Significant Others (8 page)

I blushed.

“You know there’s no shame in a woman going out with a man, going to his house, living with him. In a community like this, surrounded with older residents, it’s accepted behavior. Well, not by everyone. There’s this group, Seniors Against Sin, that’s distributing these awful red flyers all around the complex. It’s disturbing. I haven’t gotten any. I guess because I’m not currently in a relationship. But some of my friends have been singled out. Everyone here knows everyone else’s business. It’s putting us all on edge.”

“Have you called the police?” I asked, wondering if I should be worried.

“No. I mean, they’d just ignore us and think we’re a bunch of crazy old fools. After all, they’re just flyers. It’s not like anyone is holding a gun to our heads. We’ve told the Homeowner’s Association about it.”

My mother came out of the kitchen carrying a tray. “Here, I cut up some nice apples, and I’ve got some cheese and crackers. Eat. What did I miss?”

“We were just talking about those Seniors Against Sin flyers.”

“Oh, yes. I got one of those taped to my door.”

“Probably because you’re seeing Max.”

“I’m not
seeing
Max,” my mother protested. “He’s just a friend.”

“And I was telling Honey about the concept of significant others,” Aunt Helene said.

“You mean like Birdie Rosen and Ben?” my mother asked.

“A perfect example,” she replied. “Just last week Birdie Rosen’s significant other, Ben, went into the hospital for open heart surgery and he never came out. When they were together, he treated her like a queen. When he went shopping for groceries, he’d buy one for him and one for her because he knew she was on a moderate income. He was not a rich man, but he was comfortable. He even paid whenever they went on dates or trips. They were going to take that Christmas cruise with their friends Max and Jean. The one Max has invited your mother to take with him. But after Ben died, where did that leave Birdie? Ben’s children were very appreciative of the fact that she had taken such good care of their father for all those years, but Birdie was still an outsider and they weren’t willing to share a penny of their inheritance with her. Since Ben never made specific provisions for Birdie in his will, she was left high and dry.”

“That’s sad,” I said.

“But around here, those are the realities of life,” Aunt Helene said.

“At least Birdie and Ben found a little bit of happiness in their final years, which is why I’m encouraging your mother to go to this dance. I don’t think I’ve seen her smile since your father died.”

“Exactly,” Mom said. “I’m in my final years, so what do I have to smile about?”

I knew what my mother meant, but I didn’t want to share my aging anxieties with her. She didn’t need the extra aggravation.

“Mother, that’s morbid and in
your
case, premature,” I argued. “You’re still young. And you’re beautiful. Why don’t you go to the dance? You can stay for a little while, and if you feel uncomfortable, Aunt Helene will take you home.”

My mother hesitated.

“Okay, I’ll go with you. I even brought a dress for just such an occasion.”

“But I have nothing to wear,” Dee Dee said, “except black.”

“Oh, well, now you sound like Cinderella,” I teased. “I think we need a shopping trip. Aunt Helene and I will be your fairy godmothers and find you something special to wear to the ball. And it’s turning cold in Atlanta. I’d like to buy you a holiday sweater. Nothing practical or classic. Something trendy and fun. We can make an afternoon of it—go to the salon, the works. You could use a nice haircut. Maybe I’ll even let Rumpelstiltskin mangle my hair.”

Aunt Helene’s hairdresser—I call him Rumpelstiltskin—has a heavy hand on the heat and his endless blow-drying has a tendency to turn my golden hair into straw. Some people go to their hairdressers for a haircut and blow-dry. Everyone went to Rumplestiltskin for his advice. The best place to go for window treatments, where to buy tile, who could build a cedar closet, the best painter, the best restaurant, the best hotel to stay on vacation—and the best gossip.

Aunt Helene lifted a few strands of hair from my head. “He can get rid of this gray, too.”

“I don’t have any gray hairs,” I objected. “They’re Arctic Blond. But I’m due for a cut. I’m always too busy to go to the salon in Atlanta. So, Mom, what do you say?”

“I say I need more than a new hairstyle and a dress. What I need is a facelift. All of my friends are getting facelifts.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky you don’t need one,” I replied, licking the hot tears from my mouth. Losing confidence was a sure sign that my mother was growing old. A facelift was the last thing she needed. Touching up my mother’s face would be like marring the Mona Lisa. Only my mother never smiled anymore. Maybe because she had no more secrets.

Chapter Five: The Silent Bullfrog

“Mom, I think we have to talk about this merger,” I said after Aunt Helene went home.

“You mean the sale,” she answered stubbornly.

“Well, that’s what we have to talk about,” I replied.

“Why don’t we go out to the pool, relax a little bit before our hair appointments,” my mother suggested. “We can talk there. Did you bring a bathing suit?”

“Yes,” I acknowledged, thinking, Who has time to swim? I was going to be gone the entire afternoon, between shopping and the salon. But this day was about my mother. “I’ll go change.”

After a restless night in a strange bed, listening to ’40s music in the background, I woke up disoriented, with big band sounds pounding in my head. No wonder my mother was on the verge of insanity. Marc was not the only one going through a midlife crisis. But Marc didn’t have to deal with an internal furnace that woke him up several times a night, never able to get comfortable enough to fall back to sleep. And Marc’s bedclothes weren’t drenched in sweat. But since I was a woman, I guessed my midlife crisis didn’t count, because I didn’t go acting out all my fantasies for the whole world to see.

I had been too tired to unpack last night, but now I started hanging my clothes in the closet. My hand paused on the frothy lime green cocktail concoction that had originally belonged to Vicky. I planned to wear it when we took my mother to The Addison. The one Marc called my “mildew” dress. Vicky had purchased it for a Holy Land Foundation Dinner at her church, but when she put it on the evening of the event, she decided it was too risqué even for her, and especially for the bishops and monsignors. But I didn’t have Vicky’s cleavage problem. When I’d tried to return it, Vicky refused to take it back.

This dress should be worn to shake things up, I thought. Marc doesn’t like me in flashy colors. But after what he did to me, I shouldn’t have to answer to him anymore. And I wasn’t going to see Marc on this trip anyway.

I squeezed into a leopard-print, figure-hugging bathing suit. Not that anyone here would be alert enough to notice my figure, but it never hurts to look your best. I put on a long black eyelet cover-up, grabbed my wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses, and a file folder, and pulled my cell phone and BlackBerry from my purse.

When I returned to the living room, my mother was staring at my manila folder.

“You’re not going to bring work out to the pool are you?”

“Well a few Faxes came in that need my attention. I have some phone calls to return, and I brought the thumbnails that the agency did on the TV campaign I want to show you.”

“Honey, why can’t we just be a mother and daughter going out to the pool for a relaxing swim? Does it always have to be business between us?”

“We’re going out there precisely to talk about the business. You have a deadline coming up in a few days. I want to make sure you’ve considered all the consequences of an outright sale.”

“I’ve already been over this with Marc, and he says that is what’s best for—”

“Marc doesn’t speak for me,” I said abruptly. “He has nothing to do with this.”

“He’s been helping me structure the deal,” my mother said.

“I don’t want him involved in my business,” I said.

“Honey, maybe there’s something else we need to talk about. Is there something going on between you and Marc that I don’t know about?”

“No, there isn’t,” I denied hotly. “Okay, I’ll leave all this stuff here, except the notes on the ad campaign. I think you’ll want to see those. Let’s go.”

We walked out the door and took the elevator to the pool in front of her building.

It was unusually warm for December, and we pulled together two matching lounge chairs. It had been too long since I’d really relaxed. I stretched and settled myself in a position to soak up the sun.

“This is nice, isn’t it, Honey?” Dee Dee smiled. It was worth taking a break from work just to see my mother smile.

“Yes,” I sighed, surprised to feel the stress and strain slowly drain out of my body. I must have dozed off, and before I did I vaguely noted my mother covering me with her towel and slipping my hat lower down on my face.

After the sun worked its magic, my inner lounge lizard decided to take a dip in the heated pool and swim a few laps. As I was about to climb up the ladder, I noticed a frog splashing about frantically in the pool. Frogs are quick to jump into a pool, but then they can’t get themselves out, and eventually they succumb to the chlorinated water before they even know they are in trouble. I guess it’s something like a lobster being slowly boiled in water that starts out cool. So I set out to rescue him. I chased him around the pool a few times. Naturally he was scared. I imagined I could hear his little frog heart beating out of cadence. Winded, I finally caught him in my cupped hands and placed him carefully on the decking.

He wasn’t a cute little green creature at all, but a big bullfrog with a yellowish-green back and brown markings. And he was staring up at me, impudently.

“Go on, hop away, now,” I urged, motioning him along.

I tapped him lightly with my forefinger, but he refused to move. Maybe he was waterlogged or stunned. He tilted his head and skewered me with his bulging black frog eyes.

“Okay, what do you want from me? A kiss? Maybe you’re so grateful I saved your life that you want to grant me three wishes?” If I did get three wishes, I knew what they’d be. That my father would come back to us. That my mother wouldn’t sell the company. That Marc would still love me.

There was no answer from the frog.

“What?” I challenged.

I climbed out of the pool and stood next to him, dripping water on the decking and onto the silent frog. He hopped back a step. I nudged him gently with my toe, and finally he turned and hopped away slowly, like he was out for his morning constitutional, without a care in the world.

I laughed. When I returned to my lounge chair, I toweled myself off.

“That was fun,” I admitted. It had been years since I felt so relaxed. I had a lot of work to do, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember what it was.

“Okay, Honey, you wanted to talk about Mr. Reddekker’s offer?”

“Mom, do you know how lucky you are that Hammond Reddekker, probably one of the richest, most successful men in this country, singled our company out? What a tribute this is to you and Daddy and what you built together.”

“With a lot of help from you and your brother,” Dee Dee acknowledged.

“Daddy had such big plans, and I have plans of my own. Imagine what Palladino Properties could become with Mr. Reddekker’s financial backing and connections,” I stated. “It would put us right on the national map.”

“I’m exactly where I want to be on the national map,” Dee Dee protested.

“What, here in Millennium Gardens?”

“What’s wrong with Millennium Gardens?”

“Well, for one thing, if you stay here, your brain will atrophy.”

“You’re wrong about that,” Dee Dee disagreed. “Do you think all we talk about are bowel movements and early-bird specials? You can’t imagine all the activities they have here for us. I’ve made a lot of friends. My sister is here.”

“And your children and grandchildren are not,” I argued.

“That’s the only drawback. Donny visits a lot”—I guess she didn’t have to say, “And you don’t”—“and I’ll be making frequent trips back to Atlanta.”

“Mom, I told you about the national TV spots I planned for Donny. Here, I have some sketches for you to look at.”

Dee Dee examined the contents of the folder and handed it back to me.

“It’s brilliant, really, Honey, but all this is not for me. I’ve had my time. I’m in a different place now. The future is for you and Donny.”

“But Mom, that’s exactly my point. If you sell, there is no future for Donny and me, or for Hannah. I think she wants to come to work for Palladino Properties after she graduates.”

“You can still work in the real estate field. Mr. Reddekker is offering me a small fortune. You and Donny will be getting part of that.”

“Mom, I know you’re not making this decision based on the money. Daddy left you well provided for. But do you think he would have wanted you to give away his company?”

“I’m not
giving
it away,” Dee Dee argued. “I think I’m making a smart business decision.”

My mother looked over at me and sighed. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you. That’s really what this is all about. That’s why you took time out of your busy schedule to come all the way down here.”

“I’m not mad,” I denied quickly, but the minute the words tumbled out of my mouth I realized they weren’t true. I was furious with my mother.

“I never thought you would do this to Daddy or to us,” I said, lifting my chin.

“I’m disappointed in you, Honey,” my mother said. “Don’t you think I know how much that company meant to your father? And I know how much it means to you. But I don’t have the capability to run the business on a national scale. I think the best way is to sell outright. Your husband agrees.”

I definitely didn’t want to hear about my husband right now, and how he was plotting with my mother behind my back to take away the one thing that meant the most to me.

Things went from bad to worse after that, when my loofah fell apart in the shower. I mean, what did that say about my ability to hold it all together? I pouted as the sponge unraveled into two long yellow mesh strands and sagged onto the white tile floor.