“What is it?”
“Oh, it’s just that Abby … well, she’s not exactly on friendly terms with Bonnie.”
“Oh.” He still looked confused.
So she quickly filled him in, playing it down as much as possible, then she laughed lightly. “Although Abby might want me tear up the check.”
Jack looked slightly shocked. “That’s a little extreme.”
“I know. But Abby’s a little extreme when it comes to Bonnie.”
“Well, you don’t have to tell Abby who bought the paintings, do you?”
“No.” She stuck the envelope in her shirt pocket. “I don’t.”
He was looking at her seascape now. “This is … different.”
She winced at his tone. “Different bad?”
“No, not at all. Just different from your other work.”
She wished she’d thought to hide the painting. Instead of fretting over her personal image, she should’ve been concerned with her professional one. “It’s not really for your gallery,” she said. “My friend Janie kind of commissioned it.” Okay, that was quite an overstatement, but Marley’s pride and insecurity had taken over.
He nodded, then turned back to her with a hard-to-read expression. “Well, I shouldn’t take up any more of your time. I just wanted to share the good news—and the check.” He smiled.
“Thanks so much, Jack. You really made my day.”
“And your house looks great, Marley.”
“It’ll look better when I get it all done,” she said apologetically. “But I realized I needed to spend more time painting and less time decorating.”
“Good thinking!” Then he left, and she wondered if she’d said something to offend him. Or maybe she should’ve invited him to stay awhile. Or offered him a drink. Or asked him to sit outside with her and enjoy the ocean view.
“Dumb, dumb, dumb,” she told herself as she opened the thin envelope. Then she stopped. That was exactly how she used to scold herself when she was married to John. No, she was not dumb, just somewhat challenged when it came to entertaining guys in her home. This was totally new territory for her. But she could learn. She would learn.
Chapter 13
Caroline
“Have you been caring for your mom long?” Brent asked Caroline after the Alzheimer’s support group ended.
“No, less than a month. Still, I feel like I’m barely keeping my nose above water. How about you?” She knew from the sharing time that Brent’s father had Alzheimer’s, and that Brent’s mother (at sixty-two) had run off, saying she was too young to be trapped caring for her incapacitated husband.
“I just came up here a couple of weeks ago,” Brent told her as he picked up a donut from the refreshment table. “I only expected to stay a few days, but when I saw how things were for my dad, well, I decided to take time off work and do what I can.”
“That’s good you could take time off. Not all bosses would be so understanding.”
“My boss and I have kind of a love-hate relationship.” His blue eyes twinkled. “I’m my own boss.”
“Lucky you. So are you able to work and care for your dad?”
His mouth twisted to one side. “I keep telling myself that I should be able to do it, but all the distractions and demands … well, it’s been a challenge. Also, I’m at a disadvantage not being down in Hollywood.”
“Hollywood?” Caroline’s interest level in this attractive young man just upped several notches. “That’s where I’m from too.”
“Really?” He grinned. “I thought you looked like a California girl.”
She laughed. “California girl. Now there’s something I haven’t heard for a while.”
“So is this a temporary thing for you, too? Will you go back home eventually?”
Caroline sighed. “This is home now. I put my condo on the market.”
“Wow, that’s a big commitment. You must really love your mom.”
She considered this. Of course, she loved her mom, and yet in so many ways her mom seemed like a complete stranger. “I guess I thought this might be my last chance … to get to know her.” She forced a laugh. “Unfortunately, I think I’m a little too late. Most of the time it’s like she’s not even there. Like the lights are on, but nobody’s home.”
“So you and your mom weren’t close when you were growing up?”
She just shook her head, then took a slow sip of the metallic-tasting coffee.
“My dad and I were really close,” Brent said. “He was kind of old, you know, compared to my friends’ dads. He’s like fifteen years older than my mom. But he always took time for me when I was growing up. Whether I was attempting to do sports, which I was totally lame at, or theater or music, there my dad would be sitting in the front row, cheering for me.”
“And your mom?”
He shrugged. “She’s always kind of done her own thing. In fact, I actually thought their marriage would end after I left for college. But I think Mom liked her little comfort zone. She never had to work, and Dad pretty much let her do as she pleased, buy what she wanted. It wasn’t until he started putting his golf shoes in the freezer that Mom got nervous.”
Caroline glanced at her watch. As much as she enjoyed chatting with this pleasant young man, she knew her respite time was limited, and she still had some errands to do.
“Looks like you need to go,” he said with what seemed to be disappointment.
She smiled. “Yeah. I only get two hours, and I still need to grab some groceries.”
“I hear ya.” He nodded. “Maybe that’s something we caregivers could help each other out with. If you ever want to email me a list, I’d be happy to get your groceries too.”
Caroline blinked. “Seriously?”
“You bet.” He reached for his wallet, then pulled out a business card for her.
“And I could trade the favor.” She grinned as she tucked the card into her bag. “If it’s any comfort, I’ve figured out how to get my mom’s diapers and that kind of thing online.”
“Hey, that’s a great idea.”
As they walked out to the parking lot, she told him about the local pharmacy that delivered. “And I can email you about the online drugstore if you want.”
“Great. This is helpful stuff,” he said as she stopped by her car. “I wasn’t too keen about trying out this support group, but meeting you makes me glad I came.”
“Well, thank you.” She gave him a big smile. “It’s been nice talking to you.”
He waved and told her to email him, then walked over to a BMW convertible. She tried not to stare, but it made a nice scene. Nice-looking young guy, extremely cool car, and he even put the top down. As she drove away, she realized that she still didn’t know what he did for a living. The fact that he was self-employed, lived in Hollywood, and was obviously successful suggested that he was involved in the entertainment industry. She knew that Brent’s mom was less than ten years older than Caroline, so she estimated Brent would be in his late thirties at the oldest—if his mom was young when he was born. He could be as young as early thirties. In other words, young enough to be Caroline’s son.
She laughed as she pulled into the grocery store parking lot. It’s not like she was interested in Brent—not for anything besides a friend anyway—but if Mitch were completely out of the picture, and if Brent were ten years older, she might have been. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d dated a younger guy. But she had a seven-year rule: Any guy more than seven years younger was out of the question. Brent was definitely out of the question. Caroline had no intention of turning into the local cougar.
However, she suspected that Brent had assumed she was younger. And that felt kind of nice. Especially considering the direction her life seemed headed these days. Constantly caring fo
r and cleaning up after her mom sometimes made Caroline feel like she was about the same age as her mother.
As she pushed her cart through Safeway, picking up packaged items like applesauce cartons, juice boxes, and pudding cups—things she’d never purchased until she’d started caring for her mother—everything felt strangely surreal.
“Caroline McCann?”
Caroline looked up from the banana section to see a middle-aged man looking at her. He looked vaguely familiar in an older sort of way.
“It is you,” he said with a bright smile. “You don’t remember me?”
Those gray eyes looked hauntingly familiar. “Adam Fowler?”
He nodded and came over to where she was standing, holding out his arms as if he expected her to hug him. Against her will and better judgment, she complied.
“How long has it been?” he asked, shaking his head.
“Well, I just went to my thirty-fifth class reunion,” she told him, “and you graduated two years before me. So that would be thirty-seven years.”
“No way.” He shook his head in disbelief. “How did we get so old?”
She shrugged as she picked up a small bunch of bananas. Potassium was supposed to be good for her mom.
“Not that you look much older than you did thirty-seven years ago,” he said warmly.
She smiled uncomfortably. “Thanks. I’d say the same about you, but it wouldn’t be true.”
He just laughed. “Good ol’ Caroline, still speaking your mind.”
She nodded, holding her head higher. “Nice seeing you again, Adam,” she said in a formal tone. “If you’ll excuse me, my time is limited today.” Then she turned her cart around and hurried toward the dairy section. She felt warmth on her cheeks, almost as if she were fifteen again. He acted so normal, so natural, that he’d probably completely forgotten how he humiliated her in high school. Adam had been a senior jock, the kind of guy that girls dreamed of having for a boyfriend. When he asked Caroline out early in her sophomore year, she was over the moon. She dressed carefully, did her hair and makeup perfectly, and with high expectations, happily went to the movies with him.
After the movies, he took her for a soda, then drove his ’66 Mustang to the cliffs to look at the moon over the ocean. Of course, the moon was nowhere to be seen, and no sooner had he turned off his ignition than his lips and hands were all over her. At first she tried to humor him, joking about how she wasn’t that kind of a girl. Then, when he refused to take no for an answer, she actually slapped him, got out of the car, and started to walk home. Fortunately he picked her up. But he didn’t say a word as he sped her home. Naturally, he didn’t walk her to the door. That would’ve been fine—end of story—except that the following week at school a rumor began circulating about her. That’s when Caroline got her “reputation.” Fast and easy … call Caroline for a good time. It had probably been written on the guys’ bathroom walls.
“We meet again,” Adam said as he pulled his cart behind hers in the express lane.
She gave him another forced smile, then picked up a People magazine and pretended to be absorbed by a headline about Jennifer Aniston.
“So are you just visiting?” he asked.
“No,” she said without looking up. “I moved back recently to care for my mother.” She looked up at him now. “She has Alzheimer’s. You know, that whole memory-loss thing.” Hint-hint.
He nodded. “That’s gotta be tough.”
His unexpected sympathy softened her ever so slightly. Really, why was she acting like this? It wasn’t even in her nature or beliefs to be unforgiving. But something about seeing him like this, such a blast from the past … well, it was unnerving. “Yeah, it hasn’t been real easy.” She set the magazine in her cart. “How about you? Are you just visiting or—”
“I’m actually looking at vacation property this weekend. I live over in Eugene, but it’s like I hear the ocean calling.”
“So you’re looking at beachfront property?” she asked.
His eyes lit up. “You got any good tips?”
“Well, do you remember Paul Franklin? He married my best friend, Abby, right out of high school. Anyway, he has a development over on North Shore you might be interested in checking out. Not cheap properties, but nice.”
“North Shore.” He nodded. “I’ve heard of that.”
Now it was her turn to unload her cart. Thankful for the distraction, she focused on putting her juvenile-looking groceries on the moving belt.
“I thought maybe you had kids,” Adam said as she put the rubber divider behind her items. “But I’m guessing that’s the kind of food your mother eats.”
“That’s right.” She moved up to the cashier now. “Bland and boring.”
“Does your mom still live in the same house?”
She studied his expression as she pulled out some cash. “Do you honestly remember where I lived?”
“Sure.” He nodded with an innocent expression. “Didn’t we go out for a while?”
Okay, she just had to laugh. “Yeah. We went out once.”
His brows shot up now like some kind of light had just gone on.
“Need I say more?” she asked as she waited for her change.
“It’s coming back to me now,” he said with what seemed honest embarrassment. “You slapped me.”
Caroline just nodded, but the cashier looked on with interest as she carefully counted out the change.
He slowly shook his head. “I’m guessing I owe you an apology.”
Now her smile was genuine. “Thank you. I’ll accept it.”
“I took a few blows to the head during high school,” he said with a crooked smile. “I think it might’ve messed with my memory or something.”
She laughed. “Kind of like my mom.”
Caroline thanked the clerk as she took the reusable grocery bag, then she turned to Adam. “Happy house hunting.”
He nodded with a slightly bewildered expression. It wasn’t exactly the sort of social encounter that Caroline would’ve expected at the grocery store, but it was actually rather satisfying.
Chapter 14
Janie
“I’ve decided that I’m an angry artist,” Marley told Janie Saturday afternoon. She had popped in unexpectedly, and they were standing in the driveway so that Marley could look on as Mario cut tiles.
“What?” Janie studied Marley’s face to see if she was joking.
“Anger motivates me to paint.”
“Really?” Janie paused as the tile saw growled loudly.
Marley nodded. “I know it’s pathetic … but true.”
“What about the seascape?” Janie moved a bit farther away from Mario’s workstation, and Marley followed. “It didn’t seem like it wanted to be an angry painting.”
Marley let out a cynical laugh. “Well, you might not want it now.” She jerked her thumb toward her car. “I brought it over.”
“It’s finished?”
“Yes. I got so angry that I just worked nonstop until it was done.”
“Do I get to see it?”
“Of course, that’s why I stopped by.” Marley glanced toward the house. “You go wait in your living room, and I’ll bring it in for the great unveiling.”
“How exciting!”
“I’m warning you, you might not like it. So don’t feel like you’re beholden. I just figured I should give you the first chance to reject it.”
“Oh, Marley.” Janie shook her head. “Go get it. I’m dying of curiosity.” Then Janie went into the house, left the front door open, and went to sit and wait. She felt a little bit concerned though. What if she really didn’t like the painting? Would she have the nerve to tell Marley that? And considering the way Marley was acting today, talking about being angry … what
if Janie’s rejection really cut deep? And yet, how could she purchase a painting she didn’t like? Where would she hang it?
“Okay, now close your eyes,” Marley called.
“All right.” Janie leaned back in the chair and shut her eyes.
“Okay,” Marley said after a minute or so. “Open your eyes.”
Janie looked up to see the painting perched on the back of part of the sectional, leaning against the bare wall. “Oh, Marley.” Janie stood and went closer. “It’s fabulous.”
“Really?” Marley looked shocked.
“Absolutely.” Janie stared at the surf pounding onto the rocks and nodded. “I love it. I want it. It’s perfect.”
Marley let out a huge sigh and sank down onto a club chair. “You don’t know how happy you just made me.”
“It’s so much better than I hoped for.” Janie kept staring at it.
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”
“No. But I’ll admit I’m relieved. You had me worried when you started talking about being an angry painter.” Janie turned to look at her. “What did you mean by that, anyway?”
Marley ran her hand through her short hair and smiled sheepishly. “Oh, Jack came by and looked at the painting while it was still unfinished, and I got the impression he didn’t like it.”
“He didn’t like it?” Janie found this hard to believe. “I thought the man had pretty good taste.”
“Well, he said it was ‘different.’ But he said it in a way that sounded like criticism, like it wasn’t as good as my other works.”
“Well, it is different. The colors alone are different. But it’s a seascape. You couldn’t very well have used magenta and turquoise, and if you had, I wouldn’t have wanted it.”
“I started to doubt myself after Jack left. And then I got mad. And then I went to work. I realized that I’d done the other paintings in a state of anger too.” She gave Janie a hopeless look. “What if that’s the only way I can paint? Out of anger?”
“It might not be good for your blood pressure.”
Hometown Ties Page 13
