‘Don’t be sad, Nannie. Granddad isn’t gone away. I was playin’ jumping with him last night.’
‘Were you, sweetheart?’ she exclaimed.
‘Yep. I had to ask him to stop playing ’cos I was getting tired. He got a new heart ’cos the old one was broken,’ the little boy explained earnestly, patting her arm kindly.
‘Did he?’ She managed a smile.
‘Yep. He comes to play every night when I go asleep.’
God bless your innocence, Anna thought. But, their conversation lifted her. Who was to say that Austen and Michael didn’t play together in the dream world? Michael believed firmly that his grandfather came to him, she would try to believe it too, Anna decided as her granddaughter planted a sweet little kiss on her cheek.
CHAPTER FORTY
EDUARDO / SALLY-ANN / CAL / JUTTA / ANNA
‘So tomorrow you will be well enough to go home to Madrid, and spend a few days in a nursing home there to recover. Consuela will go with you in the ambulance and I’ll follow behind. Is that not good news?’ Eduardo asked his aunt, who was sitting propped up against a bank of pillows, reading her paper. She looked so much better than the whitewashed ghost who had arrived at the hospital a week previously. Her cheeks had some colour and there was a hint of a sparkle back in her eyes.
‘It will be nice to be home, Eduardo,’ she agreed. ‘This time I did not think I would see Madrid again. I felt I could have gone.’
‘Beatriz, you would never go down here in the south,’ he teased. ‘ “They don’t do things properly down here.” Isn’t that what you say?’
She laughed. ‘They minded me well enough here. I can’t complain but yes, when I go I would prefer to pass in my beloved Madrid.’
‘That won’t be for a long time yet,’ he assured her. ‘Consuela will be in to see you tonight. I must go now and fulfil some of my presidential duties,’ he said bending down to kiss his aunt’s cheek.
‘Gracias mi hijo,’ she said as he walked out the door. His aunt only called him ‘her boy’ in moments when she was deeply touched. Eduardo liked it when she did. It was a validation of sorts for all the care he gave her.
It had been a busy week. He’d commuted twice to Madrid by train to oversee that the office was running smoothly – which of course thanks to his extremely high standards it was. The train journeys had been, strangely, a blessing in disguise. They had given him time to formulate a new plan that would claw back even more rental arrears in La Joya. His proposal to rent out the apartments and claim the rent until the amounts outstanding were paid had met with approval from the board and the owners.
Tough negotiations would be necessary with the errant owners. Something Eduardo secretly relished, especially when he was in a position of power. He’d also rewritten the duties of the concierge and proposed that the community hire a second one. He’d exactly the person in mind. Someone who would report everything to him. Eduardo’s nostrils flared as he remembered his last encounter with Constanza Torres. ‘I am paid to be the manager of the complex, not your secretary or go-for,’ she’d practically spat at him. And had refused point blank to come up to his apartment at his request, telling him to come to her office instead. That woman needed to learn her place. He would put his proposal to the board and see how they took it. If they agreed, that Torres woman would have her hours cut and her wings very much clipped.
The complex was very quiet even though it was now the third week in January. At night some blocks only had a smattering of lights to show that apartments were occupied. Eduardo liked it when it was peaceful. August was always very busy, the shouts and cries of children in the pool vaguely irritating. Spring and autumn were his favourite times to holiday in this glorious piece of paradise.
As was his wont, he perused the notice board and saw to his surprise that the MacDonalds’ penthouse was up for sale. Eduardo had been shocked to hear of the death of the Irishman, who had been popular with the other owners for his genial and helpful manner. Eduardo hadn’t cared for the wife so much. She’d been somewhat indifferent to his concerns and requests that first year when she was on the management committee.
It was a beautiful penthouse with magnificent views. He couldn’t help but notice how stylish and elegant the décor was, the day the letting agent had been so kind as to allow him to bring Beatriz in after her collapse.
The sky had been so blue that day he’d almost felt he could reach across and touch the Rock, and the outline of the High Atlas Mountains had been etched so clearly against the sky. The sea view from his own apartment was from the side, and Anna MacDonald’s block obstructed his view somewhat. Nothing obstructed the stunning vista from the penthouse.
Eduardo felt an uncharacteristic tremor of excitement. In view of the economic climate Anna MacDonald would hardly be selling it at an outrageous price. Nothing was selling for crazy money like the sales that had taken place in the good years. The penthouse would have fetched €600K-plus then. She would be lucky to get anything like that now, although she would still make a profit or at least break even, he mused.
Should he, for once, take a chance and do something spontaneous and out of character? Eduardo mused. He’d an excellent pension, shares, no mortgages, and a very good income from his legal business. He deserved to treat himself for once in his life. It was time to throw caution to the winds. He would put in an offer. He read the notice again and saw that it was Jutta Sauer who was the selling agent. That was possibly a good thing. He remembered guiltily that he hadn’t contacted her to tell her how his aunt had got on. That had been remiss of him. Consuela had chided him about it.
‘You really should ring that woman. She showed you a kindness,’ she’d said.
‘I will, I will,’ he’d said irritably. ‘Up until now I never really liked her. She’s quite arrogant.’
‘You don’t like anyone,’ retorted his wife before going to sit in the guest bedroom to do her ‘meditation’ as she called it.
He would do his paperwork and ring Ms Sauer this evening and steer the conversation around to the sale of the penthouse. He’d find out what the asking price was.
With a spring in his step, Eduardo strode through the grounds and heard his little dog barking a welcome from his balcony.
‘Can y’all meet me for coffee, Cal?’ Sally-Ann left a message on her ex-husband’s cell. She smiled as she clicked off. She and Cal were getting on better since their divorce than they had in years. Strange, really. She would never have thought she’d get over the bitterness and anger that had been her unwelcome companions for so long.
When she’d told him she was truly adamant about getting the divorce, he’d argued vehemently against it, trying to get her to change her mind.
‘We’re getting on well enough. You and the girls have accepted Jake in a way I could only dream about. Lenora and I are over. We don’t need a divorce, Sally-Ann,’ he pointed out.
‘I do, Cal. This isn’t about you anymore, or the girls. It’s about me. It’s about finally putting myself first. And getting a divorce allows me to do that once and for all,’ she’d stated with an intensity that focused him finally on the fact that she was totally serious. Unbelievable as it was for him to acknowledge that she no longer saw them as husband and wife, despite their travails, he had, much to his dismay, reluctantly agreed.
After her passionate declaration, he’d put no obstacle in her way. They had sat down together and thrashed it out between them. There were two options available to them, they knew. Texas, being both a fault and a no-fault divorce state, cited seven grounds on which to base a divorce. To speed it up, as Sally-Ann was anxious to do, she simply had to state that their marriage had become ‘insupportable’. This was the no-fault ground under Texas law which shortened the amount of time it took to get divorced, provided that they both agreed to the terms set forth.
The fault-based grounds included cruelty, adultery, felony conviction, abandonment, or insanity. Her lawyer advised her to file for reasons of adulte
ry, so that she would get a higher alimony settlement and she did point this out to Cal.
‘I can’t argue with you about that, and Jake’s the proof of it.’ He’d held his palms up. ‘Look, Sally-Ann, I don’t want this to be a fight, the girls don’t need to be in the middle of a battlefield. I don’t want it. You don’t want it. The only ones that do are the lawyers. Let’s work out our settlement, just you and me, until we’re happy with it and move on from there.’
‘That suits me just fine, Cal, just fine,’ Sally-Ann had agreed and that was what they had done.
She’d filed her petition, it had been served on Cal, they had waited the sixty-one days required before the hearing could be held and she’d had her divorce decree in just under three months.
She and Cal had kept it all very low key and not said anything to the girls when the decree came through. They had adapted to the separation once they had realized that Cal was in their life as much as he ever was and they still did a lot of family stuff together. Sally-Ann and Cal decided to let them adjust even more to the family’s new circumstances before telling them that their parents were actually divorced.
They had been so excited to hear that Cal was moving to a house close by with the baby. And best of all, Madison confided, they wouldn’t have to see Lenora anymore. The other big bonus was that they were going to have their own rooms in the new house and Cal had said they could decorate them whatever way they wished.
Their father had involved them in every step of the purchasing of the new abode, less than a mile from where they lived. Sally-Ann had persuaded Cal to buy a house nearby rather than continue to rent the condo when Lenora had upped sticks. ‘Jake will have a yard to play out back in when he grows older and neither you nor I will have to endure heavy traffic when the girls are to-ing and fro-ing,’ she’d pointed out.
‘Good advice, I hadn’t thought of that,’ he’d agreed.
Savannah and Madison had thoroughly enjoyed choosing paint colours and soft furnishings, curtains and bedroom furniture. The only thing they weren’t too happy about was sharing a bathroom.
‘Are you two gals for real?’ Sally-Ann rebuked sternly, hearing them whine about having to share. ‘Don’t y’all realize how privileged y’all are? There are kids in this world that don’t even have enough food in their bellies to stop them from starvin’ to death. I’m disgusted to hear the both of you behave like this. Y’all can just forgo your pocket money this week and put it in the charity box and shame on you both.’
That had given them something to think about, and Madison, always the softie, had apologized and offered to fill a bag with clothes, toys and books to bring to the charity shop.
Sally-Ann was very anxious that her daughters grew up realizing just how extremely fortunate they were. She was most anxious too that they were not, as they anticipated, going to be hanging around the mall every summer.
Sally-Ann had heard disturbing news from one of the other mothers. One of the teens that the girls palled around with, Luanne Gaynor, had been posting nude pictures of herself to Jackson Bushman, a classmate, because Jackson was emotionally blackmailing Luanne. He was telling her he’d cut himself if she didn’t do as he asked, and binding her to an oath of secrecy. Jackson had quite the collection of nude photos of his high school classmates, Darlene Regan informed Sally-Ann in a whisper as they stood in line to buy a coffee to go. ‘And her Mom is so enamoured with her new toy-boy lover, she has no clue what’s going on in Luanne’s life.’
‘She should be told!’ Sally-Ann was aghast.
‘Who’s gonna do the tellin’? That’s not news any momma wants to hear. And you know what a sharp tongue she has. I’m staying out of it.’ Darlene paid for her coffee and waved goodbye to a horrified Sally-Ann. Darlene had teenagers herself; wouldn’t she want to know if one of her children was in trouble?
She’d gone back to her office, closed the door and rung Luanne Gaynor’s mother. ‘Nell, hi, it’s Sally-Ann, are y’all free to talk for a moment?’
‘Sure, sure honey, what’s up?’ Nell said gaily – she’d probably just got out of bed with the toy boy, Sally-Ann thought a tad enviously. The sooner she got to Spain, the better!
‘Nell, this is not a call I want to make and I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but you should be aware of this, as I would want to be if it were my daughters. I heard that Jackson Bushman is emotionally blackmailing Luanne to send him nude photos of herself, by threatening to self-harm if she doesn’t, and has sworn her to secrecy. Y’all need to deal with it.’
‘Who told you this?’ Nell demanded.
‘I heard it on the grapevine today, from another mother, who didn’t have the decency to ring you herself, Nell. It’s been goin’ on a while seemingly. As soon as I heard about it, I decided to call you. It’s too serious not to.’
‘Well if it’s true I appreciate it,’ Nell said tightly.
‘And I would appreciate if you didn’t say it was me that told you. I don’t want my girls blackballed by their classmates for being snitches, especially as they haven’t said a word to me about it.’
‘I get it,’ Nell agreed. ‘Bye.’
One mother’s day ruined, Sally-Ann thought ruefully, wishing she hadn’t met Darlene in the coffee line.
Sally-Ann had casually asked the twins for their phones and iPads to do her ‘inspection’ as she called it, and, grumbling, they had surrendered them. But they knew the score: no inspection, no phone or iPad. She and Cal had been very firm about that once the twins had been allowed phones and to go on social media. She’d gone through them with a fine toothcomb and seen nothing untoward, although slightly appalled at the inanities and self-absorption that filled their lives. Those Kardashians had so much to answer for; she needed to get her daughters to Europe to broaden their minds, and expand their horizons.
She’d taken the girls to lunch in Tacos a Go-Go, and while they sat in one of the bright orange booths tucking into barbacoa, fries and soda, she’d said casually, ‘What’s this I hear about Luanne Gaynor sending nude photos to Jackson Bushman?’
‘Mom, how did you know that?’ Savannah demanded. ‘Maddy, did you tell Mom that?’
‘No I didn’t,’ her sister spluttered indignantly.
‘I heard,’ Sally-Ann said coolly. ‘Were either of you ever asked to send nude photos to any boy?’
Savannah averted her gaze and concentrated on drinking her soda.
‘Savannah?’
‘Yeah, I was asked but I didn’t,’ she retorted.
‘Well done, darlin’.’ Sally-Ann felt a wave of relief mixed with apprehension wash over her. Savannah used her phone and iPad a lot more than Maddy, who was much more into sport. ‘Who asked you?’
‘I can’t tell you, ’cos you’ll only go and let them have it. And Luanne only did it ’cos she was scared that Jackson would commit suicide. That’s what he said he was going to do. She didn’t really want to do it, Mom. Although Deena Layton loves showing off her Ta Tas. She wants to be a model. She even posted her Brazilian!’ Savannah crammed a forkful of fries into her mouth.
Sally-Ann was horrified, although not surprised at Deena Layton – who was a precocious little madam – whose skirts were always up to her butt cheeks and tops practically open to her navel. How her parents let her dress in such a revealing fashion was beyond comprehension.
‘Savannah, don’t stuff your mouth full,’ she remonstrated mildly, not letting them see how taken aback she was. ‘Look, girls, when something like this happens you really need to tell an adult, it’s not ratting out—’
‘We can’t be snitches, Mom.’ Savannah rolled her eyes.
‘When someone is threatening to commit suicide, Savannah, snitching doesn’t come into it. OK?’ Sally-Ann said sternly.
‘OK,’ her daughter agreed reluctantly, shrugging her shoulders.
Rearing teenagers who lived their lives on social media was nerve-racking. After that particular conversation, Sally-Ann was even more determined that the
twins would not be spending long summer holidays hanging out with their peers.
‘I want to bring them to Europe, Cal. I want them to experience other cultures; I want them out of Houston for the summer. You should see the things that preoccupy them. Lord above, at least we lived our lives outdoors, and didn’t know what a damned selfie was or who or what a Kardashian was; we just had Madonna baring her ass and her boobs and defiling crucifixes—’
‘Which she’s still doing, although she’s beginning to look like Joan Crawford now,’ grinned Cal, who had paid twenty dollars to get a look at the rock star’s ‘dirty book’ behind the Wainwrights’ barn.
‘And if you asked me what a Kardashian was I’d have said aliens on Deep Space Nine.’ He was sitting with his ex-wife under a green sun umbrella outside Agora, drinking Americanos. It was a blue-skied late January day and the temperature had hit the early twenties.
‘Be serious,’ chided Sally-Ann, laughing. ‘And they were Cardassians, as I recall. Actually, Gul Dukat was quite sexy,’ she added, grinning.
‘Going to Europe’s a bit drastic, though,’ Cal hedged. ‘We can’t protect them from real life, Sally-Ann.’
‘I know that, Cal, but when we were growing up we didn’t have all that social media pressure. And I want them to be curious about other civilizations, other traditions, different arts and philosophies. The years are flying by. They’ll be going to college before we know it and that’s it, they’ll have flown the Connolly Cooper coop,’ she punned.
‘OK,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘If you feel that strongly, go for it. But how will you manage about work?’ He eyed her over the rim of his cup.
Sally-Ann smiled. How typical of her workaholic ex. ‘Now that I have alimony I can take longer holidays,’ she teased.
‘Ha ha,’ he said drily. ‘You’re a hoot an’ a half, Sally-Ann.’
‘I know. But seriously, I’ve been thinking about it. I want to spend time with the girls; they’re growing up fast. So I’m gonna make Viola a director. She’s managed that office and held the fort for me so often, she deserves it.’
Orange Blossom Days Page 33
