Alex looked less thrilled.
She could see protectiveness and wariness written all over his face. The flip, sex-charged guy she'd met yesterday was nowhere to be seen.
He didn't want her help, and yet he was crying out for it. He obviously didn't always know how to handle his mother and her disease. "Nell is very busy, Mama," he said. "I'm sure she's got things to do"
"I'd love to join you for coffee," said Sydney with a smile. "Thank you."
They went to a pretty little coffee shop with white lacy cafe curtains, and Mrs. Kimball seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in ordering a white mocha latte with cinnamon and cocoa powder sprinkled on top. Alex glowered at Sydney before ordering plain black coffee, and she guiltily chose a tall cappuccino swimming in cream and sugar.
Mrs. K, in her charming Southern accent, asked the college-aged waitress if she could hang on to her menu a little longer to "contemplate" a pastry. She then launched into tales of a recent trip to Hawaii while Alex looked perplexed. Sydney guessed that the trip had actually taken place long ago.
"And we took a sailing trip up the Na Pali Coast, dear, which is the most beautiful stretch of shoreline you could ever imagine. Remember that television show, Fantasia Island ?"
" Fantasy Island ," Alex said. "Mr. Roarke. And Tattoo. De plane, de plane"
"Exactly." Mrs. Kimball nodded. "That was filmed in Hawaii."
"And so was Jurassic Park , Mama."
"Which park?"
"The movie with the dinosaurs," Alex reminded her gently.
"Right." The little wrinkle in his mother's brow gave away the fact that she had no idea what he was talking about. She paused. "Now, where was I?"
"Hawaii," prompted Sydney. "You sailed up the Na Pali Coast."
"Yes, of course."
"Was this a trip you took with your husband, Mrs. Kimball?"
"My husband?" Alex's mother laughed gently. "No, dear. The distressing truth is that I've never been married."
Alex's jaw dropped and his pupils widened.
"Oh, I see," Sydney said diplomatically.
"I was engaged to a prince once. But he exhibited some ugly qualities before the wedding, and I broke it off."
Alex developed a fascination with the Dutch boy and-girl salt and pepper shakers on the blond wood table. He began to switch boy with girl repeatedly, always moving them counterclockwise. Poor Alex. Trying to make sense of his worldorder it by repetitive motion. Again he switched boy with girl. Parent with child?
"So when did you have Alex?"
Mrs. K blinked. "Why, March 4, 1969. The summer of love."
Alex's lips twisted. "So I'm your love child, huh, Mama?"
"Exactly."
"And how about Jake?"
Sydney guessed that Jake must be the brother he'd spoken of.
"Who?"
The tiny muscle in Alex's jaw was jumping again. "And when did you fall in love with Dad?"
"Oh, darlin'. You know we're just roommates."
It was Alex's turn to blink, and Sydney could see the tension ratchet up a notch in his posture. She put a hand on his arm.
She felt awkward, participating in what was essentially a private drama: a woman rewriting her past to suit Puck and Alzheimer's. What made Mrs. K do it? How did snippets of fiction and celluloid meld with past conversations and memories? At least she hadn't written Alex out of them entirely, as she had his brother, and as Grandma had with Marv. No, Mrs. K had just erased one child and her own weddingat least for today.
The waitress brought their coffees over on a tray, and set Mrs. Kimball's down first.
"What is this, dear?" she asked the girl.
"A white mocha latte, ma'am."
"Oh, honey, I couldn't possibly drink that. It's loaded with calories and fat."
"But ma'am, that's what you ordered?" The girl's voice trailed off into a question.
"I'd never order such a thing. Only black coffee, dear."
"Here, Mama, you can have mine." Alex took the latte and replaced it with his own coffee, while the waitress stared at his mother, confused.
The temptation to explain to the waitress tugged at Syd, and probably at Alex, too, but confusion for her was preferable to humiliation for Mrs. Kimball. Syd had experienced this type of situation many times with Grandma. Except, she reflected ruefully, Grandma wasn't nearly as nice as Alex's mother. In her, the disease had wrought a personality reversal. The grandmother who had clucked and fussed over Sydney and Julia while they grew up began to simply fuss. "Cantankerous" had been a kind word to describe her, before she died.
Alzheimer's was crudest to the caretakers, really. The patient remained largely unaware of changes in her personality.
Mrs. Kimball sipped at Alex's black coffee, oblivious. Alex took a mouthful of her latte and did not appear to enjoy it. Too sweet and girly for him, Syd decided.
"Did you want a pastry, ma'am?" the waitress asked Mrs. K.
"Why, yes. I believe I'll have a blueberry Danish, thank you."
The waitress looked at her as if she'd sprouted another head. Her thoughts were clear: Hadn't the woman just been going on about calories? But she said nothing, just took the menu and walked away.
Alex exchanged a glance with Sydney as his mother powdered her nose from a small gold compact. Eventually the Danish was consumedMrs. K
had two bites, Alex the restand they made their way out into the sunshine.
"Are you ready to go see Mrs. Baumgarten, Mama?"
"No, I never did care much for her."
Alex looked as if he wanted to tear out his thick brown hair. "Dorothy's your best friend, Mama."
"Dorothy? Oh, yes, she is. Are we going to go see her?"
Sydney touched Alex's shoulder. And then, because of the worry lines in his forehead; because of the softening of his mouth whenever he looked at his mother; because of the graceful way he never corrected her in a way that would mortify her because of all those thingsshe stretched up on her toes and gently kissed his cheek again.
It wasn't something she knew him well enough to do. But she had a feeling that he needed it. This big, strapping five o'clock-shadowed man was out of his element, out of his comfort zone, but wasn't backing down. Alex Kimball was muddling along as best he could, with his mother in the grip of a bizarre, unstable disease.
* * *
Chapter Eight
Sydney discovered that Julia had a surprisingly puritan work ethic, but managed to pry her away from the Motor Inn and take her to lunch the next afternoon.
They went to Der Lindenbaum but had salads. Neither of them was up for heavy German food in the middle of the day.
Julia was still irritated with her sister; she told Syd conversationally what a pain in the ass she was, and how much she'd disliked trying to pee on a tiny plastic stick. And no, she was not pregnant!
Pointedly changing the subject, Julia then asked, "So how's Ma doing?"
"Same old, same old. She floats around in her own private little Ma fog."
"Coffee, listen to Marv nag, coffee, knit, then lunch and organizing drawers all afternoon before fighting Marcella for control of the stove?"
Syd nodded. "Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. You just forgot the daily trip to the A&P."
"Right. And the bunko group on Wednesday nights."
"Plus visiting Mrs. Santini and Mrs. Walkowsky in the nursing home every Friday morning."
"Who's walking Humphrey these days?"
"Humphrey doesn't get walked. Marv lets 'da damn dohg' out 'da back doh' before work every morning. Then poor Humph stays out there until Ma feeds him or Marcella decides to vacuum him for fleas."
"Poor thing," Julia said around a slice of tomato.
"Yeah. Now that I've figured out the extent of Betty Lou's sticky-fingered retirement plan, I think I'm going to take Humphrey back home with me. Maybe get him a cat for company instead of the Home Shopping Network. The hound has got to be a walking catalogue of tacky jewelry by now."
; Julia laughed and attacked a slice of cucumber.
Sydney wished, not for the first time in her life, for Julia to develop a craving for fried food, ice cream, and baked goods. She sighed and sipped at her iced tea.
Julia excused herself to go to the ladies' room, and Syd took advantage of the people-watching. At a nearby table sat a man in Wrangler jeans so tight that she wondered where he'd fit the Reuben he was stuffing into his face. Maybe the large silver belt buckle would help to flatten it out. Or maybe, like a pelican, he'd store the sandwich in his prominent Adam's apple.
At another table sat a couple gnawing on baby back ribs, sucking the marrow from the bones. They were going to need some wet wipes, about a truckload.
In the corner sat a table of ripened sorority girls, dressed by Harold's and perfectly made up. They all had flawless manicures, gold coin rings from Mexico, and white wine for lunch. A circle of shopping bags surrounded them. Sydney spotted logos for a couple of interesting stores and took a gulp of iced tea. She stared again at her own short, unpolished nails and ragged cuticles. Maybe she should ask Julia for the name of a salon?
Her sister stormed over then, threw some cash on the table and said abruptly, "We're leaving now."
"What? But I haven't finished"
" Now , Syd." Julia's eyes blinked furiously. What was wrong with her?
"I was going to pay"
"We'll figure it out later."
Sydney grabbed her purse and followed Jules, who was practically running from the place, though how she could run in those spiked heels defied imagination.
Julia didn't stop until she'd slammed into her car.
"What is the matter with you?"
" You are the matter with me. I was in the bathroom and two women came in. You want to know what they were discussing?"
Uh-oh.
"They were saying how somebody named Thelma Lynn had heard that blond Yankee girl's sister ask her if she was pregnant! And how that explains why the Sonntag boy got engaged so quicklyhe knocked her up!" Julia actually banged on the steering wheel.
While Julia searched in her pocketbook, most likely for her sunglasses, Sydney put a hand over her own mouth.
Julia yanked Chanel shades from her bag and fumbled them onto her pretty nose, which she then blew with an amazingly loud honk. "Thank you very much, Sydney! One of these days maybe you'll learn to mind your own business."
So much for sisterly detente.
Alex yawned as he reviewed the pro forma financial statements for a start-up company that was looking for an infusion of capital. The numbers looked overly optimistic to him, and his gut told him that his money would be safer elsewhere. The kid at the helm had a lot of big white teeth and very little business experience.
The phone rang as he reached his decision and slapped closed the file. Alex picked it up and idly watched his mama move normally about the kitchen she knew like the back of her hand. No short-term memory problems in the kitchen: She'd stored her things in exactly the same places for the last thirty years.
"Yeah," Alex said into the receiver, and touched his cheek, thinking about Sydney's sweet, reassuring kiss the day before. After the way he'd baited her mercilessly, he so had not deserved that. It disarmed him; embarrassed him; made him grumpy because he didn't know quite what to think about itor her. Was she a bossy, meddling pain in the ass, or a sweetheart?
Jersey hadn't stunk, either. That gorgeous copper bronze hair of hers, clean and shiny and dry, had glowed in the sun and carried the fragrance of a hundred flowers. Her pale skin smelled of Dove soapthe same kind Mama boughtand soft, sweet jasmine perfume tinged with vanilla.
Though he hadn't wanted her help, Sydney Spinelli had handled Mama beautifully this morning.
"Hey, Rome. What's up?" He listened for a few moments. " No . She didn't really make Julia take a pregnancy test, did she?" He laughed. "You're kidding Well, big guy, you do have Papa written all over you okay, okay." Alex stretched out his legs.
"It's not funny, you're right. Well, she's worried about her sister and this snap engagement. For all she knows, you paid your way through college as a street hustler. She's all right, man."
Alex listened. "You want me to what ? How? Kidnap her, tie her up and throw her on the railroad tracks? My charm? What charm? Oh, man, you are laying it on thick. I'm gonna need waders, here." He listened some more.
"My good looks and my hot car, huh. Yeah, the Suburban is the ultimate chick magnet, you're right." Alex sighed.
"Rome, I don't want to babysit this girl. I said she wasn't that bad. I did not say I wanted to ride into the sunset with her."
Alex groaned. "That is very low and underhanded of you, Roman. Yes, I do owe you one, you bastard. Fine. Goodbye."
He ran a hand through his hair and tried to crack his neck. Distract Sydney? Keep her away from Julia? Fabulous. Just great. All I need is another crazy woman to take care of .
He was ready to hit his father's bourbon, or his mother's cooking wine. Or both.
His gaze went to his mother again, humming as she chopped vegetables in the kitchen. Now in familiar surroundings, in her element, she seemed entirely normalas if she'd never not recognized him or threatened him with a knife.
Alex wondered when the hell she'd acquired a violet bra, and decided he didn't really want to know. She could wear red lace, as long as she didn't try to take off her shirt in public again
He thought again how lucky they were that Sydney had been there, and had seemed to know exactly what to do and how to handle the situation. She might be bossy to her sister, but bossiness often translated into leadership skills.
The question was, would she keep her mouth shut? He didn't want the incident all over town, though he supposed it was far too late to worry about that, since Mama had done her striptease in the middle of the damn beauty parlor, facing the damn sidewalk, so that any damn tourist or local could see her. Alex scrubbed a hand over his face.
He didn't know what to do with his mother. He and his father weren't about to hide her away and keep her confined to the house. It wasn't the 1800s, for God's sake. But they also didn't want her to become an object of pity and ridicule.
She'd been a prominent social figure in Fredericks-burg, even in San Antonio and Austin. She'd headed every charity ball and fund-raising steering committee in the region.
Mama was well-known and she had been well-liked and respected. He knew how utterly humiliated she'd be if she'd been truly conscious that she'd dis-played her bra on Main Street this morning. She would never knowingly make a spectacle of herself that way.
The Kimball men neither needed nor accepted helpnot from anyone, friends or strangers. But however much he hated the necessity of doing so, he needed to call Sydney and thank her for her unsolicited interference.
Though it might be impossible to stop the gossip from spreading around town, his primary concern was that his father not find out about his wife's flashing her lingerie in public. Weak heart that he had, it might just kill him.
Irrelevantly, Alex wondered what color Sydney's unmentionables were. With that dark red hair of hers, she'd look amazing in forest green satin. Tantalizing image. In his mind, she tossed her hair, shimmied her hips, and hugged herself seductively. She spun and aimed a naughty look at him over her shoulder. The soundtrack: Joe Cocker, "You Can Leave Your Hat On."
Alex headed for his father's bourbon, shaking his head. This is the woman that you just refused to "babysit" until Roman guilted you into it. Nice, Kimball .
His thoughts turned to his brother, who'd popped in for a quick visit a month ago and hadn't even called Mama since then. Damn Jake. He didn't seem to get it. Of course, Mama hadn't had any bad days during his weekend visit, so Jake figured that they were all exaggerating. He didn't seem to believe that with early-onset Alzheimer's, Mama might have only six months to live as a relatively normal personsix months before she might not recognize any of them, ever again.
He splashed a healthy amount of bourbon into
a cut crystal double old-fashioned, and knocked some back.
Jake was busy in Dallas, running his nightclubs and sleeping until noon. It must be nice. Alex knocked back some more bourbon and picked up the phone.
Some kid, not Julia, answered at Marv's Motor Inn and connected him with Sydney's room.
"Jersey," he said. "It's Alex Kimball."
"Hi, Alex." Her voice sounded a little different on the phone, but the faint huskiness he found so attractive still traveled along the wire. "How's your mother?"
"She's fine." Alex paused. Just get it over with . "And one of the reasons I called was to thank you for what you did. I hate to admit it, but I don't know what I would have done without you."
"Don't worry about it," she said. "It was nothing."
"My mother undressing in public is not 'nothing.' And I never would have thought of doing what you did"
"My grandmother had Alzheimer's," Sydney told him. "That's what you're dealing with, isn't it?"
Alex sighed. "Yes. Early onset. Her behavior's not predictable and I don't always know what to do. But it's not like we're going to keep her locked up in the house."
She made a noise of sympathy. "Nothing about the disease is predictable. My grandma went through a personality reversal. She used to be such a darling, and never said a harsh word about anyone. But right before she died, I'd have sworn they fed her vinegar for breakfast and battery acid for lunch. And she told these outlandish liesnot that she really knew they were lies, the poor thing."
"Yeah," Alex said after a long pause. "Some of the things Mama saidwell, they're not true. I'm looking at a silver-framed photograph of my parents' wedding as we speak."
It had been 1966, and Mama, fresh-faced and glowing, wore a sweetheart-cut white gown with little cap sleeves. A white satin ribbon bisected the gown, Jackie O style, culminating in a flat bow at her tiny waist.
His father wore a goofy grin and heavy black-framed glasses of the uberdork variety with his tuxedo and white rose. They'd been so in love. And Alex had never seen any sign of that love waning.
As he talked to Sydney, his father's BMW sedan pulled down the long drive and Dad parked. He got out, rubbed absently at his bum knee, and came inside with a small bag of groceries for Mama. She stopped, onion in one hand and knife in the other, and looked up with such an expression of love that a lump formed in Alex's throat.
First Date - [Bridesmaid's Chronicles 01] Page 7
