by Deb Baker
“Gretchen, you want to prove your mother’s innocence, that’s understandable, but nothing you can say or do will change the fact that Caroline was seen on Camelback Mountain when Martha died.”
Gretchen let out a rush of air. “That is a tough one.”
“And why did she run away? Innocent people don’t run away. She abandoned her business and used two disadvantaged homeless people to conceal her movements.”
Apparently, Nina had joined the growing list of disbelievers. Caroline’s own sister had abandoned her.
“She’s innocent until proven guilty in a court of law, Aunt Nina. People tend to forget our basic rights and judge on heresy and innuendo. Don’t join that narrow-minded mob.”
“You’re right. I’m trying to keep an open mind.” Gretchen could hear the hurt in her voice as Nina continued. “But it’s hard. If only she would call.”
“She had a reason to run. We have to find out what scared her so much that she thought she had to flee. And what was so awful she couldn’t confide in her family?” Gretchen paused, hearing the familiar click of call waiting. “I have another call coming in. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Night, dear.”
“Hi, this is Courtney,” a young voice said, childlike, waiflike.
“Courtney?” Wrong number, Gretchen thought. “You must have…”
“No, no, this is the right number. I’m sure of it. This is Courtney.”
Dim bulb, Gretchen chided herself. How many Courtneys do you know? None? Think again. You’ve heard of one, Steve’s Courtney, the intern.
“Ah,” Gretchen said. “Courtney.”
“Yes, well, how are you Ms. Birch?”
Ms. Birch? Immediately establishing an age barrier, manipulative, catty. Gretchen had a bad feeling, a Nina moment.
“Gretchen. Please call me Gretchen, and is something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong.”
“Is Steve all right?”
“Oh, he’s fine.”
Courtney’s voice was vaguely familiar. More than vaguely. It matched the voice of the anonymous caller who had first informed her of Steve’s cheating ways.
Silence on both ends. Gretchen waited her out, palms damp, feeling disoriented, a sense of foreboding causing her heart to beat a little too fast.
“Steve told me that you know about our thing,” Courtney said.
Our thing? Such small, innocuous words. A certain lack of literary excellence. Like the words nice or good. But what a punch they pack when used in this context.
Several times in the last several years she’d suspected Steve of being unfaithful. Even before the indisputable proof, she used to have to convince herself that it was her imagination, an uncontrollable jealousy from childhood that caused her to be suspicious over every little occurrence. A flaw in her character, not his. Every time his eyes stayed with a passing woman longer than Gretchen thought they should. Every time his hand brushed gently across another woman’s hand. Accidental or intentional?
Steve was a hugger, she’d rationalize. He enjoyed woman. Gregarious. Loquacious after a drink or two. And his career mandated proximity to females. Divorce law. Women constantly in and out of his office, seeking solace in his legal strength, projecting hope on their attorney after betrayal, failed love.
Natural, Steve said, to have admirers. After all, his job is to take care of them, like a big brother or uncle or family friend.
Gretchen closed her eyes.
Courtney plowed forward. “Steve has no clue that I’m calling. It was my idea. I wanted you to know that we’re still together, in spite of what Steve tells you.”
Of course, Steve wouldn’t approve of honesty; he’d already become proficient at practicing deceit as well as law.
“I wanted you to know because I can’t stand lying to you.”
Touching isn’t it? Courtney taking the high road.
“And I want you gone,” Courtney said, steering for the low road. “He’s mine now.”
Gretchen hung up the phone without another word. She wanted to slam the phone, break it, wrench its traitorous cord from the phone jack and wrap it tightly around Steve’s cheating neck.
Instead she picked up a broken doll from an overflowing bin heaped with dolls and steadied her shaking hands.
Standing at the padded workbench, she cut a length of elastic in the proper weight and with clamps and hooks spread out before her, she went to work, looping the elastic through a hook in the arm socket, carefully drawing it through, and attaching it to the body. Rifling in a parts bin to find a replacement for a missing leg. Finishing one doll and starting another.
Not wanting to think about Steve.
What would her life have been like if she had joined her mother’s business? Made dolls her life’s work? There was something appealing about working at home, dropping out of the nine-to-five rat race. Working in pajamas. Forgetting about snarled rush-hour traffic, appropriate work apparel, the proper business demeanor, fighting for raises, dodging a coworker’s efforts to sabotage your chances for promotion.
Gretchen gave a bath to a soft vinyl doll, found underpants, a hat, shoes. The right clothes for the right doll. Worked a bow into her hair.
What would life have been like?
__________
The list of exquisite and valuable dolls was seared into Caroline’s memory bank, her human cerebral memory bank, not that of the artificial random access memory lying on the cheap pine dresser. Close to two hundred dolls, each rare and unique, a haphazard, eclectic collection.
A rare George II wooden doll with painted gessoed face in silk polonaise gown. Two French shoulder papier-mâché dolls with bamboo teeth. A German waxed composition lady with inset blue glass eyes. Parians, chinas, bisques representing the finest from France and Germany. A group of Italian Lenci cloth dolls. A finite list with infinite worth.
Now a collector’s dream turned into a freakish nightmare.
Excessive greed had dimmed the glow, dampened the glory of the fine collection.
Caroline could recite all the particulars of the inventory, could describe every photograph in detail, although her hope of recovering any of the collection diminished with every passing hour.
Her lips curled in momentary satisfaction.
At least she had the prize.
The French fashion doll.
Chapter 19
Without opening her eyes, Gretchen turned over onto her back and rearranged the beach towel to cover her torso. Her arms dangled over the sides of the lounge chair and brushed against the tile. The summer storm had passed, and the sun beat down on her face, searing and hot. She didn’t care.
A door banged in the front of the house, and the patio doors slid open. She heard Nimrod’s tiny nails clicking on the Mexican tile surrounding the pool and a small rush of air as he ran by. Another rush of air. Tutu. Gretchen refused to open her eyes.
“What the…!” Nina’s voice. “It’s a hundred and sixteen degrees outside. How long have you been lying here?”
Gretchen didn’t respond.
She poked Gretchen’s arm through the towel. “I’ve been calling you all morning. Your face is as red as a Roma tomato. Can you open your eyes, or are they burned shut?”
Gretchen pried one eye open and squinted at her aunt. “Go away and let me die.”
Nina yanked the towel away, ran around to the back of the chair, and pushed Gretchen up by her shoulders. “Come on. Into the shade with you. At least you had the sense to cover the rest of your body with a towel. Otherwise we’d be on the way to the hospital again.”
Gretchen slowly rose to her feet and let Nina lead her under an expansive table umbrella. She sagged into a chair and studied her feet. Too tall to be completely covered with the towel, the top of her feet had fried in the sun. Her face felt swollen and her lips were already starting to crack and blister.
Nina, face pinched and ashen next to Gretchen’s, plopped into a chair and leaned forward. “Is Caroline dea
d?” she said, shaky, awaiting bad news.
Gretchen slowly looked up and shook her head. Nina clutched her heart. “That’s a relief. When I saw you lying there, that’s the first thing I thought of.”
It was time to confide in Nina. “Courtney, the intern, called last night. She and Steve are having a thing.”
“A thing?”
“Those were her words.”
Gretchen realized how badly she needed a sympathetic ear as the whole story spilled out of her.
Nina leaned back when she was finished and crossed her legs. “That rat. I always suspected as much.”
“You did not. You’re the one who thought I should give him an ultimatum.” Gretchen lifted an arm and tapped her head with the cast. “Is it my imagination or is that idea a very bad one?”
“You can still offer him a choice. Death by fire or death by shark. I’ve always thought those would be the two worst possible ways to go, a fitting end for Steve.”
“He was continually working, always preparing for a case or meeting with clients or attending company-sponsored events. How did he find the time?”
“He wasn’t always working,” Nina said. “She turned out to be the special event he was working. I so sorry it happened.”
“I shouldn’t have left Boston.”
Nina snorted. “You think if you had stayed, it would have ended between them? Right. Sure. Once a cheater always a cheater, I say.”
Gretchen’s new perception of her relationship seemed as clear as fog dissipating over the Boston Harbor. Thick, whirling haze had clouded her vision, but now she could see past the horizon. “I can’t believe he’d risk our relationship for a quick fling with a summer intern. He’s almost twice as old as she is.”
“Midlife crisis,” Nina suggested.
“He’s too young.”
“The rat,” Nina said again.
Nina forced Gretchen into the bathroom and turned on the shower. “Keep the water cold,” she demanded. “That should snap you out of it. Take your time, and afterwards, I’ll work on your face. What a burn.”
“What’s that?” Gretchen said, noticing a purse hanging from Nina’s shoulder for the first time.
“That,” Nina said, “is today’s purse trainee. He’s sound asleep down on the bottom. You gave me such a scare, I forgot he was there.”
Twenty minutes later, Gretchen felt almost human again. Nina dabbed aloe vera lotion on her niece’s sunburned face and feet, and Gretchen slid into flip flops.
“Bring a pair of athletic shoes along,” Nina said.
“Why?”
“We’re headed for Curves. I called April to find out what time the Dollers would be working out.” She glanced at her watch. “They’ll show up soon, and we don’t want to miss them.”
“But why are we going to Curves?” Gretchen felt a whine in her voice. “We can see them later. Call a meeting if you miss them so much. I’m really not in the mood to socialize.”
Nina smiled. “We’re going to sign up. We could both use some cardiovascular work. Exercise and research at the same time. Maybe we’ll find out if Rita really saw Bonnie at the Rescue Mission. That can be your job. Find out. And exercise is good for your mind. Let’s leave the dogs in the kitchen.” Nina glanced at the purse on her shoulder. “I’ll put Enrico in the bathroom.”
“Enrico needs his own room?”
“Enrico needs his own world.”
__________
“Give my name when you sign up,” April said. “I’m working on a free tT shirt. Five enrollments, and I get my very own Curves shirt.”
Curves bustled with activity, every station occupied, conversations swelling over workout music. April, Bonnie, and Rita crowded around while Nina and Gretchen signed up for a trial week.
“You should sign up for a whole year,” April said, disappointment in her voice. “That’s the only way it counts toward my shirt.”
“Change stations now,” the recording announced.
Nina laid the pen on the counter. “Gretchen might go back to Boston in a few days. She can’t sign up for a whole year.”
“She can transfer her membership to Boston. That’s the beauty of Curves. They’re everywhere,” April said, checking Nina out. “You could use a year, too.”
Nina narrowed her eyes while Olivia Newton John belted “Let’s Get Physical” from a boom box on an overhead shelf. She opened her mouth to respond, but she caught Gretchen’s eye and the slight shake of her head. She closed her mouth.
“Stations are opening up,” Bonnie called out, her red flip shellacked stiffly around her face.
Gretchen leaped onto the stepper, jostling for a position next to Bonnie, her prey of the moment. She ignored the pain radiating from within her running shoes.
“You sure did burn your face,” April said. “Fall asleep in the sun?”
“No,” Nina said. “Her boyfriend cheated on her with a coworker, and I found her wallowing in self-pity by the pool.”
Everyone gasped. Gretchen sent Nina a menacing glance. So much for personal privacy. Wallowing in self-pity? Well, Nina was right. She had too much on her mind right now to worry about Steve and Courtney.
She worked harder, running in place faster, increasing her concentration. Focusing on the workout.
“Men are all alike,” April said, huffing through the shoulder press. “Bad behavior runs in their genes.”
“Not my Matt,” Bonnie said, running in place. “Matty’s wife was the one who cheated on him. He’s going through a nasty divorce right now. Faithful as they come, my Matty.”
Probably married to his job more than to his wife, Gretchen thought. Although, the job didn’t stop Steve.
“At least they didn’t have children,” Rita said. “Children complicate divorce.”
“What’s nasty about his divorce?” Nina asked Bonnie. “Without children and child support or a custody battle, the divorce should be smooth sailing.”
“She stalks him. She wants him back, and she’s not above making scenes,” Bonnie said. “The closer they get to the divorce hearing, the more desperate she becomes. Poor Matty’s hiding on the streets. Lucky for him, he has a mobile job.”
Gretchen, preoccupied earlier with her own problems, wondered what had happened to her shadow. For all she knew, Matt was outside right this minute, waiting to follow her.
“Radio says more rain later today,” April said. “Just what we need.”
Nina bent over and placed her palms on the floor.
“Show off,” April said.
“That’s amazing, Aunt Nina,” Gretchen said, skipping the shoulder press. Working out with a broken wrist proved a unique challenge.
“It’s the yoga,” Nina said. “I’m limber as a tree monkey, but my cardiovascular activity is limited to walking back and forth from the car. I guess you can’t have everything.”
“Run in place on the platforms,” April advised. “That’ll get your heart rate up. Mine’s always at the top end of what’s safe.” She pulled a hanky from her pocket and mopped her forehead.
“Gretchen’s cheating boyfriend is a divorce attorney,” Nina said. Gretchen thought about a direct frontal tackle. She could take Aunt Nina down in two moves.
“That makes it worse,” April said. “He should know better.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Rita said.
“Get ready for a ten second count.”
Gretchen’s pulse rate went off the chart hanging on the wall. “I don’t know,” she said, after the count, when she noticed Rita still looking at her and waiting for her answer. “I really don’t know.”
And she didn’t know. That had been the recurring question in her mind since Courtney’s call last night. How to handle it. What to say. How to react.
Steve had assured her that it would never happen again, and she had wanted so badly to believe him. Maybe Courtney was lying.
After two circuits, Nina’s face turned the same color as Gretchen’s burned face
.
“I need to take a break,” Nina said.
“Me, too,” huffed April.
The two women moved away from the workout area. Gretchen glanced at Bonnie. The hydraulic machines hissed around her. Rita turned and said something to the woman ahead of her.
“I saw you, too,” Gretchen leaned over and whispered to Bonnie, taking a wild shot.
Bonnie smiled at Gretchen, bending to the side, stretching, one arm high and wide overhead. “You saw me?”
“At the Rescue Mission.”
“Change stations now.”
Bonnie’s smile died, and her face closed up.
“Look,” Gretchen said, “your hair really stands out.”
Bonnie’s hand jumped to her red hair.
“Your hair is beautiful, don’t get me wrong,” Gretchen said hastily. “It’s unique, that’s why I know it was you.”
Bonnie smiled with her teeth, gums showing. “Sorry to disappoint, but you are mistaken.” She nudged Rita. “We must be done.”
Rita turned back. “Done,” she agreed.
__________
“Never trust a woman whose gums show when she smiles,” Gretchen said to Nina as they zipped through traffic on the way back to her mother’s house. “Who said that?”
“You just did.”
“No, I’ve heard that expression someplace before.”
“Interesting about your friend, Matt. Don’t you think?”
“That he’s going through a divorce?”
“He’s available,” Nina said, honking at a passing car that strayed into her lane. “Never ignore opportunity.”
“That,” Gretchen said, emphatically, “is the last thing on my mind.”
“Good. At least it’s on the list.
__________
“I can’t help but think that she’s hidden the French fashion doll right here in the house,” Gretchen said, over loud, aggressive snarls. Enrico, the Chihuahua, raised his upper lip and growled at Gretchen. “He’s going to attack me.”
