Runaway Mistress (30 page)

“I don’t know,” she said. But she wanted to. She missed her workouts, her gym.

“Don’t be shy, Doris. You can keep up with a few little old ladies, can’t you?”

“I’m not sure I can,” she said. But her hands were reaching for the clothes. And a slow smile was beginning to appear on Rose’s face. “How long is the class?”

“Just an hour. It looks like all Alice is going to do is lie there and wait.”

“I just feel so sorry for her.”

Rose went to Alice, crouched and gave her a pat. “I know. But remember, she’s a bit melodramatic. She always puts on a show when Louise leaves.”

“This is a little worse,” she said. “But you’re right, I can’t do anything. And I don’t think she’s in danger.” Jennifer held up the shorts and tank top. And smiled. “Sure, I’ll go with you.”

Jennifer had to laugh at the way they drove in Rose’s convertible, top down, to the little dance studio a few blocks away. Everything in this town was just a few blocks away! “You’ll thank me for the ride home when the class is over,” she said.

One thing that Jennifer hadn’t counted on—Rose was a liar. There were not a few little old ladies in this class, even if it sometimes seemed to be a town full of them. Rose was far and away the oldest one there, and one of the most fit. A couple of the trim young mothers who jogged in the park and then went to the diner for sticky sweet bear claws and coffee were there, stretching out, and when they saw Jennifer they called to her and waved.

The instructor, a woman in her thirties and hard as a rock, was clapping her hands. “Come on, girls! Stretch out and get your steps! I see we have a newcomer. Stay up here close to me so I can help you with the steps if you need me. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

“Oh-oh,” Jennifer said. “I have a feeling this is going to hurt.”

“It’ll hurt good,” Rose said, grinning.

And before she knew it, the music was on and they were away. They started off slow, but the pace picked up instantly. There wasn’t a single step she didn’t know, even if the routine was slightly different. Jennifer had been doing aerobics for years and she caught on quickly. Plus, it was true what she said—she was a good follower. Too good, it had become clear. It was time to stop following and begin making her own life.

It felt good to move her body, to jump around, to skip and hop and sweat. She clapped her hands with the group and even let out the occasional whoop. She looked around the room when she could manage—there were about twenty women ranging in age from twenty-five to Rose’s seventy. There were only a couple of women around sixty or more, and they moved a lot more slowly and cautiously than Rose.

Rose was obviously still a dancer. She was agile, strong and very coordinated. She had great rhythm and style, and abounded with energy. Luckily for her she didn’t suffer any of the debilitating conditions some women her age had to endure. Rose was flying through the class, barely breaking a sweat.

Time flew by and before she knew it, they were done. The young women she knew from the diner rushed over to her. “Doris, you’re great!”

“This is nothing new for you—you didn’t have any trouble keeping up!”

“Does this mean you’re going to come regularly?”

“I don’t know if I can. But this was fun, thanks.”

“All right, ladies, enough chatter. Get a mat and let’s stretch out!”

The tempo of the music calmed as they went through the motions of stretching and doing some floor exercises. It was during this phase that Jennifer’s mind wandered to last night and her most amazing lovemaking with Alex. He was completely there for her, putting her needs and desires ahead of his own. His touch was thrilling, his technique creative and satisfying, his character loving. She had never felt like this before.

And he was there with her when she woke up in the morning. He was there for
her.

This was an entirely new experience. Even as a child, she had been conscious that the needs of someone else superceded her own. Although her mother loved her very much, she couldn’t really take care of her. Jennifer had to look out for Cherie.

“Now, doesn’t that feel better?” Rose asked her as they were leaving the class.

“Much,” she replied quietly. It was just beginning to occur to her that she could bring elements of her old life to her new. She didn’t have to choose between being an overpaid mistress or an underpaid waitress. She didn’t have to choose between being a caretaker or being taken care of. There was a vast and interesting area in between. “But I have a lot of things to straighten out,” she said.

“What?”

“Oh. Sorry, Rose. My mind was wandering. Listen, thanks so much. I’ll wash these things and get them back to you right away. After a quick shower, I’m going to write to Louise and tell her Alice is a little—I don’t know—under the weather.”

“Oh, phoo. Neurotic, that’s what she is,” Rose said.

Jennifer found that her roommate was the same—morose and without appetite. She sat on the floor beside her and tried to hand-feed her a morsel, but Alice wasn’t interested. She wrote a long e-mail to Louise and mentioned Alice but didn’t want to alarm her. Jennifer promised that she was watching her closely.

It was the end of May; Jennifer had been in Boulder City for three months and her life was completely changed. She was dead in love with Alex and had no idea what to do next. She had never dared believe life had happy endings for girls like her—poor girls from disjointed and dysfunctional families. But before she could address that, she had to find a way to straighten out that mess in Florida.

Doc Gunterson called to say Alice’s blood work was fine, and aside from being a little overweight, she appeared to be in the best of health.

It was five o’clock when there was a knock at the door. With a lift in her chest, hoping it would be Alex home from work, she rushed to open it. But it was a man in a suit. With a briefcase. “Doris Bailey?”

She felt a jab of fear. “Yes?”

“My name is Wendell Phillips. I’m an associate with the Johnson McGee law firm. I’m afraid I have some bad news. Mrs. Louise Barstow passed away yesterday in her London flat. She was found by her charwoman.”

Jennifer’s hand went to her mouth and tears welled up in her eyes. “Oh, she can’t be gone,” she said.

“The word I was given was that it was a peaceful departure. She was sitting in her favorite chair with a morning cup of tea and a newspaper. I’m very sorry for your loss. I’ve been asked to notify Mrs. Gillespie and Mr. Nichols, as well.”

“It’s Miss Gillespie. Rose has never married,” she said with a sniff. “Alex Nichols is not at home. He’s a Las Vegas police detective. Should I call him at work?”

“That would probably be best. And Miss Gillespie?”

“Let me go with you,” she said. “Oh, God, poor Rose. Louise was her very best friend.”

Rose took the news stoically. She was relieved that Louise had slipped away painlessly, as though just going to sleep. “But I hate that she was so far away. I wish she’d been next door.”

“She left instructions to be cremated,” Mr. Phillips informed them. “What shall I tell them is to be done with the remains?”

“Oh, get a gaudy urn of some kind and ship her home,” Rose said with a flourish of one hand, turning away. Jennifer heard a sniff. “We’ll take care of her. We know what to do.”

“Let me get something for you, Rose. A cup of coffee or glass of wine?”

“Thanks, but if you wouldn’t be hurt…” She turned back and there was a little glistening in her eyes, and for the very first time since Jennifer had known Rose, she looked drawn. As though she’d aged suddenly. Her face, usually taut and smooth, seemed lined. Her eyes were very sad. “If you wouldn’t be terribly hurt, I’d like to be alone for just a bit.”

“Sure,” Jennifer said. “Of course. I’ll go home and call Alex.”

“Do. He’ll have a hard time with this. He adored Louise. Comfort him, and I’ll be along after a while.”

She wants to have a good cry, Jennifer thought. And she wants to do it alone.

“We have a little paperwork,” Mr. Phillips said. “But I believe everyone involved in Mrs. Barstow’s estate is clear on what she intended.”

“Yes,” Rose said. “There’s plenty of time for all that. I’ll be glad to call you.”

As they walked back to Louise’s house, Jennifer said, “Mr. Phillips, I’m simply house-sitting for Louise. I’m taking care of her dog. Is there something I should be doing? Should I turn Alice over to someone else and move out?”

“I’m sure there’s no hurry on that, Ms. Bailey. For the next couple of weeks, at any rate. Sit tight and I’ll be in touch.”

“Poor Alice. Mr. Phillips, she’s very, very old. She can’t change roommates too many times. She’s having a rough time right—” She suddenly stopped both talking and walking. Wendell Phillips paused and turned to look at her. “What time did you say Louise died?”

“Sometime yesterday morning. Her charwoman went to the flat around 9:00 a.m. and, according to the surgeon, she hadn’t been gone long.”

“And the time difference is—?”

“It’s seven hours later in London.”

“I see,” she said, continuing on to the house. When she got to the door she turned and extended her hand. “I’ll call Alex now.”

He pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to her as she was going inside. “We’ll be in touch.”

Alice was still lying on the floor, looking into Louis’s office. Jennifer went to her, kneeled down and, with gentle hands, lifted her head. “She’s gone, Alice,” she said. “It was gentle and now she has no pain when she walks. And she’ll be waiting for you. It’s going to be okay now.” She kissed Alice’s head and stroked her for a moment.

Alice looked up at her and then slowly got to her feet. She walked over to her food dish, looking back at Jennifer once, and then began to eat.

After calling Alex, Jennifer hooked Alice up and walked her to the diner. It was the most efficient way she could think of to get the word out that Louise was gone. This time Alice behaved as usual—slipping under the bench at the front of the building and waiting patiently for her water and biscuit. It seemed she was done looking for Louise.

Jennifer got there just as the changing of the guard between Hedda and Gloria was taking place, and everyone present accepted the news with sadness and loss. She gave Hedda a hug and told her to go home, get all her homework done and get some beauty sleep. Just a few days till the prom, and not a time for a sixteen-year-old to be sad.

“Should I come over tonight?” Hedda asked in a whisper.

“I want to be sure Rose is all right, and she might not feel like visiting. But of course if you need a place…”

“Thanks,” she said.

“Are you all right?”

“Sure,” she said somberly.

Jennifer hopped up on a stool at the counter. “I just don’t want to go home yet. I can’t stand to think there won’t be an e-mail from Louise.” And there was another small matter—her house-sitting job was likely to come to an end very soon. Where was she to go? She wasn’t ready to even think about returning to Florida.

Gloria delivered a couple of plates of the house special—meat loaf with a decidedly Spanish flair—then sat down beside Jennifer. “Buzz, I think our girl here could use a little bump.”

“What say, Doris?” he asked, already pulling the flask out of his pocket.

“Thanks, but not in the coffee, okay?”

Buzz grabbed a coffee cup from the rack under the counter. He poured the amber liquid neat into the cup and then fixed her an ice water chaser.

She took a tiny, tentative sip. It made a nice warm path down her throat, a calming river of, to her surprise, delicious brandy. “Buzz, that’s wonderful,” she said appreciatively.

“You thought it was some old rotgut, didn’t you?” he grinned. “You oughta know I take better care of my people than that.”

She took another sip. “That’s a very expensive brandy, Buzz.”

His eyebrows under his floppy hair lifted and he didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he said, “Why am I not surprised that a little bald girl in army dungarees would know something like that?”

“Oh,” she said, surprised. “I tended bar once or twice. You know.”

“Hmm,” Gloria said. “I’ll have a shot of coffee, Buzz.” She took an appreciative sip of her own and said, “I’m going to miss that old girl, but I’m sure not going to miss watching her struggle for every step. At least I’ll sleep easy knowing her joints don’t pain her anymore.”

“Amen,” Buzz said.

“I wish old Harmon could slip off like that. Poor old guy—I know he’s miserable half the time. I can see it in his eyes. I even thought about saving up drugs—but the problem is I don’t have any really good ones. The kind that’ll kill you.”

“Gloria!”

“It’s no kind of life, is all,” she said. “But that old Louise, for all her struggling down the sidewalk every morning, I think she had a good time. Don’t you, Buzz?”

“I do,” he said with a nod.

“Imagine that old woman dividing her time between two cemeteries!” They both had a good laugh over that and Buzz got himself out a cup and tipped his flask three times.

“If Doris here is going to start drinking with us, I’m going to have to buy a bigger flask,” he said, and again they laughed until they had tears in their eyes.

But not Jennifer. She just stared at them. “Did you two get an early start today or something?” she asked.

“No, honey. This is a little on the early side. I say we drink to Louise. May she find peaceful rest.”

They lifted their coffee cups, clinked and put them back on the counter. The two diners got up from their booth, wandered over to the counter to pay Buzz, and left. Gloria went to bus their table.

“Does Louise have any family anywhere?” Jennifer asked Buzz.

“I don’t believe so. In thirty years, I’d have heard.”

“Not even a great-great niece or nephew?”

He shrugged. “I think you’re looking at her family right now. And, of course, her best friends, Rose and Alex and Alice.”

“I’m a little worried about something,” she said. “The lawyer who came with the news said I should just stay put for the time being, and of course I can’t even think of leaving Alice, but I want to do what’s right. Should I be clearing out?”