After Lydia went downstairs, Jessica shut the office door and dialed Steve at Oasis. "I think you might have been right about my mom," she said. "It's looking more and more like early onset Alzheimer's." For some reason she couldn't bring herself to tell the truth now. A lie seemed so much easier.
"I knew it. All the symptoms were there. Look, you take care of her. We'll hold your job."
"I'll be back as soon as I can," Jessica said.
No one was home at the Spiveys' condo, but several newspapers, in varying shades of discoloration, were scattered near the door. This looked worse than she'd thought. Had Casper died? Were they both in the hospital? Was M.J. inconsolable and shut away in the apartment? Jessica rang the doorbell and waited. She tried to look through the windows, but the shades were drawn. She checked the reserved space for the black Town Car—empty—and combed the parking lot, to no avail.
When she got home and reported the news, Lydia called the police. None of the precincts had a report on Casper. Jessica phoned local hospitals, with a growing sense of dread, but turned up nothing.
That night Lydia seemed unusually pensive as she brought out a large bowl of tomato and basil pasta to the patio for a late dinner. Davy tried to assure them that if something were terribly wrong, M.J. would have said so. Then again, Jessica pointed out, Casper was in his mid-seventies; he looked good but could have had a heart attack or a stroke.
Their mother spoke up. "All those years working for Ford might have finally caught up to him." The patio floodlight cast an odd half-moon on Lydia's face. "My father died of overwork, you know. He was only a year older than I am now."
An awkward silence hung over the table.
"Well," Davy said, and began to serve the dinner. "I think there's nothing to worry about."
19
ON THE SAME AFTERNOON that the painters finished the kitchen, the central air conditioning gave out. It was a Friday, one of the hottest days of the year, and past business hours, so Lydia knew she would have to call in emergency service. She should have expected something else to go wrong on top of the complications with Norm and her worries about the Spiveys. A day and a half had gone by since M.J.'s ominous message, and still no one had heard from them.
At first Lydia hadn't taken the news seriously. It occurred to her that M.J. might be trying to make her daughter nervous, much in the way that Lydia had done with Jessica a few weeks ago. She wondered how much she and M.J. had influenced each other without realizing it. M.J. had impelled Lydia to set up a date with Norm, and perhaps Lydia had given her an idea for how to get Ellen's attention. And the truth was, Lydia was still upset at M.J. for dropping that news about Gilbert Warren. She had been so casual yet deliberate, as if it had been a play for control.
But as the hours went by Lydia grew concerned. She had liked the Spiveys, after all, and in their company at the DIA the day had seemed full of possibility. What if something had happened to Casper? What would it mean if M.J. became a widow? Lydia couldn't imagine M.J. alone, even for one minute, without her counterpoise.
Lydia thought about Ellen, that serious face in all those photographs, the only daughter who had left her parents behind. She had lived nearby for thirty-five years. If her father died or fell ill, she'd almost certainly return home. It felt like a long time ago since Cy had been here, saying goodbye, and to Lydia's surprise, she did not miss him. Somewhere along the line she must have accepted that he was gone for good.
Lydia found an old fan in her closet and decided to bring it to Jessica's room. Already the house was uncomfortable and humid, and as she walked down the hall she could hear Davy sighing. But it was Teresa on his mind, not the heat; he spent a lot of time on his cell phone, pacing on the back patio. As Lydia slowed her steps she heard him say, "She thinks that Lowball was all I ever cared about. She said I acted like I had one shot and one shot only. I told her I didn't want to be like Dad, never sticking with anything for more than five minutes. She said that was an excuse."
"Maybe she feels like you shut her out." Jessica's voice carried a note of exasperation.
"Yeah, she'd told me that one before. I just wanted the business to make it, that's all. I figured if I could get Lowball off the ground and pay Teresa back, maybe even put some money away, then we'd be happy."
"Well you're never going to be happy if everything's about tomorrow. I know this story too well, Davy."
Lydia took this as her cue. She walked into Jessica's room with the fan and said, "Here, this is for you. I left a message with the air-conditioning repair people, but I don't know when I'm going to hear from them. I'll see if I can find a fan for your room, Davy."
"Thanks, Mom." He was leaning against the desk that Lydia had turned into a vanity table, fiddling with a bottle of scented moisturizer.
"So, what are we all talking about?"
Jessica sat cross-legged on the floor, going through one of the attic boxes, while Bedlam lay on his side, his muzzle at her knee. She gave Lydia a look as if to say, You know perfectly well. "We're talking about fear of failure, emotional unavailability," she said flatly.
"Afternoon-talk-show stuff," Davy added. He put down the moisturizer and moved to the bed, picking up a photo album.
Lydia plugged in the fan and turned it to medium speed. She noticed that Jessica's hair was tied up in the silk scarf that M.J. had picked out for Lydia's date. "It's supposed to be ninety degrees today," Jessica said. "For all Norm's supposedly done, he could have gotten the air conditioning checked."
"You're right, it's pretty bad. We should go have an early dinner," Lydia suggested. "We can sit in a nice cool restaurant, then maybe see a movie."
"Sounds good to me." Davy turned the pages of the photo album. Lydia wanted to say something about Teresa, get the kids talking again; she wished she'd heard more of their conversation.
Jessica pushed a box against the wall. "I called Ivan today, told him your boyfriend is still AWOL. Are we ever going to see him? When's he coming back?" Lydia started to respond with her usual deflection but Jessica overrode her. "It's been two weeks now, and you don't seem to care. I thought this guy was all googly-eyed about you, Mom. I don't get it. Doesn't he want to meet us? Or is he going to hang out with his psycho daughter all summer long?"
For a moment, Lydia felt like confessing—all of it, right here. If she admitted that she'd made everything up, she wouldn't have to play out the charade any further. She had brought Jessica and Davy home; they'd spent some good time together. She didn't need to put them through this. It would be so much easier just to stop with the lie.
But as much as she wanted to tell the truth she couldn't, not when her daughter was angry, not without all of her kids here. The time had to be perfect, and Ivan was still in D.C.
"Norm's coming back this weekend," Lydia announced instead. "I'm supposed to meet him tomorrow, as a matter of fact."
Just that morning she had logged on to nuplan.org, and had seen that Norm would be speaking in Dearborn tomorrow. Come Hear Me Talk About Tucker, the message line read. Lydia followed the link to a web site called greencar.org. On the program for the Fifth Annual Green Car Convention, celebrating new technology in clean emissions, she found Norm's talk: "Preston Tucker and the Greatest Car Never Made: Learning from the Past to Make a Better Future," by Norman Crawford, Ph.D.
At first Lydia thought she'd show up, go to the lecture and prove to Norm that her apology had been sincere. But her being there didn't guarantee that he would be friendly with her again. Realizing how much she needed him, if only to put in an occasional appearance, she had to come up with something better. So, she typed a note:
Dear Norm,
I hope you had a nice time with Tracy and a happy Independence Day. I got a delightful surprise myself. Two of my kids have arrived for an extended vacation.
So I see from your web site that you're speaking on Saturday about Preston Tucker. Well, I learned something recently about Tucker that I thought might interest you and even add to your talk.
It's a lot to go into here, but perhaps we could meet before the Green Car Convention. I think you'll find the information fascinating. It has to do with the Big Three contributing to Tucker's demise.
Looking forward to hearing from you.
Yours,
Lydia
Jessica was startled. "Just like that, he's coming back. Why didn't you tell us earlier? I wish I'd known when I talked to Ivan this morning. He's driving the old Taurus here."
"Really?" Lydia hid her delight.
"He mentioned he might be coming."
"I told him not to bother, but he wouldn't listen. You know how he gets when there's trouble at the corral. Saddle up and ride. Our own John Wayne."
"I wouldn't say there's trouble at the corral."
"What do you think, Davy?" Jessica turned to her brother.
"Don't bring me into this. I've got some work to do in the garage," he said, and left the room.
"The fact is, Mom, I've been here two weeks and only now are we meeting Norm. There's an endless amount to do in that attic. No way in hell we'll finish by the yard sale, and I don't know how much longer I can stay. I had to lie to my boss, you know."
"What did you tell him?"
Jessica looked surprised by the question. "It doesn't matter," she said, after a moment. "But I don't want to keep making up excuses."
Lydia was beginning to know what she meant a little too well.
When Jessica headed off to take a shower, Lydia signed on to her e-mail. Norm had replied:
Dear Lydia,
Of course I'd be glad to meet with you and hear about your Tucker news. The convention kicks off at 11:00 and I'm scheduled to speak at 12:30. We could head over early, if you'd like. I'll bring my red pen.
All best,
Norm
P.S. That's nice about your kids.
We could head over, Lydia repeated to herself. Thrilled that the lure had worked, she wrote back right away. Explaining that Jessica and Davy would need the car in the morning, she asked Norm to pick her up at the house. She sent directions to 309 Franklin and named the time: ten forty-five. "It's the one getting painted. No need to come to the door. I'll be waiting on the porch." Toward the end she wrote, "I'm glad we're getting along," then signed off, "Warmly, Lydia."
She shut down her computer and went back to Jessica's room, where her daughter was drying her hair with a towel. "Well, Norm should be by tomorrow just after ten-thirty," she said casually. "I told him he better be ready to work, but he has things to do at his apartment. So we're going to go over there for the afternoon."
"I see. Been missing him, huh?"
"It's nothing like that."
"I've looked through Redbook, Mom. I know all about sex over sixty."
Lydia smiled. "I'm not sine you do."
While Jessica and Davy were getting dressed, Lydia went down to the kitchen and called Cy again. When he answered he seemed to have forgotten why she might be calling. "So, I hear you're tying the knot. I think that's wonderful, just terrific," he rushed on. "But I'd hoped you might tell me yourself."
Lydia hesitated. "We're playing it by ear."
"Remind me of this fellow's name."
"Actually, I'm calling about Casper," Lydia interrupted. "Have you heard anything?"
"Oh, he's fine. Fractured shoulder and whiplash, but he just got out of the hospital. A little accident, that's all." He went on to tell how the Spiveys were driving on slick pavement outside of Saugatuck and slammed into a divider. "They did quite a number on the Lincoln," he said. "I think they're going to have to ditch it."
Cy never ceased to amaze her. "We've been worried sick. Why didn't you call sooner?"
"I tried a few times. The line was busy."
Cy said that M.J. had banged up her wrist pretty badly and was wearing a cast. Casper had a neck brace and sling, and he was facing a steep fine for driving illegally. "But there's a silver lining to everything. At least his driving days are over."
"So how are they getting back to Detroit?" Lydia asked.
"That's exactly what Ellen and I were just arguing about. She's not handling this well at all. She's thinking about flying to Michigan, renting a car, and driving back with them. I told her M.J. can rent a car, but she said they'd be too traumatized to make the trip. So let them stay in Saugatuck for a couple of weeks, I told her. That's no hardship. There's the lake, it's artsy, there's plenty going on this time of year. M.J. can drive back when she's good and ready. I think I've finally talked Ellen down."
"You know what we could do," Lydia said, thinking out loud. "Ivan's coming in tomorrow so we'll have an extra car here. We could send Jess or Davy to get the Spiveys this weekend." As much as she wanted all her kids here, the house was beginning to feel crowded, and Lydia was surprised to find herself actually thinking that she might soon want a respite. And the last thing she needed was Cy and Ellen coming back.
"Wow. That would be very generous," Cy said. "Should I talk to Jess and Davy?"
"That's okay. I'll do it. Tell Ellen not to worry. We'll take care of everything."
Lydia wrote down the name and number of the hotel where the Spiveys were staying, hung up, and went out to the porch.
When Jessica came outside, Lydia told her about the accident and didn't hesitate to get to the heart of the matter. "M.J.'s too skittish to drive home. Someone needs to pick them up in Saugatuck, so I told your father one of us would do it."
"Is that our job?"
"I said we'd take care of it. They got lucky, you know; they could have died." Lydia paused. "Well? What do you think?"
"You mean you want me to get them?"
"Maybe you and Davy could go tomorrow. Ivan won't get in until later. I'd do it myself, honey—but I'm meeting Norm, remember? But let's not worry about this now. Why don't you pick the movie—the paper's in the kitchen."
Jessica looked dismayed. "You and Davy should go," she said. "It's been a long day. I think I might just go to bed."
The next morning Lydia made coffee and opened the kitchen windows. An overnight rain had lowered the temperature and the air smelled of rust. Already running late, she put boxes of cereal, bowls, and spoons out on the table, then ran upstairs, where Jessica's and Davy's bedroom doors remained closed.
Lydia showered and dressed, put on lipstick, and for a change wore her hair down. The three-hundred-dollar Parisian outfit caught her eye right away as she peered into the closet. Her legs looked surprisingly pretty in the slit skirt and slingbacks; and though she'd worried that minus the scarf the boat-neck shirt would be too revealing, she liked the way it hung on her shoulders. She couldn't understand why she'd made such a fuss.
When she went back to the kitchen Davy was eating a bowl of cereal. "Wow, Mom. You look great. I guess it's the Norm effect."
"Well, now you can see him in the flesh."
"Actually, I don't think I can meet him. I have to catch the eleven-oh-five train. Teresa called late last night, and she gave me an ultimatum. I have to get back to Chicago right away."
"Just like that? But what about the Spiveys?"
"I'm sure Jess can take care of it."
"Can't you take a later train, honey?"
"The next one's not until six. I'm sorry, Mom. I promised Teresa."
At ten o'clock Lydia went upstairs to wake her daughter, who, for the first time since she'd come home, was sleeping in. Bedlam had climbed onto the bed and was splayed out, pushing her to the edge. "I wanted to make sure you said goodbye to your brother. He's taking off soon. And Norm should be here in a half hour."
Jessica nudged the dog off the bed. "Davy's leaving already?" She was still half asleep. "Are you taking him to the station right now?"
Lydia had realized that if she took Davy herself Norm might arrive, leaving Jessica to meet him on her own. And Lydia wasn't about to let that happen. "His cab is on its way."
"You called a cab? That's ridiculous. Nobody calls cabs around here. I'll drive him. I know he wants to meet your Norman conq
ueror."
"It's just lousy timing," Lydia said. "So we'll see you downstairs soon?" She shut the door, and quickly ducked into her office to call a cab for a ten-thirty pickup. She wished that Davy could see Norm, too. But all she needed was for one of her kids to glimpse him from a distance—one witness would have to do.
She went downstairs and told Davy she'd already arranged a cab for him. Jessica was exhausted, she explained, and they may as well let her sleep in.
"Can't get rid of me soon enough, eh?"
"The sooner you get back to Chicago," Lydia said, "the sooner you'll work things out with Teresa."
But when the cab pulled up to the curb ten minutes late, Davy still hadn't finished packing, and Jessica sat on the porch with a cup of coffee. She wore sweatpants and an old red pullover, making no effort to look presentable. Lydia went down to hold the taxi.
She was leaning into the passenger's side window when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Norm's convertible coming up the street. She looked toward the porch, where Davy had joined his sister. Lydia stepped away from the cab, and as Norm pulled up behind it, she turned to wave to the kids. "Here he is now," she yelled. "My goodness, we're running late."
She saw Jessica and Davy squinting at the man behind the wheel. Norm parked and began to get out of the car, when Lydia rushed over to him and nearly shut his leg in the door trying to stop him from going any further. "Look over there. It's my kids. Go on," she said. "Wave hello."
Norm seemed confused, so she grabbed his elbow and held up his arm. He gave a partial wave while pulling away from her saying, "What? What are you doing?" Lydia ducked under his arm and gave him a big I-haven't-seen-my-lover-in-two-weeks hug. Then she pushed him back into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut.
Hurrying around to the passenger's side she called up to the kids, who were now making their way down the steps. "Bye, Davy. Have a safe trip. Bye, Jess." She waved. "I left the Spiveys' info on the kitchen table. Love you," she yelled and climbed into the car. She leaned over to Norm. "Let's go!"
Drives Like a Dream Page 21
