Now if only she could figure out a way to ask him to tell her mother for her, things would really be looking up, but alas, no. That wouldn’t be right. He’d been incredibly kind to her—she wouldn’t repay that by making him face her mother. And if she was willing to be that awful, she would gain nothing. Her mother would still want to hear all the gory details from her regardless.
Ali finished her shift and like the dutiful daughter she mostly aspired to be, made her way from Van Nuys to Burbank, avoiding the insanely crowded freeway. She took Victory east, then cut across on North Buena Vista, heading to her mother’s side of Burbank. Traffic was brutal, but she was in no hurry and didn’t mind missing a few lights. Eventually, however, she arrived on the narrow residential street where she’d grown up. She parked in front of the house and braced herself for what was to come. In theory her mother should be totally on her side, but in this family, unless you were Finola, that was never a sure thing.
The house itself was typical for the neighborhood. A one-and-a-half-story ranch with a porch in front and a detached garage. Upstairs was a bonus room Ali’s mother had used for crafts and storage. On the main floor there were four bedrooms, two bathrooms and a family room that had been added on when Ali had been five or six. The sisters hadn’t shared a bedroom, but the three of them had shared a bathroom, which had turned out to be surprisingly easy. By the time Ali wanted to spend time on her hair and experiment with makeup, Finola had long since left for college and Zennie had never been one to primp.
Ali’s mother had gotten the house in the divorce. Mary Jo always complained it was too big for her, but she’d been loath to move until a couple of months ago when she’d announced she was buying a friend’s cottage near the ocean in Redondo Beach. Selling the family home first meant getting rid of thirty-plus years of memories and crap, something she expected her daughters to help with. Ali figured odds were at least even that the first, or possibly second thing her mother said when she found out about her broken engagement was that Ali would now have more time to help with the purge.
She pulled into the driveway next to her mother’s silver Civic then braced herself for what was to come. In theory, her mother should be someone she could turn to in a time of need for comfort and advice. What was the old saying? Her mother should be a soft place to fall. But whoever had come up with that one had never had Mary Jo for a mother.
Ali got out. She’d texted her mother earlier, saying she wanted to stop by without saying why. Now, as she walked to the front door, she braced herself for whatever was to come.
She knocked once and opened the door. “Hey, Mom, it’s me.”
“I’m in the kitchen.”
Ali made her way through the living room to the large eat-in kitchen where her mother sat at the table working on what she would guess was a script. In the past couple of years, Mary Jo had joined a local theater group. She mostly wrote plays and directed, which was kind of weird considering she’d been in retail her whole life, but if it made her happy, then sure.
Her mother looked up as she walked into the kitchen. She slid off her glasses and set them on the table. Mary Jo had always been a beauty. It wasn’t anything Ali could relate to—she looked more like her father, which was okay, but also kind of a drag, truth be told. Growing up with a beautiful mother and stunning older sister hadn’t been easy. Even Zennie was striking, while Ali was left being nothing other than almost average.
“What?” her mother demanded. “Something happened. I knew it the second I read your text.”
“Maybe I just wanted to see you.”
Her mother only stared at her. “Just tell me. Did you get fired?”
Ali told herself not to be surprised. Of course her mother would think the worst and assume it was all Ali’s fault. Although considering her news, maybe her mother wasn’t totally wrong.
She took a seat at the old round wooden table and set her bag on the floor. “I didn’t get fired. Things are great at work. It’s Glen. We, ah... He broke off the engagement.”
“What? Are you kidding? You’re getting married in six-plus weeks. The invitations have gone out. What happened? Why did he change his mind?”
“I have no idea. He won’t talk to me. He sent his brother to tell me, and we haven’t had a conversation since I got the news. All communication has been via text and it’s been more about logistics than anything else.”
Ali was pleased she got through her little speech without even tearing up. To be honest, she was much more concerned about her mother’s reaction than her own pain.
“You must have done something,” her mother muttered. “What did you say to him that made him so mad?”
Ali felt something odd inside and realized it was righteous indignation. She was so thrilled to feel something other than hurt or shame that she decided to indulge.
“Why do you always do that?” she asked, her voice firm. “Why do you have to assume I did anything wrong? Maybe Glen’s a dick. He didn’t even bother telling me himself. He sent someone else to do his dirty work. For what it’s worth, he’s refusing to help cancel the wedding. I’m on my own with that. So for once, could you possibly consider that maybe I didn’t screw up?”
Her mother sighed. “I can see you’re upset.”
“Yeah, just a little. The guy I thought I was going to marry and love forever dumped me. Upset might be a good word.”
Her mother turned over the script and rested her hands on the table. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m sure you’re not to blame. Anyone who would act like that isn’t right in the head. Have you considered apologizing and asking if he’ll take you back?”
“Mom!”
“What? It’s a reasonable question.”
“It assumes, once again, I did something wrong. Have you considered the possibility that Glen changed his mind and then was too much of a coward to deal with the consequences? This totally came out of the blue. Besides, even if it hadn’t, after the way he’s acted, I don’t want him back. I could never trust him.”
Ali had spoken from the heart and even she was surprised by those last words. Was it true? Did she really not want Glen back? And if so, when had she made that decision?
“It’s just he was such a nice man and an engineer. He would always have a good job.”
“Mo-om!”
“Fine. You’re well rid of him.” Mary Jo pressed her lips together. “I’d so been hoping for grandchildren. I’m not getting any younger.”
“You’re barely in your fifties.”
“All my friends have grandchildren.”
It was a familiar refrain and one Ali didn’t want to hear today. “I’m sorry if the consequences of my broken engagement are getting in the way of your wants and needs.”
“There’s no need to say it like that.”
“Mom, I’m suffering here and you’re making it about you.”
“I’m not. I’m sharing how I feel. Is that a crime, now? I’m sorry about the engagement. I really am. I had high hopes for you and Glen. If you’re looking for a distraction, you can help me go through the house. There’s plenty here that needs doing.”
“While that sounds amazing, I still have the wedding to unwind. It’s a lot of work and I can’t count on Glen.” Daniel was helping, but this didn’t seem to be the time to mention that. Her mother would assume he was the reason for the breakup, which was so ridiculous as to be laughable. Ali had seen a couple of Daniel’s girlfriends and they all had Victoria’s Secret model potential. As if.
“Well, you can help me after you’re done canceling the wedding,” her mother said. “What are you going to do about your apartment? Isn’t your lease up?”
Ali felt the room dip and sway. Not an earthquake, she thought grimly. Nothing that simple and predictable. Nope, her reaction was pure shock because until her mother had asked, she hadn’t once even thought about her apartment
.
“No,” she breathed. “No, no, no.”
“Ali, you simply have to be more responsible,” her mother began.
“Not now,” she said firmly, even as her mind struggled to figure out a plan and fast.
Foolishly, she’d assumed she would be moving in with Glen after they were married. He had a nice little condo in Pasadena, and while her commute would be longer, hey, she was getting married, so of course they would live together. To that end, she’d given notice on her apartment and had to be out a couple of weeks before what would have been her wedding date.
She and Glen had worked it all out—what furniture they would keep, what they would get rid of. Most of hers was to go, which had been fine because his was nicer and she didn’t feel a deep sense of commitment to her secondhand dresser or coffee table.
“I’m going to have to talk to the building manager,” she said.
“Hopefully they haven’t rented the place out from under you,” her mother said. “If they have, you’re going to have to find somewhere else. Rents are going up.”
“Mom, this isn’t helping.”
“I’m simply pointing out the reality of your situation.”
“I’m clear on the reality of my situation.”
“You don’t seem to be.” Her mother studied her for a second, then sighed. “I suppose you could move back here, with me. You could stay in your old room and help me pack up the house.”
Or not, Ali thought, hoping the wave of horror washing through her didn’t show on her face. Move back here? Um, no way, nohow. She might not be moving forward in her life, but that was no excuse for moving backward. Not to mention the hell of having to deal with her mother 24/7.
“That’s very generous of you,” she said evenly. “Thanks, Mom. Let me figure a few things out before I commit.” Which was a very polite version of what she wanted to be saying. “I don’t think they’ve rented out my place yet so I’ll just keep that.”
“If you say so.”
Ali glanced at the rooster clock on the wall. “I should, ah, be going. I want to talk to my building manager before she leaves.”
Her mother stood and hugged her. “I am sorry about Glen. You’ll find someone else eventually, Ali. Goodness knows you work with men all day long. Aren’t any of them dateable?”
“It’s complicated, Mom.” Mostly because dating someone at work would be dumb and for reasons she couldn’t understand, she was more best friend than babe. No one ever asked her out or hit on her or even made lewd remarks. Not that she would encourage the latter, but was just once too much to ask?
On the way to the front door, Ali paused by the big grandfather clock in the living room. It was old and ornate and definitely not in style right now, but she had always loved it. Her bedroom had been the one closest to the living room, so she heard the chimes all night. When she’d been younger, she’d thought the clock chimed only for her.
“Mom, are you taking the clock with you when you move?”
“That monstrosity? No. It’s old and ugly. Besides, the salt air would destroy it. Why?”
“I’d like it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t even have a place to live. What would you do with a grandfather clock?”
Ali ignored the sense of always being the afterthought kid. “Zennie isn’t going to want anything to do with it and Finola doesn’t care about it. Why can’t I have it?”
“Do you really need to take this on right now? We’ll talk later. Now go save your apartment.”
Her mother hugged her and shooed her out the door. Ali told herself not to take any of it personally—it was just her mother’s way. Only it was difficult not to feel slighted and dismissed—feelings she’d grown up with.
Finola was clearly her mother’s favorite. Mary Jo had married young and then had tragically lost her husband in a car accident. Finola had been the result of their undying love. When Mary Jo had married Bill, everyone had known she was settling. It had taken her a good twenty-plus years to figure it out for herself.
Zennie was their firstborn and Bill could not have been more smitten with his daughter. Ali wasn’t sure why they’d bothered having another kid. Maybe Bill had secretly hoped for a boy or maybe she’d been an accident. Either way, she was no one’s special child. Everyone knew parents weren’t supposed to show preference for one child over another, but in her house, the lines had been clearly drawn.
“Apartment first, mope later,” she told herself as she got in her car and headed home.
She got to her apartment in North Hollywood a good thirty minutes before the offices closed. Elema, the building manager, was in her office when Ali knocked on the open door.
The fiftysomething woman smiled at her. “How are the wedding plans going? You’re already getting packages delivered here. It’s very exciting. Oh, Sally said someone dropped off an envelope for you earlier.” Elema pulled it out of her desk and handed it over.
Ali glanced at the plain white envelope. She recognized Glen’s handwriting and hoped a big fat check was inside. Or at least one for enough to cover half the expenses. She tucked it in her back pocket and took a bracing breath.
“Yes, well, that’s what I want to talk to you about,” she said, settling in the chair by the desk. “Glen and I have gone our separate ways.”
Elema’s smile faded. “Ali, no. What happened? He seemed like such a nice man. Oh, this makes me so sad. Are you all right?”
“I’m getting there. The thing is, I won’t be moving and I was hoping to stay in my apartment.”
Elema’s mouth twisted. “I’m sorry, but we’ve already rented your place. You know how it is—the building is newer and on a quiet street. We usually have a waiting list. They’re a nice young couple with excellent credit.”
Ali had done a great job of holding it all together through her visit with her mother and on the drive home. Now she felt her fragile connection to anything close to calm fade away.
“Isn’t there anything you can do?”
“We’ve signed a lease with them. We can’t break it.” Her expression was sympathetic. “I’m going to have a studio available in two months, if you’d be interested in that. It’s smaller than what you have now, of course, and a hundred and sixty dollars more a month.” One shoulder rose and lowered. “Rents are climbing. The new lease on your place is three hundred dollars more than what you’re paying.”
How was that possible? And if rents were more here, they would be higher everywhere else. Damn Glen—he’d screwed with her life in more ways than she would have thought possible. Why had she ever trusted him or believed in him? She’d been a fool and now there was no going back.
“I’m really sorry,” Elema added. “If you want I can try to make some calls to other properties I know of to see what they have.”
“That’s sweet. Let me think about this for a while. If I need some help, I’ll get back to you.”
“I’ll be here. And I’m really sorry about Glen. Hopefully you can work it out and still get married.”
Rather than answer, Ali offered a fake smile. She made her way to her apartment before giving in to the urge to scream. After throwing herself on her sofa, she pressed her face against a throw pillow and let loose.
“Dammit all to hell, why is this happening to me?”
She kicked her feet for good measure, then rolled onto her back and sucked in a breath. Tears flowed down her temples and into her hair.
This was so not fair, she thought, hugging the pillow. First the wedding and now the apartment. Stupid, awful Glen. May he rot in hell.
She lay there for several minutes, alternately crying and yelling into the pillow, then sat up and wiped her face. She pulled the envelope from her back pocket. At least the pressure of paying off the wedding would be eased a little, she thought, opening the envelope and pulling out the check.
Five hundred dollars. He’d written her a check for five hundred dollars. Canceling the wedding would cost her at least five thousand. Maybe more. Plus there was her dress—that was money she would never see again. Now she had to worry about finding a place and first and last months’ rent and moving her stuff and paying off the stupid wedding.
Hatred rose up inside of her, boiling into anger and disgust. “Wherever you are, rat bastard, I hope you get food poisoning and a rash and go bald. I hate you. Hate you!”
She threw the pillow against the wall. It was less satisfying than when she’d thrown her phone, but she couldn’t afford another replacement. Then she curled up on the sofa and told herself she was going to feel sorry for herself for the whole night. In the morning she would be strong, but for now there was just pity and maybe some brownies she’d stashed in the freezer. Because right now, her life totally and completely sucked.
Chapter Seven
Zennie did her best not to listen to the conversation happening in the office next to the locker room. Dr. Chen wasn’t yelling or raising his voice in any way. Still, the words were clearly audible and his combination of frustration, anger and disappointment had Zennie cringing, and she hadn’t done anything wrong.
Molly had screwed up. As the circulating nurse, her job was to keep things flowing smoothly through the surgery. She was to have equipment in place, have supplies at the ready and enough staff to manage the difficult and lengthy procedures that often occurred whenever a surgeon had to crack open a chest.
Today essential supplies had been missing and Zennie had had to scramble to help Dr. Chen make do. Carol, another of the nurses, had been forced to break the sterile field to get what they needed. Not an ideal situation under any circumstance but when they were performing open-heart surgery, it was unforgivable. Molly probably wouldn’t lose her job over the mistake, but she would be off Dr. Chen’s team. He was one of the best surgeons in the country and as such, he often had the most critical patients and the most difficult surgeries. Mistakes could literally mean the difference between life and death.
California Girls Page 8
