by Jeff Shelby
He grinned. “I know lots of things.”
The parking lot closest to the theater entrance at the high school was already mostly full when we got there, and families were hustling into the theater. Like Sophie and Grace, most kids had arrived in costume. There were deer and rabbits, and a couple of little kids dressed as birds. Several tall trees walked awkwardly across the lot, their gangly branches swaying in the autumn breeze. A couple other dwarfs were being ushered toward the door and a teenager dressed as the gnarled old witch walked behind them, munching on an apple. I hoped it wasn’t her prop. Two moms were stationed at the door, directing everyone where to go.
My hands clenched into tight fists and I took a deep breath.
Jake noticed. He reached over and touched my hand. “Relax. It’ll be fine.”
“You take them in first,” I said.
“Daisy—”
“Just do it,” I said, lowering my voice. I didn’t want the girls to hear. “So if there’s any issue they don’t have to be a part of it.”
“I’ll stay,” Will said.
Jake’s mouth twisted for a moment, uncertain what he wanted to do. Then he sighed. “Alright. I’ll give you five minutes. But if you aren’t in there, I’m coming back out to get you and I’ll carry you in over my shoulder.”
“That wouldn’t get anyone’s attention at all.”
“You’ve been warned,” he said, pushing his door open. “See you inside.”
I watched him walk off, a dwarf attached to each of his hands.
“How long are we waiting?” Will asked.
“Maybe an hour?”
“Mom. No.”
I sighed. “I know. Just a minute or two.”
“The longer we wait, the harder it’s going to be,” he said. “We should just go.”
“You sound like Jake.”
“You should also know that I’m supposed to text him updates if we’re still sitting in the car.”
I twisted in my seat. “What? He did not say anything like that.”
“Before we left the house,” he said. “He said he’d pay me five bucks if I’d text him every minute we stayed out here.”
“He didn’t even know I was going to stay in the car!”
“Well, I guess he did,” Will said. “Or he just guessed right.”
Stupid, clairvoyant husband.
“I’ll pay you six bucks not to text him,” I said.
Will tilted his head, considering my offer. “I don’t know,” he answered. “He’ll pay me the five and sometimes he tips me.”
“Ten.”
“Deal. But if we stay out here too long and he doesn’t hear from me, he’s going to come looking for me.”
“We’re at least going to sit here for a few minutes so he has to wonder why you aren’t texting him,” I said. “I want my money’s worth.”
Will chuckled and shrugged.
I hated that I disliked confrontation so much. I just wanted everyone to get along. Especially with me. I didn’t like being singled out and I didn’t like anyone thinking I’d done anything wrong, even when I knew that I hadn’t.
“Uh, Mom,” Will said, interrupting my thoughts. “Jake says we need to come in.”
“Well, duh. He’s trying to get you to earn that five dollars.”
“No, this is different,” he said. “He says we need to hurry up. I think something’s wrong.”
I pictured broken zippers and missing buttons from the kids’ costumes. That was definitely not Jake’s department. Or mine, either, if I were being honest. “Like what?”
“I don’t know, but I didn’t text him and he’s just saying we need to come inside now.”
I frowned. “Feels like a trap.”
“I don’t think so, Mom.”
“Fine,” I said, sighing. “Let’s go.”
The wind whipped at our faces as we headed toward the entrance. Leaves skittered across the parking lot, crunching under our feet as we walked. I glanced up at the sky. Thick gray clouds bloomed on the horizon and I wondered if they would be bringing rain or snow when they arrived. I hadn’t checked the forecast before we left but the air felt cold enough for the latter.
“What are we going to do?” Will asked, his chin tucked to his chest.
“We’re going to walk in,” I said. “And hope they don’t slap handcuffs on me.”
“I don’t think they have handcuffs.”
“Stop being reasonable,” I said to him as we stepped up on the curb. “And you’re going first and I’ll be right behind you.”
“Do I stop if they stop you?”
“No. Run as fast as you can and don’t look back.”
“You’re being a spaz, Mom. And I can barely see your face, your hat is pulled down so low.”
“Exactly. Now lead the way.”
We approached the door and I was right on his heels. The mom on the left smiled at Will as we went through the door, then nodded at me. The other mom wasn’t even looking at us.
Will stopped to unzip his jacket and stomp his shoes on the rubber mat just inside the door, dislodging the bits of crushed leaves stuck in the grooves of his sneakers.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered. “We’re in.”
“Mom, seriously,” he said, still wiping his feet. “I think Jake is right. No one cares.”
“You’re only saying that because you weren’t banned,” I whispered at him.
He rolled his eyes.
“Daisy.”
I whirled around.
Annabelle Kingston stood behind me, clutching the hands of two little boys. She smiled at me, a tired, harried smile crossing her face. “I can’t believe we made it to the dress rehearsal.”
“Is Bashful all ready to go?” I asked, referring to her son in the play.
She nodded. “As ready as he’ll ever be.” One of the boys tugged on her hand and she smiled a goodbye and allowed herself to be pulled away.
We walked down the ramp that led away from the entry and around to the hallway that ran in front of the theater. I saw Jake standing at the end of the hallway, his hands on his hips, his back to us. He was talking to someone but I couldn’t see whom.
“There’s Jake,” Will said, pointing.
“Shh!” I hissed. “It might be someone who wants me kicked out of here!”
“Then why would he have told us to come in?”
“Just slow down,” I said, ignoring his logic.
We wove in and out of the groups of parents standing outside the theater. I kept my head down and my hat pulled low on my head. If anyone was looking at me, I couldn’t tell because I was doing my best not to make eye contact with anyone. I was already pleased to have made it this far inside the high school and now I was thinking I actually might be able to get inside and watch the dress rehearsal.
I stepped around a short man shaped like a bowling ball. Will was standing next to Jake. I tapped Jake on the shoulder, feeling like I’d just navigated a minefield.
He turned around and when he did, I could finally see who he was talking to.
Stella Gardner.
Jake’s ex-wife.
THIRTY EIGHT
“Hello, Daisy,” Stella said. “So nice to see you.”
“Hi, Stella,” I said, looking from her to Jake and back to her. “What a...surprise to see you.”
And it truly was a surprise. Stella lived in Miami and had yet to visit Minnesota since Jake and Sophie had moved. When they’d made the move from Texas to Minnesota, she’d taken the opportunity to take a promotion with her company, landing in Florida. Sophie went to visit her a few times a year, and they talked regularly on the phone or via Skype, but she’d yet to make good on her promise to visit Minnesota.
Until now, apparently.
“I know,” she said, smiling. She motioned to her ex-husband with a well-manicured hand. “I was just explaining to Jake that I ended up needing to fly to Chicago for a work meeting and decided I could scoot on over here to watch the play. I th
ought I’d mentioned it to you both at one time that it was a possibility.”
It sounded vaguely familiar and she probably had. But she said so many different things that both Jake and I had started letting most of her words go in one ear and out the other. Stella was a nice enough person, but she was not exactly a pillar of dependability. Her work always took precedence. More than once, we’d had to reschedule a trip for Sophie because Stella’s schedule had changed. While it irked me, Jake would just shrug and roll his eyes, having become accustomed to it during their marriage.
So it was a bit disconcerting to see her in Minnesota, standing in the middle of my world.
“I hope it’s okay that I just showed up,” she said. “I think you sent me the info a few weeks ago, Daisy, and when I realized I was going to be done early in Chicago, I just decided to hop on over here.”
“Oh, of course,” I said, biting back an amused smile. No one “hopped” from Chicago to Central Minnesota – it was at least an 8-hour drive. Even the flights, when you factored in security and the drive from MSP to Moose River, took several hours. “I was just surprised, that’s all. I’m sure Sophie will be excited to see you.”
She looked at Will. “You must be Will, right?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
This was the first time he’d met his stepsister’s mother and I could tell he was curious about her. He’d seen photos, of course, and even exchanged a few words with her when he walked by during one of their Skype conversations, but this was the first real-life interaction. I could tell he was dissecting her appearance, making note of her similarities to Sophie. They both had blond hair, although Stella’s was about six inches shorter. She wore it in a blunt bob that accentuated her blue eyes and square chin, both features Sophie had also inherited.
If she noticed Will was staring at her, she didn’t let on. “Sophie has said a lot of nice things about you,” she said. She added, “About all of her new siblings.”
“New?” Will asked.
It was a valid question. Jake and I had been together long enough for the term “new” to raise an eyebrow.
Stella’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “I guess it has been a couple years, hasn’t it?”
Jake rolled his eyes and I could tell that he was annoyed not only with her comments but by her surprise appearance. My interactions with Stella had always been benign and pleasant, but we usually communicated from a distance. And I’d never been married to her. Jake, however, had zero patience when dealing with his ex-wife and had a hard time hiding his feelings, even at a distance.
“Are you staying through the weekend?” I asked, changing the subject.
Stella shook her head. “Unfortunately, no. I need to get back to Miami tomorrow, so it’s just a quick trip.” She nodded at Jake. “I mentioned to Jake that it would be great if I could take Sophie out after the play tonight. Just for ice cream or something. I wouldn’t keep her out too late.”
“Of course,” I said, glancing at Jake. His expression was impassive. “I’m sure that would be fine.”
I couldn’t tell by his expression whether or not that would be fine with him, but I wasn’t sure what other response was appropriate. Even dropping in at the last minute, Sophie had a right to spend time with a mother she saw very little of in the first place.
Stella’s eyes rested on me. “That’s a nice hat.”
My hands flew to my head. I’d forgotten I was wearing the beanie. I debated pulling it off, but knew my hair would be a total mess underneath.
“My mom is banned,” Will blurted out. “She thinks the hat is disguising her.”
Stella raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Banned?”
“It was a misunderstanding,” Jake said quickly. “That’s all.”
“Ah, okay,” she said, nodding, clearly not interested. Then she pointed at the theater entrance. “I’m going to head in so I can make sure I get a seat up front. I can’t believe so many people are here for a dress rehearsal.” She looked at me, then Jake. “I’ll find you after?”
We both nodded and she smiled again and joined the crowd of parents walking into the theater. She looked foreign, out of place in her tailored black suit and designer heels, and several moms wearing yoga pants and Moose River sweatshirts stared at her as she passed them.
“Why would that be fine?” Jake said, lowering his voice. “Why would it be fine that she just shows up and can take her out for ice cream or chicken nuggets or coffee or whatever?”
“Uh, because Sophie doesn’t get to see her that often?”
He jabbed a finger in the direction of the theater. “Because that’s her choice. Let’s remember, when I broached the subject of moving up here, her response was ‘Oh, that wouldn’t be a problem at all.’ Do you recall that?”
I did because it had shocked me so much. Even though Jake had full custody of Sophie, he hadn’t felt right about just picking up and moving their daughter without her mother’s consent. And I’d agreed. The last thing any kid needed was to get caught in a war between their divorced parents, and Jake and I had gone to great lengths to avoid those wars, as had our former spouses. So I hadn’t gotten my hopes up when he told me he was going to bring it up with Stella.
To my surprise, she hadn’t objected in any way. When we’d found out shortly after that she’d accepted a job in Miami, Jake surmised that she’d already been considering the move and that he’d essentially cleared the way for her to do it without looking like she was bailing. I hadn’t cared what the reason was. I was ecstatic, because it meant there were no obstacles to Jake and Sophie moving to Minnesota.
“Yes, I recall that,” I said to him. “But right now, I think we should focus on the fact that she made the effort to get here.”
“First time since we moved here,” Jake muttered.
“But she made the effort,” I pointed out. “Even if it’s just for tonight. That’s good. For Sophie.”
He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment.
“Look, you have other things you need to focus on,” I reminded him. I smiled. “Like keeping me hidden so Eleanor doesn’t follow through on the ban. Jake?”
He grunted and looked at me, a frown permanently etched on his face.
“Knock it off,” I said to him. “Sophie will appreciate that her mom is here. It’s one night. Now tell me how ridiculous I look in this hat.”
He shifted his gaze to the top of my head. “You look completely ridiculous. Like that kid on Fat Albert who wore that pink thing pulled down over his face.”
“Perfect. So no one knows it’s me?”
“Except for the fact that you’re standing with your husband and your son,” he said. “And Eleanor’s staring right at you.”
I leaned into him and tried to make myself smaller. My eyes scanned the hall. “Where? Where?”
“Kidding,” he said and Will snickered. “Just wanted to see what you’d do.”
I elbowed him in the gut.
“I told you,” he said. “Everything will be fine. Nothing’s going to happen.”
And he was right. Nothing did happen.
Until intermission.
THIRTY NINE
The first half of the dress rehearsal went off without a hitch.
The kids remembered their lines, hit their marks, and the songs sounded good. For a dress rehearsal, it was very polished and Eleanor had to do very little from her perch near the front of the stage. Both Sophie and Grace were excellent as dwarfs. Sophie sneezed on cue and Grace’s facial expressions were spot-on for mute Dopey.
There was only one thing that wasn’t actually polished.
One person.
Madison Bandersand.
She stumbled with her lines. Her black wig was on crooked. She tripped over her dress, and she mumbled through one of the songs, either because she didn’t know the words or because she wasn’t confident in her voice. Either way, it was painstakingly obvious when her voice went missing from the number.
Th
e spotlight seemed too much for her.
To her credit, Eleanor hadn’t blown her stack. I could see her perched on a stool on the right side of the stage. Her expression was stern, her arms folded across her ample bosom, but she’d kept her mouth shut and hadn’t leaped on stage to berate her daughter. When the lights went up for intermission, Eleanor hustled backstage, presumably to have a word with her daughter.
“That was pretty good,” Jake said. “The girls were good and you didn’t get kicked out. I’d say that’s—”
Then he froze.
“What?” I asked. “What’s the matter?”
“Clown,” he whispered. “There’s a clown. In the theater.”
Clowns were to Jake were like what corn mazes were to Johnny Witt. His fear was amusing. It was also real. At some point in his childhood, he’d encountered a clown and it had scarred him for life. I’d seen him cross streets to avoid clowns. I’d seen him turn the channel if one popped up on the TV. And I’d seen him freeze in fear one year at the county fair when one got within two feet of him, offering him a balloon animal. Sweat had broken out on his forehead and he couldn’t speak. I’d had to politely accept the balloon animal and step between him and the clown. It took him about five more minutes before he was able to breathe normally again.
“Why is there a clown here?” he said, his breathing rate already doubled. “There’s no clown in the play. Why is it here?”
I twisted around in my seat to get a better look at Jake’s biggest nightmare.
At the back of the theater, a short, squat clown with a giant blue and red afro and full face paint was standing in one of the sets of entrance doors. He was wearing a red and white striped body suit. The clown was looking in all directions, somewhat confused. It made its way down the aisles, his giant floppy shoes slapping against the ground. When he and I made eye contact, I realized I knew that clown.
And it wasn’t a he.
It was Olga Stunderson.
Olga had a thing for clowns. The one time I’d visited her home, I’d been taken aback by the sheer number of clown statues and figurines she owned. She’d also informed me that she occasionally worked as a clown for parties and celebrations, and other things that needed clowns.
