The Clone's Mother

by Cheri Gillard

  By Saturday afternoon, I was up and getting ready for the ball. No happy mice or singing birds showed up to help me dress, but Ollie was standing by, overseeing the process. As I struggled to get my unruly hair to curl, I told Ollie that I was afraid Mack might want to come upstairs tonight after the ball. I wasn’t sure what I would do. I didn’t want to make him mad, but I needed him to understand that I might need more time. Maybe he could just come up part of the way and we kiss some and cuddle. I told Ollie we might need some privacy if that was the case. Ollie told me to cut out the cheap talk, that I shouldn’t get myself in a compromising situation and risk trouble.

  This coming from the cat who slept with every female feline he could woo and seduce before I got him neutered.

  Once I got my hair curled and styled like a photo in an issue of Glamour, I took a minute to inspect the results in the mirror over my credenza. Hot diggity. I could have been on Bachelorette. The stringy tresses that ordinarily pestered me all day by falling in my face had metamorphosed with only ninety minutes and a half jug of gel into gentle, soft curls around my head. Make-up smoothed away most of my freckles and helped to accentuate my eyes, which once again became magically green under the power of the lustrous forest-black fabric of my gown.

  The gown. Wow. I hadn’t noticed how much the top boosted my breasts up and out. They seemed bigger somehow. The bodice was like a tight corset. A gorgeous, emerald-encased tight corset. Mack might think I was a hussy, showing all that skin.

  But I had to admit, it made me feel sexy. I think I might have had one up on Cinderella. Even her glow-in-the-dark bustier wasn’t quite as cool as this.

  Just as I twisted to try and see the back of the gown and the full skirt cascading to the floor, the buzzer at my door rang.

  My stomach flopped. It was time. Without even speaking, I rang him in.

  After a few seconds of deep-breathing to calm my thumping heart, I swung open the door. The most handsome man in the world came up the stairs onto the landing in front of me.

  He took my breath away. His tanned face, the loose curls on his brow, and his chiseled—yes, I actually said chiseled—jaw could land him on the cover of People’s most-handsome-can’t-breathe-you’re-so-gorgeous-Man-of-the-Year cover in a heartbeat. I didn’t know a tux could look so fantastic! He was stunning. His broad shoulders filled out the coat to perfection, and his narrow waist and long legs made my stomach do a hand stand and my heart thump out of rhythm.

  “Hi,” I said with a catch in my voice. I hoped I wasn’t drooling.

  “Hi, Bright Eyes,” he said back with obvious lust as he looked me up and down.

  I loved it.

  He watched me, his smile growing wider on his face. I think he liked the dress. He stared longer, standing at ease, as if marveling in front of a work of art.

  “Well?” I finally said, not certain what I was supposed to do under his inspection.

  “Perfection. Radiant. Beautiful.” He kept smiling. He made me smile. I think he might have actually been reveling in me more than I in him.

  “So you like it?” I asked and twirled.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “I love it.”

  He finally moved closer, put his hot hand against my back and pulled me in for a long, deep lovely kiss.

  After, he said, “You look fantastic.”

  I think I blushed.

  “Thanks. You’re not so ugly yourself,” I said.

  He chuckled. “Ready?”

  “All set. Bye, Ollie.”

  Ollie frowned at me. He didn’t like the look in Mack’s eyes.

  We went to the car, and I felt like a queen.

  Until I saw Jackie sitting in the front seat of Mack’s silver Dodge.

  I looked at Mack with what was probably an expression loaded with panic and overwhelming disappointment. I wanted to get to know her better, but not like this.

  “I didn’t know she was coming.”

  “Me, neither. Not until this afternoon. Hope you don’t mind,” he whispered before he opened the back door for me to get in.

  Chapter 27

  I scooted into the back seat, gathering in the skirts of my gown before he shut the door, and fell back against the leather upholstery. Well, I guess it could have been worse. We could have been going to the dance with his mother.

  Or Satan.

  “Hi, Kate,” Jackie said in a perky voice. “Isn’t it lucky we found an extra ticket so you could come too? This is new for you, isn’t it? This kind of affair?”

  Then again, maybe it was Satan.

  I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to rip the immaculate hair out of her perfect head. Me come with them? Of all the audacity! My plans of us becoming friends flew right out the window.

  Mack got in and pulled away from the curb in complete silence. Jackie chattered the entire endless, excruciating drive downtown, explaining to me what I might expect to find. By the time Mack pulled into the hotel drive, I’d decided exactly how many pins, and where I would stick them, in the voodoo doll of Jackie I intended to make.

  The gala was being held in the grand ballroom at the Hyatt Regency downtown by Wacker Drive along the Chicago River. Valets waited along the sidewalk in front of the Hyatt to take the keys and park the cars—or go joyriding, depending on the make of the car—and they helped Mack get the wheelchair out of the trunk and set up while I waited at the curb.

  Once Jackie was in her chair, our charming trio ventured into the hotel, following the flow of fancy-dressed guests toward the ballroom. A table spread with seating assignments bordered one side of the entryway into the ballroom, and a bartender gave out drinks from behind a well-stocked bar along the other side. While Mack checked in and got our seating assignments, I accepted a raspberry tonic from the bartender behind the counter and Jackie asked for a martini. I tried to order a second raspberry tonic for Mack, but Jackie vetoed my request and asked for a second martini.

  “You are so simple,” she said to me while the bartender poured. “He wouldn’t want water. What do you think he is?” She rolled her perfect eyes at me. “He appreciates a real drink.”

  Forget the voodoo doll. I wanted to start sticking the pins directly into her right then and there.

  Mack came back with a happy grin, like we were all the best of friends. “We’re at table number thirty-two.”

  Jackie held out one of her glasses to show him she had his drink for him.

  Without missing a beat, he said, “I’d prefer what Kate is having,” and he ordered one for himself. Jackie shrugged and kept the martini for herself. She didn’t even have the decency to look at me so I could roll my eyes back at her.

  We found our way through the packed ballroom to our table. It seemed every seat was filled. Mack said how lucky we were he was able to snag an extra ticket at such late notice. I tried to smile and nod in agreement, but I did it without any integrity. I certainly was not feeling lucky that we had Jackie along.

  Mack moved a chair aside so Jackie could roll up to the table. He seated me one place away from her and he sat between the two of us women. Soon after, Scott, the guy who had sold Mack the ticket for Jackie, appeared and sat in the chair beside me. He was a clean-cut looking guy, with a Clark Kent hairdo and a Superman chest.

  Mack greeted him and introduced him around. Jackie offered him a bogus smile, reached in front of Mack and me to put a limp hand in Scott’s, and thanked him for making the ticket available. She said it would have been a shame if one wasn’t available for me, especially after I’d gone to the trouble of buying a new dress. Wasn’t it cute, she said, that I went out to find a new dress? She told him I’d never been to a formal gala before. She smiled at me as she explained to him how much I was looking forward to seeing all the society people.

  I wanted to kick her under the table. But it wouldn’t have done much good. She wouldn’t have felt it anyway.

  Three empty chairs remained at our table. Soon two were taken by an elderly couple,
the man in a designer tux, the woman in something which looked like a bunch of flowery chiffon scarves draped together. After they got settled and brief introductions were passed around, the remaining seat appeared to be among the few unoccupied places yet to be claimed in the entire room. While we waited for the program to begin, I decided I’d ignore Jackie and not let her spoil the night for me. It was a matter of perspective after all. And it was a welcome chance for me to enjoy myself after what I’d been through lately. If I let her get the best of me, she would have won. If I ignored her and had a great time in spite of her, I would prevail—and not appear petty to Mack.

  Though I’d never admit it to Jackie, I did enjoy seeing the mass of aristocracy surrounding me. I saw faces from television and people who often posed and smiled for the society pages of my neighbor’s newspaper. I even caught a glimpse of Will He Go-away-sky? the Nerd and his blond sidekick, who was dressed—if you could call her dressed—in a see-through sheet of white chiffon. A couple of satin white ribbons were strategically placed beneath the chiffon. The famous couple looked very giddy. Or drunk. Or both. I couldn’t wait to tell Ollie.

  Laughter and enthusiastic chit chat filled the room as people gushed at and greeted each other. One over-tanned and bejeweled woman threw back her head in rapt amusement at the apparent clever repartee of her handsome date. A couple of women air kissed each other. Five men in a group, each holding a cocktail in his left hand, shook hands with each other, crisscrossing their arms, making sure every one traded handshakes. Spots of rainbow from the rotating crystal chandeliers shimmied over the tables, walls, and people; etched stemware clinked against china bread plates; and silverware flashed as diners rearranged the table tops to accommodate their half-consumed tumblers of booze from the bar. Music from a live band blended with the uproar of chatty voices. The room vibrated with the frenzied energy.

  Just as the emcee tested the microphone, which protested with a loud screech of feedback, I caught a glimpse of a couple who seemed to be counting off tables and heading directly toward ours.

  None other than Carl Schroeder and Miss Clairol herself. This was going to be rich.

  Sheila had poured herself into a skin-tight sparkling strapless sequin number that looked like Dorothy’s ruby slippers. Her hair was done up so huge and stiff, she should have worn a white sash trailing diagonally from her naked left shoulder saying Miss Texas.

  Carl had her hand in his, pulling her in tow as he wove his path between the people still standing around their big round tables.

  “Mack,” I whispered. “Don’t look now, but look who’s headed this way.”

  He glanced in the direction I had pointed with my nose. His face got that stern look. He rubbed his palm over his face then looked at Jackie to see if she’d spotted Carl yet.

  She had. I heard her say, “Don’t worry, Jimmy. I’ll be okay.” She patted his hand to reassure him. Or patronize him. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t trust her to be sincere. And somehow, I got the feeling she was suddenly invigorated.

  Carl spotted our table. His eyes opened wide. He yanked a piece of paper from his pocket and looked at it, then looked at the number thirty-two sticking out of the centerpiece of our table. Then he looked at his paper again, like he could will it to change. He scowled and, by reading his lips, I could make out at least three of the very vile words he expelled. He pulled aside one of the wait staff clearing away emptied tumblers from tabletops. His jabbed at the slip of paper in his hand, then our table, then blustered something I couldn’t hear over the roar of the room. He pushed a folded bill into the waiter’s hand and pushed him on his way.

  Sheila, who hadn’t seen us yet, got impatient with the delay and began pulling on his sleeve, pressing him to continue to their seats.

  By the time they squeezed their way to the table, Carl’s face had turned scarlet and I could hear Sheila’s voice squealing after him that they’d better hurry because the talking-man was waiting for them to sit so he could start.

  Carl stopped in front of our table and Sheila had to push around him to stand at his side. The first person she laid eyes on was lucky me. Her lustrous scarlet lips turned from a childish pout to thin, hard lines. The top one curled up on one side into a sneer.

  “You,” she said, like I was an abomination or something. Then she turned to Carl with a scowl and growl, as if he’d planned the whole thing just to irritate her. She didn’t seem to notice he was agitated by the situation more than she was.

  “Jim,” Carl blurted, “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

  “I didn’t know you were coming either,” Mack said, staying surprisingly calm.

  “Just because we work together it doesn’t mean they should seat us together.” Carl stared at Mack as if he expected him to do something, like apologize and leave.

  Mack just returned the look, letting Carl figure out a way to handle the awkward situation himself.

  “Hello, Carl,” Jackie broke in with a molasses voice. Carl narrowed his eyes at her.

  “Hello, Carl,” the old lady at our table said in her shaky, aged voice.

  “Do I know you?” he snapped at her impatiently.

  “Not yet. We’ll talk later. Then we’ll know each other. But they’re waiting to begin, so you better sit down and be quiet.”

  “There’s only one chair,” Sheila whined.

  The old lady crinkled her crow’s-feet and exposed her perfect dentures in a practiced smile. She patted the empty chair next to her. “Help your young lady into her chair, will you? You can bring that chair back over.” She pointed to the one Mack had moved next to the wall to make room for Jackie’s wheelchair. “I can’t see the platform around the two of you.”

  “They’re going to find us another table,” Carl said.

  Jackie jumped in before anyone else. “Scott,” she said to the man next to me, “give them your chair and bring that chair back and sit by me. Then they can sit together, and we’ll be nearer each other.”

  Yeah, right, like he was there for her.

  Once Scott moved into Jackie’s range, she suddenly had only eyes—and hands—for Scott. Sad what a divorced, unwanted woman will do to prove she’s untouched by rejection. But her behavior only screamed louder that she wasn’t fine and men weren’t knocking down doors for her. Beneath her cool demeanor, she really was dying.

  I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. I started to realize all her nasty traits and cold exterior—even her monopolization of Mack’s time, life, and attention—made sense when I considered all she had lost. She was probably struggling just to keep her head above the dark murky waters of hopelessness and depression. And that was going to be even harder with no legs to dog paddle with.

  “So,” Jackie started, breaking the ice for the odd ensemble surrounding the table, “Kate. Tell us how the investigation into your suspension is coming along.”

  Well, I could feel sorry for her, but that didn’t mean I had to like her. She just earned herself another pin in the head.

  “Just fine, thank you.” I kept smiling. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of anything else.

  I glanced at Sheila to watch for a reaction. I’d become certain she was behind framing me for the drugs. But she was too enthralled with the crowd to even listen.

  Mack tried to rescue me from Jackie’s assault.

  “That’s over. It was all a mistake. Everything was unfounded,” he said.

  “Oh.” Jackie looked disappointed.

  The emcee made announcements and welcomed everyone, thanking them for all the contributions and support. Once he released everyone to turn their attention to the soon-to-be delivered first course, the conversation at our odd table picked back up.

  “You didn’t tell me you had another girl friend, Carl,” Jackie said. Phew. The focus was off me for a moment.

  “I don’t tell you anything. Ever.”

  If Jackie felt put in her place, she didn’t show it.

  “What’s the girl’s name again, d
id you say?” she asked Carl.

  “Sheila.” Sheila said this. “The girl’s name is Sheila.”

  “Oh. Like a cheerleader. How quaint. And does she work at the hospital too? That’s where you usually find your girlfriends.”

  “Jackie, lay off.” This was from Carl.

  “Who are you?” Sheila asked, obviously peeved at the audacious woman.

  “We work together,” I explained to the older couple while thumbing toward Sheila and myself like a hitchhiker. The tension was just too much. I had to say something, though I didn’t know if I was trying to help Sheila or hurt Jackie’s strategy.

  “This, my sweet Sheila, is the woman I once made the horrendous mistake of marrying.”

  “That’s just uproarious, Carl. Such a wit as usual.” That was Jackie. Though apparently finding Carl hilarious, she wasn’t smiling.

  “What’s her name, Carl? You never mentioned her before.” Two points for Sheila.

  Jackie returned a stiff smile. Or maybe it was a sneer.

  The old lady jumped in at this point.

  “You girls work together then? All nurses, by the sound of it.”

  I nodded. Jackie shook her head.

  “They just help in maternity. I’m an ICU nurse.”

  “Not anymore,” Sheila shot back.

  “Thought you’d never heard of me,” Jackie said with a satisfied smile.

  Point Jackie.

  Sheila rolled her eyes and looked away, mumbling some creative obscenity.

  The old lady took over. “I’m a nurse too. I’m Mrs. Ellsworth, by the way. Once a nurse, always a nurse they say. I worked in a nursing home.”

  Now Jackie rolled her eyes.

  “Back in my day, we nurses didn’t fraternize with the doctors. They were off-limits. Good thing too. Or else I wouldn’t have met Mr. Ellsworth.” She patted her husband’s age-spotted hand. “He had nothing to do with doctoring, except managing their accounts.”