Runaway Mistress (12 page)

But not Rose. Rose clearly paid attention to details. She was very beautiful. Very with it. She was, Jennifer realized, what she thought
she
would become. Before she shaved her head, of course.

“So,” Rose said, sipping a bit of her wine, “No husband? Boyfriend? Family?”

“I’m afraid not. I just broke up with someone and I’m a little…Well, let’s just say it would be ideal for me to be alone for a while. I’m not interested in another relationship.”

“Parents? Brothers and sisters?”

“No. Unfortunately.”

“Can you really be that alone?” she asked bluntly.

Jennifer bit her lip, looked away and found that her eyes began to fill. Oh, please don’t let me cry, she thought in panic. Please.

“Oh, phoo, I’m so damn outspoken. Don’t answer that. At least, don’t answer that yet. Later, when we’re better friends. Tell me what you think of the wine. It’s a very good Bordeaux. Hmm?”

Jennifer got hold of herself and sipped. She had learned quite a lot about wine, thanks to Martin, a gentleman friend who had preceded Nick and had a great love of fine wines. She swirled the dark red liquid in the glass and observed the silky coating it left on the crystal. She let the bouquet rise to her nostrils and then took a small sip. “Very nice,” she said. Not cheap, she found herself thinking. “This is very thoughtful of you.”

“Not at all. Now, besides serving chili and eggs, what do you plan to do with your summer here?”

“Hiding out” wouldn’t be an appropriate answer. Truth to tell, she hadn’t thought about it. She was living one day at a time, and today was the first day she’d really felt there was a good chance she could exist here without being found out. Ohio had crossed her mind—she wondered if she could go back there and reconnect with her past, her childhood. There had been some happy times there, when Cherie and Grandma and Gramps had enjoyed a small measure of control. There might even be someone there who would remember her. But that was in the future, long after the summer. “I guess for starters, I’ll discover Boulder City.”

“That shouldn’t take long,” Rose laughed. “Fifteen thousand people and a great big lake.” But as Rose talked on, she revealed so much more than that—free concerts in the park, community theater, art shows, farmers’ markets every week. Fifteen thousand people who enjoyed culture and small-town values, but used the upscale community of Lake Las Vegas and the city for their high-end entertainment and dining, keeping this little mountain town quiet and very family oriented.

Jennifer pulled her knees up and encircled them with her arms, sipping her wine and listening to Rose talk about her life in the town, starting with moving into this neighborhood at about the same time Louise did. Although they were as different as two women could be, they hit it off at once. Louise was widowed and had to adjust to life without her longtime husband, Harry. But Rose had never married, she said somewhat defiantly. Or proudly. Whatever, the statement came with a lift of her chin that made Jennifer smile.

They had a second glass and Jennifer’s cheeks began to glow with the warmth of good wine and conversation. What had Louise said? Take her with a grain of salt? Why, Rose was wonderful. Sitting here in Louise’s chenille robe, her hair less than an inch long and her eyebrows growing in all funky, Rose would have no idea how alike they were. If she had met Rose two months ago, they might’ve gone shopping together. Or to one of the fancy Las Vegas spas.

Eventually Rose’s eyes fell to Jennifer’s toes, sticking out from under the robe. Her toes were bright red. She hadn’t thought anyone would notice. She found the polish under Louise’s sink and it was
old.

“Nice color,” Rose said. “I believe it’s called Matador.”

Jennifer shrugged. “I was just playing around.”

“There’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“Well…probably not.”

“Hmm. Well, is there anything you would like to ask me? About the house, the town, whatever?”

“Yes. Would it be helpful if I took care of Louise’s yard? Since I’m here?”

“It might be,” she said. “But Alex is used to doing it and might take offense.”

“Well, then, when does he come?”

“I’m afraid it’s just whenever he has the time or the inclination. Why? You don’t want to be surprised again?” Jennifer blushed. “Oh, phoo, get over it. If I blushed for every time a man saw me in my underwear, I’d have high blood pressure.”

“I can’t believe he told you!”

“He was…What should I say? Maybe as surprised as you.”

“What did he say?”

“He said you shouldn’t quit your day job.”

Jennifer couldn’t wait to e-mail Louise after Rose’s visit. She was at the computer that night before going to bed.

Dear Louise,

Well, I finally spent some time with her—Rose. She brought over a bottle of wine to toast my summer with Alice. So thoughtful. And she is funny. A little outrageous. She told me that you two hit it off instantly, even though you were very different. But she seems to be the kind of person you can’t help but like—she’s so direct and honest.

Tell me, Louise—how is your son, Rudy?

Love,

Doris

The very next morning:

My Dear Doris,

So, she descended on you. Well, it took her much longer than I thought it might. I wasn’t sure she’d give you a whole day much less a week to yourself. Try to imagine us thirty years ago. I was a fifty-year-old academic working ferociously on the Equal Rights Amendment while Rose, at forty, was hiring showgirls for casinos after years of being a dancer herself. I don’t think she wore much while she danced, if anything. Single, many men, flamboyant, exploitive. We were at opposite ends of the female spectrum.

But Rose might know more about women—having worked with them, hired them, managed them—than I, with my Ph.D. in women’s studies. We joined forces in getting that shelter in the city up and running—we both saw the need for a place for sheltered women in need even if they weren’t wives. Even if they were, for example, girlfriends or showgirls or even prostitutes.

But look out for that wine trick. She’ll get you drunk and make you talk.

Love,

Louise

Jennifer took closer notice of her neighbors. Rose drove a yellow Mustang convertible, usually with the top down and her flaming red hair wrapped in a long silk scarf. Alex drove an SUV—but she saw him leaving and returning so seldom that she couldn’t figure out his schedule, nor did she have a clue what work he did. She planned to ask Rose the next time they got together.

She saw Rose being picked up for what looked suspiciously like dates by two different men on two separate evenings. One was silver-haired, one was balding, but both were pretty classy-looking and came for her in nice cars. Alex, on the other hand, was never seen with a female. But that was no indication there wasn’t one in his life; he could be going to her house.
Their
houses.

Rose left her house one afternoon, returning with a few grocery bags and a bunch of fresh flowers. Alex left and returned with peat moss for the yard. Since Louise had been gone, Rose had not been seen in the diner. Alex, on the other hand, had been showing up more often.

She was a long way from having them figured out. But she envied the normal look of their lives.

When she was slipping off to sleep she found herself thinking about them, creating rich fantasies in which she was just like them—one of the ordinary neighbors. A real person. Someone with a good uncomplicated life.

She was awakened one night by a fierce pounding on the door, accompanied by the doorbell and Alice’s bark. Jennifer’s heart was thumping and terror gripped her. Her first thought was that they had found her. The bedside alarm clock announced 2:22. She wrapped the chenille robe around her and, without turning on any lights, went to the door.

“Who is it?” she called.

“Me. Hedda.”

She opened the door immediately. Hedda held Joey, her arms crossed under his bum, his long, skinny legs dangling. His head rested on her left shoulder, her backpack on her right. She was looking down, then slowly raised her eyes.

“Do you have room on the couch, Doris?” she asked.

The shock of seeing these kids here, like this, had paralyzed her tongue. “Ah, yes! Of course!” She held the door open.

Alice stepped back also, wagging her tail. Hedda entered, head down, and dropped her backpack just inside the door. She moved toward the couch, carrying her heavy load. He was sound asleep—she must have carried him all the way from her house. Blocks and blocks. Alone. At two in the morning.

“No, Hedda. Let’s put him in my bed. I have to get up pretty soon for work, so I’ll take the couch.”

“I can’t do that to you,” she said.

“Come on,” Jennifer said, leading the way.

Left without a choice, she followed. She laid Joey gently on the white sheets. “I’ll get a cloth and wash his feet,” she said softly.

“No, don’t bother with that—you might wake him.” She grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the bedroom. “What’s going on?”

“Um…My mom has company,” she said, eyes downcast.

“Does she know where you are?”

She looked up. Clearly she was so embarrassed. But of all the people she could have gone to, she came here. Jennifer wasn’t even sure how she knew which house was Louise’s.

“She won’t even know we left. When she wakes up, she’ll think we went to school.” She shrugged. “So, no biggie.”

“Oh, Hedda,” she said.

“Don’t tell anyone. Okay?”

Aside from a whispered “thank you” the next day at the diner, nothing more was said about the incident. Jennifer wanted to tell her she understood that kind of instability, but the right moment seemed to elude her.

The one thing she was able to do was tell Hedda, “It’s okay to come over. No matter what time of day or night.”

And Hedda said, “Thanks. It doesn’t happen that often.”

But Jennifer suspected it did.

Six

A
s if it had happened in a split second, Jennifer became aware of a town full of roses in full bloom cast against the emerald-green of the grass and trees. The rains of winter had given way and the bright spring sun brought out the color. Everywhere she looked, thorny sprigs had exploded into velvety roses in every imaginable color, while in the Midwest and northeast the ground was still covered with snow.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said to Buzz. “I’m from the Midwest, where roses are tough and hard to keep going. Neighbor women were out in their hats and gloves every single day, coaxing them to stay alive and bloom.” She remembered it was the bane of her grandmother’s existence. She called her roses finicky and stubborn and cranky. She worked relentlessly to keep those rose bushes going, year after year, through snow and frost and bunny rabbits; it was like a part-time job. And hers were only red and pink. Around Boulder City there were yellow, white, lavender, even black, not to mention the two-toned petals and varying crossbreeds.

“Because the rose is a desert plant,” he said. “They like the fall and winter, but they love the spring. Summer’s the only season they’re not wild about. The heat’s a little tough on them—they lay fallow.”

“Someday I show you a real garden,” Adolfo promised. “My Carmel, she is the queen of roses.”

“I’d love that,” she said, surprising herself. Was she accepting an invitation to someone’s home? Jennifer was getting very brazen. It was perhaps surviving an evening and bottle of wine with Rose that made her so. That, and being overlooked by Nick’s henchmen.

She wanted to know more about these new friends but never seemed to find the right moment to ask them for the more personal details of their lives. But there was someone she could ask. Someone who’d been having breakfast at the diner for thirty years.

Dear Louise,

I find I’m growing very attached to my new friends, yet I don’t know very much about them. I’m getting to know Rose better, little by little, but Buzz is such a sweet mystery. He seems committed to helping people in small but significant ways—I can’t help but wonder why he didn’t marry and have a family. And Adolfo, what a gem he is. Has he been with Buzz for a long time? Sometimes they seem like a little old married couple. And my Hedda, my dear Hedda—I might be getting too attached to her. It appears her life is just about as unstable as mine was at that age, but for entirely different reasons. Just the other night she came pounding at the door in the dead of night with her little brother hoisted over her shoulder—looking for an empty couch for the night because her mother had “company.” Now I find myself sleeping with one eye open in case she should need me.

Love,

Doris

My dear girl,

I asked Buzz that same question once—why hadn’t he married. He shrugged his shoulders and said he asked someone once, but she had someone else in mind. I didn’t have the nerve to pry, but I’ve always wondered if it could have been Gloria. They’re awfully tight. He’d do anything for her. As for Adolfo, you describe his relationship with Buzz perfectly. Even though they sometimes squabble, even though I’m sure Adolfo could find more profitable employment—they will never part company. When you do have a chance to meet his family, don’t pass it by. They are an amazing group and will embrace you as though you’re one of them.

And little Hedda—I’m so glad she has found you. None of us knows much about her, but having seen her mother just a few times, I see problems. She’s an angry young woman who seems to feel unjustly burdened by her children. You can’t possibly be too attached—the two of you will make a formidable team.

Love,

Louise

After work, and after walking Alice around the park so she could visit with other dogs, Jennifer was again at the library. She was there at least twice a week but had not noticed the small stack of flyers with her face on them. They sat at the very end of the checkout desk along with other flyers advertising classes, programs and local entertainment. She wished she could ask how long they’d been there, but that would be too telling. Had Lou left them a couple of weeks ago? Had he been back? She had no way of knowing since she had never paid attention to any of the handouts.