Going For Broke

by Nina Howard

  Like I have much choice, Victoria thought. “Absolutely. Whatever you need.”

  “I see you’re still traveling with your friend there.”

  “Lucky me,” Victoria said.

  “It could be --” Victoria could tell she was about to say ‘worse‘ then stopped herself. “It could be some time until I can get back to you. Where’s the best place to contact you?”

  “Here, let me give you a number,” she wrote it out on a piece of notepaper she found buried on Mercedes’ piled-high desk.

  “Is this your cell?”

  “No, my mother’s house,” Victoria said standing up. No Mercedes, it couldn’t be much worse.

  CHAPTER 15

  As she cut the crust off of Posey’s cream cheese and jelly sandwich, Victoria realized that this was about as far as her culinary skills took her. Until now, she never really had a need to try. When she was out of school she and Andrea ate out every night, either on the wine company’s dime, or by hitting every happy hour buffet. She found living on buffalo wings and cold quesadillas wasn’t a problem as long as it was chased down with a cold beer or icy Cosmo.

  When she and Trip were first married, she couldn’t wait to pull out the stunning Cartier china and Waterford crystal they had gotten for wedding presents - all from Trip’s side of the family. The few members of the Patterson family that Barbara insisted be invited to the wedding gave them cash, slipped to Trip while going through the receiving line. Anything that was beautiful or sentimental came from the Vernon side of the family.

  The first time she attempted to cook at home she insisted on having a dinner party for some of Trip’s classmates from Williams. They had inherited Trip’s grandmother’s mahogany dining room table that easily seated 12, and she was determined to fill it. The day of the dinner, Trip was surprised to see Victoria cool and collected. The table was gorgeous. She had spent three hours working on the floral arrangement alone. Set with the family sterling, beeswax candles in the candelabra, thick linen napkins folded just so, the table was magazine-ready. She agonized over the place cards, striving to achieve the perfect conversational seating arrangement.

  People arrived, and cocktails were served. Trip was the perfect host and bartender. Rarely a glass went empty. Victoria slipped into the kitchen to get dinner prepared, happily listening to the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter spilling from the next room.

  She opened the oven to find that the $200 tenderloin she had meticulously marinated and tied was red and raw. The oven was stone cold, and nothing she could do to get it, or the burners to light. A lesser woman would have panicked, but Victoria quickly checked her watch, and got to work. She took eight Stouffer’s dinners out of the freezer and systematically cooked them all in the microwave while she tossed the salad and sliced the cold bread. She divided the eight dinners between the twelve plates, and served them without a word to Trip or any of the guests. If anyone noticed that their table mates were eating Fettucini Alfredo while they were dining on Chicken A la King, nobody said a word. Victoria never broke a sweat, but after that dinner she had every other meal cooked by someone else.

  She shook off the memory, and put Posey’s sandwich in a brown paper bag with an apple and a bag of goldfish. If someone had told her six months ago she’d enjoy making a brown bag lunch for her children, she’d laugh all the way to the bar at the Four Seasons. Today, as she put Posey’s name on the bag, she added a heart and ‘mom’. It felt good in a foreign way. She handed the lunches to the kids, kissed them on the forehead and sent them out the door. This housewife thing was starting to appeal to her.

  She grabbed the dog and sat on the sofa. Without thinking, she picked up the remote and flipped through the channels. There was an “America’s Next Top Model” marathon that couldn’t really hold her interest. Most likely because she had seen most of the episodes. She went to the refrigerator, and stood in front of it for a good ten minutes, not hungry. After pacing the little house, she decided to go up to the library to use the internet. Since Barbara and Bud had yet to join the 21st Century - they still had phones on cords and a television that sat on the floor - she was reduced to using the computers at the public library. All those people browsing on their laptops in Starbucks used to look like idle idiots, but what she wouldn’t give for a wireless laptop now. Or a latte.

  Before she left, she put together an outfit consisting of a few of her New York pieces anchored by her new thrift store basics. It wasn’t ideal, but it was working. If she had learned anything growing up on the wrong side of the tracks, it was to make do. But at least now ‘making do’ included a $1,500 cashmere cardigan. She was pleased with what she saw in the mirror. While she wasn’t even getting close to her New York Skinny body, the extra pounds were going grudgingly, thanks to her bicycle rides and nightly walks. The skirt was perfect and she wrapped the too-large blouse around her and anchored it with one of her mother’s large brooches from the 60’s. She added a strand of beads that the FBI didn’t feel were worth taking, and put on the pair of Ferragamo flats that were her first find at the thrift store. Not bad for someone living off of everyone else’s castoffs.

  She went to the garage and walked the bike out to the alley. She tried to raise her leg to get it over the bike, but the skirt was both too tight and too long to allow her that much of a range of motion. She tried to hike her skirt up to give her legs more freedom, but by the time she had raised it high enough, it was almost at crotch-level. Frustrated, she threw the bike down and stamped her foot. She’d walk.

  “I didn’t think you were one to give up that easily,” Mike said as he appeared from nowhere in the middle of the alley. How did he do that? Something he learned in FBI school? Whatever it was, it was really beginning to unnerve Victoria.

  “Stupid bike,” she said, throwing a scowl back toward the offending piece of metal.

  “Come on, let me give you a ride,” Mike offered.

  “I may be down, but I’m not desperate.” She kept walking.

  “Oh, it’s not that bad.”

  “You drive a truck with a giant bug plastered on either side,” she pointed out.

  “Some chicks dig that,” he smiled.

  “I bet.” It became apparent that he was not going to go back to his truck, but was going to follow her like a stray puppy, and she was kind of glad he did. She wondered what he did when he wasn’t following her around. “Don’t you get bored?”

  “Bored?”

  “Sitting around all day, waiting for something to happen.” She said it matter-of-factly, but it stung just the same. “When walking uptown with me is the high point of your day, that’s a sad state of affairs.”

  “I wouldn’t say walking around town with you is rough duty,” he answered.

  “No, really. Wouldn’t you rather be doing something? Making something. Making a difference. No kid wants to grow up to be a guy who sits in a truck.”

  “I knew a few stoners in high school who would have thought it was the best job in the world,” he deflected the question.

  “Can’t you be serious? I really want to know.”

  Mike thought about the question. Of course he got bored. Bored silly. Even when he was on a stakeout in his beloved Organized Crime Unit, tailing some of the baddest of the bad guys out there, it got boring. “It’s part of the job. The payoff is worth it in the end.”

  Neither of them wanted to talk about what that payoff was. They both knew Trip was out there somewhere. “Did you ever want to be anything else?” she asked.

  “What, you’re my career counselor now? I like my job, thank you very much.”

  “I don’t know, you seem like a smart guy. You could probably do anything. Why this?”

  “I wanted a job where I got to meet beautiful women,” he said, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated leer. “Seriously? What else would you have me do? Become an investment banker?”

  Frustrated that she wasn’t getting anywhere, Victoria changed the subject, but only slightly. “Do
you have brothers and sisters?”

  “What’s with the in-depth interview today? What did I want to be when I grew up? Sisters or brothers? You starting a file on me?” he teased.

  “It’s not really fair, is it? You seem to know everything about me, and I don’t know anything about you. So far all I’ve got is that you’re probably not married and you went to high school with pot smokers.”

  “Okay, okay. I’m game. Ask anything you want. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

  “First of all, where are you from?”

  “I told you. Pennsylvania.”

  “It’s a big state. Narrow it down.”

  “Philadelphia,” he said.

  “Proper?”

  “Boy, you are a nosy one. No, not proper. But close enough. Are we done?”

  “Where did you go to school?” she asked. He was a puzzle to her, and she felt compelled to crack it.

  “Fieldstone Elementary,” he replied.

  “Ha - and then...”

  “And then I spent six years in a Turkish prison. Do we really need to do this?”

  “For someone with nothing to hide, you’re kind of cagey,” she said.

  They approached town and Mike was the first to see an enormous pink Hummer limo parked in three parking spots.

  “Hey - your ride is here,” he joked, looking for a diversion.

  “Please. Low and black is the way I like my limos,” she sniffed.

  “I’m not even going to touch that one. Now if we were talking about --”

  Victoria put her hand on Mike’s arm to interrupt him. “Oh my God! I don’t believe it!” She broke away and ran towards the intersection.

  There, holding court on the cafe tables outside of the Starbucks, was Andrea. She was surrounded by a group of mostly kids, with a few sheepish mothers in tow, asking for autographs. If she had timed her visit a couple of hours later, she could have blown away the Tenaqua fathers on their trip home from the train.

  “Andi!” Victoria called as she made her way through the crowd.

  Andrea jumped up an embraced Victoria. She gave her a thorough once-over and nodded approvingly.

  “Life on the lam agrees with you,” she said. “What’s with the hair, though?”

  “I’m not on the lam, Andi, I’m living with my mother,“ Victoria said, ignoring the hair comment.

  “Right. Life on the lam sounds better. I can’t stand not being able to call you whenever I want. Really, isn’t it cruel and unusual to take away a girl’s cellphone?”

  Victoria looked at the pink Hummer and the uniformed driver standing next to it. “You sure know how to make a subtle entrance,” she said.

  Andrea flipped her famous mane and laughed. “Honey, I am anything but subtle. Thank God you found me. I went to your mother’s little house - really, how can you stand it? - and nobody was home. So I thought I’d get a stop for a coffee and come back in a little bit. Now here you are!” For Andrea, life seemed to be an adventure that magically unfolded perfectly for her. She ushered Victoria to the limo. “Let’s go get your rugrats and we can blow this town.”

  Victoria looked up to see Mike leaning against the building across the street, watching the exchange. He caught her eye, and she quickly looked away. She felt like she was ditching him, though she didn’t know why. She hopped into the limo without a look back.

  CHAPTER 16

  When they got back to Barbara’s it turned into a free for all. Andrea didn’t go anywhere quietly, especially in this little town. She parked the limo smack dab in front of the Brewster’s house, blocking traffic on the main road. When cars honked at her, she flashed her brilliant smile and waved. It never occurred to her that she was inconveniencing anyone.

  Inside the house it was like a three ring circus on Christmas morning. Andrea had brought presents for everyone, all of which were really thoughtful. Posey got a giant stuffed Giraffe that Victoria immediately knew would have to go - there was barely enough space in Barbara’s little house for the five of them, let alone longneck over there. Box after box of party dresses from Nieman Marcus (Victoria got a little verklempt just seeing the box). Victoria imagined Posey wearing one of the dresses to their little “tea parties” at Starbucks. Posey would now officially be the most overdressed student at Sparrow Park School. Parker couldn’t believe it - Andrea brought him an X box 360 and a half dozen games. He was over the moon. Barbara and Bud got a ridiculously large box of Omaha Steaks, and a case of wine that they will never drink. (I’ll have a go at that soon, Victoria thought.) There wasn’t a single package for Victoria, who had to admit she was more than a bit disappointed.

  After everyone had enough time to ooh and ah over their gifts, Andrea stood in the middle of the living room and clapped her hands for attention. “Okay people - let’s go!” She turned to Barbara and Bud. “You don’t mind if I steal them for a few days, do you?”

  “A few days?” Victoria asked. “Andi, we can’t go anywhere. The kids have school, and I have to work.”

  At the sound of the word ‘work’ Andrea gave Victoria a look of concern, but didn’t comment. “A day or two, tops, then. Let’s go!” It was hard to argue with Andrea Howard. Ask Johnny Depp or Leo.

  “Please mom, can’t we go with Aunt Andi?” Posey begged. She loved Andrea more than anyone in the world and loved the fact that Aunt Andi always said yes when her mother would always say no. She was clinging to Andi’s skirt with one hand and had a party dress in the other

  Parker was reluctant to leave his new video games, which Andrea quickly picked up on. “Parker, grab your stuff and get it in the car! Now, no more excuses. We have reservations!”

  ###

  They pulled in front of the Four Seasons and four doormen promptly met their car. They didn’t know who it contained, but it was hard to ignore anything that big or pink. When Andrea Howard exited the limo, the excitement level got ratcheted up, as it always did. Suddenly there were four more porters, and the pedestrians on the street were shooting her photo with their cell phones. Andrea didn’t notice any of the disruption she left in her wake. She headed inside like a woman on a mission. They were swept upstairs to the lobby in a private elevator and the general manager met them in the lobby to escort them to their room.

  Or, more accurately, rooms. Andrea had reserved the penthouse suite, which consisted of three bedrooms, a living room, dining room and full kitchen. It had a panoramic view of Michigan Avenue and the lake, looking all the way up Lake Shore Drive. There were flat screen TVs in every room, which boasted antique case goods and freshly upholstered furniture. You could smell it. Parker and Posey ran from room to room, like they had never seen such opulence. How quickly they forget, Victoria thought. They had lived in apartment that was so much more beautifully appointed their entire lives, and they acted like they had lived in Barbara’s tiny house forever.

  While the bellmen brought in all of Andrea’s bags (she was not a girl who traveled light), Andrea made a beeline for the minibar and pulled a out bottle of champagne. Victoria winced just a bit, knowing that bottle cost more than she made in a week.

  “Cheers!” Andrea said as the champagne overflowed onto the expensive carpet. She laughed and grabbed a couple of flutes and poured, ignoring her mess. She handed a glass to Victoria who took a small sip and savored the once-familiar flavor. Andrea was busy inspecting Victoria.

  “Wait right there,” she instructed. Victoria shrugged. She wasn’t going anywhere. She could live here for the rest of her days. She closed her eyes and sank deeper into the downy cushions of the sofa.

  “We’re all set!” Andrea announced bouncing back into the room. Victoria sat up with a start.

  “Set with what?” Victoria was suspicious. Andi had a talent for getting them into trouble. When they were selling wine together, Victoria was an unwilling accomplice in an ‘incident’ involving Andrea, the patriarch of a venerable Italian wine family, a hijacked police car and a disco ball.

  “Drink up, we have places to go a
nd people to see,” Andrea instructed. “My God, we have to do something about that hair. And those clothes!”

  “I thought you said living on the lam agreed with me,” Victoria said.

  “I lied,” Andi cheerfully responded.

  ###

  After they had gotten the kids settled with a sitter (you have to love that concierge) Andi and Victoria spent a whirlwind afternoon of beauty and shopping. Victoria got a haircut (finally), color (thankfully) and a compete new ensemble. She had to go toe-to-toe with Andrea to limit her to just one, which was no small feat. By the time they left for cocktails at the Wen Rooftop Bar, Victoria felt more like her old self than she had in ages. Even Posey, hugging her goodbye before they left for the night, commented on her new look.

  “You look like my New York mommy,” she said, stroking Victoria’s properly-colored hair.

  That made Victoria feel damned hot. She could go back to her New York self after all.

  After Andrea and Victoria left, Parker turned to Posey and said, “I like our Tenaqua mom better.”

  ###

  Sitting at the best table in the hottest restaurant it town, Victoria was oddly uncomfortable with all the attention they received. From the wait staff’s hovering to the enthralled stares of the other diners, she felt like she was dining in a fishbowl. Normally Victoria never noticed other people, they noticed her. She spent half her life with maitre d’s terrified they would upset the infamous Mrs. Vernon. She was out of practice, and with Andrea’s celebrity, it brought everything up tenfold. A man approached their table with a napkin and a pen, but Andrea was able to stop him in his tracks with a practiced look. He retreated as quickly as he arrived.

  They were able to settle in with dinner and a lovely bottle of 1999 Croze Hermitage. Victoria felt decadent, and reveled in swirling the rich red wine in her glass. She lingered over it, wanting to savor every sip. The waiter took their orders, and Andrea couldn’t help but comment on Victoria’s.