High-Caliber Concealer

by Bethany Maines

  He swam for the dock and Nikki followed more slowly. He let her climb the ladder first, but when they were on solid ground, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

  “Um,” said Nikki leaning back. “Uh, no, I think.”

  “Not the boyfriend?” Jackson seemed exasperated.

  “Yes, the boyfriend. I love him!”

  “But it’s us.”

  “No, it’s just you and me,” said Nikki, sitting down on the end of the dock. “There is no us.”

  Jackson flopped down next to her, leaning back on his elbows. Captain Beaumont nosed in between them and laid down, panting.

  “Sorry,” said Nikki, awkwardly.

  “Mmph,” said Jackson, flapping a hand dismissively. “You’re probably right. Moonlight and adrenalin aren’t the most sane reasons for reviving a relationship.”

  “Well, I do want us to be friends again though,” said Nikki and Jackson laughed.

  “Are you actively putting me in the friend zone? I’ve read the internet—I should not let you put me on layaway. I should demand that you make a decision. You should respect me for the great catch that I am.”

  “You haven’t been reading the internet. You’ve been reading Marie Claire.”

  “I think it was GQ at the barber shop actually. Besides we’ve got the time. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “What does that mean?” demanded Nikki, reaching out to pet Beaumont who leaned happily against her.

  “Just that you’re right. It is you and me. We’ve been friends since we could walk and I fully intend to keep being friends with you until we can’t walk anymore. I’m just saying we’ve got time for… whatever.” He flapped his hand at the water, consigning their future to the future.

  Nikki knew she should probably argue and make things really extra clear, but in all honesty, she kind of liked the idea that she and Jackson would be in the same old folk’s home. There was quiet for several minutes, but eventually Jackson sat up and began to look for his clothes.

  “Peg and Jorge are getting old,” he said. “They won’t be able to run this farm forever.”

  “I know,” said Nikki with a sigh. “But she doesn’t want to move in with mom, not that I can blame her there. And it doesn’t sound like she’s ready to sell. So, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess.”

  He shrugged.

  “Are you secretly trying to tell me that she needs to be moved to a nursing home or something?”

  “What? No! But I’m here and I see how she needs help with stuff. And I know that she’s never going to actually ask for help.”

  “Well, it’s not your problem,” snapped Nikki. “If she needs help, we’ll hire someone to do chores around the farm. You’re not obligated to help.”

  He turned to her, frustration clear on his face. “I’m happy to help. That isn’t the point.”

  “Then what is the point?”

  “What I’m trying to say,” he paused, as if trying to formulate his words carefully, “is that in case you didn’t know, because you haven’t been around, that she needs help. Currently, I’m happy to help with odd jobs and heavy lifting. But I can see a time coming when there will be more than that.”

  “Oh.” Nikki decelerated her temper out of warp factor four. “Yeah, I know. Mom knows too.”

  “I don’t know that Peg knows that you know.”

  “Oh, dear God, I’ve had less confusing conversations with Kit and he’s British and crazy. What are you trying to say, Jackson?”

  “I think Peg is concerned that you and Nell aren’t aware of the status of the farm because you aren’t around enough. She feels like she tells you things but it doesn’t sink in because you’re not here to see it. You need to be here more.”

  Nikki tried to formulate a response to the suggestion and then laughed. “No.”

  Jackson looked confused and slightly hurt. “No? Just no? You didn’t even think about it.”

  Nikki shrugged. “I can’t. I’m out of the country for weeks at a stretch. I have my mail delivered to work so they can manage my bills for me. I would have my boyfriend do it, but he’s in the same boat I am. I can’t make new friends because I can’t make plans more than twenty-four hours in advance, and I even break a lot of those. I’ve got exactly enough energy and space for the life I’m currently living. I love Grandma, but I can’t fly up here once a month to reassure her that I know she’s got it rough and check in on whether or not she needs a handyman or a lift to the doctor. I appreciate that you’re looking after her best interests, but I’ve got responsibilities to a lot of other people. I have to consider more than just what she wants.”

  “Other people that are more important than your family?”

  “Yes, actually. Grandma isn’t in crisis. She’s fully capable, and while I appreciate her emotional needs, and I wish I could be there for her, I can’t. And furthermore, she hasn’t asked me to. Given the current situation parameters, I need to stay where I’m at.”

  For a moment, Jackson looked like he was going to argue. Like this was going to be a full-blown yelling match. Z’ev would have argued. The old Jackson would have left. Instead, he paused to consider matters, then spoke his mind. “A phone call every couple of weeks would probably do it. And I’m not sure I like the Nikki that thinks of her family as current situation parameters.”

  “I have to,” said Nikki. “Someone has to be clear-headed and make decisions. It’s my job.”

  He pulled on his sweatshirt, losing his face in the folds for a few moments. “That’s one hell of a job you’ve got there, Nikki. It doesn’t sound very nice.”

  “Nice is for people who have time,” said Nikki.

  “Uh huh. Your grandfather used to say that, didn’t he?” Nikki shrugged. He pulled on his shoes and straightened up. Nikki folded her arms across her chest. “Anyway, come up to the ranch one night while you’re here and we’ll get shit-faced on really good wine and talk about the good old days and you can tell me about your not very nice job, and why you carry lock-picks and a gun.”

  “You’re not supposed to notice the gun,” said Nikki.

  “Yeah, like I’m not supposed to notice that my ex-girlfriend has become a bad ass? So we’re just going to pretend you’re the shy, retiring type? Who’s going to buy that?”

  “Just about everyone,” said Nikki with a grin. “You’d be surprised.”

  “But I don’t know why you’d bother,” said Jackson, turning to jog up the hill. “Come on, Captain.” The Captain went by, a blur in the darkness.

  Nikki gathered up her clothes and gun, and jammed her feet into her sneakers, walking on them like flip-flops, bending the heels down in a way her mother would have hated. She shuffled up to the house and then stopped, staring at her grandmother’s SUV. She could have sworn that it was pointed the other direction when she’d left the house. She placed a hand on the hood and pulled it back when she discovered the engine was still warm. She glanced up at the house, but all the lights appeared to be off. Where had her grandmother gone?

  August XII

  Mother & Child Reunion

  Thursday

  Nikki felt like her head had barely hit the pillow before she heard her grandmother get up. She rolled over, checked the clock and recoiled at the 5:15 time. Farmers were crazy. She heard Peg shower and clump down the stairs and then leave the house by six. After that, there was blessed silence and Nikki went back to sleep. She was still yawning at the breakfast table when Peg returned at ten.

  “You sleep a lot,” said Peg, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

  “I have to make up for when I’m out on a job.”

  “What is it you do again?”

  “I’m a project coordinator for the Carrie Mae Foundation.”

  “Uh-huh. And what’s one of them do?”

  “The Carrie Mae Foundation is a non-profit organization with the goal of helping women, and it has branches all over the world. My team and I travel to many of them and work with
their personnel to help implement procedures and solve problems.” Nikki rattled through her cover story with ease. She called it the ‘airplane speech’ since it was what she told to strangers on a plane.

  “So you fly into some place and tell them what to do? People must love you.”

  “It’s more like people have a problem and they send for us.”

  “Getting to ride in and save the day is lot better than swooping in and telling them how to do their jobs.”

  Nikki nodded her agreement and Peg sipped her coffee.

  “Oh, I talked to George Parsons this morning. He’s got a ’53 Cadillac Le Mans—whatever that is. I think it’s a convertible. I figured you could do that striped sundress with the matching hat. You’ll look like a 1950s Vogue cover if I can get the angles right.

  “OK,” agreed Nikki.

  “I’m still thinking about who’s got what other cars. George said he’d ask some of his car friends.”

  Nikki nodded again and continued to eat her breakfast, letting Peg’s meandering digression of cars, shooting styles, and camera equipment wash over her. She waited for a break in the conversation intending to bring up her grandmother’s late night trip.

  “Of course, we’ll have to finish up by two because that’s when you’ll have to go pick up your mother at the airport.”

  Nikki paused, spoon halfway to her mouth. Peg was continuing on to discuss which outfits they might do later in the week, if they got the right cars.

  “Grandma, you can’t slip that in and pretend it didn’t happen. I know you called mom.”

  “Well, I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to see your mother,” said Peg defensively.

  “Because she’s overbearing, tries to run my life, and has no sense of boundaries,” said Nikki.

  “She’s not that bad,” said Peg.

  “Grandma, last time you came to visit us in Seattle, you left after three days.”

  “There was an emergency at the farm.”

  “Really? Because what I remember is that Mom kept trying to get you to look at Senior Living Homes and you threw a pile of brochures at her head and called her an ungrateful harpy.”

  “Yeah…” Peg trailed off and had the decency to blush. “It’s my own fault really. We spoiled her when she was younger. She was our only daughter and most of the time there wasn’t any reason for her not to get her way. I think she just got into the habit of thinking that she could arrange things the way she thinks is best. She forgets that other people might have differing views on what’s best for them.”

  “That is a very kind way of describing her,” said Nikki, going to the sink to rinse out her bowl.

  “She’s not a bad person,” said Peg firmly.

  “Nope,” agreed Nikki, “she’s just a monumental pain in the ass.”

  “Nikki! You can’t talk about your mother like that.” Peg looked genuinely disapproving.

  “So we’ll all just be thinking it then?”

  “Nikki,” Peg looked unhappy.

  “It’s fine. We’ll just keep it between us,” said Nikki, patting Peg’s shoulder.

  “That is not what I said,” said Peg, her lips pinching unhappily.

  “Right, because we’re not saying it,” agreed Nikki. “We’re just thinking it.”

  “You are not funny, young lady.”

  “I’m a little funny,” said Nikki, and Peg’s lips twitched upward.

  “Go get changed,” said Peg throwing up her hands in exasperation. “Hopefully, we’ll get this shoot done real quick and be back in time for lunch.”

  But they weren’t. George Parsons wanted to chat. And then he wanted to polish every piece of dust off the Le Mans with a diaper. And then the light shifted. By two Nikki was hot and sweaty from trying to look effortless and breezy and she was starving.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” asked Peg, hopping out of the car. “I told Jorge I’d go over the numbers with him and someone needs to get your mom. We really should have left twenty minutes ago. You know how she hates to wait.”

  “It’s fine,” said Nikki. “But hurry up and close the door so I can crank the AC. You don’t need me sweating through this frock.”

  “Thanks, sweetie!” Peg slammed the door and jogged off toward the operations shack on the edge of the orchard. Nikki watched her go with a smile. She was pushing seventy-one and didn’t seem to have slowed down a bit.

  The drive into Spokane along Highway 395 was a pretty one, taking her past the edge of the Colville National Forest and Nine Mile Falls before dropping her into the suburbs of Spokane. After wending her way through the center of the city and out the other side she finally arrived, very late, at the Spokane airport. The airport was a boring assortment of buildings, looking like the usual collection of forgotten moving boxes piled next to each other. The best she could say about it was that it had very tidy landscaping.

  Nikki checked the charge on her cell phone and began to worry. Being this late should have made her mother begin a five-minute rotation of calls and texts. She pulled into the loading zone and scanned for her mother. She finally spotted Nell by her shirt, which was, of course, a loud paisley print with a neckline that was far too low. Nell was talking to a stylish blonde and behind her was a girl with jet black hair standing next to a slightly older woman dressed in khakis. Nikki groaned and dropped her head on to the steering wheel, which honked the horn. Her mother looked around and waved happily. Oh, so happily.

  “Nikki, look who I found on the plane!” chirped Nell.

  “All of my friends,” replied Nikki, glaring at them.

  “Yes! They’re coming with us back to the farm!”

  “Really? Because I was thinking about firing them off into space.”

  “Don’t be a sour puss,” said Nell, “and help us load our bags in the back.”

  “We’ve got it,” said Jenny, taking Nell’s suit case. “You go ahead and get in the car.”

  “We met your mom!” squeaked Jane thumping into the driver’s window in a way that reminded Nikki strongly of Captain Beaumont.

  “Why don’t you eat this granola bar?” said Ellen taking an appraising look at Nikki.

  Nikki thought about refusing, but decided it was a pointless gesture. “Thanks. What are you guys doing here?” She unwrapped the granola bar and began to take enormous bites, trying to eat as much of it as possible before her mother finished fussing with the luggage.

  “I called the girls to talk about your situation and see what they thought. And it turned out no one was having much fun on their vacation. Jane wouldn’t leave the room until after dark and Jenny got a sunburn on her boobs and my daughters tried to sign me up for a class on making bread.”

  “You don’t enjoy baking,” said Nikki, puzzled.

  “No, I really don’t,” agreed Ellen. “There’s too much flour all over the place. It annoys me. Anyway, we decided that your mystery and pie vacation sounded like more fun. So here we are, and as a bonus we got to meet your mom.”

  “Swell,” said Nikki sourly as Nell climbed into the passenger seat.

  “Nikki, you really shouldn’t snack,” said Nell, eyeing the granola bar. “You’ll get fat.”

  “Studies show that snacking improves the metabolism,” said Nikki, around a mouthful of granola bar.

  “And don’t talk with your mouth full. What will your friends think?”

  “Justifiable homicide?”

  “Why do you have to be weird? She’s not always this weird,” said Nell turning to reassure the girls in the back seat.

  “Actually,” said Jane, “I’m fairly certain that she’s at least that weird all the time.”

  “I’m just trying to figure out why she’s dressed like A Long Hot Summer,” said Jenny. “That’s a little outside the norm.”

  “I’m helping Grandma,” said Nikki.

  “What a fantastic dress. But what on earth are you helping her with?” asked Ellen, poking her head around the seat to inspect Nikki’s dress.

&
nbsp; “My mother fancies herself an amateur photographer,” said Nell, sounding embarrassed. “I’m sure this is one of her projects.”

  “Yes,” said Nikki. “Yesterday I was Clara Bow. You should see all the vintage clothes Grandma dug out of the attic.”

  “Really? Can we try them on?” Jane loved vintage almost as much as she loved goth.

  “Sure,” said Nikki. “I’m sure Grandma will be happy to have another model. Maybe we can find you some sort of 40s pinup thing to wear.”

  “This is so much better than Cancun!” Jane clapped her hands ecstatically and Jenny rolled her eyes.

  “Oh, it’s definitely not better than Cancun,” said Nell, looking apprehensive. “It’s really just a farm. Not very big or very exciting even.”

  “It’s better than Cancun for Jane,” said Nikki.

  “She doesn’t like happy places or drinks with umbrellas in them,” said Jenny bitterly.

  “Not even the ones with extra fruit?” Nell was confused.

  “If I’m going to drink alcohol, I like it to taste like alcohol,” said Jane. “Besides, Jenny, with your health kick lately, I can’t figure out why you’re drinking anyway.”

  “That’s why you add the fruit,” said Nell. “It’s practically a health food!”

  “Thank you, Nell. I’m glad someone understands. Nikki, she stayed in her room on her computer for most of the three days we were there.”

  “Jane, I’m not sure you’re grasping how to properly Cancun,” said Nikki.

  “That’s what Jenny said, but I don’t think I’m obligated to Cancun the same way other people do. And it’s not like I didn’t do stuff. I did stuff. I went on a nighttime fishing cruise. I caught fish. I’m not entirely sure what kind of fish, but it was very exciting. I went to a museum about the Mayans. And I took a guitar lesson from a Mariachi musician.”

  “You see?” said Jenny. “She’s hopelessly cultural.”

  Nikki clucked sympathetically. “Well, we’ve known that about her for years now. I really think you should stop trying to broaden her horizons at this point. Ellen, didn’t your daughters mind that you left early?”