Christmas morning I fixed waffles with maple syrup, a Christmas-morning tradition, but no one was hungry. We pushed the sticky treat around on our plates. We tried. That about covered it.
After breakfast we gathered around the tree to open gifts. I handed out the gaily wrapped packages, a full dozen for each girl. Neil’s parents had mailed their presents—Barbies wearing shimmering dresses, and new nightgowns for each girl, with matching robes and fluffy house slippers.
Kris held up her new lavender-flowered robe. “Look, Mom, isn’t this pretty?”
“Lovely,” I agreed “and it’s a good color for you.”
“Is mine a good color for me?” Kelli held up one exactly like Kris’s but in soft peach.
“Perfect with your coloring,” I said, which it was with her dark hair and eyes so like her father’s.
They each received a large box wrapped in silver-and-blue paper from Mazi. Art supplies. Lots of art supplies. Mazi dealt with a generous hand.
Kris examined a box of pastels. “Mazi has good taste, doesn’t she?”
I thought of some of the outlandish costumes I’d seen her wear. All high fashion, of course, but definitely not “her.”
Kris waited, her blue eyes locked with mine. “Very good,” I agreed. I was all for truth, but not when it might hurt a friend, and Mazi was top of the line in the friendship department.
I had gone overboard, buying clothes, games, bath products and hair stuff. At the last minute I had picked up bead kits so they could make their own jewelry.
Kelli poked at a package of hot-pink plastic beads. “I’ll make you a necklace. Mazi, too.”
“I think that would be nice,” I said. “I know she would appreciate it.”
Finally there was only one gift left under the tree. Neil’s present. Kelli ceased playing with her bead supplies, her lower lip quivering. Kris’s expression turned solemn. I could have kicked myself for not removing it from under the tree and hiding it away somewhere. I wished I’d never given in and let them buy it.
The front doorbell rang. Thankful for the momentary reprieve, I went to answer. It was Mazi, dressed in black pants and red sweater with a Christmas pin that outshone the northern lights. “Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too. What are you doing out so early?” She usually wasn’t out of bed until much later.
“I’m bored. Warren got stranded in Cincinnati and didn’t make it home. How about the four of us going out to eat?”
Well, it prevented tears. The girls’ faces lit up with anticipation. I didn’t really want to go anywhere, but I didn’t want to stay home and try to pretend everything was jolly, either.
“Sure. Let us change and we’ll be right with you.”
The girls scampered to their rooms, carrying the new outfits they’d gotten for Christmas. I remembered Mazi’s nice pants and sweater and turned my back on my favorite jeans for dress pants and a coral-pink top.
When I got back to the living room Mazi had picked up the discarded paper and ribbons, stuffing them into a plastic trash bag.
I ran a brush through Kelli’s hair. “So where are we eating?”
“I thought Chinatown.”
For Christmas? Well, why not. At least it would be different. “You driving or am I?”
She laughed. “You don’t drive to Chinatown. Parking places are practically nonexistent. We’ll drive partway and take a cab.”
So I had a lot to learn. The taxi let us off at the green-tiled Dragon Crested Gate, at Grant Avenue and Bush Streets, the traditional entrance to Chinatown and a favorite place for tourist photo taking.
Kelli stared wide-eyed at the ornate gate and the exotic street signs. They didn’t have anything like this back in Oklahoma. We strolled along, looking in shop windows.
Kris grabbed my hand. “Look at the streetlights.”
The famed dragon lights, looking like little pagodas, sat atop the tall poles. The glass lenses shone as if they had been newly cleaned; red-tiled roofs gleamed in the sun.
“Can we come back some night and see them lit?” Kelli asked.
“Sure.” Mazi nodded. “In fact, if we can make it, let’s come back for the Chinese New Year Parade. I’ll buy bleacher seats along the parade route.”
“A parade!” Kris adored parades.
“Like you’ve never seen!” Mazi stopped in her tracks, her eyes gleaming. Evidently she and Kris had something in common. “The most gorgeous floats and costumes. There’ll be acrobatics, Miss Chinatown U.S.A. and, of course, the Golden Dragon.”
Kelli grabbed my hand. “A real dragon?”
Mazi laughed. “No, honey. It was made in Foshan, a little town in China. It has a six-foot-long head with rainbow-colored pom-poms and colored lights from nose to tail, with silver rivets on its scaly sides. And it’s trimmed in white rabbit fur. It takes one hundred men and women to carry the thing and it’s considered an honor to be chosen to take part.”
Kris sighed. “Oh, we have to see that.”
Mazi paused in front of the Grand Palace Restaurant. We went inside to find snowy-white tablecloths with hot-pink napkins on each table. The girls needed help with the menu, but Kelli finally decided on cashew nut chicken. Kris wanted spicy chicken, but settled for sweet and sour when I pointed out she didn’t really like spicy foods.
I settled for chicken with double mushrooms and Mazi chose Mongolian beef. She also ordered creamed chicken corn soup for the girls and sliced chicken breast shark fin soup for the two of us. In addition she chose steamed chicken bun, deep-fried spring roll and pot stickers from the dim sum menu.
“We’ll never eat all of this.”
“So we’ll get a doggy bag. I want the girls to taste as many things as possible.”
To my surprise, the girls relished Chinese food. Even Kelli, my picky child, sampled everything, and while she wasn’t crazy about the Mongolian beef, she said it wasn’t too bad. High praise coming from her. I was surprised to see Mazi merely picking at her food. A feast like this and she didn’t eat a third of the goodies on her plate. I, however, had cleaned mine and pigged out on pot stickers. It wasn’t that I had overeaten, not at all. Just a healthy appetite. I took a deep breath. Why had I worn this belt?
We spent the afternoon window-shopping. Kelli stood transfixed in front of a window filled with dolls dressed in bright colors with their straight black hair cut in bangs. Her favorite, though, was in the shop that sold pearls. It was a baby doll dressed in pink with a bonnet made of fluffy pink feathers and loops of pearls hanging around the face. Totally adorable.
I was amazed at the twisted ropes of pearls, in every conceivable color, and Kris stood transfixed in front of the kite shop. I got her to move on only by promising we’d come back in the spring and buy kites to fly.
The girls were quiet on the way home, but it was a contented silence. I silently blessed Mazi for helping us through this day. Instead of a day of sorrow and memories she had introduced Kris and Kelli to a whole new world, one they’d never seen before, and she had given them a happy memory to temper the sad ones.
When we pulled into the drive, she declined to come in, saying she needed to call Warren. I put my arms around her. “Thanks so much, Mazi. You’ve made this a wonderful holiday for us.”
A note of sadness tinged her voice. “You’ve made it special for me, too, Kate.”
I watched her walk away down the drive and step over the hedge. She seemed so alone. Suddenly I realized that Mazi needed us as much as we needed her.
I couldn’t take Warren’s place, but the girls and I could be the family she was missing.
Chapter 12
On Friday I drove home from work with a light heart and a sense of anticipation. I actually had a full Saturday off. The salon was closed on Sunday. The new stylists were working out well and business had slacked off, so I could actually spend a day at home. I had a to-do list a mile long, and I planned to spend the day playing catch-up.
I walked into
the house to find it empty and the telephone ringing. My heart skipped a beat. Where were my daughters? Where was Mazi? I grasped the receiver, my hand slick with nervous perspiration.
“Hello?” My voice cracked.
“Mom? Hi.”
“Kris?” I sank to the kitchen stool. “Where are you?”
Her voice dropped until I could barely hear it. “We’re at Mazi’s.”
“Oh.” Complete silence while I tried to pull myself together. They hadn’t been snatched off a street corner, or run over by a bus. “That’s nice. I wondered.”
“It’s all right, isn’t it?”
“Sure—of course.” I had to get a grip before I turned my daughters into neurotic robots.
Kris sounded more assured. “Mazi wants us to eat with her tonight. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so. Let me change into something comfortable and I’ll come over.”
“Okay, Mom. I’ll tell her.”
I hurried to change into jeans and a sweatshirt and crossed the hedge to Mazi’s low-slung brick house. The shutters were painted a dark green and the door chime played the opening notes of the William Tell Overture.
Classy.
If I ever installed door chimes, mine would probably be more in the line of “Old MacDonald Had a Farm.”
Mazi met me at the door wearing a leopard-print caftan. “Kate, come in! We’re about ready to eat.”
A smoke-gray Persian cat with three black stripes running from his ears to his topaz eyes curled around her feet. Mazi picked him up and stroked his soft fur. “Minto’s my best bud.”
I scratched under his chin and was rewarded with a rumbling purr.
In the kitchen Kris cuddled a silver-gray Persian named Mystic and Kelli held a shaded silver female. The three stripes on her forehead gave her a perpetual frowning expression. Her green eyes cast a cool glance my way.
The queen surveying her subjects.
Kelli held her up for my inspection. “Say hi to Mimi.”
I admired the feline beauties, while Mazi bustled around the kitchen. She refused my offer to help, so I settled in one of the oak captain chairs and watched as she set out a large bowl of salad, followed by grilled chicken breasts and roasted potatoes with garlic. A basket lined with a red-and-white-checked napkin held thick slices of freshly baked French bread. Not one thing my finicky Kelli would eat. She liked chicken, but hers usually came fried.
When Mazi sent the girls to the bathroom to wash their hands I braced myself for the explosion.
We took our places at the table and I saw Kelli cast a questioning glance at the salad. Her face settled into her “I won’t eat vegetables” expression.
Mazi placed glasses of fresh lemonade at each place and sat down. “I know you pray before eating, Kate. Would you like to do that now?”
I bowed my head and thanked God for His blessings and for my friends and family and for the food we were about to eat. Mazi looked thoughtful when I finished. She didn’t say anything, just looked rather curious.
“Kelli, would you start the salad around, please?” Kelli started to protest and then caught my eye and clamped her mouth shut. The look she sent my way spoke volumes.
I reached for the salad bowl and peered at the contents in surprise. An assortment of greens blended with red and green grapes, red and green chopped apples, kiwi and strawberries in a sweet poppy-seed dressing. I took a tentative bite. It was delicious.
Kris forked out a strawberry. “I love this salad, Mazi.”
“It’s so different.” I added my praise and was rewarded by Kelli trying a bite.
She looked up, surprise registering on her features. “It is good.”
So maybe she would eat her vegetables if I smothered them in something sweet? Wouldn’t that nullify the benefits?
Mazi cut into a bite of grilled chicken. “Kate, do you have to work tomorrow?”
“No.” I almost laughed with joy. “I actually have two days off together and I’m going to catch up on all the work I’ve had to let go.”
Mazi sipped her lemonade, looking as if she wanted to say something.
I frowned. “What?”
“I was just thinking. This is the first weekend you’ve had off. Maybe we could take the girls out to Cliff House.”
I stared at her. “Are you kidding? I have so much to do….”
“Which will wait.” She nodded at Kris and Kelli. “They won’t.”
I closed my mouth, my mind racing. How many times had I complained that I didn’t have time for the girls, and here I had time, but I hadn’t given a thought to my daughters. They gazed at me, their eyes watchful, their expressions still, as if they already knew what the answer would be.
I forced myself to relax and dredge up a smile. The last way I wanted to spend my one day off was playing tourist, but Mazi was right. The work would wait. My daughters came first. “Okay,” I said. “We’ll go to Cliff House.”
Their delighted expressions were reward enough for me.
Before we left that evening, it had been decided we would leave at nine and Mazi would drive. I was secretly relieved. I was getting used to San Francisco traffic, but I didn’t want to spend my only day off manipulating a car through a weekend demolition derby to one of the state’s major tourist attractions.
This was Mazi’s idea—let Mazi do it. I noticed she left most of her dinner on her plate tonight.
The following day the girls and I were up early and happily anticipating our day. Mazi showed up in a short black skirt, calf-length high-heeled boots, a V-neck tan knit top and a black jacket with a faux-fur collar and cuffs. The outfit would have been fabulous on a tall, skinny model. Mazi was neither tall nor skinny. Kelli, for once, was too excited about the coming trip to make one of her outspoken observances.
We piled into the car and started off. The girls and Mazi were in a holiday mood, excited, laughing and talking. I forced myself to look on the bright side and not think about all the chores awaiting me when we got home. I’d always wanted to see Cliff House, and now I was going to.
The attraction was all I had expected. I stood at the window in the dining room, looking at miles of sandy beach with surf breaking along the shoreline. I could see the Golden Gate Bridge and even old Dutch windmills, although what they were doing here I hadn’t a clue.
“Look!” Kris pointed. “A ship.”
“Ships come from all over the world to the San Francisco harbor,” Mazi explained. We watched as the vessel moved with majestic aplomb past the bridge.
Mazi showed us around. She stopped before a framed photograph. “This is the way Cliff House used to look before it burned to the ground.”
I looked at the seven-story hotel built like a French château and wished I could have seen it before tourism took over. Mazi pointed to a framed menu. “Just think, girls. At the original Cliff House an abalone dinner only cost three dollars and fifty cents.”
“Baloney?” Kris asked.
“Abalone—fish, dear.”
I figured a glass of tea would cost that much. Times changed. We ended our tour back at the window, fascinated by the view. Trees on the hilltops were permanently bent shoreward by the strong oceanic winds. The blue of the sky and the darker blue of the ocean blended in graduated shades. Waves rippled the surface of the water and churned into a lacy froth on the sandy beach.
Kris was enraptured. “Can we go to the beach?”
“Not today,” I said. I’d wanted to take the girls to the seashore, but now that I had seen it, I was afraid. That was an enormous body of water and they were so small.
Mazi sensed what I was thinking. “Let them go, Kate. They have to live.”
I nodded, but inside I was upset that she could read me so easily. She pointed out Seal Rocks, looking like miniature pyramids.
“I see a seal!” Kelli exclaimed. “Look, Mom!”
“The seals are only here from September to June,” Mazi explained. “They go south for July and August. They�
��re fun to watch.”
At the Musée Mécanique, Kelli fell in love with the coin-operated figures. Her favorite was a grandmotherly looking figure in purple vest and frilly white blouse who would tell your fortune.
“It’s not a real fortune,” Kris said.
“I know that,” Kelli retorted. “But it’s fun.”
Fun? I wasn’t having any fun. Neil should have been here. Neil should have been pointing out the sights and buying the girls popcorn.
I turned away so the others couldn’t see my expression. I didn’t want to ruin this trip for the girls.
“Okay, next the Camera Obscura,” Mazi said, tottering away in her high-heeled boots.
I felt like a schoolkid on a field trip. I followed, because there wasn’t anything else to do. The building, shaped like a camera, didn’t seem appealing to me, but to my surprise, Kris was fascinated. We walked past the huge brass arrows pointing to the entrance. Once inside we watched as the camera obscura chugged around on its motorized axis, panning the surf, the rocks and the sinking sun, while we listened to the man who ran the show. The sun was sinking low at the end of the day and he held up a flat board, moving it into the field of projection so we could see the sun storms around the edge of the sun.
Even I was interested now. He had turned off the narration tape to do the sunset show in person. Kris stood right in front of him, hanging on every word. He smiled down at her. “About twice a month we see the green flash.”
Her eyes were big. “What’s that?”
“It’s caused by the spectrum of light being split by the atmosphere. The various colors of light are separated, and when green comes along it flashes just as the last rays of light leave.”
“Oh, wow!” Kris breathed. “Do you think we’ll see it?”
“I can’t promise,” the man said. “It only lasts for a tenth of a second, but it’s something special when it does happen.”
We waited. I knew it wouldn’t happen, but maybe Kris wouldn’t be too disappointed. I was almost angry at the man for building her up to be let down. My daughter had been on the receiving end of too many disappointments lately. Then it happened. A flash of liquid jade.
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