Love Gently Falling (2 page)

She tried not to send herself on a guilt trip for not having been home for so long—or for missing this past Christmas. Besides, she reminded herself, she'd been encouraging her family to come out and visit her this winter, promising them some warm California sunshine. In fact, the last time she'd talked to her mom, on New Year's Day, she'd sounded quite positive about making the trip, declaring that she wanted to see Disneyland. “Before I'm so old that you have to push me around in a wheelchair and spoon the applesauce into my mouth.” They had both laughed over that then. It didn't seem funny now.

Rita didn't often admit it, but her mom had probably been her greatest mentor. Other than a couple of rough adolescent years, they'd remained really good friends. Rita had grown up watching Donna efficiently running her own business. Not only did she own and manage her own hair salon—Hair and Now—she was also an excellent and respected hairdresser, with a faithful following of clients. As a child, Rita had loved helping out at Hair and Now on no-school days. And when she'd announced her decision to go become a hairdresser, during her senior year, her mom had supported her. Even when Rita had to break the news that she'd chosen a beauty school in Southern California, her mom had still supported her. And she'd paid Rita's tuition. “Your grandmother gave me my start with Hair and Now,” she'd told Rita. “This is the least I can do for you.”

Rita had fond memories of Hair and Now. It was located on the lower level of Millersburg Mall, a mall that had once been host to one of the best ice rinks in the area—the same rink where Rita had learned to skate. But due to bad management and expensive repair costs, the rink had been shut down when Rita was in high school. The ice had been replaced with bistro-style tables and chairs and potted trees circling a big fountain. Many considered this an improvement, but Rita had always felt it was a mistake.

Hair and Now remained in the same place, where it had been nearly as long as the mall itself, and although Donna sometimes joked about retirement and had been preparing to celebrate her big six-oh next month, Rita had never gotten the impression that she was serious about hanging up her scissors. In fact, Rita had been convinced that her mother, with her sparkly blue eyes, youthful complexion, and shiny platinum-blond hair, was young for her age. When Rita was a teenager, she and her mother had sometimes been mistaken for sisters. “Oh, that's just because our coloring is so similar,” her pragmatic mother would say in a dismissive sort of way. But Rita knew that her mom had loved the gaffe. And why not?

As announcements were made about preparing for landing, Rita felt a surge of conflicting emotions rush through her. She peered nervously out the window, looking through the dark night, down to where the blue-hued lights illuminated the landing strips of O'Hare. As much as she hated to admit it, she felt fearful that her mother might not have made it. What if she'd taken a turn for the worse and hadn't survived the day? But at the same time, Rita felt hopeful, remembering Maxwell's encouraging words about stroke recovery. Surely her mother, who'd always been a strong woman and a fighter, would still be holding on. Perhaps she'd be sitting up in bed by now, talking and joking with Ricky and her dad. Rita also felt a giddy sort of excitement to think of this—she was about to see her family again. But even that was laced with dark thread of concern. What if she was too late? What if her dad and Ricky were brokenhearted with grief right now?

As she hurried down
to baggage claim, Rita considered calling Ricky or her father, just to say she'd arrived and to check on her mom's status. But she didn't want to make them feel they needed to leave the hospital to come fetch her. She was a big girl. She knew how to ride the train…how to take a cab. She could make her own way to the hospital.

Still, by the time she dragged her well-stuffed wheeled bag from the carousel, she felt overwhelmed. The prospects of hauling her baggage to the train stop, waiting by herself for the next train, getting her luggage onto the train, riding all the way into the city at this hour of night, then getting off and finding a cab to take her to the hospital…well, it wasn't for the weak of heart. But she could do it. She would do it. She would do it for her mom.

“
Rita?
” a masculine voice called out.

As she proceeded to the exit, Rita glanced all around, expecting to see her brother's big ruddy face or maybe her dad's. But no one looked familiar. Perhaps she'd heard wrong…or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

“
Rita Jansen?
” the voice called out again.

She peered through the faces in the crowd by the door and spotting a handwritten sign waving above the heads, she was shocked to see her name clearly printed on it. “What is going on?” she mumbled to herself as she pushed through the travelers to investigate.

“
Rita!
” a tall man eagerly declared as he placed his hand on her shoulder. He wore a brown leather jacket, a red Bulls cap, and a big friendly smile. “I would recognize you anywhere.”

“
What?
” Rita peered curiously into the man's face. He had warm brown eyes and was a few inches taller than her. “Do I know you?”

“You used to,” he said cheerfully. “We went to school together. John Hollister. Remember?”

“
Johnny Hollister?
” She slowly nodded with recognition. “It
is
you.”

“Yep.” He reached for her wheeled bag.

“But what are you doing here?”

“Your brother asked me to pick you up.”

“Ricky knows
you
?” She felt confused. “It can't be from school. I mean, Ricky is eight years younger than us and he—”

“I met Ricky through work.” John lifted the carry-on bag from her shoulder so that she now only had her handbag to carry. “And your mom is one of my clients. I was real sorry to hear about her stroke today.”

“Yes…me too.” She frowned. “This is so unexpected.”

“Anyway, Ricky told me to let you know that your mom is already starting to improve a little,” he said as he pressed their way through the crowd. Loaded down with her luggage, he led the way toward the exit.

“Thanks, but you didn't have to do this, Johnny. I planned to take the train and—”

“I wouldn't let my worst enemy ride the train into the city at night.” He stepped aside, waiting for her to go through the door ahead of him. “And I should warn you that the hospital's located in an area that's not exactly safe.” He held up her carry-on bag. “And with all this baggage, you'd be like a sitting duck for a thief.”

As Rita got further outside, she was caught off guard by the cold blast of air that hit her. Pushing the collar of her lightweight jacket higher, she hurried with Johnny across the street. “It's freezing out here,” she muttered as they went into the parking area.

“Yep. It's been hovering around twenty degrees these past few days.” He chuckled. “Not like LA, eh?”

“Not in the least.” She dug in her handbag for a silky scarf, wrapping it around her neck a couple times for warmth. “I forgot how cold it can get.” As she picked up the pace to keep up with his long strides, she wondered about this morning's longing for winter.
Am I nuts?

“Here we are.” Johnny stopped behind a red and white utility van, and, after opening the back, he quickly set her bags inside. “Hopefully it's still warm inside. Go ahead and get in. It's open.”

As she hurried around to the passenger's door, she read the words on the side of the van. Apparently Johnny worked for some kind of a janitorial service located in Chicago. “
Jolly Janitors?
” she said as Johnny slid into the driver's seat and started the engine.

He chuckled as he fastened his seat belt. “That's right. The way I know your mom and brother is from cleaning Hair and Now at Millersburg Mall. I've been doing her salon for a couple of years now.”

“Oh…” She nodded, trying not to feel too judgmental. After all, what was wrong with a man working as a janitor? Good, honest work—and somebody had to do it. As Johnny maneuvered the large van out of the parking lot, she was hit with the irony of something. She had been driven to LAX in a plumber's van and now she was being driven away from O'Hare in a janitor's van. Okay, it wasn't very stylish or impressive, and Margot would probably have a good time teasing her for it. But really, a ride was a ride…and, as her mom would say, beggars should not be choosers. Besides it was far better than riding the train on a cold winter's night.

She glanced over at Johnny. And, really, despite being a janitor, he'd be rather attractive with his curly sandy brown hair, strong chin, and nicely shaped nose. Okay, he
was
attractive. And why was she being such a snob about it? She wasn't really like that. Was she? But for some reason it was hard to imagine being involved with a janitor. Why was she even thinking about something like this in the first place? For all she knew, Johnny was married with three children. Besides, she reminded herself as she turned her focus back onto the street ahead of them, she should be thinking about her mother right now.

“So…you say my mom is doing better?” she asked cautiously.

“Yes. That's what Ricky told me this evening when I dropped some flowers by for her. She's been moved out of ICU and into a regular room. And it sounds like she made good progress in her physical therapy today.”

“She's
already
having therapy?” Rita wasn't sure which was more surprising—that her mom had been in therapy on her first day in the hospital, or that a Jolly Janitor had taken her mother flowers.

“Ricky said that they don't waste any time with stroke victims. The sooner she starts regaining her skills, the better the prognosis.”

“So is she walking and talking?” Rita asked hopefully.

“No. Nothing like that yet. But it's just the first day.”

“Oh…yeah…” Rita rubbed her hands together for warmth.

“Ricky suggested that I take you home,” Johnny said tentatively as he turned the heat up. “He thought you'd be worn out from your flight and—”

“I really need to go to the hospital,” she firmly told him. “I want to see my mom as soon as possible. That's why I came today. I know it's a ways farther than my parents' house, but if you don't mind, I really want to see her tonight.”

“Sure…no problem.”

“I'm guessing that Dad and Ricky are the ones who are worn out by now. They must be stressed and tired from being at the hospital all day. My dad hates hospitals. Maybe I can relieve them so they can go home and get some rest. I don't mind spending the night in the hospital with my mom. I really don't think she should be alone.”

“I understand completely. I'm sure I'd feel the same if it was my mom.”

She glanced over at him again. She'd always liked Johnny in school. He'd been one of the good guys—dependable and solid and kind. But he'd also been a little bit boring, too. Or so she'd thought back in high school. She felt a bit surprised he worked for a cleaning business, but only because she'd always thought he was more academic.

“I don't think we've talked since we graduated. Did you go to college?” she asked, partly out of curiosity and partly to make conversation.

“Sure did. Graduated from Northwestern in business. Six years ago.”

“Oh…that's great. Good school.”

“According to Donna—your mom, I mean—you graduated from a pretty impressive beauty school in Los Angeles.”

Rita shrugged. “Most people don't think that beauty school's very impressive, but it was a good school. And I did land a pretty great job in a Beverly Hills salon.”

“Really? Beverly Hills?” He nodded. “Ever work on anyone famous?”

“As a matter of fact, I have several well-known clients.”

“Anyone I'd have heard of?”

“Well, I don't make a practice of name-dropping,” she said a bit primly. “Clientele privacy, you know.”

“Sure. That makes sense.”

She appreciated that he didn't push her like some people did, and for some reason it made her trust him more. “But if you promise not to tell…”

He chuckled. “Scout's honor. And I really was a scout, too.”

“Since you don't live down there, I guess it can't hurt.” And so she told him a couple of the bigger names.

Johnny let out a low whistle. “Wow…now that's impressive.”

She smiled with satisfaction. “I like to think so. Some of my clients swear that I'm the best colorist in Beverly Hills. But I like cutting and styling, too.”

“I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.” He grinned at her as he waited for the light to change to green. “And I mean that as a compliment, Rita. I have nothing but respect for your mom.”

“Thank you.” She nodded. “I do take that as a compliment.” For a while they just drove in silence, with Rita watching for familiar sights.

“You didn't make it to our ten-year reunion last year.”

“I know. I really wanted to go, but I was busy with work.”

“I heard it was because you were busy with a new boyfriend,” he said teasingly.

“Who told you that?”

“Your mom.”

“Seriously? My mom talks to you about my personal life?”

“I was on the reunion committee, and we hadn't heard back from you, so I thought maybe we used the wrong email. So I asked your mom and she set me straight. But she also told me why you weren't coming.”

“Well, my mom didn't get it exactly right. It wasn't because I had a new boyfriend. It was because the guy I was dating was a cameraman—you know for films—and he kept acting like he could get me on as a hairstylist for a movie he was working on. It was all supposed to go down about the same time as the reunion. And I've always dreamed of working as a stylist on a film. So I gave up going home for the reunion in the hopes I'd get on with the film.”

“Did you?”

“Nope.” Rita let out a frustrated sigh. “As it turned out the guy didn't have as much influence as he'd insinuated.”

“Oh…is he still your boyfriend?”

“No, but not because of that.” She heard the sharpness in her response and regretted it. It wasn't Johnny's fault that Ben had been a jerk.

“Sorry,” Johnny said quickly. “I'm being too nosy again. It's my worst habit, and I'm trying to break it. I'll get to talking with clients, and the next thing I know I've stepped over the line by inquiring about their personal lives. My bad.”

“It's okay.” Rita smiled. “To be honest, I've been known to do the exact same thing.”

“But you expect that in a hairdresser, don't you? I mean, I always hear about how hairdressers always get to hear the juiciest secrets. Kind of like you're in a special club.”

“I suppose that's true.”

“But with janitors…well, they're supposed to just scrub the floors and take out the trash and keep their big mouths shut.” He laughed. “At least that's what I hear.”

“You mentioned the reunion…” Rita began cautiously. “Do you recall if Marley Baines—I should say Prescott—was there or not?”

“Sure. Marley was there. But I'd think you'd have known that. You and Marley used to be best friends. Don't you keep in touch?”

“Not as much as you'd think.” She frowned to think of how close she and Marley once were…a long time ago.

“Really? When was the last time you spoke with Marley?”

“Oh, it's been a while…” Rita bit her lip.

“Oh, well, friends sometimes grow apart…”

“Do you see her much?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. She's a client of mine as well.”

“You clean Marley's house?”

“Actually, it's her business. She's got a thrift shop in Millersburg Mall. It's called Secondhand Rose. And she does a nice little business with young fashion-minded and frugal women.”

“Come to think of it, my mom mentioned that to me. Kind of slipped my memory. So how is Marley doing?”

“Ah, so now you want me to divulge a client's private information?” he said.

“Oh, no, of course not. Sorry. I just—”

“Kidding. Well, I guess Marley is doing…uh…okay. Business is good anyway.”