Much Ado About Mother (5 page)

Dymphna floated up the stairs and looked at the two newcomers.

“Hello,” she said sadly. “I guess you've come to look at the guesthouse, too.”

“Not hardly,” Blu said.

“We were actually thinking . . . ,” Cary said, but Erinn cut her off.

Dymphna might be an unemployed shepherdess but she knew about brown patches and cornmeal and she appreciated beauty.

“This is Dymphna,” Erinn said quickly. “My new tenant.”

Cary shook Dymphna's hand and didn't seem at all displeased with the turn of events, which was a relief to Erinn. Maybe the job was not lost.

“Lucky you!” Cary said.

Blu seemed completely uninterested in anything that was going on around her, and appeared ready to bolt, but Erinn wanted to seal the deal with Cary so she kept the conversation going.

“Dymphna is interested in wool. She was raising sheep until recently.”

“You were a shepherd?” Blu wrinkled her stub of a nose.

“Shepherdess, yes,” Dymphna replied. “But now I'm going to raise Angora rabbits for their fur.”

“I love Angora,” Blu said. “So . . . if you're a shepherdess when you have sheep, what are you called when you have rabbits?”

“If you were a man we could call you Warren,” Cary said, and then when no one laughed said, “Sorry.”

Blu, surprisingly, actually did seem interested in Angora wool and started peppering Dymphna with questions. Cary steered Erinn to the side of the porch. She took a quick look back at the two waifs. If it weren't for Cary, Erinn would feel like the largest woman in Santa Monica.

“Sorry the guesthouse was rented,” Erinn said. “If I had only known you were interested . . .”

Cary looked confused and then she laughed.

“The guesthouse . . . oh, no, Erinn, you misunderstood me! Blu could never live there! There isn't a lens in the world that could make that place look big enough for our purposes. Blu has to look like she's made it to the big time!”

“Well, then,” Erinn said, “I guess as soon as you find a house grand enough for Blu, we'll be all set to go.”

Cary's face fell.

“Erinn, this pilot is important. It could mean some real money for all of us if it hits. And we're all in need of a little career boost right now, so we all have to go the extra mile.”

“I understand,” Erinn said. “I'll throw in my fish-eye lens, no extra charge.”

“How do I put this?” Cary said to the air. “Erinn, Blu needs to live in YOUR house for the next few weeks.”

“My house? Why? Why can't the network buy her a house?”

“BUY her a house? Darling, we're talking cable! Anyway, we can't let the network know she's homeless! They are really sensitive to criticism that these reality shows aren't real.”

“It won't be real. This isn't her house!”

“Nobody needs to know that! Your house is gorgeous. It's perfect. It will make Blu seem like she has . . . some substance.”

“I don't think so, Cary. I'm sorry.”

“Look, whatever you made on your last job, which was a while ago if I'm not mistaken, I'll double it. I'll also throw in an extra gig up the coast at a winery near Cambria. A show called
Budding Tastes
. It will be just like Old Home Week.”

“Why will it be like Old Home Week?” Erinn asked. “I never lived in Cambria.”

“I know, darling, but you lived in Napa. You lived near wine. The shoot is this weekend, so you don't have to be here when she moves in. I'll spearhead everything on that end. You'll be doing me a huge favor.”

The shoot was a “sizzle reel” as opposed to a pilot. When Erinn had first gotten started in TV production the subtleties of the jargon perplexed her. Now she knew that it all was code for how much money the production company or network was going to put into something. A “sizzle reel” was the least expensive, followed by a pilot. In this case, Blu's pilot trumped the wine show in importance, but it was all paid employment!

But the money was a sure thing and that was enticing.

Erinn was about to say that she couldn't go this weekend, because her mother was coming into town. But having grown up in Wine Country, if not in Cambria, there probably wasn't a better producer for the show.

Maybe this weekend would be a perfect time to be away.

Let the dust settle and all that.

While Erinn silently weighed her options, Cary pulled a shingle that was hanging precariously off the side of the house, handed it to Erinn, and continued, “You really need to take care of this beautiful house and that takes cash.”

Erinn took the shingle.

CHAPTER 6

VIRGINIA

V
irginia could feel her cheeks flush as she walked Piquant through the Los Angeles International Airport. He was wearing his bright blue “Emotional Support Service Dog” vest, and in Virginia's opinion, he was not carrying it off at all. His little Chihuahua shake just added to his lack of panache. She felt ridiculous and looked around, worried that her fellow travelers would be scowling or scoffing, but this was Los Angeles, a city that prided itself on not gawking at celebrities and taking all oddities in its collective stride. Piquant sailed through the airport without a sideways glance in his blazingly blue direction.

She insisted that Suzanna meet her at the curb. Virginia was determined to establish a tone of independence. She planned on making a big show of effortlessly (a) escorting Piquant, (b) balancing his carrier, and (c) getting her own luggage off the carousel, all with the casual ease for which this city was known. The fact that she was currently only accomplishing (a) and (b) was leaving her a little anxious, since she had two very large—and overweight—bags with which to contend at the baggage claim. Looking up at the monitor to see which carousel would be depositing her luggage, she failed to notice two little hands tugging at Piquant.

“Doggy!” said the little girl as she happily twisted the Chihuahua's ears.

“Sweetie, you wouldn't like it if someone were grabbing your ears, would you? Now let go of Piquant's ears.”

The insufferably reasonable tone of the new age mother annoyed Virginia.

As the mother bent down and tried to stop her daughter from molesting Piquant, she collided with Virginia's forehead as she bent to rescue her dog. After clunking heads they looked at each other, and Virginia realized she was looking into her daughter's eyes.

“Hello, Grammy!” Suzanna said, standing up and throwing her arms around Virginia. Piquant was sandwiched between them and let out a squeak. Suzanna released her mother and patted the dog vigorously.

“So this is Piquant!” Suzanna said, scooping up Lizzy with her free hand and swirling the baby onto her hip. “I guess we both have our babies!”

“I thought you were going to meet me at the curb,” Virginia said as Suzanna started ushering the group toward the baggage area. “I know it's hard to park here.”

“I knew it wasn't going to be easy wrangling your bags and a dog. Besides, Eric let us off; he'll circle back for us.”

Virginia wondered if Suzanna and Eric thought she was getting too old to get herself to the curb but decided not to explore that in any more detail. That was an avenue she found herself traveling more and more: wondering if people thought she was too old. Clearly, all that meant was
she
was worried she was too old. Virginia consoled herself with the knowledge that she had moved to New York City by herself at an age when most people were trying to figure out if their Social Security would last through their lifetime (not that she was above wondering that herself from time to time), and here she was on an extended trip to visit her daughters, something she had planned and executed by herself.
How could anyone question her vitality?
she wondered angrily before stopping to realize no one had. She looked over at Suzanna, who appeared to be getting a little winded from carrying Lizzy.

“Lizzy can walk like a big girl, can't she?” Virginia asked, looking at Lizzy instead of Suzanna.

“Yes, Mom, Lizzy can walk like a big girl, but I don't want her connecting with all these random germs,” Suzanna said.

Suzanna continued, eyeing Piquant shivering in Virginia's arms.

“Can't Piquant walk like a big dog?” she asked.

“No, Suzanna, he can't,” said Virginia. “He's a Chihuahua . . . he cannot walk like a big dog. Are we in some sort of contest here?”

“Doggy!” Lizzy leaned toward Piquant, who reared back in Virginia's arms. Virginia patted him and kissed him on his little dome of a head. Suzanna faced forward and moved determinedly with the crowd. Virginia wondered if the tension she felt was real or if she was just out of practice being around children . . . and their overprotective mothers.

They found the baggage carousel and Suzanna stationed herself at the yawning cavern that spat out bags. As the bags started to tumble out, Suzanna made happy sounds as she pointed at each one and asked Lizzy, “What's that? What's that, Lizzy?”

“Suuuuuucaaaaaa,” Lizzy said.

“That's right!” Suzanna said, beaming at her mother. “Did you hear that, Grammy? She knows the word
suitcase!
”

“Isn't that something?” Virginia said self-consciously. “Isn't that something, Piquant?”

Suzanna looked at her mother thoughtfully.

“
Suitcase
is a very advanced word for a two-year-old.”

“No doubt!”

“What does your bag look like?” asked Suzanna, turning back toward the bags hurtling earthward.

“Bags . . . bags plural,” Virginia said. “I didn't know how long I was going to stay, so I packed for every conceivable occasion.”

Suzanna laughed. “We don't have many occasions that require more than sweats or jeans. There's a lot of baby slobber going on at our house.”

Virginia snuck a quick peek at Suzanna's lower extremities to see if she had chosen sweats or jeans for the occasion of picking up her mother, whom she had not seen in almost eight months.

“I saw that, Mom,” Suzanna said, turning away from her mother. “I saw you check out my butt. I know I've gained a little weight, but I just had a baby!”

“Dear, I was only—” Virginia saw one of her suitcases slide down the chute and changed the subject. “There's one of my suitcases now.”

“Suuuucaaaaa,” Lizzy said.

Virginia melted. She had forgotten the sheer joy of watching the evolution of a new human being. She made a mental note to cut Suzanna some slack. New motherhood was certainly not easy. Virginia remembered that when she was a brand-new mother she seemed to call her own mother on a daily basis for advice. Once, when Erinn was just born, Virginia called home in tears.

“I don't know what to do,” she had sobbed. “I just can't seem to get the baby to stop crying.”

Virginia's mother had offered her some sage advice: “Make sure she isn't hungry, tired, or wet. Then leave your dignity at the door—make faces; soft, funny sounds; blow wet kisses on her belly. Trust me, you'll distract her.”

It had been many years since Virginia had done this, but she was ready to give it another go. Lizzy was such an advanced two-year-old. Virginia looked at Piquant. Maybe she should have tried this with the dog. She watched Suzanna, baby on her hip, drag one huge suitcase and then the other off the luggage carousel. She realized that her daughter very rarely called for motherly advice. Well, she was here now and that would all change soon enough!

Each of them pulling the handle of a large suitcase, they made their way to the curb.

“Eric is driving a hybrid SUV,” Suzanna said.

“It's bright yellow. You can't miss it.”

Virginia looked down the row of cars, packed not like sardines in orderly rows, but more like panties at a Victoria's Secret sale: brightly colored shapes heaped on top of each other and sticking out at precarious angles. Virginia wondered how this could be one of the busiest airports in the world. It just seemed so disorganized. She spotted a large, yellow, truck-looking vehicle.

“I think I see him,” Virginia said and started waving.

“Mom,” Suzanna said. “That's a minivan. We have an SUV. A hybrid.”

Virginia put her arm down. Suzanna seemed very tense and judgmental, almost a throwback to her teenage years.
Well,
thought Virginia,
hormones then, hormones now.
Then she stopped herself. She knew better than to even THINK about hormones around her girls, especially Erinn. You could not even mention hormones to Erinn; they were a political hotbed.

“Men use PMS to keep women in their place,” Erinn used to pronounce, not seeming to notice the irony that she was a top-selling young Broadway playwright. No one was keeping her anyplace but on the Great White Way.

“So . . . what then?” Virginia had ventured. “We pretend it doesn't exist?”

“Yes,” Erinn said. “Exactly! No preteen hormonal crying jags, no PMS, no change-of-life histrionics. We just ignore them.”

And Erinn's words became law, which Virginia found secretly hilarious since it was Virginia's generation, not Erinn's, who had done the heavy lifting. But she was thankful that Erinn took feminism so seriously so she held her tongue. But when Virginia went through The Change, she kept her hot flashes and night sweats to herself.

Erinn is so intense; it's no wonder she never married,
Virginia thought, then felt instantly guilty for having thought it. Surely there was a man out there who was as equally sensitive to women's issues, political issues, environmental issues . . . issues in general. There was that nice younger man . . . what was his name? . . . Jude . . . yes, that was it. But that romance went nowhere. Although Virginia was very sketchy on the details of the dying embers of that romance. Erinn was not big on sharing.

She had forgotten how she had to dodge and weave with both her girls at different stages of their lives. This was going to take some getting used to again. She spotted another large yellow thing in the traffic. This one had a rack on the roof of some kind—surely this was an SUV. Was an SUV a car or a truck? It was a sports utility vehicle.

“What about that yellow vehicle over there?” Virginia pointed.

“That's another minivan.”

“Sorry, dear,” Virginia said. “I don't really interact with cars much in New York.”

Suzanna looked down the line of trucks and cars and suddenly started waving.

“There he is,” she said. “Eric! Errrriiiiiiic! Over here!”

A bright yellow vehicle (that looked exactly like the previous two bright yellow minivans) pulled smoothly to the curb. Eric got out of the car and hugged Virginia.

“Hello, mother-in-law,” he said. “We have been counting the days.”

She believed him. Eric had always been a great kid and had become a wonderful man, husband, and father. When Suzanna told her that she and Eric were getting married, Virginia couldn't believe it. She had always harbored a soft spot for Eric, having known him since he and Suzanna were both kids in Napa Valley. She'd always hoped they'd get together, but as the years dragged on without either of them making a move, even though they worked elbow to elbow at the Rollicking Bun, the dream gradually faded. But now they were making up for lost time: marriage and baby happened very quickly. Considering how uptight Suzanna seemed to be, Virginia hoped not too quickly.

Eric swung the suitcases into the back and came around to help Virginia into the front seat.

“I'm fine, Eric,” she said as she tried to leap into the passenger seat. It really was ridiculously high. “I can still take care of myself.”

“At least let me hold the dog,” he said, reaching for Piquant.

“Oh, careful; he isn't very friend—” Virginia said, then stopped herself as Piquant went pliantly to Eric. She felt the tiniest prick of jealousy but called herself on it. These were strange new waters she was wading in.

Once Suzanna had gotten Lizzy strapped into her baby seat, a complicated, new age affair that looked like it could drive the car if it were so inclined, Eric swung into traffic and they were on their way to Venice. Virginia found herself ill at ease with this new family, a family that was hers and yet wasn't. For the life of her, she couldn't think of anything to say.

“I'm sorry Erinn isn't in town, Mom,” Suzanna said, laying a consoling hand on Virginia's shoulder. “She got a job up the coast for a few days, and you know how that goes.”

Virginia didn't know the first thing about Erinn's recent line of work, just that there never seemed to be enough of it. All she knew right now was that her daughter was conveniently out of town and conveniently had rented out her guesthouse just before Virginia's arrival. Coincidence? Maybe. Maybe not. But pretty damn convenient.