by Deb Baker
Nina, face pinched and ashen next to Gretchen’s, plopped into a chair and leaned forward. “Is Caroline dead?” she said, shaky, awaiting bad news.
Gretchen slowly looked up and shook her head. Nina clutched her heart. “That’s a relief. When I saw you lying there, that’s the first thing I thought of.”
It was time to confide in Nina.
“Courtney, the intern, called last night. She and Steve are having a thing.”
“A thing?”
“Those were her words.”
Gretchen realized how badly she needed a sympathetic ear as the whole story spilled out of her.
Nina leaned back when she was finished and crossed her legs. “That rat. I always suspected as much.”
“You did not. You’re the one who thought I should give him an ultimatum.” Gretchen lifted an arm and tapped her head with the cast. “Is it my imagination, or is that idea a very bad one?”
“You can still offer him a choice. Death by fire or death by shark. I’ve always thought those would be the two worst possible ways to go, a fitting end for Steve.”
“He was continually working, always preparing for a case or meeting with clients or attending company-sponsored events. How did he find the time?”
“He wasn’t always working,” Nina said. “She turned out to be the special event he was working. I’m sorry it happened.”
“I shouldn’t have left Boston.”
Nina snorted. “You think if you had stayed, it would have ended between them? Right. Sure. Once a cheater always a cheater, I say.”
Gretchen’s new perception of her relationship seemed as clear as fog dissipating over the Boston Harbor. Thick, whirling haze had clouded her vision, but now she could see past the horizon. “I can’t believe he’d risk our relationship for a quick fling with a summer intern. He’s almost twice as old as she is.”
“Midlife crisis,” Nina suggested.
“He’s thirty-two. Too young.”
“The rat,” Nina said again.
Nina forced Gretchen into the bathroom and turned on the shower. “Keep the water cold,” she demanded. “That should snap you out of it. Take your time, and afterwards, I’ll work on your face. What a burn.”
“What’s that?” Gretchen said, noticing a purse hanging from Nina’s shoulder for the first time.
“That,” Nina said, “is today’s purse trainee. He’s sound asleep down on the bottom. You gave me such a scare, I forgot he was there.”
Twenty minutes later, Gretchen felt almost human again. Nina dabbed aloe vera lotion on her niece’s sunburned face and feet, and Gretchen slid into flip-flops.
“Bring a pair of athletic shoes along,” Nina said.
“Why?”
“We’re headed for Curves. I called April to find out what time the Dollers would be working out.” She glanced at her watch. “They’ll show up soon, and we don’t want to miss them.”
“But why are we going to Curves?” Gretchen felt a whine in her voice. “We can see them later. Call a meeting if you miss them so much. I’m really not in the mood to socialize.”
Nina smiled. “We’re going to sign up. We could both use some cardiovascular work. Exercise and research at the same time. Maybe we’ll find out if Rita really saw Bonnie at the Rescue Mission. That can be your job. Find out. And exercise is good for your mind. Let’s leave the dogs in the kitchen.” Nina glanced at the purse on her shoulder. “I’ll put Enrico in the bathroom.”
“Enrico needs his own room?”
“Enrico needs his own world.”
“Give my name when you sign up,” April said. “I’m working on a free T-shirt. Five enrollments, and I get my very own Curves shirt in orange, pink, blue, or black.”
Curves bustled with activity, every station occupied, conversations swelling over workout music. April, Bonnie, and Rita crowded around while Nina and Gretchen signed up for a trial week.
“You should sign up for a whole year,” April said, disappointment in her voice. “That’s the only way it counts toward my shirt.”
“Change stations now,” the recording announced.
Nina laid the pen on the counter. “Gretchen might go back to Boston in a few days. She can’t sign up for a year.”
“She can transfer her membership to Boston. That’s the beauty of Curves. They’re everywhere,” April said, checking Nina out. “You could use a year, too.”
Nina narrowed her eyes while Olivia Newton John belted “Let’s Get Physical” from a boom box on an overhead shelf. She opened her mouth to respond, but she caught Gretchen’s eye and the slight shake of her head. She closed her mouth.
“Stations are opening up,” Bonnie called out, her red flip shellacked stiffly around her face.
Gretchen leaped onto the stepper, jostling for a position next to Bonnie, her prey of the moment. She ignored the pain radiating from within her running shoes.
“You sure did burn your face,” April said. “Fall asleep in the sun?”
“No,” Nina said. “Her boyfriend cheated on her with a coworker, and I found her wallowing in self-pity by the pool.”
Everyone gasped, and Gretchen sent Nina a menacing glance. So much for personal privacy. Wallowing in self-pity? Well, Nina was right. She had too much on her mind right now to worry about Steve and Courtney.
She worked harder, running in place faster, increasing her concentration. Focusing on the workout.
“Men are all alike,” April said, huffing through the shoulder press. “Bad behavior runs in their genes.”
“Not my Matt,” Bonnie said, running in place. “Matty’s wife was the one who cheated on him. He’s going through a nasty divorce right now. Faithful as they come, my Matty.”
Probably married to his job more than to his wife, Gretchen thought. Although the job didn’t stop Steve.
“At least they didn’t have children,” Rita said. “Children complicate divorce.”
“What’s nasty about the divorce?” Nina asked. “Without children and child support or a custody battle, the divorce should be smooth sailing.”
“She stalks him. She wants him back, and she’s not above making scenes,” Bonnie said. “The closer they get to the divorce hearing, the more desperate she becomes. Poor Matty’s hiding in the streets. Lucky for him, he has a mobile job.”
Gretchen, preoccupied earlier with her own problems, wondered what had happened to her shadow. For all she knew, he was outside right this minute, waiting to follow her.
“Radio says more rain later today,” April said. “Just what we need.”
Nina bent over and placed her palms on the floor.
“Show-off,” April said.
“That’s amazing, Aunt Nina,” Gretchen said, skipping the shoulder press. Working out with a broken wrist proved a unique challenge.
“It’s the yoga,” Nina said. “I’m limber as a tree monkey, but my cardiovascular activity is limited to walking back and forth from the car. I guess you can’t have everything.”
“Run in place on the platforms,” April advised. “That’ll get your heart rate up. Mine’s always at the top end of what’s safe.” She pulled a hanky from her pocket and mopped her forehead.
“Gretchen’s cheating boyfriend is a divorce attorney,” Nina said. Gretchen thought about a direct frontal tackle. She could take Aunt Nina down in two moves.
“That makes it worse,” April said. “He should know better.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Rita said.
Get ready for a ten-second count.
Gretchen’s pulse rate went off the chart hanging on the wall. “I don’t know,” she said, after the count, when she noticed Rita still looking at her and waiting for her answer. “I really don’t know.”
And she didn’t know. That had been the recurring question in her mind since Courtney’s call last night. How to handle it. What to say. How to react.
Steve had assured her that it would never happen again, and she had wanted so badl
y to believe him. What if Courtney was lying?
After two circuits, Nina’s face turned the same color as Gretchen’s burned face.
“I need to take a break,” Nina said.
“Me, too,” huffed April.
The two women moved away from the workout area, and Gretchen glanced at Bonnie. The hydraulic machines hissed around her. Rita turned and said something to the woman ahead of her.
“I saw you, too,” Gretchen leaned over and whispered to Bonnie, taking a wild shot.
Bonnie smiled at Gretchen, bending to the side, stretching, one arm high and wide overhead. “You saw me?”
“At the Rescue Mission.”
“Change stations now.”
Bonnie’s smile died, and her face closed up.
“Look,” Gretchen said, “your hair is hard to miss.”
Bonnie’s hand jumped to her red hair.
“Your hair is beautiful, don’t get me wrong,” Gretchen said hastily. “It’s unique; that’s why I know it was you.”
Bonnie smiled with her teeth, gums showing. “Sorry to disappoint, but you are mistaken.” She nudged Rita. “We must be almost done.”
Rita turned back. “Done,” she agreed.
“Never trust a woman whose gums show when she smiles,” Gretchen said to Nina as they zipped through traffic on the way back to her mother’s house. “Who said that?”
“You just did.”
“No, I’ve heard that expression someplace before.”
“Interesting about your friend, Matt. Don’t you think?”
“That he’s going through a divorce?”
“He’s available,” Nina said, honking at a passing car that strayed into her lane. “Never ignore opportunity.”
“That,” Gretchen said, emphatically, “is the last thing on my mind.”
“Good. At least it’s on the list.”
“I can’t help but think that she’s hidden the French fashion doll right here in the house,” Gretchen said over loud, aggressive snarls. Enrico, the Chihuahua, raised his upper lip and growled at Gretchen. “He’s going to attack me.”
“Chihuahuas,” Nina said in an instructional voice, “are as old as the Mayan civilization. We’ve actually discovered their images carved in stone in the Mexican jungle. The Mayans believed Chihuahuas guided the dead through the underworld.”
“This particular one doesn’t have guide dog written all over him. He should come with a vicious attack dog warning.”
“Chihuahuas don’t like strangers. They don’t like other people or other dogs, but they bond with one or two people and are devoted for life.”
Enrico continued to snarl at Gretchen.
“Give him a treat,” Nina advised, handing Gretchen a liver snap.
“I’m not going near him. And look at Tutu and Nimrod. They’re terrified.”
Both dogs had backed into a corner, watching the action from a safe distance. Wobbles, on the other hand, strutted past the purse hanging from the doorknob without acknowledging the rabid beast within its confines. He stopped at Gretchen’s feet and gazed at the liver snap. Gretchen bent down and handed it over.
“They take a little getting used to,” Nina admitted. “Although Chihuahua owners just love them to death. And speaking of death. They can live for twenty years.”
“Isn’t that nice. Can we get back to my mother and where she may have hidden the doll? According to the note we found written on the back of Nacho’s French fashion doll picture, my mother has the doll.”
“We’ve been over this before,” Nina said. “The police searched the house. Wouldn’t they have found the doll if Caroline had it here?”
Gretchen frowned, and the movement caused burning pain to shoot through her face. What a mess. Broken wrist, second-degree burns on her face and feet. Or was it third-degree? Second, third, or fourth, who cared? All Gretchen knew was that it really hurt.
“They did a poor job of searching. They didn’t seem concerned about anything other than the parian doll and the inventory list.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Follow me.” Gretchen opened the doors to the patio. She walked past the swimming pool into the living area of the cabana. It was exactly as she remembered it. Large, welcoming fireplace, cozy sitting area, wide bed with a locally made Indian blanket spread across it, more blankets draped on the walls, pottery scattered in nooks and crannies. An Arcosanti bell hanging from the outside eave chimed in the breeze.
She pointed to a stack of boxes pushed against the wall. Unless company arrived, the cabana served as a storage area rather than a guest room, housing the dolls her mother sold at shows.
“Let’s start here,” Gretchen said. “The police didn’t even come out to the cabana. Maybe she hid the doll with her other dolls.”
“Seems too obvious.” Nina squatted and pried a box open.
“I agree, but we have to start somewhere. I have a copy of the list itemizing all of Martha’s collection. Let’s see if any of the dolls in these boxes matches any on the list. Keep your eyes out for the French fashion doll. And unwrap them gently; they’re fragile.”
Gretchen opened a box and carefully unwrapped each doll: closed mouth, open mouth, mohair wigs. Dolls dressed in sailing outfits, gingham jumper dresses, drop-waist dresses in pink polka dot and cotton sateen, marked dolls, sleepy eyes, molded teeth.
“Look at this one,” Nina said, holding up a blonde-headed doll dressed in a knit suit with sapphire glass beads. “And this.” She picked up a dark-haired doll dressed in a sarong.
“She told me about these,” Gretchen said. “They’re Mary Hoyer dolls she found at an auction. This one is Dorothy Lamour, and that one…” she gestured at the doll Nina held. “… is Marilyn Monroe. There should be a Katharine Hep-burn and a Lana Turner somewhere in the box.”
“Here they are,” Nina giggled. “They’re cute, too.”
A sharp bark sounded from the house.
“I better check on the pooches,” Nina said and scurried off.
Gretchen immersed herself in the boxes, unwrapping each doll and checking it against the photocopied list. The contents of the boxes matched her mother’s personality: wild and randomly packaged. Dolls from all eras scattered among the boxes. A doll from the forties in this box, another from the same period in that one. No labels on any of the boxes. Disorganized but meticulously cared for. A contradiction of life. Order within disorder.
Gretchen glanced at her watch and realized that an hour had passed since Nina left the cabana. She finished packing up the last box and stood. Nothing. Not one doll from the list. No French fashion doll. She felt disappointed. It should be easier than this.
“I’ve been playing secretary,” Nina said, hanging up the phone when Gretchen arrived in the kitchen. “Larry called for an update and to say he’s delivering the doll with the new hand-made wig directly to the customer. He’s giving him a bill but will tell the customer to send payment to Caroline. Larry said he’ll work out the fee with her later.”
“That’s nice of him,” Gretchen said absently, opening the refrigerator and peering inside.
“April called to say she’s decided to work out at Curves every day instead of every other, so we can join her if we want to.”
“That’s nice,” Gretchen muttered.
“And Steve called and left a message.”
Gretchen closed the refrigerator. “What did the message say?”
“That he’s been trying to reach you on your cell phone. That Courtney told him what she did, and he can explain.” Nina snorted. “I’d like to hear him explain that one.”
Gretchen took a chocolate croissant from a bag on the counter and bit into it. “I can have this,” she said, defensively. “I worked out this morning.”
“Are you going to call him back?” Nina wanted to know.
Before Gretchen could answer with her very first firm and resounding no, a snarl erupted from the purse lying on the chair next to Nina.
“
Enrico’s up from his nap,” Nina said.
* * *
Gretchen and Nina walked side by side through the Biltmore Fashion Park. Nimrod rode on Gretchen’s shoulder in a white cotton purse embroidered with miniature black poodles. The poodles attached to the purse wore red hair bows, which complemented Gretchen’s burned face. The savage demon, Enrico, poked out from Mexican tapestry, a gravelly hum resounding from his throat that threatened to grow into a growl.
After a disagreement with Nina, which Gretchen won, Tutu had stayed at home with Wobbles. The purse dogs traveling by shoulder bag represented Gretchen’s reluctant compromises.
“Okay,” Nina said. “We made two copies of Martha’s key, one for you and one for me.”
“I know that, Nina. I was with you.”
“It helps to verbalize. Keeps it orderly.”
“Right.” Gretchen could feel Nimrod’s tail thumping against her ribs in perpetual puppy happiness.
“We left the original key right where we found it in that smelly old bag.”
“As bait.”
“That’s the part I don’t get.”
Gretchen pursed her lips and winced. “I have to buy another tube of lip balm.” She brushed her fingers across a blister forming on her lip. “We’ll let everyone know that we found Martha’s belongings. We’ll call all the Phoenix Dollers and-”
“There must be over one hundred members. Most aren’t even active.”
“We’ll call the active members. We’ll make the discovery sound exciting and tell them where it is. Then we’ll wait and see what happens.”
“Maybe nothing will happen.”
Gretchen shrugged. “Maybe you’re right, but do you have a better idea?”
“Yes, we should find the door that it opens. We’ll try it in locks until we find a fit.”
“That’s also part of the plan.”
Nina stopped walking and looked at a storefront. “I’m going into Chico’s. Enrico, hide.” She tossed a liver treat into the purse, and Enrico dove out of sight. Nina grinned and strode into the shop. Gretchen wandered into the Flip Flop Shop and purchased two new pairs of shoes, one gold, the other silver. With the tops of her feet burnt the color of Tutu’s red lace collar, flip-flops were the only shoe she could wear for awhile.
