“He was getting a bit too clingy,” Janice said. “Always hovering. Like today, I wanted to read this stuff in peace and he kept asking me about it.”
“What stuff?”
Janice picked up the file folder from her lap. “The diary transcripts.”
Izzy nodded. She’d been disappointed the night before when Max’s assistant, not Max, had brought over the transcripts from the second diary. Tara claimed Max was swamped with work, but Izzy couldn’t help wondering if he was avoiding her. Perhaps their date hadn’t gone as well for him as it had for her.
“I haven’t gotten a chance to read any of it,” Izzy said, pointing at the folder. “Anything interesting?”
“It’s all fascinating.” She looked at Izzy over the top of her reading glasses. “I’m finding the women wrote a lot about the interaction with their mothers and mothers-in-law. Made me realize that some things transcend time and place.”
“Like what?”
“Like this.” Janice thumbed through a few pages until she found the one she wanted, then she cleared her throat and read.
Mama is still upset with me. I know she wanted me to marry Earl. He’s a good man with the means to provide for a wife. But there was no love there. Robert may only be a poor farmer, but I love him. I just hope that one day, Mama will understand and forgive me.
Janice lowered the pages and took off her glasses. “That was written by Clara Simons in 1891. Two years later, she and Robert traveled from Kentucky to Oklahoma and took part in the land rush.”
Izzy leaned forward. “Did they get a piece of land?”
“They did not.” Janice shook her head. “So they kept going west. From what she wrote, it sounds like they lived a hard life. I don’t think she and her mother ever reconciled.”
“That’s sad.”
Janice sighed. “The women in our family always seem to disappoint their mothers.”
Izzy let her head drop, her cheeks flaming. “Mom, I know I disappointed you. And I’m sorry. But it wasn’t my fault I got sick.”
“Of course it wasn’t. What are you talking about?”
Izzy looked at her mother, whose expression was one of pure confusion. “About me. Disappointing you.”
“You never disappointed me.”
“Excuse me?” Izzy shook her head sharply. “You’ve been upset with me ever since I stopped dancing.”
“No, I wasn’t upset.” She paused, staring at Izzy for a long moment. “I take that back. I was upset. But not because you disappointed me. I was upset because, once again, another woman in our family had to give up her dream.”
“Like you did?”
“Like I did.” Janice blinked rapidly. “Like your grandmother did.”
Izzy held her breath, almost afraid to ask the next question. “What happened between you two, Mom? What caused the rift?”
“It’s not important.” Janice tried to wave away her concern. “Yes, it is. Whatever happened between the two of you has also affected the relationship you and I have. I think it’s time we talked about it.”
The silence stretched and grew, until Izzy was fairly certain her mother had chosen to keep her feelings to herself. But then Janice shifted on the couch, readjusted the pillow under her arm, and began to speak.
“When I was a girl, all I wanted to do was be a dancer like my mother. But I didn’t have the same sense of rhythm she had, that you have, so I had to change my dream. I was going to be an actress. And I had promise. A casting director once said I reminded her of a young Elizabeth Taylor. I could cry on cue. Do you have any idea how hard that is?”
Funny that particular skill would be such a source of pride. Izzy forced back a smile. “No, I can’t say that I do. I’ve never tried.”
“Take my word for it, it’s worth gold. Anyway, I took acting lessons all through high school. There weren’t as many opportunities for young actors then as there are now. There was no Disney Channel, no Nickelodeon, no YouTube videos. After graduation, I skipped college because I wanted to concentrate on my career. I got a job as a waitress to support myself and I went to every audition I could. I did community theater, just to work on my craft, maybe meet some people. And that’s how I met your father.”
“You met Dad at the theater? I never knew he acted.” Izzy couldn’t reconcile the image of her strong, rough-around-the-edges father emoting beneath the bright lights of the stage.
“He wasn’t acting. He was a friend of the director, and he was building the set as a favor.”
“But he was a cop. What did he know about building things?”
“He worked construction for a few years before he got into the police academy. He was good at it, of course. You father was good at everything he tried.” She smiled at the thought. “We were doing a production of The Glass Menagerie. I had the female lead, Laura. So I was always there rehearsing, and your father was always there building something.”
As she talked, her eyes took on a faraway quality, as though she were right back there, meeting the man of her dreams for the first time.
“Was it love at first sight?” Izzy asked.
“Hardly.” Janice barked out a laugh so loud that Bogie raised his head to see what was wrong. “I didn’t really notice him, except for the times he was hammering something while I was trying to deliver lines.”
“So what happened?”
“One day, the fellow who played opposite me was sick. He said he had food poisoning, but I think he had a little too much weekend, if you know what I mean. So the director asked Walt to fill in for him. Just to read the part so I could deliver my lines.”
“And that’s when you noticed him.”
Janice smiled, the same smile Izzy remembered from the good times when she was a child. “That’s when I noticed him. And he noticed me. He asked me out the next day. A month later, he asked me to marry him. And that’s when the trouble started between your grandmother and me.”
“I don’t understand. Didn’t she like Dad?”
“Nobody could meet Walt and not like him.” Janice shook her head. “It was more complicated than that. You have to remember your grandmother’s history. When she met my father, she was on the verge of becoming a big name in the dance world. But she gave it up for love. You see, it wasn’t that she didn’t like your father. It’s that she saw me do the same thing she had done. I gave up my dream for a man.”
“Just because you got married didn’t mean you had to give up acting.”
“It did if I wanted to stay married. Your father would never have been comfortable watching me fall in love with another man on stage or on a movie screen. And I don’t know that I would have been comfortable doing it.” She shrugged her good shoulder. “Besides, Brandon came along a year later. No time for acting with a new baby to take care of.”
Izzy rubbed her palms on her knees. “I still don’t understand why Gran was upset. She and Grandpa were happy. Why wouldn’t she want the same for you?”
“I’m not sure. I think it brought up memories of what she could have been. Even though I know she loved Daddy and wouldn’t have changed her life, she still thought about her old dreams.”
“What about you? You gave up your dream, and then …” Izzy couldn’t finish the thought.
“Then your father died. Too young.” Janice drew in a shaky breath. “I loved him so much, and to lose him when we were just getting started … I felt cheated—of my life with him and of the dream I gave up to be with him.”
A tear rolled down her mother’s cheek, but this was no staged cry. This was real emotion, being shared by a woman who had erected so many walls over the years that Izzy sometimes wondered if she felt anything inside.
“When I saw the talent in you, I latched on to it. I was determined that my daughter would realize her dream, even if I never could.”
In that moment, all the questions of the last several years were answered. “And when I couldn’t dance anymore, it was like watching your dream die all over again.”
&nb
sp; More tears flowed. Izzy pulled a white handkerchief from the pocket of her hoodie and handed it to her mom.
“I’ve been just horrid to you, Isabella.” Janice pressed the material against her eyes and dabbed at her cheeks. “And now, you’re taking care of me. I don’t deserve it.”
“Of course you do.” Izzy spoke past the lump of emotion pressing against the back of her throat. “That’s what family does. We take care of one another.”
“You’re a good daughter.”
As moisture welled in her eyes, Izzy was tempted to yank the handkerchief back. Instead she leaned over, grabbed a box of Kleenex from the side table, and pulled out a tissue. “Thanks, Mom.”
They dried their eyes, blew their noses, and then looked at each other and began to laugh.
“What a sight we must be.” Janice looked down at the handkerchief as if she wasn’t sure how it had ended up in her hand. “Where did you get this?”
“From Max. He always has one handy.”
“Ah, Max.” Janice’s eyebrows rose in question. “The young museum director who’s so interested in your grandmother’s quilt.”
Izzy nodded. “Yes.”
“If you ask me, I think he’s interested in more than some musty old family artifacts.”
Izzy looked down at the tissue, twisting it between her fingers.
Janice chuckled. “I’ve seen how he looks at you. And how you look back. You can’t convince me there isn’t a spark between you.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because that’s the way I used to look at your father.”
The room became several degrees warmer, and Izzy pulled her arms out of her hoodie. “That’s silly. We’ve only known each other a little over a month.”
“That’s all it took for your father and me. If I remember correctly, your grandparents were engaged after dating for only two months. How long do you need to know you love somebody?”
How long do you need? If the acrobatics inside Izzy’s stomach were any indication, not more than a month. The real question was, how long do you need to know if he loves you back?
22
One more week. Izzy only had to get through one more week and then she could collapse over Christmas vacation.
The throbbing in her head continued as she trudged from the school building to her car, head down, determined to block out the noises of traffic, shouting teenagers, and thumping music.
“Izzy, wait!”
It was all she could do to hold back an audible groan. She did not have the energy to deal with Barry today.
He sprinted up and skidded to a stop beside her. After one look at her face, he hopped back two steps. “You don’t look so good.”
“I don’t feel so good.” She attempted a weak smile.
Tentatively, as if afraid whatever she had would jump out and bite him, Barry touched her forehead with the back of his wrist. A split second after making contact, he yanked his hand away. “You may have a low-grade fever. I told you not to skip your flu shot.”
She couldn’t have the flu. There was no room in her life for the flu. “I’m just tired. I’ve been pushing myself, not eating right. I need some fluids and a nap, and then I’ll be fine.”
“Those things certainly won’t hurt.” He took another step back. “Make sure to monitor your temperature.”
“I will. Thanks.” She unlocked the car door, then turned back to him. “Did you want to talk to me about something?”
“Oh, uh, no. Just wanted to say good-bye.”
With a smile and a wave, he headed back across the parking lot. Apparently, the possibility of a communicable disease made her much less attractive to him.
She settled herself in the driver’s seat, fastened her seat belt, and was just about to turn the key in the ignition when her phone rang. The phone displayed the number for the Pioneer Museum, and Izzy’s cheeks burned a degree hotter.
“Hello?”
“Izzy? Hi, this is Tara.”
She slumped in her seat. Again, not Max. “Hi, Tara. What can I do for you?”
“I hate to bother you, and I don’t mean to push, but … I was wondering if you were any closer to deciding what to do about the Wild Goose Chase quilt?”
“I’m still working that out with my family.”
“I see.” There was a pause before Tara continued. “It’s just that we need to finalize the exhibit before the gala—”
“I know.”
“—and it’s this Friday. We’re running out of time.”
“I know.” Izzy squeezed her forehead with her free hand, noting that she might very well be slightly feverish. “I understand how important this is. What I don’t understand is why Max isn’t asking me about it himself.”
Tara didn’t strike her as the kind of woman who would stammer, but that’s exactly what she started doing. “Max is just, um, he’s very busy right now. He’s spending so much time at the museum that he’s been sleeping in his office. So he, uh, he asked me to give him a hand.”
“Is that so?” Whether the pressure in her head was from the flu or from the idea that Max saw her as a problem to be handed over, Izzy didn’t know. But she was in no mood to put up with it. “You can tell your boss that if he wants that quilt, he’s going to have to ask me for it himself—in person.”
“OK. But—”
“Have a nice day, Tara. Good-bye.”
Izzy dropped the phone into her purse. There, she’d put her foot down, made her feelings known. And now Tara would tell Max. And Max would have to decide just how important the quilt—and Izzy—were to him.
Izzy leaned back against the headrest and groaned. What had she done?
When Izzy walked into her home and found Brandon and her mother waiting to talk to her, she knew the subject matter couldn’t be good.
“Can this wait?” She kicked her shoes off by the door and trudged into the room. “I feel lousy.”
Brandon slid over, making room for her on the loveseat. “Then you’d better sit down. Because this won’t make you feel any better.”
She dropped next to her brother, exhaling a big whoosh of air and slumping back against the cushions. “What now?”
Janice shifted on the couch. “Brandon found something today while he was doing whatever it is he does on the Internet.”
“It’s work related, Mom.”
“That doesn’t matter now.” She waved a hand at him. “Izzy, just remember that we don’t really know what this means. But it does look … suspicious.”
Izzy blinked her eyes, trying to clear her head. “What what means?”
Brandon angled himself toward her. “You know I’ve been skeptical all along about the quilt and how much money it’s really worth.”
This again. “Brandon, I—”
“Just hear me out. I’ve never really trusted Logan, so I set up Google alerts for his name, the quilt, and the museum. And today I got a hit.”
Her head felt heavy. None of what he was saying made any sense. “What does that mean?”
Brandon picked up several pieces of printed paper from the coffee table. “It means I found a press release about the new exhibit at the California Pioneer Museum—the exhibit that features a rare Wild Goose Chase quilt and old diaries, which were recently acquired by the director.”
Acquired? Izzy sat forward and reached for the printouts. Before he let her have them, Brandon shuffled through the pages and put one on top.
“Look at this. It’s an article about the exhibit. Read the quotation from this Dalton Reed fellow.”
Izzy skimmed the paragraphs until she fell on the spot Brandon had pointed out.
Mr. Logan’s doing some impressive things at the California Pioneer Museum. His recent acquisition of this heirloom quilt and the supporting diaries is quite a coup. If the exhibit’s as fabulous as I expect, it will be a major stepping-stone in his career.
Until that moment, Izzy hadn’t known a person could be hot and cold at the same time
. Beneath her fevered skin, her blood chilled. Had everything between her and Max been a sham? Just a way to get close to her so he could charm what he wanted out of her? If so, he was making progress. He already had possession of two of the three diaries. All he needed was the quilt, and hadn’t she planned to loan it to him all along?
“Izzy.” Her mother’s voice cut through her fog of thought. “Don’t jump to conclusions. This doesn’t mean anything.”
Brandon scowled, jabbing at the article. “Of course it means something. It means that quilt is worth an awful lot more than Logan has been letting on. And he’s using you to get it.”
From his place on the couch, Bogie’s head shot up, ears perked. A second later, the doorbell rang. Izzy pushed herself up from the couch and went to the door.
Max stood on the porch, smiling. Izzy’s heart jumped, and then her temper flared. How dare he look so happy to see her? How dare her emotions react to him so, her lips automatically curving up into a smile?
It took all the strength she had to display what she hoped was a grim expression. “I see Tara gave you my message.”
“She did. And it made me realize that not calling you has been a big mistake. Can I come in?”
“No.” She shot the syllable at him.
His eyebrows drew down, as did the corners of his mouth. “Izzy, I came to apologize. And to explain.”
“Oh, really? Did you come to explain this?” She thrust the paper at him, almost hitting him in the face with it.
As he squinted to make out the text under the pale glow of the porch light, Max’s face changed from confusion to surprise to irritation.
“This is wrong,” he said. “I never authorized this press release.”
Izzy snorted. “I guess you never talked to Dalton Reed, either.” More than anything, she wanted him to confirm that he hadn’t. Then maybe she could believe this was all one big misunderstanding.
Max opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. He paused, looked down at his shoes, then back at Izzy. “Yes, I did speak to Dalton, but it’s not what you think.”
Her stomach rolled. She couldn’t stand there another second. “You want to know what I think? I think you’ve been playing me this whole time. I think you really do have ambitions of getting to the Smithsonian and you’ll do anything you need to do to get there.”
A Wild Goose Chase Christmas: Quilts of Love Series Page 15
