Her Sister's Shoes

by Ashley Farley

  “We’re talking about a Cadillac, Jacqueline, an automobile. You can’t just go off and buy something like that without talking to me first.”

  “You moved out, remember? When was I supposed to talk to you?” Jackie stood up, glanced around the restaurant for her mom, then sat back down when she didn’t see her. “Anyway, this is all your fault. If you hadn’t given me your fancy little convertible to drive while you were in the mountains. Did you realize there were close to two hundred fifty thousand miles on the Suburban? I’ve been driving your sons around in that truck for more than eleven years.”

  “There is nothing wrong with that truck. I just drove it to the mountains and back without any problems.”

  “I guess you get used to the fish smell after awhile. Except, of course, when it’s a hundred degrees outside and the Suburban has been parked for hours in the full sun in an asphalt parking lot.”

  “All right.” Bill sighed. “So maybe you do need a new car, but an Escalade is way more than I can afford right now. Please tell me you didn’t trade the Suburban in. It’s a perfect car for the boys to drive when they get their license.”

  “I wouldn’t give that car to my dog to drive.”

  “I take that as a yes, you traded the car.”

  “Yes, I traded the Suburban. There wouldn’t have been enough money in the account if I hadn’t.”

  “Damn it, Jack. Keep the car if it means that much to you. But we need to come up with an agreement regarding our finances during the separation. I’ve just contacted my lawyer. I suggest you do the same.”

  “I’m one step ahead of you. I called her last week.”

  “Her? I don’t know of any female divorce attorneys in Prospect.”

  “She’s not from Prospect. She lives in Charleston. I’ve hired Barbara Rutledge to represent me.”

  “You mean Barbara the Barracuda?”

  Jackie pictured Bill pushing his leather chair back from his desk, his face beaming red—a fat, juicy summer tomato perched atop his favorite blue-striped, button-down shirt and white doctor’s coat.

  “One and the same,” she said. “We’ve already spoken several times on the phone. We are meeting for the first time in person next week.”

  “Shit, Jack. Why’d you go and hire her? You know I’ll be generous with you. I just bought you a new car, for crying out loud?”

  “A woman has to protect her interests.” Jackie suddenly remembered her mother, who had not returned from the ladies’ room. “Listen, Bill. I’ve gotta run. I’m having lunch with Mom at Sermet’s. Thanks again for the car.” She blew a loud kiss into the phone and hung up.

  When she went to check on Lovie, Jackie discovered the ladies’ room was empty. The restaurant was only so big. Lovie couldn’t have left the building without Jackie seeing her. She sought out their waitress, who was delivering an order to another table. “Have you seen my mother? She went to the restroom and never came back.”

  “By any chance is she …” The waitress tapped her head.

  “Early stages perhaps, but she hasn’t been diagnosed yet.”

  “Let me put my tray down, and I’ll help you find her. Can you remind me of what she looks like? I get so many customers, I can’t keep them all straight.”

  “Short dark hair,” Jackie said, leaving out the graying roots part. “She is wearing a red T-shirt and white jeans. I’ve checked everywhere. She must have left the restaurant.”

  “Why don’t you go look for her out on the street, and I’ll keep an eye on your table in case she returns.”

  Once outside, Jackie spotted Lovie one block over, standing in front of a store window and staring at the handbags and shoes on display. She approached her.

  “Oh, Jacqueline. There you are,” Lovie said as if she’d been waiting for Jackie to join her. “Isn’t that yellow handbag pretty?”

  Jackie gave the yellow bag a quick glance. “Lovely, but you can’t just wander off like that without telling someone.”

  “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  “Come on back inside, Mom. Our lunch will be out soon. We can shop after we eat.” When Jackie tugged at her mother’s wrist, a metal object fell from her hand and clattered to the sidewalk.

  “My key! Where’d it go?” Lovie paced back and forth, searching for the metal key that was on the ground right in front of her.

  “Stop! Before you step on it.” Jackie held her mother’s arm with one hand while bending down to pick up the key with the other. She held the metal key out in her palm. “What does it go to?”

  Lovie snatched the key away from her. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know? Where’d you get it?”

  “I’ve always had it. I used to wear it around my neck, but now I keep it in my bedside table drawer.”

  “Can I see it for a second?” When Lovie reluctantly released it, Jackie held the key up for inspection. “It’s so rusty, like someone left it out in the rain for a decade. It’s not the kind of key that fits a post office box or a safe deposit box.”

  “We never had a safe deposit box. Your father didn’t believe in keeping his money in a bank.”

  “I remember that about him,” Jackie said, smiling. “Maybe it fits the drawers on one of your chests, or the secretary you inherited from Grandmother.”

  Lovie shook her head again. “I’ve tried them all.”

  “You’ll figure it out eventually.” She gave the key back to her mother. “Put it in your pocket for now, before you lose it.”

  Lovie stuffed the key in her pants pocket. “Has our food come yet? I’m starving.”

  Their salads were waiting for them when they returned.

  Once they were seated, Jackie held her hand out across the table. “Let me see your cell phone, Mom.”

  Lovie dug an ancient flip phone out of her bag and placed it in her palm.

  “Good Lord. This thing is ten years old.” Jackie flipped the phone open and saw that it wasn’t even turned on. She pressed the green button, and waited while the phone powered on. “We need to get you a new one.” Preferably one with GPS tracking in case you wander off again, she thought.

  “Why? I hardly ever use it.”

  “Well, one day you’re gonna need to use it and it won’t work,” Jackie said, sliding the phone back across the table.

  They finished their lunch and headed down King Street. Against her mother’s protests, Jackie took her to Dottie’s Boutique and insisted she try on several dresses. Dottie’s had something for everyone, from fashionable to frumpy, from age thirty on up.

  “But I don’t need a dress. Where am I going to wear it?”

  Her mother had always worn skirts and blouses, but Jackie could never remember her owning a dress.

  “To church, maybe. Or a luncheon or cocktail party.”

  “Or a funeral,” her mom said.

  “That too. Every woman needs to have a dress in her closet that she can count on for any occasion. I want to buy you something nice.”

  Finally, they settled on a suit, although Jackie wasn’t sure whether her mother really liked it or just wanted Jackie off her back.

  “The suit flatters your coloring, Mom.” Jackie stood behind her mother at the mirror in the dressing room, admiring the way the coral tweed suit complimented her slim figure. “Speaking of which,”—she fluffed Lovie’s hair—“when was the last time you had your hair cut and colored?”

  Lovie’s hand automatically went to her hair. “Why? Does it look that bad?”

  “No, but—”

  “The girl who usually does my hair moved to Savannah. I haven’t had time to find anyone else. Who do you use?”

  “Depends on my mood. Sometimes I get Carroll at the Hair Station to give me a quick trim. But if I have a special event, I come to Charleston for the works.”

  Jackie glanced at her watch. It was not yet two o’clock. And their last appointment of the day—the real reason for bringing her mother to Charlesto
n—wasn’t until four. “If we hurry, we still have time.”

  The Market Salon and Spa didn’t normally accept walk-ins, but because Jackie was a frequent guest, they gladly accommodated her mother. One of the newer stylists, Brenda, a woman barely out of her teens with tatted-up arms, had just received a cancellation. Jackie grabbed a stack of magazines and made herself comfortable in the chair across from the stylist’s station. She wasn’t about to let her mother out of her sight again. An hour and a half later, when Brenda finished coloring, cutting, and blow-drying her hair, Lovie looked ten years younger.

  Back in the car, Lovie admired herself in the sun visor mirror. “What do you think, Jacqueline?”

  “I think it looks lovely.”

  Her mother was so preoccupied with looking at her new hairdo, she hardly noticed when they drove down the driveway of the Hermitage Retirement Community.

  Fifteen

  Samantha

  Sam had just gotten home from work and was transferring a load of laundry from the washer to the drier when Lovie appeared at the back door, knocking and waving frantically to get her attention. Sam tossed the rest of the clothes in the drier and set the controls before opening the door for her mother. “Mom, your hair looks great.”

  Lovie grumbled something Sam couldn’t understand as she brushed past her.

  Sam closed the door behind her mother. “What’s wrong? You seem upset.”

  “I am upset.” Lovie spun around to face Sam. “I spent the whole day in Charleston with Jackie. She’s on a mission to put me in my grave.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Lovie climbed up onto a bar stool and buried her face in her hands. “Jackie insisted on buying me a new suit, then took me to her beautician to have my hair done. I’ve never owned a dress in my life, and I refuse to be buried in one when I die,” Lovie said, close to tears.

  Sam sat down beside her mother at the island. “I’m sure you misunderstood the situation.” She handed Lovie a napkin. “Jackie probably just wanted to pamper you a little. There’s nothing wrong with a daughter doing something special for her mother every now and then.”

  “Jackie is on a spending spree, all right. She paid cash for a new Cadillac today without even taking it out for a test spin.”

  That got Sam’s attention. What husband buys his wife a new car when he’s planning to divorce her? Was Bill using the Cadillac as a payoff to keep Jackie from dragging him through a nasty divorce? Of course, there was always the possibility they weren’t getting a divorce, that the car was a peace offering—his way of apologizing for being unfaithful.

  She needed time to digest that information. “Let’s forget about the car for now. You need to tell me everything that happened today so I can understand Jackie’s intentions.”

  “Fine.” Lovie sat back in her chair. “Your sister’s intentions are clear. She is trying to get rid of me. She scheduled an interview for me at a retirement home—the Hermitage, I believe the place is called—so y’all will have somewhere to plant me if I don’t die of natural causes in the next ninety days.”

  “Wait, what? Jackie took you to a retirement community?”

  “Isn’t that what I just said?”

  Sam eyed last night’s empty bottle of wine beside the refrigerator. She got up from the island, grabbed a full bottle from the case, and poured two glasses, sliding one across the counter to her mother.

  “First of all, Mom, there is no y’all about it.” Sam took a sip of wine, then set her glass down. “Jackie acted alone in all this.”

  “But you knew about it, didn’t you?”

  “Jackie mentioned the idea at lunch the other day, but Faith and I made it perfectly clear we weren’t interested in looking for a retirement home. At least not right now. In Jackie’s defense, she’s trying to think ahead. And she makes a good point. These places have long waiting lists. When the time comes, if the time comes, she wants you to have options. I’m sure the place you visited is a lot nicer than anything we have in Prospect.”

  Lovie’s shoulders relaxed. “I guess you’re right about that.”

  Sam’s cell phone rang and she reached across the island for it. “This is Jackie, Mom. Sip on your wine for a minute while I talk to her.” Sam took the phone back to her bedroom for privacy and said, “You’ve certainly stirred up a hornet’s nest, Jackie.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mom is here, all worked up into a tizzy. I thought we agreed to wait on the whole retirement home thing.”

  “After the day I spent with her, I’m more convinced than ever that now is the right time. This place is nice, Sam, and they have an impressive Alzheimer’s unit. Trust me, I think she needs it.”

  Sam listened while Jackie told her about Lovie disappearing from the restaurant. “When I found her on the street, she was staring at a handbag display in a store window, in a near catatonic state. And she’s carrying around this old rusty key. She can’t remember what it belongs to.”

  “Must be the same key she had the night of your party, when we found her rooting around in your attic.”

  “What’re you talking about, Sam? What was Mom doing in my attic?”

  “Looking for the missing lock for her rusty key. I guess I forgot to tell you.” A thought occurred to Sam. “If you’re so worried about Mom getting lost, why’d you leave her at home alone when you got back from Charleston?”

  “Because I needed to call you, and Mom wanted to get rid of me so she could finish decorating her Christmas tree.”

  “Her Christmas tree?” Sam lowered herself to the bed. “But it’s only June.”

  “Tell me about it. Can she stay with you for a while? Someone needs to keep an eye on her.”

  “That’s not fair, Jackie. I just had her over the weekend. It’s your turn to let her stay with you. I’m dealing with an angry teenage boy in a wheelchair, but you’re all alone with your sons off at camp.”

  “It makes more sense for Mom to stay with you since y’all work together.” Jackie took a long pause before continuing. “I guess we could take turns. But only if we have to. I have a lot going on right now. With Carlotta leaving and all.”

  Never mind your marital problems, Sam wanted to say, but held her tongue. Although she didn’t understand it, Sam respected her sister for not feeling comfortable discussing her personal problems with her family. And letting their mom stay with her would put Jackie in the awkward position of having to explain Bill’s absence. If he was in fact absent.

  “Look, if I know Mom, she’s going to pitch a fit about staying with either one of us. Let’s give it a few days. I’ll keep a close eye on her at work. She seems fine as long as she stays in her routine. Her days off are the problem, when she has too much time on her hands.”

  “I can help out on those days, Sam. I’ll pick her up after church this Sunday and take her cell phone shopping. Have you seen her phone? It’s outdated by ten years.”

  “So what? She hardly ever uses it.”

  “Maybe not, but she needs a phone with GPS in case she gets lost again.”

  Sam knew parents who used GPS devices to track their errant teenagers. Why not use it to keep tabs on an Alzheimer patient? “Fine, take her to buy a new phone, but no more talk of retirement homes.” Sam paused. “By the way, did you really pay cash for a new Cadillac?”

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Jackie said, and hung up without saying goodbye.

  Sam returned to the kitchen to find her mother pacing the floors.

  Lovie wasted no time in pouncing on Sam. “I know you’re keeping something from me. Do I have cancer, Sam? Am I dying?”

  “That’s ridiculous, Mom. You heard everything the doctor said. You’re the picture of health.”

  “Then why did you leave the room to talk to Jackie?”

  Sam reached for her mother’s hand. “I promise you, Mom. We have nothing but your best interests at heart.”

  “I don’t believe you. I would
n’t be surprised if the two of you were plotting to poison me.” Lovie snatched her bag off the island and went flying out the door.

  Sam drained the rest of her wine and reached for her mother’s untouched glass. She lacked the energy to go after Lovie, deciding instead to call her in a few minutes to make certain she got home. Lately, Sam had felt she was losing her grip on everything she controlled—business, house, family. She would have to set priorities, with her troubled son her primary concern.

  Jamie once again refused to eat dinner that night and pushed his plate away.

  Sam knew she needed to tread carefully, or her son would go to bed hungry for the third night in a row.

  “You need to eat, Jamie, to keep up your strength.”

  His eyes zeroed in on the year-at-a-glance calendar on the wall beside the phone. Back last fall, when Jamie had received confirmation of his baseball scholarship, Sam had circled July 17 with a red marker—the day he would report to Columbia to begin working out with the university’s strength and conditioning coaches. If not for the accident, he would’ve been five weeks away from seeing his dream come true.

  “Really, Mom. What do I need to keep my strength up for, physical therapy?”

  “Yes, Jamie. For your recovery. With a lot of hard work and determination, Moses can have you walking by the end of the summer. You could try out for the team as a walk-on.”

  “I gave up on that dream a long time ago.” Tears filled his eyes and he wiped them away with the back of his hand.

  “Your dreams are still a part of you, honey. They’re just trapped in your heart by your grief.”

  “What about Corey’s dreams, Mom? We had plans. He and I were gonna work construction this summer so we’d have the money to buy an Xbox and a flat-screen television and all this cool stuff for our dorm room.”

  “I know you miss him, Jamie. We all do. But Corey would’ve wanted you to move on with your life.”

  “Everyone always says that about dead people, but no one knows it for sure.”

  “In Corey’s case, I know it’s true. I practically raised him. I know how kind-hearted he was and how much he loved you.”