Someone Like You (12 page)

 

“I’m hungry.” Annabelle’s normally sweet voice was beginning to sound like an air raid siren at maximum volume. “I want a hamburger.”

“We’re almost there,” Joely said. “See the lighthouse?” She pointed out the window. “I used to play on the beach right there at its feet.” She played there alone, but that was another story. Nerdy geek girls who saw poetry in physics and heard music in higher math hadn’t been in great demand when she was growing up.

“Did you go to McDonald’s when you were little?”

“We didn’t have a McDonald’s in town when I was little. Mostly we stopped at Patsy’s in town when we wanted something to eat.”

The road wound past the high school on the outskirts of town, then curved around the lighthouse.

“Can we go to the beach?” Annabelle asked.

“Maybe tomorrow, honey.”

“I want to go now.”

“I thought you wanted a hamburger.”

Annabelle’s expression downshifted into a scowl. “I don’t like it here. I want to go home.”

So do I, honey. So do I
.

 

FIVE YEARS AGO Cat bought the old Haynes house, a small ranch with a huge two-car garage on the northern edge of town near the lighthouse. Even Meg, the Realtor, thought she was crazy to pay asking price for something so clearly in need of renovation, but Cat had a vision, and she wasn’t about to risk losing the house of her dreams to save a few dollars.

At the time she purchased it, she was just at the beginning of her association with
Pink Slip,
and her private label of hand-dyed, hand-spun yarns had yet to get off the ground. She wasn’t sure if she was a total lunatic or a cockeyed optimist, but she took a leap of faith anyway and sank her savings into her future.

The house still looked pretty much as it had when she dragged in her boxes and bags of stuff. There had only been so much money to work with, and her focus, to be honest, had been on creating the perfect studio from a very imperfect garage. Through a convoluted series of loans, barters, and old-fashioned sweat equity, she had succeeded beyond her wildest hopes.

Walking into her airy, light-filled studio was the best part of her day. She loved everything about it, the shiny bleached oak floor, the pure lemon yellow walls, the skylights, the worktables piled high with roving waiting to be spun then plied, baskets of yarn in sapphire and ruby and emerald ready for the needles.

Her spinning wheels were set up near the window wall, adjacent to the huge work flowchart she had pinned above her drafting table. Not that she did much work at the drafting table. More often than not she found inspiration curled up in her oversized easy chair near the window that overlooked her herb garden. They all teased her about the chair, another roadside reject she had saved from destruction and rehabilitated over a period of time, but she didn’t mind. Family was allowed to tease family. It was in the bylaws.

And they were all family. The women who worked with her had become like sisters. In a small town like Idle Point, opportunities for stay-at-home moms were limited to opening a day care facility in your house or taking in typing for the three or four people in the world who hadn’t mastered keyboard skills.

When Cat posted a sign on the community bulletin board at Barney’s Food Emporium, she had been overwhelmed by the enthusiastic response from the town’s population of closeted knitters, and within a week they were off and running. By the time the costume designers of
Pink Slip
discovered her work, she was ready to grab the opportunity and run with it.

It was nearly noon when she dragged herself across the yard to the studio. Jeannie and Bev were spinning some gorgeous New Zealand roving she planned to ply with merino and then hand-paint in a beach-at-dawn palette that had been teasing her for months. Denise was carding some Romney at one of the worktables while Nicki and Taylor were mixing vats of dye near the sinks.

Jeannie was the first one to spot her standing near the door. She leaped up from the wheel and ran over, followed by Bev and the rest of them. Within seconds Cat was enveloped in hugs and questions.

“You do whatever you have to do,” Nicki said as Cat extricated herself from a bear hug. “We can keep things humming along here without you.”

Bev gave Nicki a sharp elbow to the ribs. “She doesn’t mean it the way it sounds, Cat. It’s just that we can—”

“I know exactly what you both mean. I don’t know what I’d do without all of you.”

“Stay up nights knitting,” Taylor, the practical one of the group, said. “Not that that’s exactly a hardship.”

“That’s what she does anyway,” Bev said.

“Oh really?” Jeannie shot her a big theatrical wink. “That’s not what I heard.”

Further proof that gossip was alive and well in Idle Point.

“So who is he?” Nicki demanded.

“Who’s who?” Denise chimed in.

“The guy who drove her up from New York.”

“His name is Michael,” Cat said. “He’s a screenwriter.”

“Is it serious?” Denise asked.

Now was as good a time as any to take the first step toward full disclosure. “Yes,” she said. “He’s a great guy.”

“So where is he?” Jeannie pretended to peer under one of the worktables. “Don’t make me ransack your house, because I’ll do it.”

Cat laughed out loud. “He’s on his way to L.A. for a meeting.”

“Whoa!” Taylor fanned herself with her hand. “So we’re not talking starving artist here.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Well, good for you,” Denise said. “We’ve been wondering when you were finally going to—ouch!” She rubbed her arm and glared at Jeannie. “Hey, it’s nothing bad,” she said to Cat. “We love you, and we want you to be happy.”

Which to them meant happy in the way they were happy: married and with children.

“Listen,” she said, “I have to go over to the hospital and see how Mimi’s doing, and then I’m going to meet Frank at the house and inspect the damage.”

“Oh, honey,” Taylor said, eyes wide with concern. “You haven’t seen the house yet?”

“It’s that bad?”

“Your mother’s a lucky woman,” Taylor said. “At least she has you to help sort things out.”

It was that bad.

“Is Joely coming back to help out?” Denise asked. She and Joely had been in the same high school graduating class.

“I’m not sure,” Cat said, beginning to inch her way toward the door. She loved these women, but she loved her sister more. A discussion of Joely’s shortcomings, real or imagined, wasn’t on her agenda. “She’s in Scotland, you know, and—”

“I think I hear the UPS guy,” Jeannie said as the low rumble of a car’s engine floated through the open windows. “Maybe it’s that shipment of Silk Garden we’ve been waiting for.”

“That doesn’t sound like a truck,” Denise said. “It sounds more like a car.”

“It’s probably Karen,” Cat said, then a minute later, when nobody popped up in the doorway added, “Maybe it isn’t. I’d better go check.”

She rounded the side of the garage. A Nissan with Massachusetts plates was parked in front of her house, and she noted that her front door was wide open. Not a good sign. She had relatives in Massachusetts, but in times of trouble they were more inclined toward annoying phone calls than on-site visits.

“Whoever you are, you have five seconds to show yourself,” she stated as she stepped into the tiny foyer, “or I’m calling the police.”

“Cat?” A familiar voice sounded from the back of the house. “Is that you?”

Oh God . . . it couldn’t be . . . Joely was in Scotland . . . she had responsibilities . . . Joely couldn’t possibly be standing there in the kitchen doorway with a little girl clinging to the hem of her sweater, shrieking at the top of her lungs that she needed to go to the loo.

The two sisters locked eyes, and Joely nodded. First things first.

“You must be Annabelle,” Cat said as she walked toward them. “I’m Cat.” She crouched down in front of the little girl, whose face was pressed against the fabric of Joely’s black trousers. “Would you like me to take you to the loo?”

“No!” Annabelle’s voice was muffled.

“She’s shy,” Joely said, her hand resting on top of the child’s head. “If you’d just point me in the right direction, I’ll take her.”

She pointed toward the hallway. “Second door on the right. You can’t miss it.”

Joely’s smile was tentative. “Thanks. We’ll be right back.”

Joely whispered in Annabelle’s ear, then the two of them walked down the hall to the bathroom. Cat experienced an odd sense of envy, something she had never felt before with her sister.

The difference between knowing of Annabelle’s presence in her sister’s life and actually seeing the two of them together was overwhelming. Joely looked so . . . maternal. That was the only word that fit. Her brittle, hard-edged younger sister, the one who had always lived in her head and kept her heart under lock and key, had clearly given her heart to William Bishop’s little girl.

 

“ANNABELLE, PLEASE STOP crying!” Joely pleaded with the child in the privacy of her sister’s sparkling white and yellow bathroom. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I want to go home!” Annabelle howled as Joely lifted her up so she could reach the high sink. “I want my daddy!”

“I know you do, honey, but your daddy is in Japan, remember?”

What kind of woman would attempt to reason with a tired, hungry, homesick seven-year-old when bribery was a viable option?

“I have a great idea,” she said as she helped Annabelle dry her hands. “Let’s go have a real American hamburger with the works.”

Annabelle’s scowl began to show signs of cracking. “You said we couldn’t go to McDonald’s.”

“I know someplace even better,” Joely said. “I know a place just like the malt shop in
Grease
.”
Grease
was right up there with
The Princess Bride
and
Sound of Music
on Annabelle’s top-ten list of favorites.

“May I have a cheeseburger?”

“Sure,” Joely said. “And a milk shake, too, if you want.”

Annabelle considered her options. “I don’t want her to go with us.”

“Do you mean Cat?”

“Yes,” Annabelle said firmly. “Just us.”

She chose to bypass the statement. Sometimes cowardice was a woman’s only way out.

Cat’s back was to them as they entered the kitchen. “Why don’t you bring your bags in?” she tossed over her shoulder. “I’ll put them in the spare room for you.”

“I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” Joely said. “I was planning to stay at the Motel 6.”

“Don’t be silly. I have room. You’ll stay here.”

“No!”

Hurricane Annabelle struck again.

Cat spun around. “You don’t want to stay here?” she asked her.

Annabelle glared up at Cat. What had happened to the fey faerie child Joely knew and loved?

“No,” Annabelle said. “I don’t like it here. I want to go home.”

Joely wanted to crawl under the kitchen table and stay there. She had been counting on Annabelle to charm them over the rough spots, but Annabelle had another agenda entirely.

“She’s hungry,” she said to Cat with an apologetic smile. “I told her I’d take her to Patsy’s for a cheeseburger and shake.”

“Patsy’s gone vegan,” Cat said. “You could get a great soy-veggie burger.”

“No!” Another outburst from Annabelle. Thank God this one was directed her way. “I want a real cheeseburger. You promised!”

Joely met her sister’s eyes and mouthed the word “Help!”

Cat leaned back against the sink and regarded Annabelle. “I’ve been told I make the best cheeseburgers in Idle Point.”

Annabelle’s scowl was alive and well. She looked up at Joely, who nodded her agreement. “Cat’s a great cook, Annabelle. She made me cheeseburgers all the time when I was your age.” And chili and spaghetti and meatballs and fish sticks—God, how would she have survived without Cat watching out for her? “I know I’d love a cheeseburger if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble.” Cat was already in motion, pulling items from the fridge at the speed of light. “Why don’t you bring in your bags, and I’ll have your lunch ready before you’re unpacked.” She glanced over at Annabelle who, judging by the expression on her face, was considering a mutiny. “I hope you like cats, Annabelle.”

Cats, dogs, kittens, puppies, faerie children who hid beneath the heather.

Annabelle glanced around the kitchen. “I don’t see any cats.”

Cat wiped her hands on a snowy white dish towel. “Oh, there be cats.” She held out her hand to Annabelle, but her girl refused to take the bait. Instead they followed Cat down the short hallway to the guest room. The door was closed, and Cat paused, hand on the doorknob, and met Annabelle’s eyes.

“Her name is Trixie,” she said solemnly, “and she’s very scared and lonely.”

“Why is she lonely?” Annabelle asked, her tender heart beginning to overcome her resistance.

“She was up a tree,” Cat said, “and a fireman rescued her.”

Joely’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean Mom’s Trixie?”

Cat nodded. “The same.”

“I can’t believe she’s still around!”

“I don’t know if you like cats very much, Annabelle,” Cat said, “but I do know that Trixie could really use a friend.”

She opened the door, and Annabelle squealed when she saw poor old Trixie asleep in the middle of the bed.

“Go nice and slow, Annabelle.” Cat led her over to the bed. “Trixie’s very old. Her eyes and ears aren’t what they used to be.”

“I’ll be real quiet,” Annabelle whispered. “She’ll like me.”

“I know she will.” Cat met Joely’s eyes and smiled. “I think you’re exactly what Trixie needs.”

“Trixie,” Annabelle crooned. “Can I scratch your ear, Trixie, can I?”

Trixie looked up and took Annabelle’s measure, then nudged Annabelle’s hand with her nose.