Fox Island (16 page)

But this morning, Price didn’t have an early
class to teach. She wasn’t required to drive to cheerleading
practice ... or hang gliding lessons ... nor did she have a 4-H
animal to feed. She did not have to get up. No reason in the world
not to go back to sleep.

She reclined on a stack of three pillows to
study the room and wondered for the hundredth time if it were
Melody’s design or Jessica Reynolds’. Ribbons of roses and floral
lattice covered the comforter, the cases, ruffled round tablecloths
and pouf curtains. Tiny floral sprigs scattered broken antique gold
stripes on the shams and wallpaper. Even the milk glass lamps were
hand painted in shades of pink wood roses.

Like sleeping in a garden.

She sank into the soft, cool pillowcase with
a sigh. Her mind floated into wonderful, peaceful blackness. On the
third ring Price propped herself on an elbow and yanked up the
receiver. “What is it?” she managed to mumble.

“Price, this is Liz. Is Tony around, or is
he out fishing?”

“Fishing? Price blinked at the clock.

“Oh, I forgot, you’re in Pacific time zone
now.”

“It’s 6:47... in the morning!”

“Sorry, just remind Tony he has a radio
interview at 3:15. Let’s see, I guess that’s 12:15 Pacific. Al
Germain at WINC in Lafayette, Louisiana. Thirty minutes on
comparing the myth of the cowboy as portrayed in western novels of
the early and mid¬twentieth century to the actual cowboys of
history. It’s a live show.”

“Does Tony know about this?”

“I sent him a fax.”

“Where?”

“Oops, your home. Tell him not to worry. He
can wing it. I think it’s a call-in show. How did the book signing
go?”

“Fine.”

“And how’s
Fox Island
coming?”

“Except for chapter five, it’s moving right
along.”

“Sorry to wake you, girl. Bye-bye. Go back
to sleep.”

Price could feel the ache and twitch of
every bone and muscle in her body as she slipped back between the
cotton sheets. She could tell by the grayness that it must be foggy
outside. Still, she fumbled in the nightstand drawer to find a
black silk sleep mask. She slipped the strap over her hair and
settled it against her eyes. She wondered if she should have gotten
up and taken Advil. she couldn’t recall being this tired when she
was younger. Getting up in the night with the twins. Corralling all
four of them ready for Sunday school. Hauling the gang to the
supermarket. How in the world did she do that?

Maybe she was still recovering. Maybe she
should unplug the phone until after breakfast. Or after lunch.

She felt like someone jabbed pencils into
both ears as the nagging phone harangued her once more. She
considered screaming and throwing the instrument through the
window. Perhaps she was trapped in a bad dream.

Lord, make it go away. Put a hedge of
protection around this house and cast this demonic phone far from
me.

The ringing didn’t stop.

She pulled off the sleep shade, hunched on
the side of the bed, and squeezed the molded plastic. “Yeah, what
is it?” she growled.

“Mom? Is that you?”

“Kristina? What do you want?”

“Whoa, is it that time of the month?”

Price silently counted to ten. “Sorry, Kit,
I’m not fully awake. What can I do for you, honey?”

“It’s not me. It’s Kath. Did that Melody
person tell you I called?”

“Yes, she said Kath is locked in her room or
something. We got in too late to call back. What’s up?”

“I don’t know why she does this. We’re just
friends.”

“Who’s just friends?”

“Me and Linc.”

“What Linc?”

“He’s a new guy that works in the admissions
office with Kath. You know, the one with the new Camaro
convertible?”

“And awesome smile?”

“Yeah, he’s a hunk all right. I fixed his
car last week, and he wanted to thank me, so he took me out to the
Rustler’s Roost last night. He’s a real nice guy, Mom. You and Pop
would like him. He’s transferring in from some college in Idaho.
His dad’s a teacher up there. He said he thought he signed up for
one of your classes and here’s the thing. He likes me just like I
am. He doesn’t seem insecure or threatened like the others. But
we’re just friends, that’s all.”

“And when you got home, Kath was in her
room, pouting?”

“Yeah. What am I supposed to do?”

“Go on to work. Kath will be okay. You’ve
been a little bit jealous like that yourself, haven’t you?”

“Not really. Usually the guys Kath goes with
are dorks.”

“Leave a note for your sister to call me
when she gets up.”

“Mom, what should I say if Linc calls and
wants to take me out again?”

“What do you usually say when a boy invites
you for a second date?”

“Don’t know. None ever has.”

“Do you want to see him again?”

“Yeah, I think so. I know it’s kind of
weird, Mom, but I really like talking to him. And I had a real fun
time. We laughed a lot, and he made me feel important.”

“Well, then, you’d better let him know
that.”

“How do I do that? Should I call him
up?”

“My advice is, don’t call him. Let him
initiate another conversation. That will be easier to explain to
Kathy.”

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll leave a note for her.
This is kind of weird, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. Seems normal to me.”

“I love you, Mom!”

“Love you too, honey. Bye.”
I love you?
from her tomboy
daughter? She wasn’t sure why she expected their children to
exhibit qualities that so eluded her. It was a long time ago when
she was eighteen. That’s what worried her.

She heard the front door open and close.
Good, Tony could answer the phone.

“Hi, guys, it’s just me,” Melody called out.
“I know it’s early, but it’s after 10:00 A.M. in Maryland, and I
figured I better try calling CMI. I’ll just use the phone in the
hall.”

Maybe Price could get a hotel room in
Seattle. She could fly to Cabo San Lucas and sleep in the sun on an
isolated beach. She could even go back home and stay with the
twins. Kit was at work. Kath pouted in her room. Even that would be
more peaceful than this.

She pulled on her robe and slippers and
padded to the kitchen. She stuffed a couple pain pills in her mouth
and swished them down with dregs of orange juice in the bottom of
the pitcher. Then she stood and stared into the soupy fog.

Melody bounded into the room wearing a
Seattle Seahawks shirt that hung to her knees. “CMI does have a
Lloyd Bennington. His secretary took my name, message and phone
number... well, your phone number, really... and said she would see
it personally gets to him. He is out of the office this week, but
he’ll be calling in. I wonder if he’s still out here. Wouldn’t that
be so cool? Oh, wow! I just had a great idea of how to open my
book. I can’t believe it. Boy, when inspiration hits, a person’s
got to write. But then, you know all about that. I love it. Don’t
you just love being a writer? Boy, you look awful, Dr. S.” Melody
scooted out of the kitchen, bare feet slapping linoleum tile
floor.

Shuffling around the small kitchen, Price
got a pot of coffee brewing, then slid the glass door open to step
onto the misty deck. The Sound shrouded in monochromatic gloom, a
fishy stench stifled the air. Through the fog, she cringed at
lapping waves and squawking seagulls. She held her ears and wished
they would both shut up.

Tony ran up the side of the deck, his voice
cutting through like a foghorn, a loud, piercing, screeching,
wailing, mind-numbing foghorn.

He pulled an orange beach towel out from
under a tarp. “Morning, babe. Boy, it’s great to see you up. Isn’t
this a perfect time of the morning? I love it. Gets the heart
pumping and the creative juices flowing, doesn’t it? This is one of
those mornings I wish I could’ve carried my laptop with me as I
ran. I kept having one idea after another.”

He wiped his hair, face and neck. “I was
down by the Navy Acoustic Lab, and this great illustration for a
concluding paragraph to chapter six came to me. It’s just what we
need. Remember how you said last night on our way home that it
ended weak, and I said it was fine the way it was? Well, I was
thinking Price just might be right this time. So I developed an
alternative. I’ll punch it in and see what you think.”

As he rubbed his chest and legs and arms,
orange fuzz from the towel left a trail. “And I figured out what to
do about that contract with Davidian. I’m going to propose that
Davidian get 10%, Liz 5%, and Adantic-Hampton 25%. That leaves us
with 60%. That sounds better, don’t you think? Of course, that’s
only the first book. If they want to do a sequel, everything is up
for renegotiation. I read somewhere that the writer should ask for
a percentage of gross revenue of the movie, not net profit. Of
course, that’s assuming they’ll pick up an option and actually make
a movie. I think I’m getting jazzed about the possibility. I just
wish Davidian wasn’t such a flaky acting guy.”

Price mentally told him to peel away the
fuzz, but the words didn’t come out.

“Say, you’ll never guess what else I thought
of. I got direction on my next western series. I’m going to call it
the End of the Line series. Each book will be located at a
different cattle town that was the end of the railroad line at that
time. I can weave in the Mastersons, Earps, Bill Hickok and all
those guys. What do you think?”

Half-open eyes peered at him through a face
full of wrinkles, but no dimples. “What I think is, I’m at the end
of my line. I’m going back to bed.”

“To bed? You’re kidding. The day’s just
starting.”

“Not for me, it isn’t.”

Tony was hard at work at his computer while
Price dozed at hers at 2:00 P.M. when Melody burst into the house
toting a large blue Icee and a big bag of Cheetos. “Lunch,” she
explained. “Hey, I had a great idea. Get your notebooks and let’s
go interview Grandma right now.”

“I thought you said she didn’t want to talk
to us,” Tony said.

“That was yesterday. She always forgets, so
I thought we’d just show up and I’ll say, ‘Grandma, here are those
people who want to talk to you about the old days.’ You jump in
with a quick question, and maybe she’ll forget all about her
tirade. What do you think?”

Tony’s brows tightened together. “I don’t
know. We can try, but if she puts up any major resistance, we’re
out of there. Our purpose isn’t to harass the local citizens.”

Price pressed the back of her hand against
her forehead. “Maybe we shouldn’t take any notes while we’re there.
We’ll jot down as much as we can back in the car. That could put
her more at ease.”

“Sure, but I don’t want her to think we’re
trying to deceive her.”

“Grandma will either talk your leg off or
scream you out of the room. But we won’t be any worse off than we
are now, I think.”

Tony and Price shut down their laptops and
headed for the bedroom.

“Hey, you guys look just fine as you are.
You always look great. I hope I can still look that sharp when I’m
your age. Want some Cheetos?”

“No, thanks,” Tony replied. “I’ll get my
keys.”

“How about you, Dr. S.? I’ve got an extra
large Icee. I’d be happy to share. You look like you could use a
lift.”

“Thanks, I already had lunch.” A delightful
repast of four Midol tablets and eight ounces of low-fat plain
yogurt.

Jessica Davenport Reynolds perched on a
plastic-covered stuffed chair, watching a soap opera. Gray-streaked
hair seemed freshly styled, or perhaps covered each night to keep
its shape. Round pearl earrings, clip style, and pearl choker
looked smart with the navy-blue dress with red-and- white
pinstripes. Her eyebrows curved down with the bridge of her nose
would have given her a stern, even menacing look, if it weren’t for
the grace of the very decided smile. She pushed the mute button on
the remote control.

“Grandma Jessie, you had your hair done,”
Melody crooned as she leaned down to kiss the powdered cheek.

“Melody, honey, are you married yet?”

Turning to Price and Tony, she whispered,
“She always asks me that. No, Grandma, not yet.”

She shook a thin, white finger. “Don’t wait
too long. It’s a big mistake to wait too long. I ought to
know.”

“Grandma Jessie, you married Grandpa when
you were

twenty.”

“I waited too long. Who are they?”

“These are the people who want to talk to
you about the old days on Fox Island.”

Melody, Price and Tony held their breaths,
hearing nothing but the ticking of the large wall clock. Jessica
glared at them both, then her features softened ever so slightly.
“I’ve seen it all.”

Melody started breathing again. Price moved
closer and held out her hand. “Mrs. Reynolds, I’m Price
Shadowbrook, and this is my husband, Tony. We’re so delighted to
get to talk to you.”

“What kind of name is Price?”

“It’s a nickname for Priscilla,” Melody
said.

“Sounds like the blue light special at
K-Mart.”

“Grandma!”

“Let’s go for a walk. This program stinks.
Heather walked out on Alex, who has spent the last six weeks
sending suggestive notes to Stephanie, who thought they were coming
from Peter, who secretly lusts after Heather ever since she got out
of jail. I can’t stand television. But it gives me something to do
while I wait for the next meal. Not that the meals are worth
waiting for, mind you.” She pointed the remote at the screen and
flipped it off. “It’s the same stupid mishmash every day.”

Price steadied Jessica’s arm as she
struggled to her feet. She clutched back with a firm grip, her skin
smoother than Price expected.

Melody shoved open the sliding glass door
that led out of the small three-room apartment. Shade from umbrella
trees splattered the patio cement and the carefully manicured box
shrub. Triple-tiered treelike shrubs marked the boundary lines of
the long line of apartment patios, all empty. TV scenes shone from
all the open curtain windows.