The Ups and Downs of Being Dead (24 page)

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m going on a cruise. Maybe
to Saint Thomas. Or Aruba.”

The idea of being stuck on a cruise ship for a week made
Robert cringe.

“Would you like to join me in Egypt, Robert?” Maggie asked.

“Heck, no. I definitely don’t have a sense of adventure.” He
took a moment to glance around the Carlisle’s lobby. “I guess it’s too late to
catch up with Madeline Wingate and her death squad.”

“Come on, Robert,” Suzanne coaxed. “It’ll be fun. Calypso
music, scantily-clad babes.”

He returned her lascivious smile with a blank stare.

During the meeting, he’d listened to lots of people talk
about exciting things to do, and exotic places to go. None of their suggestions
had sparked an interest with him. His decision came down to one simple
question. Did he want to part company with Suzanne?

* * *

It was raining and gray in St. Louis, as Robert had pointed
out in New York. Pedestrians had their umbrellas aimed at the assault, leaning
into the wind.

The visit to Angie was just as dismal. Suzanne’s father sat
in the corner of the hospital room reading a newspaper while Suzanne’s mother,
Eloise, sat on the other side of Angie’s bed, watching The Price is Right.
Angie was asleep.

When the program ended, Eloise woke Angie to tell her it was
time to get ready for dinner.

“What?” Robert blurted. “How does she get ready for dinner?
Change into a fresh hospital gown?”

But he soon saw. Eloise came out of the bathroom with a
washcloth and proceeded to wipe Angie’s face. Then she carefully brushed her
hair and pulled it back into a ponytail before painting on a little powdered
foundation. She finished off with lipstick.

Draped over the back of the chair was a lacy pink cape which
Eloise wrapped around Angie’s shoulders and tied up with a jaunty bow to the
side.

“Where did she find that?” Robert guffawed. “I don’t even
think my dearly departed Aunt Esther would wear something like hideous.”

“I think my mother lived a previous life in the Victorian
age,” Suzanne said.

Dinner arrived. There was a bit of arguing over Eloise
trying to feed Angie, and Angie insisting she could do it herself, so a towel
was draped over the cape and cinched tight at her neck.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Robert asked. “Did you have to
dress for dinner every night when you were a kid?”

Angie managed to cut chunks of mushy meatloaf with her left
hand, but more than half of her peas rolled out of her spoon before she got it
to her mouth. Eloise was right there like a crow, snatching up the renegade
peas and tossing them away.

Angie had pretty much finished off her pudding when
footsteps in the hallway got granny into high gear. She rolled away the table,
yanked off the towel, and hastily blotted Angie’s mouth just as Mark strolled
into the room.

“I should have known,” Suzanne said. “My mother is playing
matchmaker.”

For the first time, Suzanne’s father laid down the
newspaper. The two men shook hands, and Eloise insisted Mark sit in the chair
beside Angie.

After a chaste kiss to the forehead, Mark perched beside
Angie and took her left hand in his.

“I spoke with your doctor,” he said. “He thinks you can go
home by the end of the week.” He looked up to address Suzanne’s father. “If
it’s all right with you, sir, I’d like Angie to come home with me for her
recuperation. I can have a bed put in the den at my house. And I’ve contacted a
convalescence service that can come by twice a day to check in on her. Help her
with meals. See if she needs anything.”

“Oh, no,” Suzanne moaned. “That’s it. She’ll never break
away from him now.”

“Why should she? He’s a great guy. He’s offering to play
nursemaid, he’s willing to disrupt his home and his life to put her first.”

“You wait,” Suzanne said. “He’s got something up his
sleeve.”

* * *

Since their cruise ship didn’t sail until Sunday, Robert
decided to drop in on Rachel in Atlanta. He played it safe and went directly to
Audrey’s corporate headquarters rather than the house in Ansley Park.

The offices of the Audrey’s Corporation were sparsely
decorated in quiet elegance: hardwood floors with plush area rugs, floor to
ceiling glass with a view of the Peachtree Westin and Centennial Park beyond,
and beneath accent spotlights, an oil reproduction of Amanda in the famous
champagne gown, lounging on the chaise; the picture that had launched Audrey’s
into the mega-corporation it was today.

He poked his head into his old office, now Rachel’s office,
but she wasn’t there. An unfamiliar personal assistant sat at the desk out
front, typing at her computer.

“Maybe she’s at lunch,” Suzanne offered.

“Let’s try the conference room.”

A staff meeting was in progress. Pictures of little girls in
darling outfits were propped on easels along the wall. Robert recognized a
couple manufacturers’ reps, a half dozen Audrey’s buyers, and possibly the
attorney who had replaced Martin, all seated facing the easels.

Rachel stood at the head of the table and addressed the
group as they munched on deli sandwiches.

“I’m tired of seeing little girls dressed in miniature versions
of women’s clothes. I saw a young girl at a reception last week. From a
distance it looked like she was wearing a strapless gown. When I got closer, I
saw that the dress was held on with a sheer mesh bodice and capped sleeves. The
child could not have been older than eight or nine!

“What are we doing to these young girls? They think they’re
all grown up by the time they’re twelve. They don’t play with dolls, they text
on their phones. They don’t ride bikes, or play soccer, or jump rope.”

Rachel drifted to the first easel. “American Girl
Corporation has an incredible market share on girls’ clothing from seven to
fourteen. I want to get in on the trend, only at lower prices.”

She held up a hand when a buyer sucked in a breath to ask a
question. “I’m not talking about the birthday parties, or the luncheons, or the
dolls. I’m strictly interested in the clothing. Our advertising campaign will
emphasize age appropriate activities.” She gestured to the easel.

The setting was a small park with a paved walkway. One girl
in the picture wore roller blades, the other girl rode a scooter. They both
wore shorts and knit shirts, but the shorts hung mid-thigh, not cut up to their
butt cheeks.

How long had Rachel been playing with this idea? She’d never
mentioned it to Robert. Did she think he wouldn’t approve?

He studied a picture board with two girls in frilly velvet
dresses, standing in the lobby of an elegant theater.

“This is exactly how Amanda tried to dress Rachel. Like a
little princess in puffy sleeves and satin sashes, right down to the Mary Jane
shoes with lace socks.”

He shook his head slowly as he stared at the picture of a
girl in a colorful stripped sweater with matching stripped leggings.

“All this time, I thought Rachel hated the clothes. But she
was just rebelling against Amanda.”

“Maybe she craved some of the attention Robbie was getting,”
Suzanne suggested. “As a teacher, it never ceased to amaze me how
inappropriately children behave when they want attention.”

The meeting quickly wrapped up. A couple of the buyers
pulled out their Blackberrys as they headed for the door. Rachel stayed behind
to chat with the representative from the design house that had created her
presentation, then strolled back to her office.

Her personal assistant followed Rachel to her desk.

“Jack Courley called, wants to reschedule for Tuesday. The
Springfield store is still insisting you come for their Pioneer Days.”

She glanced at the next pink slip in her hand and hesitated
before telling Rachel, “Robbie called again.”

Rachel sighed, then took the memo from her personal
assistant.

“Thanks, Joanie.”

Once she left, Rachel dialed the number on the memo.

Robert moved in closer to hear both sides of the
conversation.

“What took you so long?” Robbie asked the moment he
answered.

“I was in a conference, Robbie. I told you my schedule when
you called yesterday.”

“Did you talk to Briscoe?”

“No. I told you there’s no point in talking to your attorney
until you finish the program. You’ve only been in rehab a week, Robbie. You
have to give it some time.”

“I’m over this dump. You tell Briscoe to come up with a
better plan or I’m leaving.”

“We can’t keep going over this every day, Robbie. You need
to
successfully
complete rehab before
your next court appearance so that Mr. Briscoe can show that you’ve not only
gotten cleaned out, but that you’re remorseful for your actions while under the
influence of drugs.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Robbie blathered. “That’s bullshit. The people
here are cretins.”

“Rockmore is the top-rated rehab facility in the Southeast,
Robbie.”

“Fuck you!” he screamed. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

Rachel took a breath to calm her anger.

“I’m not going to return any more of your calls, Robbie. If
you stole the cell phone you’re using right now, please return it. And stick to
the plan. The sooner you get straightened out, the sooner you can
get
out.”

Robbie started to scream something else, but Rachel
disconnected.

Robert turned to Suzanne.

“And you think Mark’s a jerk.”

“No, I think Mark’s hiding something. Robbie’s definitely a
jerk.”

“Thank you.”

“Let’s go see him.”

“Are you kidding?” Robert said. “Why would you want to do
that?”

“Morbid curiosity?”

“You go, I’ll meet you in Ft. Lauderdale.”

“It’ll be fun. Think of all the satisfaction you’ll get
watching him endure withdrawal. He sounds like he’s on the edge already.”

Robert considered the possibilities: Robbie with the dry
heaves, uncontrollable shaking, profuse sweating, all the ghastly symptoms
shown in the movies. He would find that
very
satisfying.

* * *

Rockmore was located an hour north of Atlanta. The owners
had refurbished an old resort lodge in the foothills of the Blue Ridge
Mountains, then added two single story wings off to the sides to house
additional patients. It came into view after Robert and Suzanne had trudged nearly
a mile on a winding road through dense pine forest. There had been no signage
other than a street number out on the county road.

“This is it,” Suzanne said, obviously relieved that she
hadn’t been dragging Robert on some wild goose chase.

“They sure make it hard to find,” he grumbled.

“It’s a lovely setting. The tranquility is probably what
these people need most. And being so secluded like this, it might discourage
patients from wandering off.”

“I’m sure the fine folks in the surrounding area insisted on
that. No one wants a bunch of drug addicts in their neighborhood.”

Inside, the lobby of the old hotel had been converted to a
gathering place for patients. Two boys, probably in their mid-twenties, sat at
a table playing cards. One of the boy’s hands shook so hard, Robert marveled
that he didn’t drop his cards.

A large screen television dominated one corner of the room.
A teenage girl sat curled up at one end of a sofa, watching a wildlife program
with the volume muted.

“Do you think that’s all the louder they can have the
television?” Suzanne asked as she wandered closer.

“I’m sure they do all they can to keep these kids from
getting riled up. Check her out.”

The girl’s knees were drawn up tight against her chest. Her
eyes had darker circles than Angie’s did after her accident. The girl didn’t
even look eighteen, but maybe that was because she was so thin that her body
was shapeless. She wore a tank top and flannel pants even though it was almost
January.

One hand held the other steady as she chewed on a
fingernail. When a nurse walked nearby, the girl spit the nail at her.

Robert heard yelling down a hallway, and what sounded like a
scuffle. Then Robbie came careening around the corner with a male nurse or
orderly close behind. The orderly grabbed Robbie’s arm.

“Get your fucking hand off me,” Robbie snapped as he jerked
his arm free. “Fucking moron.”

“You’re on thin ice, Malone,” the orderly snarled back. “And
I’ll be the one to personally escort you to the door.”

The orderly stomped over to a nurses’ station, pulled out a
folder, and began to scribble furiously.

Robert shook his head. “Another in what I’m sure is a long
list of grievances against Robbie.”

Robbie flopped onto the sofa next to the curled-up girl with
such force that the thumb she was chewing on jammed into her mouth.

“Hey!” she said.

“Shut up!”

She licked her lip, then dabbed at it with a finger and
checked to see if she was bleeding. Not that Robbie cared.

“That guy’s a tool,” Robbie huffed. “So’s that doctor.” He
looked over the girl’s head to see down the hallway. “I bet he’s not really a
doctor. Just some fuckwad that can’t get laid.”

The girl giggled but it sounded strained.

“He always wants to talk about my mom,” she said. “Maybe he
wants to fuck her.”

“If he can get it up.”

She spit another piece of fingernail in the general
direction of the television.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” she said, lowering her voice.
“I’m leaving.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I am. I’ve got a friend picking me up during dinner
tonight.”

“Bullshit,” Robbie said. “You can’t just walk out.”

She gave Robbie a glare like he was the moron. “Watch me.”

“How are you going to do it?”

“I’m going out the door at the end of the hall.”