Like hell!
Suzanna felt herself starting to float. She willed herself to stay on the ground. She was not going to lose to Blu!
She reached out for a flag and Blu reached for the other. Suzanna suddenly launched herself at her husband’s back, tackling him. Somehow he managed to spin around and catch her. They hit the ground with Eric on his back and Suzanna lying on top of him. Blu vaulted over them. Suzanna, atop a surprised Eric, looked up at Blu, who stared back at her, breathing hard. Blu give Suzanna a big grin, a thumbs-up, and ran off.
What did that mean?
Suzanna decided Eric was more important than Blu at the moment and she covered him with kisses. He was laughing.
“What are you doing, Beet?” he asked. “You made me lose the race.”
“Don’t leave me,” Suzanna said between kisses. “I love you!”
They both sat up and looked at each other as runners and zombies leaped all around them. Suzanna rested her head on Eric’s shoulder. She could feel his heart racing from the exertion of the run. Her heart was racing because she knew she’d been playing with fire—and so had Blu.
“Am I missing something?” Eric asked. “Why would I be leaving you?”
“For Blu!”
“Blu who?” Eric said, smoothing back her hair.
“Superblu!” Suzanna sniffled.
“So we could run off and be Superblu and O’Hara? I don’t think I’m the rumpled detective type.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I wouldn’t leave you for Superblu. Or any other Blu. Beet, listen, I love you. I know who you are, and I love you.”
I know who you are, and I love you was the most remarkable statement Suzanna had ever heard. Because it was one thing for someone to love you when you were faking it. But Eric did know who she was and he did love her.
“I’m a jerk,” Suzanna said, kissing him again.
“Well, yeah, sometimes,” he said. He pulled her to her feet. By this time the zombies and runners were long gone and it was just the two of them. “And you have the most expressive eyes I’ve ever seen on a zombie.”
“Don’t make me cry,” Suzanna said. “You’ll ruin my makeup.”
CHAPTER 29
ERINN
“Be careful with that,” Erinn said.
She walked behind one of the movers as he hitched her Morris chair up the front stoop, through the hallway, and into the living room. Gone was the couch shaped like lips. Gone was the coffee table of the leering man. Each hideous piece, one by one, replaced with her own beloved furniture.
Of course, the paycheck was gone now, too. Video of Blu’s lithe form streaking through the 5K in her trussed-up catsuit was all over the Internet by the time Alice unveiled her tree sculpture that same evening. A few days later, as Alice boarded a plane to Santa Fe, Blu had signed a movie deal. No small-time reality show would suffice for her now, and Alice was safely elsewhere, building metal sculptures made of pop-tops. Erinn wished Alice the greatest success. Just not in Los Angeles.
Erinn had to admit that there were times she missed Blu. But the removal of both women from her life returned things to normal. If you could call a backyard full of rabbits “normal.” Dymphna was staying, which made Erinn happy. Maybe life shouldn’t settle in too much, Erinn thought, and Dymphna would definitely see to that.
Suzanna had cautioned that watching movers manhandle your prized processions took a strong heart, and as her sofa appeared in the doorway, bumping against the door frame, Erinn gave up watching and went into the kitchen to feed Caro. She peeked into the backyard. It had become a habit, like checking a watch for the time. Just a quick glance to make sure all was well.
The backyard had been transformed. Christopher had surprised Erinn with a façade he’d built for the rabbit cages. Instead of ten stacked wire cages, the rabbits were now residing in individual units in what looked like a miniature Victorian house, the lines perfectly mimicking those of the guesthouse. Each habitat even had its own red door seamlessly set into the wire mesh. Christopher had also cleared out the side of the yard that Erinn only used for storage and enclosed it for the rabbits’ play area. The backyard, once rampaged by rabbits, had sprung back to life, just as her living room was doing right now.
Erinn tapped softly at the back window over the sink. She didn’t want to startle the rabbits. It was enough to get Caro’s attention, though. He was lying on the top of the cages, in his favorite spot between two of the faux roof peaks, serving as guard cat for his friends. Caro jumped down and padded into the kitchen.
As the movers put the last lamp in place, Erinn saw them to the door.
Should she tip them? She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She’d call her mother and ask. But before she found her mother on speed dial she slipped the phone back into her jeans. Her mother would be leaving for the airport in an hour.
I’d better get down to the Bun.
Erinn checked her reflection before she left the house. She was pleased to see her mirrored antique hall tree back in its rightful place. Tucking a strand of hair (the part that constantly escaped her enameled clip) back in place, she decided she looked no worse for wear. Since Christopher had become part of her life, she did try to pay a little more attention to how she looked. Suzanna had suggested a new hairstyle, but Erinn had settled on an assortment of antique hairclips.
She stopped dead in her tracks at the front gate. Cary was leaning against Erinn’s car, deeply engrossed in her iPad. Erinn headed over. Cary looked up at the approach of her footsteps.
“Settled back in to your own home?” Cary asked, as if having your boss remove your furniture and return it to you at her whim was business as usual. Which, Erinn guessed, for Cary it was.
“Yes,” Erinn said, waiting for Cary to move. “It’s lovely.” Remembering her manners, she added, “Thank you.”
“And Christopher?” Cary said, still languidly leaning. “He’s good?”
“He’s well,” Erinn said, and again added, “Thank you.”
“I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here,” Cary said, finally straightening up and slipping her iPad into her bag. “Shall we go for a walk?”
“I can’t. I’m on my way to the Bun.”
“Perfect. I could use some tea! I’ll go with you.”
Cary walked over to the passenger side of Erinn’s car. Erinn unclicked the lock and they both got in. Erinn drove south, along Ocean Avenue. Summer was in full swing and so was the traffic. Cary made small talk as Erinn dodged and weaved around the tourists who invaded her town every year for four months.
“Well,” Cary said. “I did it!”
“Pardon?” Erinn asked.
“I did it!” Cary said, turning in her seat to look at Erinn. “I sold Budding Tastes to the Fine Foods Network.”
So much had transpired in Erinn’s life in the last few months that it took her a moment to remember that Budding Tastes was the food-and-wine-pairing show that Erinn had wrestled into a junk-food-and-wine-pairing show.
“Why would the Fine Foods Network want to do a show about junk food?” Erinn asked. “That’s an oxymoron.”
“I think they must be trying to get the Honey Boo Boo and Duck Dynasty crowd.” Cary shrugged. “You don’t sound very excited.”
“I am,” Erinn said, although she wasn’t. She had other things on her mind.
“I thought we were screwed when we lost Red, White, and Blu,” Cary said. “This could not have come at a better time. It’s perfect.”
“As Khalil Gibran said, ‘To go forward is to move toward perfection, ’ ” Erinn said absently.
“Uh, yes, I guess that’s true,” replied Cary.
Erinn was confused. Was Cary thanking her for coming up with the twist for the show? Offering her a job? Sharing the good news? Mercifully, they were within sight of the Bun. Once peak season arrived and parking became impossible, Suzanna always made sure there was a parking spot in the back alley for Erinn. Even so, summer traffic w
ould keep her locked in the car with Cary for another several minutes.
“I’m sure it’s going to be a terrific show,” Erinn said.
“Well, I think that’s true. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“I know I bring this up all the time, so forgive me for repeating myself. But aren’t you supposed to be talking to my agent, not me?”
“Now that’s just silly. We’re friends!”
Erinn blinked. Was that right? Were they friends? She realized with a jolt that they were.
“Thank you, Cary. That’s nice to hear.”
“Good! I was thinking that you and I should be co-executive producers on this. I mean, I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“Very true.” Two cars in front of Erinn finally moved forward and she was able to swing into the parking space behind the Bun. Virginia, with the eternally trembling Piquant in her arms, and Rio were standing by the SUV, suitcases beside them. Eric was bringing out the last bag as Erinn turned off the car. No one had noticed her car as she pulled in. She sat watching them, momentarily forgetting about Cary.
“So,” Cary said, smiling. “What do you say?”
“I’m busy,” Erinn said, absently, as they got out of the car.
“What?” Cary asked, stunned.
“I’m busy. I’m working on something of my own.”
She looked at Cary’s crestfallen face.
“I’m sorry,” Erinn said. “But I had this idea for a Web series, and I’m . . . well, in the parlance of the day . . . I’m going to run with it. I hope it doesn’t interfere with our . . . you know . . . our . . .”
“Friendship? Of course not. Although I’m heartbroken, of course. So?”
“So?”
“So, what are you working on?”
“It’s a Web series,” Erinn said again, surprised that Cary was interested. “I got the idea right before that poor tree went up in flames. It seemed as if the entire neighborhood was coming together to learn how to spin yarn. It was really a beautiful sight.”
“You’re doing a show on community projects?” Cary asked.
“Of course not!” Erinn said, trying not to sound affronted. “No one would watch that! I’m doing a series on knitting. Start to finish. It will be like the whole food-to-table movement only it will be from the animal’s back to yours.”
“I’d work on that log line,” Cary said, throwing out another industry term that Erinn finally understood.
“You’re working with Dymphna, I presume?” Cary asked.
“Yes. Her name is Dymphna Pearl, you know.”
“Brilliant.” Cary beamed. “Knit and Pearl!”
Now it was Erinn’s turn to beam.
Cary suddenly noticed the little group standing by the SUV.
“Ah!” she said. “Well, I’ll go get some tea, then.”
Cary gave Erinn a hug, which Erinn endured. She was not a big hugger but she guessed if her friend wanted to hug her, so be it.
Erinn walked toward the SUV, which was gleaming bright yellow in the sun. Erinn thought the car was perfect for Southern California. It looked as if it were always ready for an adventure.
“Are you sure you have everything?” Eric was asking Rio. Rio nodded. Eric turned to Virginia, handing her the car keys.
“Are you sure you want to drive? I can drive, if you want me to.”
“Or I could drive,” injected Erinn. “The airport is only twenty minutes away.”
Shortly after the 5K, Erinn, Suzanna, and Eric had all been thrilled when Virginia announced that she had decided to stay in Los Angeles and continue Rio’s efforts with the kids.
“I just think a seasoned hand might not be such a bad idea,” Virginia had said. “I mean, the more I thought about it, if kids didn’t need guidance, I wouldn’t have had a job in the first place!”
“As a professor?” Eric had asked. “Or a mother?”
“Both,” Virginia had said, looking at Erinn. “But being a mother was . . . is my top priority. These kids need a mother as much as they need a dance instructor—which is a good thing, since I mother better than I dance!”
Suzanna and Eric had laughed but Erinn stayed silent. She was still a little rattled by her declaration of dependence at the race, begging her mother not to leave.
“Besides,” Virginia had said, patting Erinn’s hand, “a really special kid asked me to stay. Who could say no to that?”
Erinn studied her mother now, as Eric and Rio loaded the back of the van with Rio’s bags. A new relationship with a friend, a new relationship with her mother. This was proving to be quite a year.
“It’s not a big deal,” Virginia said. “If I’m staying in Los Angeles, I’ve got to drive!”
Erinn realized that Suzanna had come out the back door, Lizzy on her hip. They watched as Virginia got into the driver’s seat. As Rio walked over to Suzanna, she hastily gave Lizzy to Erinn.
“I know you’ll do great,” Suzanna said.
Rio kissed her on the cheek.
“Suzanna . . . ,” Rio said, but she stopped him.
“Everything is fine, Rio. If I ever become an alcoholic and need to do the twelve steps, I think you’ll be on my list of amends, too.”
Suzanna reached out and hugged him. Erinn studied their hug. It was effortless and heartfelt. Perhaps she should videotape Suzanna’s hugging technique.
When Rio and Eric shook hands, Erinn heard Suzanna take a deep breath. Erinn looked at her sister.
“It’s like Casablanca,” Suzanna whispered. “When Ingrid Bergman decides to stay with the man who is best for her and not the loose cannon. Staying with Humphrey Bogart would have been a big mistake.”
Erinn thought about saying it was the loose cannon who had made that decision, but she decided to let cinematic history rewrite itself.
Because this was the perfect ending.
EPILOGUE
SUZANNA
“Mother, you can’t call a dance studio Great Feets!” Erinn objected over a family dinner in the Huge Apartment.
“Why not?” Virginia asked, serving chicken breasts stuffed with apples—another comfort food staple that Virginia made when trying to get her way.
“You know why,” Erinn said, cutting into the chicken.
“It’s fun,” Virginia said. “The kids like it.”
“I’m with Mom,” said Suzanna. “Who cares if it’s grammatically correct?”
“I do! Especially if my production studio is going to be in there,” replied Erinn.
“Do you have a better idea?” Suzanna asked.
“I was thinking The Wolf and The Rabbit Productions.”
“I forgot the peas,” Virginia said, leaping up.
Erinn watched her mother head into the kitchen. She called after her, “I thought you’d like it!”
“Did I say I didn’t like it?” Virginia asked, returning with a steaming bowl.
“Do you?” Erinn asked.
“You’re talking about the Native American children’s story, ‘The Wolf and the Rabbit,’ ” Suzanna said. “The one Dad told us?”
“Of course,” Erinn said. “I thought it was clever, since our last name is Wolf, Dymphna’s knitting show features rabbits, and the story is about dance.”
“Yes,” Virginia said. “But it’s a terrible story! Your father should never have told you kids about it—it’s worse than Hansel and Gretel.”
“All children’s stories are terrible,” Eric said. “I can’t believe we’re all not scarred.”
“Who says we’re not?” Erinn said. “Besides, you said it yourself, all children’s stories are terrible, so why not?”
“I don’t know if I remember that story,” Eric said.
“Of course you do,” Erinn said. “It’s the one about the wolf who wants to cut off the ears of the rabbit, but the rabbit tricks the wolf into dancing until he’s dizzy, and the rabbit gets away before the wolf can cut off his ears.”
Lizzy suddenly let out a little
whimper. All the adults turned to look at her. She was taking in a breath that promised to produce an ear-splitting bellow.
“Poor bunny,” Lizzy wailed.
The sonic blast of her cry rocked the house.
Suzanna picked up Lizzy and rocked her, all the while glaring at her sister. Erinn reached out and patted Lizzy.
“Don’t cry, Lizzy,” Erinn said. “The rabbit still has his ears.”
“Oh my God, Erinn!” Suzanna said, quieting Lizzy. “Face it, that name sucks.”
“Not to mention, dear,” added Virginia, “that the wolf sounds not only mean but stupid. It won’t inspire confidence.”
“Are you going to make sure there are no small children around every time you explain the name of your production company?” Suzanna asked. “And trust me, you’ll have to explain it forever.”
“At least it’s better than Happy Feets.”
“Great Feets,” Virginia said.
“We need a name that reflects the fact that it’s a TV studio. The name should reflect storytelling.”
“Well, you shouldn’t leave out the rabbits,” Suzanna said.
“You can’t leave out dance, either. It’s half the equation,” Virginia added.
“I think we should tie it to the Rollicking Bun,” Suzanna said. “I mean, maybe we could sell the Angora yarn or knitted shawls at the Bun.”
Suzanna was surprised that her mother and sister seemed to think this was a good idea. Of course it didn’t solve the problem of the name. If anything, it added to the dilemma.
“When we were trying to think up a name for the Rollicking Bun, Fernando and I were at each other’s throats,” Suzanna continued. “Eric just said, ‘Let me know what you decide and I’ll order the sign.’ ”
Suzanna cut chicken, peas, and baby carrots into little pieces for Lizzy, who, if Suzanna had to be truthful, really liked them much better than kale. Suzanna thought about her old friend Fernando up on Vashon Island running his bed and breakfast. She missed him. She and Fernando had always fought passionately: about the name of the shop, about the menu, about the customers. They had fought for weeks over the name; Suzanna wanted to call the place the Rollicking Bun. Fernando was insistent that the name reflect his baking—the shop should be called the Epic Scone. Leave it to Eric to come up with the Rollicking Bun . . . Home of the Epic Scone. He solved problems even when he was staying above the fray.
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