love dogs and babies.”
Sloan reluctantly took Mackie, who was growling low in her throat, and then handed the small dog right back to Claire, all with her open-mouthed movie star smile. She pointed, waved, winked, and blew kisses as the brisk spring wind blew back her newly styled hair as if it had been directed to do so.
The newspaper photographer’s camera clicked and the TV station’s video camera whirred while several dozen cell phone users photographed and digitally recorded her with the intention of immediately uploading the footage to the Internet; it would be impossible for her team to stop that from happening.
“Y’all are just so lovely,” Sloan enthused. “There’s a real special place in my heart for this town; y’all have made me feel so welcome.”
“Great accent,” Claire said under her breath, “if we were in Texas.”
“Shut up, I’m working,” Sloan said under hers.
“So the dog is a gift to Claire?” the reporter asked, and shoved the microphone into Sloan’s face.
“Oh, yes,” Sloan said. “Claire just loved the little dickens so much I just had to give it to her.”
“She’s such a generous person,” Claire said, “and cares so much about children and animals.”
Sloan put her arm around Claire so they could get some more shots. As always, Sloan intuitively knew just how long to stay before leaving them wanting more.
“Y’all are so sweet,” Sloan said. “I hate to leave, but I have to fly to London this afternoon for a little ole Vogue cover shoot.”
Sloan let go of Claire to sign some more autographs, and to have her picture taken with some small children. Claire watched Sloan do this trick where she held a child in one arm while she grasped their sticky little mitts with her free hand so they couldn’t actually touch her. Each child was held for less than three seconds; long enough for a photo to be taken but just under the amount of time it took urine to soak through a diaper into whatever Sloan might be wearing.
Claire turned around in time to see Sam escorting Stanley to his car. Stanley seemed to have shrunk in stature and had a look on his face Claire had never seen there before; it was fear. As soon as Sam let go of his arm and walked away Stanley turned and beckoned impatiently for Sloan to follow.
“What a lovely send-off,” Sloan said to Claire. “Thank you so much.”
“It was my pleasure,” Claire said. “I was happy to do it.”
“Call me when you change your mind,” Sloan said.
Claire just shook her head and waved as Sloan took her movie star exit. Everyone waved and cheered as the car pulled away from the curb, and Sloan blew kisses from the open window. Claire snuggled the wriggly little dog in her arms, satisfied that no one could take her away.
Sam made his way to Claire and stood with her next to the entrance to The Bee Hive, away from the dispersing crowd. He smiled with his whole face and Claire’s heart melted.
“That went well,” he said.
“How did you get them to show up all at once like that?”
“First we announced she’d be at the Thorn; once they were all assembled there, after we saw Stanley go in the salon, we changed the venue to The Bee Hive.”
“That was amazing.”
“Here,” he said. “It’s a going away present from Stanley.”
He pressed something into her free hand. It was the confidentiality agreement she had just signed and turned over to Stanley.
“What on earth did you do to him?” she asked.
“We had a short, meaningful conversation,” Sam said. “He won’t bother you again.”
“Tell me something,” Claire said. “Did you actually read Tuppy’s book?”
“You mean this?” he said, and held up the key ring. “I’m going to hold onto it, if you don’t mind; just for security purposes.”
“You’re amazing,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
As soon as she said it she regretted it; it was too much. Sam’s face closed up like a door slamming shut.
“All I meant was thanks, Sam,” she said.
He nodded and walked away, but with a brief backwards look that made her heart skip a beat.
Scott worked his way through the crowd toward her.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Sloan’s leaving,” Claire said, “and she likes to make a big exit.”
“You’re free to leave, too,” Scott said. “Sarah doesn’t have enough evidence to hold anybody. Courtenay tipped the feds off about Pip’s whereabouts; he’s been arrested in Mexico and will be extradited to California later this week.”
“Courtenay, who loved him so much she was going to give up Knox,” Claire said, shaking her head.
“She found out he was married,” Scott said. “Someone told her all about his financial problems.”
Claire thought about Stanley’s driver leaving Courtenay’s apartment.
“I didn’t know they were involved,” Scott said. “How did you know?”
“Hannah told me,” Claire said, and hoped that would be as far as that line of questioning went.
“Your cousin is an excellent detective but a terrible gossip,” Scott said. “But I have to admit that comes in handy pretty often.”
“So whoever killed Tuppy got away with it,” Claire said.
“Maybe,” Scott said. “There are still some loose ends to follow up on.”
Claire looked thoughtful.
“I recognize that look, Claire,” Scott said. “I’ve seen it on Hannah and Maggie. Don’t get involved.”
“Okay,” she said with a shrug.
“Claire, I mean it.”
“Alright,” Claire said. “I’ll let it go.”
After the crowd dispersed Claire went back in The Bee Hive and put Mackie Pea down on the floor. She sat on one of the hydraulic chairs and turned on her phone. Her latest voicemail was from Carlyle. The sound of his voice caused an actual pain in her chest. As she listened, all the feelings she’d been repressing came pouring out in a rush so powerful it made her dizzy with longing.
“Claire, I’ve been trying to get hold of you but I don’t know where you are. I just heard about Tuppy; a bit of a shocker to say the least and I know you’re gutted. Listen, there’s something you should know, something he told me after your going away party. He swore me to secrecy but that cannot matter now, can it? When Sloan changed solicitors a year ago the cow didn’t half cheese off the bastards she sacked. For revenge they bunged her files down to a previous address and the man who lives there now called Tuppy to come get the lot.
“Before he delivered them to Stanley’s office our Tuppy went through the files and ferreted out your confidentiality agreements; all of yours and his own, as well. He shredded them. So you’re no longer beholden to that shelter belter, hen, haven’t been since the cow hired Stanley. Do with this information what you will, just don’t let the madbit bully you.
“I’ve got my own solicitor now, looking over my contract, trying to find a way out. I know you prob
ably don’t give a shite, but I’m sorry, hen. So sorry. If there’s any way I can make it up to you, please just tell me. You’re missed, love. You’re sorely, terribly missed, is all I’m saying. Please forgive me.”
Even more than his heartfelt words was how Scottish he sounded; it was proof, to her mind, of how sincere he was; he was most himself when he dropped his polished English accent. Oh, how she missed him.
The front door opened and Claire quickly dried her eyes.
“I guess I missed all the excitement,” the woman said. “I heard there was a movie star downtown but she’s gone. You know anything about that?”
“No,” Claire said. “I don’t know anything about that movie star.”
After Claire closed up the shop that evening she and Mackie Pea went down to the Rose and Thorn to pick up her father, and then walked him down to Machalvie’s pharmacy to purchase a walker. At first he stubbornly refused to even go in the shop, but then he agreed to at least look at what they had. As soon as he saw the brightly colored aluminum walkers with their handbrakes, baskets, and a place to sit, all on four multi-directional wheels, his only hesitation was deciding which color he wanted. Claire lifted Mackie Pea and put her in the basket.
“What do you say, my little darlin’?” Ian said to the little dog. “Should papaw take his sweetheart for a ride?”
“Papaw?” Claire said under her breath, laughing to herself at the idea of Ian referring to Mackie as his grandchild, but nonetheless, feeling touched.
Claire paid for the walker and then had to run to catch up with them. There her father went, tooling down the sidewalk holding onto his bright purple rolling walker with Mackie Pea in the basket. The hood of her pink and purple coat was pulled up over her head and the purple tassel was sticking straight up in the air.
When they arrived back at her parents’ house they found her mother had cooked a pot-roast dinner and it smelled heavenly.
“You must be feeling better,” Claire said.
“Amy from the bank brought the mortgage payoff papers for me to sign,” her mother said, while she hugged her. “Now that you’ve bought our house for us I thought it was the least I could do.”
They all sat down to eat and Claire found she was ravenous; in all the excitement of the day she had skipped lunch.
“Where’s Liam?” her father asked. “Does he have soccer practice this evening?”
Claire set down her fork, her appetite gone.
Delia didn’t even pause before answering, “He’s staying at Fitz and Bonnie’s house tonight.”
Her father just nodded and kept eating. Claire eye’s filled with tears but when she looked at her mother, Delia just smiled sadly and said, “Eat your dinner, Claire.”
After dinner Delia loaded the dishwasher while Claire wrapped up the leftovers. Ian lay in his recliner with Mackie Pea on his lap; he was talking sweetly to her about what a good girl she was.
“I’ve decided to stay for good,” Claire said, “if you and Dad don’t mind.”
Delia laid a hand on Claire’s arm and said, “Are you sure that’s the right thing for you? I hate to see you get tied down here if you’d rather be somewhere else.”
“You know, a week ago I felt completely different,” Claire said. “But then I kept having this homesick feeling every time I saw someone in our family. I think it must have been regret because I was planning to leave again, and deep down I really didn’t want to go. As soon as I decided to stay that homesick feeling went away. After staying here with you and Dad, and seeing what you’re going through, I realized I want to be the one you can count on to help. I want to be part of the family again, and go through this next bit with you. There’s really, truly nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Delia wiped her eyes and hugged her daughter.
“I’m so glad,” she said. “Thank you.”
Maggie called and invited Claire over for a movie night sleepover, something they used to do when they were teenagers.
“I thought Maggie was mad at me,” Claire said. “I don’t want to pass up a chance to mend fences if she’s willing to offer.”
“Go on,” her mother said. “We’re fine and I can always call you if I need you.”
Claire went in the living room to collect Mackie Pea, but her father wasn’t having it.
“You leave this sweet girl here with me,” he said. “I don’t want her gallivanting around the neighborhood in this weather; she might catch a cold.”
Scott reviewed the advance directive form the social worker from Hospice had helped him and his mother fill out. The social worker completed the “do not resuscitate” order as well, but told them they would have to wait for Doc Machalvie to sign it in order for it to be official. Sister Mary Margrethe provided a witness signature to the advance directive, and Kay from the mayor’s office notarized it.
“This is so everyone knows what your wishes are,” the social worker told Scott’s mother. “If you reach a point in your illness where a breathing or feeding tube would be used to keep you alive, neither of those measures will be taken. If your heart stops, nothing will be done to re-start it.”
His mother’s handwriting was spidery and weak as she signed, but she was able to say, “I understand,” when the social worker asked if she did.
Scott walked out to the porch with the social worker and thanked her again.
“As soon as the doctor signs the ‘do not resuscitate’ order post it next to her bed,” she said. “That way if emergency personnel are called they will know not to apply CPR.”
“I’ll let you know as soon as she makes her decision,” Scott said. “It really needs to be what she wants, not what Penny and I want.”
“I wouldn’t put it off too long,” the social worker said. “We could really be helpful right now.”
Scott’s sister Penny was pouting in the kitchen when he returned. The other women were preparing to leave.
“Anything you need,” Kay said as she went out, “anything at all; you just call.”
“Thank you,” Scott said.
“Miss Penny,” Sister Mary Margrethe said. “Have we forgotten our manners?”
“Thank you,” Penny murmured, but it was grudgingly said.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” Sister said. “I put a list on the fridge of the ladies who will be taking turns here for the next few days along with their telephone numbers. I chose only the most sensible people, and as you know, there aren’t that many to choose from. If you need anything in the night please call me. It’s been many years since I was a nurse, but I can still be helpful.”
Scott walked outside with Sister Mary Margrethe and she lowered her voice as she said, “I had a word with Penny, but she refuses to accept how serious this is. I’ve seen this happen many times before; adult children can get stuck in denial and refuse to let go of the parent. I’m glad you got your mother’s wishes down on paper so she can’t interfere.”
“I just wish Penny would calm down,” Scott said. “Mom needs peace and quiet so she can conserve what energy she has left.”
“I’ll work on her again tomorrow,” Sister said. “Sometimes I have to use my Sunday school voice to get my point across; it’s a big stick but I’m not afraid to use it.”
She patted Scott’s arm and then left the porch.
Scott went back inside to face his irate sister.
“You’ve just given up,” she said in a loud voice. “She takes a little turn for the worse and you’ve got her planning her funeral.”
“Please keep your voice down,” Scott said quietly. “Our mother is very sick. You need to accept that and spend some quality time with her before she goes. Keeping us all worked up with your drama is only making it harder for her to rest.”
“She was fine last week when I talked to her,” Penny said. “We were planning a shopping trip to the outlet malls.”
“The cancer has spread throughout her body and is growing at a very fast rate,” Scott said. “Her lungs are fill
ing with fluid and her heart is failing. The oncologist said she would go downhill fast after she reached this point. She’s very susceptible to pneumonia or other infections, and if she gets one it will probably kill her. She doesn’t want feeding tubes or a ventilator, and she doesn’t want to be in any pain. She’s ready to let go, Penny. You have to let her go.”
“I can’t,” Penny cried. “I’m not ready!”
“This isn’t about you,” Scott said. “This is about Mom and what’s best for her.”
Penny left the kitchen and went down the hall to the bathroom, loudly weeping. Scott went back to his mother’s bedroom and stood by her bed. She seemed to be sleeping, but he could still hear the rattle in her chest that didn’t bode well. She opened her eyes and smiled when she saw him, and he sat down on the edge of her bed and held her hand. She could hardly talk above a whisper, so he leaned down when she tried to speak.
“You’re a good son,” she said. “I love you.”
Scott could barely speak for the lump in his throat, but he said, “Are you sure about what we plan to do? Do you want Doc to sign the ‘do not resuscitate’ order?”
She nodded and squeezed his hand.
“Take care of Penny,” she said.
“I will,” he said.
“She’s a bit of a pill, isn’t she?” she said, and smiled.
Scott laughed and his mother tried to, but started coughing and got choked. He helped her turn on her side, careful not to dislodge the oxygen cannula. Her cough was deep and sounded as if it hurt. Scott helped her administer a breathing treatment and it seemed to help.
“Did you sign me up for Hospice?” she said, as soon as she was able to speak again.
Scott shook his head and took a deep breath.
“Call them,” she said, and then relaxed back onto her pillow as if it had taken all the strength she had left to say those two words.
Scott called Doc and told him what his mother wanted. Doc said he would make the referral and then come over and sign the DNR form. The home health aide Scott had engaged earlier in the day arrived, and Scott told her they were calling in Hospice.
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