Cocoon (4 page)

“She's not happy, Joanie. I don't know why, but she doesn't like Barth.”

Joanie rinsed as avidly as she lathered, and soon, Seana's hair squeaked when toweled. While ushering Seana to the styling station chair, she quietly continued their discussion, careful not to allow ever-vigilant Sadie to overhear. As an extra precaution, she turned the radio on to the local pop music station, loud enough to muffle their discourse.

Resigned and bored, Sadie took out her cell phone again and recommenced texting.

Joanie expertly snipped and shaped Seana's hair into a shorter, fluffy style. “
A la Monroe
,” Joanie murmured seductively. “Give Barth a little ol' thrill.”

Seana laughed, flushing with pleasure at the thought as Joanie fluffed and plumped the damp hair, gazing appraisingly in the mirror, gauging the balance and shape of the end result. Satisfied, she reached for the curler trolley and angled it close.

“Know what I think?” Joanie's hands flew from curler bin to head, comb-parting, sectioning, fingers flipping hair over curler, tightening, rolling, pinning. “I think she's jealous, Seana. You've always been such a good mother and she's never had to share you. Never. You've always put those kids first. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Hmm. True.” Seana sighed and took the counsel to heart. “I don't know. It seems to go beyond simple jealousy, Joanie. I can't exactly define it.”

Yet, at the same time, she knew that Zoe's probing of Barth's past had a lot to do with her anger. But that was a subject she could not share. Not even with Joanie.

Comb-parted, lifted, curler-flipped, turned, pinned. “Maybe she's just plain got an issue of trust. Y' know?”

“Trust?” Seana's ears perked.

“Yeh. You know, she's had the worst experiences with men I've ever seen. And hey! I've seen quite a few bad examples, including my own.” She rolled her eyes and swiveled the chair to access another hair section for manipulation. “Zoe's such a strong force to be reckoned with that she attracts these guys like gnats to peaches. They're the ones who want a tough woman to take care of 'em. Zoe fits the bill. She ends up doing everything, carrying the whole danged load.”

“That's a good reading, Joanie.” Seana felt again that jolt of regret that her daughter's genetic hardwiring had, in one sense, set her up for matrimonial defeat. Zoe's take-charge, no-nonsense drive had predisposed her to be the family leader. That was okay, except that very same tendency made her a target for lazy, and/or passive male breeds, like her first husband, and her ex–longtime boyfriend Corey Adams.

“Too bad about Corey,” Joanie muttered. “Pretty good guy, just commitment-shy.”

“Yeh.” Seana sighed, feeling the same as Joanie. She'd liked Corey. “Five years is a long time with a guy who feels he can't leave his mama.”

Joanie laughed. “A great son but would make a lousy husband.”

She pinned the last curl in place, snatched a net from a drawer, and had it tied over the curls in a heartbeat. “Too bad you didn't have five Tims,” Joanie said, laughing. “He's a dream, isn't he?”

“That he is,” Seana agreed, surging with pleasure at the mention of her son. Her treasure. “My son's been so
there
for me. Oh well, you know all about that, Joanie.” Seana felt herself steered to the dryer seat, plunked down, and head-tucked beneath the dryer hood in four breaths flat.

Click
. Forced air attacked her scalp, slowly warming.

Joanie leaned and murmured in her ear. “Tim is a godsend, like his daddy was. Always there in time of trouble. I'll never forget when he came out in an ice storm one morning and over to the salon when I called you hunting for someone to help. He was my Sir Galahad a' fixing that busted, frozen water pipe for me. Saved me a queen's ransom in water damage.”

Seana felt the rush of tears behind her eyes as she smiled up at her friend. Her confidante. Tim was, indeed, a godsend.

His love for her made this transition bearable

But as wonderful as Tim was, he, too, held reservations about her relationship with Barth McGrath. “Oh, he'll come around,” Barth reassured her repeatedly, apparently not worried about the coolness all about him.

With all her heart, Seana hoped so.

• • •

“Now, you have fun tonight, y' hear?” Joanie called after Seana as she swung through the door on her way out.

“I hear you,” Seana called back, laughing, feeling marvelously buoyed thinking about the upcoming dinner date. Ninety-degree heat slapped her in the face as she impulsively dashed to the other side of Main Street to more closely examine the little black dress in Sassy Rags Shop's window display. It was love at first ogling.

“I've gotta have that dress.” Seana burst through the glass entrance, relishing the smack of cool air while pointing to the display. Chelsea, the proprietor, popped up from behind the counter, juggling hangers and boxes.

“Hi, Seana,” Chelsea beamed at her, rushing to a rack displaying a range of sizes in Seana's selection. “Size eight, right?”

“Right. But I still better try it on.”

She did, careful not to muss her hair. “Absolutely perfecto,” Chelsea exclaimed, hands on voluptuous hips as she checked her from every angle. Seana thought how Chelsea, now a good twenty-five pounds fluffier than in their school days, still looked appealing. Still danced light as a feather with the clogging team, too. Her sense of style was unparalleled hereabouts.

“Box it up. And while you're at it, add those gold earrings, necklace, and bracelet.”

“Anything else? Must be a heavy date, honey,” Chelsea drawled and cut her heavily kohled, silvery eyes at Seana, creating a dramatic Cleopatra persona with her onyx pageboy bob and artful makeup.

“Absolutely.” Before the mirror, Seana held the earrings to her ears and tilted her head, warmed by her friend's obvious delight in her romance. “Love them! Oh heck, you just as well throw in those little black sling heels, size eight narrow.”

While Chelsea pulled them out and placed them on the counter, she asked, “By the way, how's Billie Jean doing? She still feeling off kilter?”

Seana's cousin Billie Jean had been having some health problems. Without other immediate family, she'd jumped at Seana's invitation to move into Seana's downstairs quarters after Ansel's death. “To keep you company and to look after you,” Billie Jean had insisted. They soon had the lower level kitchenette upgraded to Billie Jean's needs, and she was able to maintain her autonomy.

Seana had enjoyed the company of the adventuresome, full-of-it Billie Jean.

“Oh, she saw a rheumatologist last week. Waiting on blood test results. In the meantime, she's taking anti-inflammatory medication. Meloxicam, I think.”

Chelsea hung the dress in a protective plastic carry bag. “I'm glad she's seeing to it. I've been worried about her.”

“She appreciated the homemade fudge you brought by. Just what she needed to perk up her taste buds.” Seana's eyes misted and she blinked it away. She had banked down her concern to the best of her ability, but it raised its head at times, overpowering her.

“Give her my love.”

“I will. Thanks, Chelsea.”

“I like those light highlights in your hair, by the way. And the softer, younger style. But then you're already beautiful, Seana.” Chelsea spoke matter-of-factly while bagging the shoes.

Seana felt relief to leave the subject of Billie Jean's health. “Thanks, Chelsea.” Then she huffed softly. “Look who's talking. Hey, you looked pretty spiffy in your clogging outfit. Still got the ol' glamour.”

Chelsea fluffed her hair, did a Mae West provocative pose and drawled, “An' honey, I always will as long as there's hair color and makeup.”

Seana burst into laughter. “Ah, Chelsea, you won't do. Seriously, you can still shake a pretty leg a' dancing, too. That's not changed.” Their ties ran deep. She, Joanie, and Chelsea had gone to Paradise Springs High together all those years ago.

“And you were the Homecoming Queen,” Chelsea reminded her as she slid the jewelry into a little fancy box with a red bow on top. “And popular cheerleader captain. Your beauty came from the inside out.” Then she pealed with laughter. “Would you just listen to our lil' ol' flatterin' tongues! Almost as much fun as our school pep rallies, huh?”

“We did have fun, didn't we?” Seana's laughter ebbed. She sighed, feeling suddenly melancholy for the old days. Her emotions these days had turned to goulash.

She almost laughed aloud at that turn of thought. Had nothing to do with Barth. No sirree, Bob.

“Yeh. I miss those times, too.” Chelsea walked her to the door, gave her a big hug, and waved as Seana toted her bounty back across Main and drove away.

Seana checked the time. Three hours to go before Barth would arrive.

Butterflies flapped like helicopter propellers in her stomach, as they had not in years.

She could hardly wait.

• • •

“Shall we take my car?” Seana offered as she slung her dainty black purse strap over her shoulder, admiring her fiancé's finely cut figure in sharp, casual attire of black slacks, matching mock turtleneck, and a tweedy white-and-black sports jacket.

“Not unless you would prefer we do,” Barth drawled, his gaze still sweeping appreciatively over Seana. “Wow,” he murmured. “That little dress sure fits you nicely.” He slowly shook his head, dark eyes twinkling behind softening lens. “Real good.”

“Thanks, Barth.” She smiled at him, feeling as beautiful as his eyes judged her to be. She also felt as young as she had thirty years ago. No, even younger. Like in her teens.

Her well-heeled steps were light as she set the security code and shut the door behind them. She could smell her
Armani
fragrance wafting about her.

“Let's just go in your car,” she said as they crossed her front rock-laid entrance that evolved into a brick, circular drive. Somehow, Seana sensed that Barth's ego might react if she insisted on driving her infinitely more luxurious vehicle. Yet … he'd not so far displayed any sign of insecurities.

“Sure,” Barth stepped confidently up to the passenger side of his clean yet seen-better-days '89 Mercury Villager. He opened the door with a flourish, and Seana slid into one of the most well-kept relics she'd ever seen. Its meticulous condition smelled of wax and leather, surprising her anew.

Just as other aspects of Barth continued to fascinate her.

His intellect was astounding. And his articulation, spoken in his unique, deep timbre, captivated her.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he said as he turned the ignition key. The engine instantly sprang to life. Seana smiled. He kept that automobile as finely tuned as a Cape Kennedy space shuttle.

“Mmm, just enjoying the moment.” She rolled her eyes at him and watched his features when their gazes connected and he slowly drank her in. Her gaze held when his turned back to the road ahead. In the headlights's glow she studied his finely chiseled profile. Full, thick hair barely brushed his turtleneck and her fingers, already acquainted with its texture, itched to feel it, roll it between her fingers, and shove her hands into it.

He looked at her then, and the impact shot through her like a Taser.

“Barth?” she murmured, breathless.

“Hmm?” His attention veered safely back to the road.

“Let's elope.”

He stomped on the brakes … then let off. He angled a long, searching look her way. “What did you say?”

Seana smiled. “I said, ‘let's elope.'”

He took a long, steadying breath. Looked at the speedometer, slowed to a legal speed limit, and slowly shook his head. “Do you mean that?”

“I've never meant anything more in my life.”

“When?”

“How about right now? Tonight?” Her heart was pounding with excitement. The sheer spontaneity of it thrilling her to her very bones.

Barth cut her another searching look. “Let's talk about this over dinner. Okay? I'm very much in favor, by the way.” Then he smiled at her, dimples punctuating a wide, face-splitting vote of affirmation. “Very much so.”

• • •

They ended up at the Mater and Onion Buffet on the outskirts of town. “I don't want waiters interrupting us,” Barth insisted when they made the choice of a back booth. “That okay?”

“Absolutely,” Seana agreed wholeheartedly.

Actually, this was
the
eating place of Paradise Springs, where in the evenings, the lights muted and Jet, an amiable transplanted Filipino keyboard artist, played soft background music for diners. As usual, Jet struck up Seana's favorite request,
Embraceable You
. The entire staff considered Seana family because, all through the years, this had been her second home when dining out. They had grieved the loss of Ansel, but because Seana had now moved on with her life, Barth, too, was added to their fold.

“Hi Donna,” Seana greeted the hostess with a quick hug and was escorted to a corner booth where privacy reigned. Donna winked at them, took their order for iced tea, and departed, leaving them to precious privacy.

Barth took a deep, long breath, blew it out, and leaned forward, arms resting on tabletop. He looked directly into Seana's eyes. His were solemn. “Why do you want to elope?”

Seana blinked, leaned her arms on the table, and narrowed her gaze. “Do you not want to?”

“Oh, I think it's a wonderful idea. The best I've heard lately, in fact. I just wondered why the sudden urge to – run off?”

She resisted the urge to bristle. It was, after all, a logical question. “Well.” She wet her lips nervously, hoping he would get it. “I just don't want my family to ruin one of the most beautiful times of my entire life with their – less-than-charitable attitudes. Why can't they just let me be me, make my own decisions concerning my life? I always show them utmost respect when they face decisions such as this.”