Hysterical Blondeness (12 page)

There is little choice in a barrel
of rotten apples.

Shakespeare

The only other time Patricia had
been in the intensive care ward was when her grandfather had been recovering from open-heart surgery and had ended up dying in the hospital. She wasn’t fond of looking through glass windows at people in pain.

Brett was trussed up like a turkey in splints and pulleys and traction devices. His parents were by his side. The nurse had kindly told her what was going on, even though she couldn’t go
in. Brett was under observation for twenty-four hours, being monitored for internal injuries and head trauma, but amazingly had survived his fall with only a broken leg, a broken jaw and two cracked ribs.

Patricia gazed through the glass and thought about those last minutes on the balcony before Brett had tumbled off. Paul’s kiss was stuck in her mind. And his words. She was all mixed up.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Lizbeth Summers came up behind her so quietly Patricia gave a little start.

“What?” Patricia snapped.

“That he could take a fall like that and only come out with a few broken bones,” Lizbeth answered.

Patricia turned to look at Lizbeth. “I’m sorry I was rude to you at the party, and I’m sorry I slapped you.”

“Well, I’m sorry I slapped you first. I was stupidly drunk.”

Lizbeth looked beautiful in her dark brown coat with its black fur trim. Even on a hospital visit she looked great. Lizbeth was a woman you knew would marry well. Patricia realized
she still had on her Jean Harlow costume.

“I was, too. I’m not much of a drinker.” Patricia returned a weak smile.

Eric Nordquist followed shortly after Lizbeth. He nodded to Patricia, and went into the room to join his parents.

Once they were alone again, Lizbeth looked at Patricia with an oddly calm gaze. “You didn’t push him off the balcony, did you?”

“No. Did you?”

“Not me. I couldn’t see much, but I’m sort of thinking he just tripped over the dog. They have a greyhound that raced up the stairs after us. He’s such a slim sort of ghost dog, probably no one even saw him.”

“I didn’t notice a dog.”

Lizbeth gazed through the window at Brett and his family. “Look, Patricia, let’s lay our cards out on the table. Brett and I have been on and off for two years. I told him there’d be no more fun until he made a commitment and gave me an engagement ring.”

“So I heard.”

“Oh yeah, leave it to the great Nordquist grapevine.” Lizbeth sighed.

Patricia heard a bitter edge in Lizbeth’s com
ment. She’d never thought maybe being the great Lizbeth Summers might not be so happy. Wait a minute; this girl could have any guy she wanted. She was beautiful and…she was talented in something, right? “How did you end up working for Nordquist’s, Lizbeth?”

“I needed a job. Clothes are the only thing I know anything about. That and parties.”

“Aren’t your folks rich?” Patricia blurted out. “I mean, you seem so…”

“Of the manor born?” Lizbeth laughed. “I won a contest that put me through modeling and finishing school. So I learned how to use the right silverware and walk and dress rich, but my parents are divorced.

“My mother couldn’t afford to send me to college. I wasn’t much of a student, so I’ve had to rely on my looks. And in case you haven’t thought about it, those looks don’t last forever. A girl has to get her ducks in a row before she starts to fade.”

“So do you think Brett will ask you to marry him?” Patricia felt a chill run over her as she said the words.

“Either Brett or Eric. I don’t much care which, although I’m starting to be partial to Eric.”

“Did you start going out with Eric to make Brett jealous?”

“Sort of. We’ve all just known each other for the past few years and I decided to hedge my bets. I just want to marry into this family one way or the other. And honestly, I was very mad at Brett for trying to play me for a sap by, well, dating
you
.”

Patricia felt a rush of heat run into her cheeks. “I guess I’m an idiot.”

“Why? You stand to make out pretty well. Especially with Brett laid up like this. He’ll need some comforting. I’m not very good at that sort of thing.”

“You don’t care?”

“If things work out for you, I’ll still have Eric. If Brett has some sort of awakening, I’ll get that ring. Either way, I have to look out for my future. Sounds cold, doesn’t it?”

“Frankly?” Patricia looked over at Lizbeth’s calm face as she looked through the glass at Brett and his family. “Yes. But I have to wonder about myself, when it comes right down to it. I completely understand your ambitions.”

Lizbeth turned to look at Patricia. “He’s got that whole exciting bad-boy thing going on,
doesn’t he? It’s very attractive. Add the family money in there, and you’ve got quite a package. We had some fun times. Hard to tame, though,” she said.

“Sounds to me like I better watch my back.” Patricia stared down the hallway. She felt like crying.

“Who knows, we could end up related. So, hey, I guess we’d better not be slapping each other for a while. At least till after the weddings.” Lizbeth actually gave her a pat on the shoulder.

Eric came out of the room looking very upset. “Damn,” was all he said, shaking his head as he closed the door behind him.

“It wasn’t your fault, sweetie. It was just an accident.” Lizbeth looped her arm through Eric’s and fell into step beside him as he walked away. She turned long enough to wink at Patricia. The famous Lizbeth saunter was still apparently functioning fine, even at this late hour.

Patricia looked through the glass at Brett. Despite what Lizbeth had said, she believed she was different than her. She loved Brett. She could tame him. He just needed to grow up a little.

She felt like she was in one of Paulie’s operas. Everything was so convoluted and twisted.

“Patricia?”

She turned to see Paul coming down the hall toward her. He’d ditched his pirate costume. Her heart skipped a beat thinking of the kiss they’d shared. Why did he have to make everything even more complicated?

The closer he got, the worse Patricia looked. That pale blonde thing had passed over into deathly pallor. “I brought the car.” He came up beside her. “And I brought you some clothes. Jeans and a sweater, and here, a coat.” He slipped her pretty blue wool coat over her bare shoulders and leaned closer. “Even Jean Harlow has to warm up sometimes.”

“Thanks for the coat, but I’ll just change at home.” Patricia rejected the bag of clothing, setting it on the floor. “Why did you kiss me tonight, Paul?”

He went dead silent. She’d hit him directly between the eyes and he hadn’t seen it coming. Except for that very uncomfortable crackle in the air between them.

He took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “I told you why.”

She looked up at him. “We promised each other we wouldn’t mess up our friendship.”

“I’m sorry. Things have changed. I’ve changed.” Paul said.

Patricia looked away awkwardly. “You really know how to make a woman weak in the knees. I bet all the girls come back for more,” she said. Then she looked like she realized she’d said something stupid.

He let her go. “Some yes, some no,” he said with a smile. “Come on. We’ll just forget about it.”

“I can’t leave yet.”

“Patricia, it’s late. They won’t let you in to see him tonight,” he reasoned.

“I know. I don’t know. I’m confused.”

“Do I have to throw you over my shoulder again and carry you out of here?”

“Probably. Just take me home, I guess. Take me home before I change my mind.”

Paul put his arm around her shoulder. “How is ol’ Brett anyway?” They walked down the hall together, Paul steering her down the right corridors.

“A few broken bones, hopefully no internal
damage. Pretty miraculous. Lizbeth said he might have tripped over the family dog.”

“Funny, I thought I heard a dog yelp. So he wasn’t pushed?”

She glanced at him. “You’d be a suspect if they thought that. Or Eric, I guess.”

“You talked to Lizbeth?”

“A very enlightening conversation. She reminds me of Carmen.”

“The opera Carmen?”

“Yes, you know, how Carmen was so beautiful and all the men buzzed around her like bees to a flower?”

“Let’s hope the rejected object of her affection doesn’t come back to murder her later.”

“It’s all so
East of Eden
, you know? Her and Brett and Eric.”

“That can’t end well; it usually doesn’t.”

“Paul, life isn’t an opera.”

“Right.” Paul punched the button on the elevator to take them to the parking level. “Life is a
soap
opera.”

Pinky balanced her chin in her hands, elbows on the kitchen counter, and watched Paul dish out breakfast omelets and fried potatoes. Patricia
poured coffee for three. It was a very domestic scene all around. Except for the odd silence between Paul and Patricia.

“Order up, ladies, no diet plates this morning,” Paul said.

Pinky jumped down and helped gather plates. She’d already set the table for their usual Sunday brunch. “Look at my mini-pumpkins, boys and girls, aren’t I the talented little centerpiece girl?”

“Lovely, Pinky. I like the leaves all over the table.” Patricia set down the coffee and took her place.

“Straight from the Japanese maple in our own yard.”

As Pinky watched her two friends talk about anything but the events of the previous day, she wondered how many more Sunday brunches they would have together. Paul was flying to New York tomorrow, Patricia was on some kind of crash course with destiny, and she had been toying with the idea of what it would be like to sew baby dresses for her own little brood of Benders.

James Bender had called late last night after Paul had left to pick up Patricia and asked if she was okay after the shocking balcony scene, and if they might see each other for a noncostumed
date. He’d asked if she’d like to go to an afternoon matinee at the Grand Illusion. They were showing the 1946
Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein
, along with the 1992 Francis Ford Coppola’s
Bram Stoker’s Dracula
.

She almost fell in love with him over the phone. But Pinky was torn. After all, it was Halloween for real now. They usually decorated the outside of the house all day long and got ready for the trick-or-treaters, and Paul would make up a big pot of his famous seafood gumbo. For some reason, she had his gumbo and Halloween permanently linked together.

“Brett is being released from the hospital today. I talked to him earlier. I’m going over to his house and watch videos and take his mind off his pain.” Patricia poked at her potatoes and didn’t look anyone in the eye.

“What he really needs is a bottle of Vicodin and an AA meeting.” Paul stabbed his potatoes full-on.

“Shut up, Paulie.” Patricia gave him a grit-her-teeth smile.

“Now, kids,” Pinky said. “As it happens, I’ve been asked out on a date. I’m going to the fun
and freaky movie fest at our favorite theater with Dr. James Bender.”

“
My
Dr. Bender?” Patricia asked, her fork in midair.

“I prefer to think of him as
my
Dr. Bender for now.”

“Wow. That’s very cool, Pinky. A date. Finally.”

“Shut
up
, Paulie, I’m very picky.”

“I’m just kidding. Well, hey, that makes all three of us. I’m getting packed to leave for New York, Patricia’s on a mission of mercy, and you’re out to the movies.”

“Will you make gumbo anyway?” Pinky whined.

“Already started the stock.”

“Maybe Dr. B can come over after the movies and have a bowl,” Pinky said absentmindedly.

“Absolutely. I’ll carve up a few pumpkins and put them out on the porch. When you and the good doctor get back, we’ll fend off the little angels and devils with Tootsie Rolls and Dots. Rot their little teeth out one more year.”

“I’ll try and come back early, too. Brett will probably need a whole lot of sleep anyway,” Patricia said quietly.

Paul’s “one more year” comment made Pinky choke up. “Things are changing, folks, we might not have many Halloweens left together.” She put down her fork and grabbed a Kleenex out of her flannel shirt pocket. She loved the way her vintage western shirts had lots of pockets. She needed tissues on hand these days.

“Pinky, honey, we’ll be okay. We will take a blood oath to always meet on Halloween, just like spooky old spirits. We can even do that when we’re all dead. We’ll haunt this house and scare the crap out of whoever lives here in the future.” Paul reached over and put his hand on Pinky’s arm.

Patricia was quiet. Pale and quiet.

“Well, are you going to haunt the place with us, Miss Blithe Spirit? Miss Charmed One?”

“I will come and haunt the house with you. I promise. Things are just so crazy right now,” Patricia answered. She twisted in her chair and looked at both her friends. It had been a wonderful five-year run, but it was time for a change. She wanted that change. She loved them, but it was time to move on.

“Girls, why don’t you come to New York with
me? You can fly standby and I’ll get you a room. You can shop and look at those early Christmas decorations and eat great food,” Paul said.

“Can’t, I’m booked to go for Thanksgiving already,” Pinky answered.

“You’ll be working all day, Paul,” Patricia said.

“True. But Patricia, you’ve never been to New York. It’s time you went. Pinky, you’d love it, too. Go see your folks. I know it’s short notice, but hey, we’re young. And spontaneous. We’re young and spontaneous, right?”

“I’m going to have to take a rain check, Paulie,” Patricia said. She got up from the table and cleared her dishes. “Thank you for a wonderful breakfast. Your cooking has been the highlight of my life for five years.”

“Well, don’t act like it’s the last meal you’ll ever eat here,” Pinky snapped.

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I just hope Jimmy Bender can cook as well as you, Paul, because I can’t just hire you to be my personal chef for the rest of my life, can I?” Pinky asked.

“It sounds tempting, Pinkster, but I will have to pass.”

“Paul, is the car free?” Patricia asked.