Improvisation (7 page)

“In what key?” Tina asked. Jan waved her hand vaguely.

“I don’t know. Pick one,” she said. “It’s not important.”

Tina coughed as she choked on a sip of her whiskey. “Not important? Are you kidding?”

*

“Hey, Jan.” Chloe interrupted the heated discussion Jan and Tina were having about atonal music.

“What?” Jan asked, holding the pencil out of reach as Tina tried to grab it.

“I should get going. It’s getting kind of late.”

“Really?” Tina asked, sounding as surprised as Jan was when she checked her watch. She and Tina had been talking for over two hours.

“Oh, sorry,” Jan said, gathering her coat and getting up. “I didn’t realize. I need to get home to check on Dad. Well, this was fun.”

“It was,” Tina agreed, standing up and shaking her hand quickly. “We should try not to do it again sometime.”

Her tone was teasing, though, and Jan laughed as she put on her coat and said good-bye. Peter had gallantly, and annoyingly, offered to walk them to the car, and Jan expected Tina would take this opportunity to go after one of the single women in the bar. Instead, Jan watched her head straight to the elevators without a backward glance. The plan to have two neutral people there as buffers had failed, but they had managed to get through the evening with only limited insults and with no public scenes. Brooke would just have to be satisfied with small victories.

Jan was halfway across the hotel lobby when she spotted Tina curled up in an oversized leather chair, a book on her lap and a paper coffee cup on the table next to her. Jan barely recognized her—she looked so different from the slick, sexy woman of the night before. No less sexy, of course, but her beige sweater looked moth-devoured and her jeans were faded, with frayed seams along her calves and thighs. She wasn’t reading but was watching Jan walk toward her, an unreadable expression on her face.

The chairs were placed in square-shaped groupings of four. Jan sat in the one next to Tina and sighed as she nestled into its depths and felt herself relax. She had left her house to give her dad some time to himself after she’d spent the morning following him around and overreacting every time he seemed remotely confused. They were both going to need time to adjust to the situation, and she needed to learn how to help him without taking away his dignity. So she had come in search of Tina, but she wasn’t sure how to ask for help. She looked around the lobby while Tina continued to watch her in silence. The arch-ceilinged room was inlayed and adorned to the hilt. Where the ornate carpet ended, marble tiles began. A fountain with a statue of cupid decorated the center of the room, its bowl filled with large flowers.

“We have our year-end student award ceremony in one of the ballrooms upstairs,” Jan said, gesturing toward the balcony. “I’ve always loved this place. It’s a bit gaudier than my usual style, but it works here.”

Tina hesitated a moment before speaking. “We stayed here every time we came to see my dad’s parents,” she said, staring up at a chandelier. “Mom and I would sit down here, and she’d tell me stories about what the hotel was like when she used to come here when she was young.”

Jan watched Tina’s expression soften as she talked, and she wondered, briefly, what was in the coffee cup that was making her seem so open and friendly. She figured it was simply the effect of memories, drawn close to the surface by the nostalgia of the place.

“She said there were gold birdcages hanging in the arches, and each one had a colored parakeet in it. And there were bellmen who wore burgundy uniforms with gold braid and little boxy hats, and sometimes one of them would take out a parakeet and have it sing for her. And up there”—Tina pointed to the center balustrade, but Jan didn’t follow the gesture. She couldn’t take her eyes off Tina, but she could see the room transformed through the two generations of stories—“there was a glass case with a stuffed polar bear inside. I used to have dreams about that bear coming to get me, and I’d ride on his back to the Arctic.”

“And now you’re back.”

Tina returned to the present, her voice taking on an edgy quality. “Now I’m back. And I’m still waiting for that damned bear to rescue me.”

“You don’t seem surprised to see me here.”

“I figured you wouldn’t be able to resist my charms for long,” Tina said with a laugh. “Plus, I knew you’d get in touch with me sooner or later about backing out of the whole prom thing.”

“You’re right about the second one, at least,” Jan said. She might have some trouble with the first, but she would manage to resist. She had to. Life was shaky enough without adding an unsettling, temporary affair to the mix. “But it’s not why I’m here. I’ve come to offer you a place to live while you’re in town.”

Tina stared at Jan while she decided how to respond. Move in with Jan? No way. But for a very brief moment she wanted to say okay and drag Jan out the door. She could come back for her things later. “A couple days ago you sounded afraid to meet me alone in my hotel’s lobby, but now you’re asking me to move in with you? I must have been extra charming last night.”

“Not with me,” Jan said, enunciating each word clearly, as if she wanted to leave no doubt in Tina’s mind about her intentions. “And, trust me, you weren’t even moderately charming. But my dad hurt his shoulder, so he’ll be staying with me for a few weeks, at least. He said you could use his apartment. It’s only a fifteen-minute drive from your cousin’s place, so you’d have an easy commute.”

Tina felt a wave of relief at the suggestion. The prospect of searching for housing had been unpleasant, and she didn’t know what she’d have to settle for since she wasn’t signing a long-term lease. “Wow, that’d be great. I’ll pay rent, of course.”

“Well, instead of rent, I was hoping you might do a favor for me. And for my dad.”

Tina watched Jan shift in her chair, and she looked like she was chewing the inside of her lip. Tina wondered if this had something to do with her dad’s sickness Jan had mentioned the night before, when she’d shown similar signs of tension and worry. Tina leaned forward and gave Jan’s knee an awkward squeeze. “Hey, what is it? What do you need?”

Instead of reassuring Jan, Tina’s gesture seemed to upset her more. Her eyes reddened as if she was about to cry, and Tina had the sinking feeling she was about to say yes to any favor Jan asked. But only because Brooke and Andy would expect her to help, of course.

“My dad might have early onset Alzheimer’s. His symptoms are still slight, and very manageable, but his doctor made a few suggestions about keeping his mind active. He said things like looking at pictures or listening to familiar music would help keep his memories intact longer.”

Tina let her hand rest gently on Jan’s knee again. Jan would have to watch her father slowly forget the life they’d shared. Tina remembered the deep loneliness she’d felt after losing her mother. But she had never doubted that her mom remembered and cherished their time together.

“How can I help?” Tina asked.
I’ll do anything
, she meant. This time, she didn’t even try to pretend she was only helping the friend of a friend. Still, it was only common decency, and hardly personal, to feel compassion for someone in Jan’s situation.

Jan sniffed and rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes. “I’ve seen some of the sites you’ve created, for your quartet and for Brooke’s catering business, and I admire the way you blend images and music. Dad has tons of pictures and old records in the apartment. I thought maybe you could make a slide show on a DVD with some of his favorite songs, or something like that.”

“Smart idea. Combining visual and auditory triggers ought to help his memory,” Tina said, her mind racing ahead of the conversation and into the planning phase of the project and how she would connect the images. Not simply chronologically, she decided, but she’d have to find unique thematic threads, so the slide show would be more interesting. And therefore more memorable. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” Jan said. Tina saw some of the tension in Jan’s jaw release as she smiled with apparent relief. Tina understood all too well what it was like to be alone and caring for an ill parent. She would help Jan in this small way, but she’d be glad not to have a share in any future responsibility. She wasn’t going to play caretaker again for anyone, sick or healthy.

Jan held out a printed sheet of paper and a single key on a blue-and-red Gonzaga key chain. “Here are directions to the apartment. I already cleared out some space in the closet and the top drawers of Dad’s dresser for you. I have parent-teacher conferences the first part of the week, so I’ll give you a chance to get settled. Maybe I could come over Thursday evening and show you the photos?”

Apparently Jan had assumed she’d say yes. Tina felt her breath constrict slightly as if a chain were being tightened around her. She recognized her typical response to a new, unwanted obligation. She took a deep breath and let the sensation pass before she reached out and accepted the apartment key. “I’ll be there,” she said.

*

Tina checked out of the Davenport Monday morning and drove the now-familiar route to Peter’s nursery. She hated to leave the huge bed with its pillowy mattress and spotless white linens, the amazing shower, the memories of her parents. She shouldn’t have shared so much personal information with Jan, but she hadn’t been able to stop the words from flowing out. She had been in the lobby, while her mocha grew cold and her book sat unread, missing her parents and fiddling absently with the gold brooch she had pinned on her sweater. Bought for her in the hotel’s gift shop by her mom, it was shaped like a treble clef and had a small ruby set in the curl. It had seemed impossibly grown-up and fancy to a child of eight, and Tina had treasured the gift. Even more as she grew older, since her dad had died shortly after what was to be their last trip to Spokane. For a moment, the Davenport of her mother’s childhood had seemed more tangible than the present-day hotel, and she could see the bellmen and birdcages, hear the twittering song of the parakeets. When Jan had sat beside her, the old stories had simply needed to be shared.

Jan. Bearing the good news of a practically free apartment for the summer. Tina should feel relieved—at least her credit cards were—but she was wary, instead. She had been noncommittal about the three-month sojourn in Spokane. She’d told everyone she would stay, but she had always kept the possibility of an escape in her mind. Having her housing dilemma settled so easily only helped cement her presence in this place. And now, instead of one unpleasant personal obligation, she had two. She had quit a well-paying job in a design firm to work freelance mainly because she disliked taking orders from a boss. How much worse to work for a family she barely acknowledged and an uptight schoolteacher who seemed edgy around her, as if Tina might jump her bones at any moment. As if. She made it a point of personal principle to avoid overly responsible, settled women like Jan, especially ones with uncertain and stressful futures as caretakers. Jan might be sexy as hell, and Tina might be tempted to hone in on the tension Jan carried in her shoulders and lips—smoothing Jan’s worries away with her touch and her kiss—but she wouldn’t let any physical attraction overcome common sense.

She’d share her talent as an artist with these two clients because she had promised to do so. But she’d keep her heart and soul well away from them both.

Tina parked in the nursery lot. She’d get her meeting with Peter over with before she’d settle in the apartment. The neighborhood seemed safe enough, but she carried her fiddle case with her. She didn’t care if someone stole all her clothes, but she didn’t want to risk losing her instrument. She warily watched for any sign of her grandmother and made it to Peter’s office without seeing her.

“She’s not here today,” Peter said from the doorway of his shed. He must have noticed her glancing furtively around the lot.

“Who’s not here?” Tina asked, keeping her tone neutral even though the feelings Francine inspired were anything but.

“You know, she hardly ever comes to the shop unless she needs something for her garden. She stayed all day last week because she knew you were arriving.”

“Oh, goody. How kind of her to make a special trip just for the chance to criticize me.”

“That’s not…” Peter made a gesture of surrender and dropped the subject. Tina decided her glare must have been particularly effective. She’d have to remember that particular scowl for the next time he brought up a subject she didn’t like.

“Your violin will be safe here,” he said after he cleared space on a shelf and gave it a quick dust. Tina carefully set her fiddle down, pushing away the recognition his nonchalant action stirred in her. Only another musician would take it for granted she didn’t want to leave her instrument alone in the car.

“So you’re moving into Jan’s father’s apartment today?” he asked as they settled at the small desk. He had brought a second chair into the cramped toolshed. “Don’t snarl at me. Jan told Chloe this morning, and she told me when I met her for lunch.”

“
That
grapevine didn’t take long to grow,” Tina muttered. Great. Now the chain was complete. She wouldn’t be able to make a move in this town without her entire network knowing. She took a folder out of her backpack and thumped it on the desk. “Do you mind if we spend more time on work and less on gossip?”

“Mentioning your name in a conversation is
not
gossip.”

“Was I there to defend myself? Didn’t think so. Now look at these color swatches before I stuff them up your nose.”

“Ouch,” Peter said, scooting his chair a few inches away from hers. He held his hands in front of his face as if to ward her off, but Tina could still see the humor in his eyes. “I remember you did that to Lindsay. I never could play with those toy soldiers again after knowing where they’d been.”

Tina tried to keep from joining his laughter, but she finally gave in. His brat of a little sister had had it coming, but none of the adults had agreed. “Too bad she’s in Chicago. I’d have liked to see her again.”