Moonstone (8 page)

The office was a mess. The pile of papers on the desk seemed to have grown higher every day since she’d taken over the place. She opened the drapes, already used to the wave of her father’s cologne that accompanied this, and cracked open the window. The bay was only a few shades darker gray than the sky. Joy turned to the paperwork and sank down in her father’s old chair.

A letter from her father’s lawyer was at the top of the stack. She found the letter opener her father had always used, a knife with an anchor for a handle, and slit open the envelope. Fortunately this wasn’t a bill. The lawyer needed another signature and he’d sent her a copy. She stared at the paper for a long moment and then folded it and replaced it in the envelope. She hadn’t wanted the lawyer to explain the details of her father’s will. She’d inherited Moonstone Optometry with all of its antiquated bells and whistles—plain and simple. The lawyer insisted she couldn’t choose whether or not she wanted the inheritance. It was hers, end of story, unless she wanted to contest everything. One look from her mom then, eyes red from weeks of grieving, and Joy knew there was no arguing. Terrence had inherited their father’s 1968 Mustang. The car was in mint condition. He’d also received an undisclosed amount of money from the sale of some of their father’s stocks. Undisclosed because the final numbers weren’t in yet. Terrence had as much interest in Moonstone Optometry as she did, which was to say, none. The other problem with swapping was that Terrence was a dentist.
Smart boy,
Joy thought. She’d never given her younger brother enough credit.

Joy filed the letter from the lawyer in the one drawer she’d cleared out. Helen had labeled files for her. She picked up the next envelope on the stack and noticed the Alpine Connected logo. Kelsey had sent a personalized letter, entirely professional, of course. The envelope wasn’t stamped so Joy guessed she’d dropped it off herself. Joy grinned at the realization that she was sorry to have missed this rep’s visit.
First time for everything
. Below her signature, Kelsey had written her cell number and a note to contact her directly with any questions.

Joy instantly pictured Kelsey, but the image that came to mind now wasn’t the teenager in red lifeguarding shorts that she’d long thought of. Now it was Kelsey in her business suit staring straight into Joy’s eyes. She had no idea if Kelsey was even single, let alone if she liked women. She picked up the letter and read it again. Having computerized patient records was a necessity if she wanted to grow the business and she had enough financial sense to realize that she’d get a better price for the practice if she could show good growth. She couldn’t help but wonder what her father would say.

“Damn it,” Joy said. “It’s Sunday.” She tossed Kelsey’s letter on the desk and reached for her keys.

All the florists in Raceda—save one—had gone out of business. Flowers were easier to buy online or in a grocery store. But of course her mom wouldn’t buy flowers in a grocery store. “Not for Sam,” she’d said.

Joy rang the bell on the glass counter and waited for an elderly Asian woman to come to the front counter. She took a long look at Joy before a light of recognition filled her eyes. “You’re Dr. Sam’s daughter.”

The woman was in her eighties at least and barely five feet tall if she stood up straight, but she was stooped. That didn’t slow her down. She’d come around the counter to grasp Joy’s arm and before Joy could say anything, the woman had pulled her over to a display cabinet by the window. She pointed her hand toward a bouquet in the center of the top shelf. Red rosebuds dotted a mix of yellow and purple wildflowers.

“That’s the one Irene picks. Same thing each Sunday.” The woman paused and gazed up at Joy. Her brow furrowed. “Is your mother sick?”

“She’s in Phoenix with my brother. His wife’s expecting another baby.” Joy stared at the bouquet that the woman had already plucked from the vase. She watched the flowers disappear into layers of tissue and cellophane.

“Say hello to her then for me. And I’ll have the same flowers ready for you next week?”

Joy nodded. “And the week after. She’ll be in Phoenix for four months.”

The woman smiled and patted Joy’s arm. “I always say, lucky if you have a daughter. Luckier yet if you have a good daughter. Your mother knows you won’t miss a week.”

Joy held back a rush of anger at the florist’s kind words. She forced a smile. Sundays were for sleeping in with a lover and brunch at one of the cafés in Bernal Heights, not for waking up early to go into the office. Her life hadn’t simply been put on hold—the tracks had been switched. She was in Raceda doing exactly what her parents wanted her to do. Because she still had to be a good daughter.

Oakwood had a view of the mountains from the front gates and if you climbed the highest knoll, there was a peek of the ocean on a clear day. But Samuel Henderson’s grave was set on the low side of the knoll in the shade of an elm tree. No view. Joy walked around the rectangle of new grass sprouting in the dirt that she’d helped to throw over her father’s casket. She hadn’t been back to the cemetery since the funeral and then there’d been a crowd and plenty of voices to drown out her thoughts. Plus she’d had to hold her mom’s hand and pass tissues. She’d never seen her mother so frail and that was all she could think of then—worrying when Mom had stumbled and then worrying more when she’d curled up in a ball in the backseat on the drive home. Her mother’s sobs had been overwhelming. Now the silence was overwhelming.

Last week’s flowers drooped in their metal holder. Joy removed them and then placed the fresh bouquet. She took a deep breath and felt the air tremble in her chest as she exhaled. The gravestone was new. It was a flat piece of greenish gray granite carved with dates, her father’s full name, and an empty space for her mom’s name when the time came. Joy wrapped the old flowers in the new week’s tissue and then headed for her car. If there were things she hadn’t been able to tell Sam Henderson while he’d been alive, there was no reason to tell him now.

* * *

Joy looked up from the magazine as the bell jingled on the door handle. Kelsey was ten minutes late. She punched her time card and then asked, “Are you the only one here?”

Joy shook her head. “Rita’s on deck.”

Kelsey dropped her head. “Of course she is. The one day I’m late and the manager shows up early to check in on us. Crap.”

“She got here twenty minutes ago. And yeah, I think she was checking on us.”

“No one’s ever here on Saturdays until the lessons start at nine.”

“Exactly. So she figures we’re probably always goofing off.”

Kelsey closed her eyes. “Think she’ll believe me if I say I had a flat tire?”

“She’ll want to see it.”

Kelsey leaned against the counter. “You’re probably right. I’m screwed.”

Joy went over to the mini fridge and pulled out the bottle of orange juice she’d bought. “When she asked where you were, I told her there was some nasty virus going around. I think she’d buy it if you tell her you’re not feeling well.” Joy added, “I mentioned that you seemed a little off at practice yesterday.”

“I felt fine at practice yesterday. I was just pissed.”

Joy handed the orange juice to Kelsey. “Sorry I spilled your other one.”

“You didn’t have to buy that.” Kelsey stared at the orange juice.

“And you didn’t have to say anything to Andrew yesterday. Or to Tamara.” Joy had spent the past twenty-four hours worrying about what she’d say to Kelsey, but she couldn’t think of anything. Not once had anyone stood up for her. She wanted to ask Kelsey why she’d done it, but the words caught in her throat. “I’m used to ignoring everyone around here. I’ve been doing it for years. But…thanks.”

Kelsey stared at her for a long moment. Finally she took the orange juice. “I better go talk to Rita. Think I look sick?”

Joy shook her head. She wasn’t about to say that Kelsey looked perfect. As usual. “Maybe try coughing.”

“The orange juice is a good prop.” Kelsey held up the bottle. “If your plan works, I’ll owe you doughnuts.”

Rita bought Kelsey’s story about being sick and sent her home. Then she called Andrew to fill in for Kelsey. Joy didn’t want to face him again, let alone at work. But when he showed up, he gave his usual smug smile and acted as if nothing had happened. On a busy Saturday Joy had plenty of excuses for not talking. They switched off guarding every thirty minutes and it wasn’t until closing time that Andrew wondered about Kelsey.

“Think she was really sick?” Andrew made a good show of sweeping, but he mostly pushed the dirt from one end of the lobby to the other.

Joy shrugged.

“She was acting weird yesterday.” Andrew leaned against his broom handle. “Coach was pissed.”

Joy pretended to ignore Andrew. She switched the phone line over to the answering machine and went to get her book bag.

“She probably just wanted the day off.”

“I think she was sick,” Joy said finally. “You okay locking up alone?”

Andrew nodded and Joy reached for her jacket. She left without wasting any more words on Andrew. When she got to her car, she noticed a slip of paper tucked under the windshield wiper. She unfolded the paper and immediately recognized Kelsey’s handwriting.
I owe you.

Joy stared at the words, then folded up the note and slipped it into her pocket. She heard Andrew’s car alarm beep and looked up in time to see him wave. When no one else was around, he almost acted like a human being, but after yesterday, Joy was done being civil. She didn’t wave back. He got in his car and she waited for him to drive away before she got into hers. She flipped on the light and unfolded Kelsey’s note again. Three words. She longed for more than three words.

Joy didn’t drive home. She headed south on the highway and didn’t slow down until the fog curled around her car. She made it another twenty miles before she decided to pull off and find a pay phone. San Francisco was two hundred and sixty miles away. Joy only wanted to keep driving until she found someone else like her. There was a handful of black kids in Raceda, but none of them were gay. The only gay people she knew were the two men who ran the café downtown. And they were old and white. She doubted there was anyone gay, black and under twenty for two hundred miles in any direction—maybe more. But even if she found someone like her, would they understand the awful crush she had on Kelsey West? Maybe it wouldn’t matter. Maybe she just needed to see someone like her—to know they existed.

Joy parked in a gas station lot and searched her car until she had a handful of quarters. The pay phone ate up the coins, but there was no dial tone. She banged her fist against the phone until the gas station attendant stuck his head out the window and hollered, “It’s been broken for six months. But you can keep hitting it all you want.”

Joy dropped the receiver and walked back to her car. As much as she wanted to keep driving, she couldn’t. Her mom worried if she was more than a few minutes late getting home. The last thing she wanted to do was face her mom’s twenty questions. Her dad wouldn’t ask for an explanation. He’d take away the car keys and she’d be grounded for the rest of the summer. Joy buckled her seat belt. She was tired of doing the right thing.

Raceda Community Pool needed a facelift. The building was overdue for a paint job and the signs in the front lobby hadn’t been updated since Joy had worked behind the counter. She smiled at the kid working the counter now. The boy peered over his paperback and pushed the sign-in clipboard toward Joy.

“Welcome to RCP.” He barely looked sixteen.

RCP. The initials made the pool sound cooler than it looked. Joy penciled in her name and asked, “How much for a one-month pass?”

“Ninety, if you’re local. But it’s only thirty bucks more for a three-month pass. Or buy an annual pass and you can get the price down to under two bucks a swim if you come four times a week.”

The kid tapped the clipboard pencil against the counter and cleared his throat. His name was printed on the lifeguard badge that hung around his scrawny neck. Arlen Lipchitz. Pimples raged across his brow and dotted his cheeks.

“Let me guess, math’s your favorite subject?”

“I aced calculus in eighth grade. Now I go to RCC for my math classes, but it’s still too easy.” Arlen grinned. RCC was the acronym for Raceda Community College.

Chances were slim he’d made it through middle school without being teased and high school was probably a daily battle. Joy immediately liked him.

“I’ll take a one-month pass.” She paused. “How much am I gonna pay for each swim if I come three times a week?”

“Too much. You should really think about buying at least the three-month pass.” Arlen leaned over the counter and whispered, “I’m not really supposed to do this, but…you can try out the pool once for free if you mention the newspaper ad. Then you can buy a pass after you’ve had a chance to check out the place.”

Joy smiled. She considered how many hours of her life had been spent in the very same spot where Arlen was sitting and how many hours she’d spent staring at the bottom of the same pool he wanted her to test out. The thought of trying out the place like a newcomer to a gym was intriguing. “How can I resist that offer?” She cleared her throat. “I saw something in the newspaper about a free swim…”

“Of course. Go ahead and sign in.” Arlen beamed. His small defiance for the day was clearly going to set the tone for a good week. “I bet you’ll decide to buy the annual pass.”

Joy pushed open the door to the locker room and glanced around. There were a half dozen women either toweling off or changing into suits. The benches in front of the lockers were in need of a fresh coat of stain, dents pockmarked the rows of metal lockers, including her favorite, number 41, and the mirrors over the sinks were etched black at the corners.

The lap swim crowd had always been notoriously regimented. No laughing, no talking. Joy made her way to the corner of the locker room where she’d always changed for swim team and was surprised when one of the other swimmers looked up and smiled. She had one towel wrapped around her head and another wrapped around her chest.