The Right Time (73 page)

As she sat on the sofa, Hennessy took one of the big cups of tea and added some milk and sugar. “Big question. How’s your mom?”

“You’ll see,” Townsend said. “I brought her with me.”

“You did? Her session’s not until next week.”

“I know that.” She chuckled as she opened one of the sandwiches and started to arrange everything perfectly. “It’s obvious I want to keep an eye on her, but she acted like it was common practice to show up a week early to teach a class.”

“She’s really okay?”

“I’m pretty sure. We talked to her regular doctor and the addiction medicine specialist and they both agreed she didn’t have many options for controlling her pain. It sucks,” she said, giving the last word a hearty punch. “I can’t imagine how I’d handle it if I had to gulp down a pint of vodka every day for a week.” She stopped playing with her food and gave Hennessy a look filled with pleasure. “I’m proud of her. She tapered down to two pills a day, then took her last one on Saturday. I know her wrist hurts, but she’s willing to tolerate some pain to get off the drug before it gets its claws into her again.”

“Well, I can’t wait to see her. It’s been too dang long.”

Townsend’s phone started to buzz. “It’s not even seven a.m.,” she complained. After devoting her attention to her screen for a second, she started to laugh. “Kiss my ass.” She turned the phone around for Hennessy to see.

“Just a reminder that my pillows MUST be filled with buckwheat hull.”

“What the hell?” Hennessy said, staring at the text.

“I’ve had requests—no,
demands
,” she emphasized, “for special mattresses, special pillows, special sheets, special towels… Don’t get me started on the special diets.” She slapped herself in the face. “We’ve got the usual vegetarians and vegans, which I expected, and lots of people who are gluten-free. But someone wants only raw food. I’m going to tell Loretta in the mess hall to give her what everyone else gets. Just don’t cook it.”

Hennessy poked her in the arm. “You can’t do that.”

“I sure would like to.” She took one bite of her sandwich, then got up and went into their office. “I made a spreadsheet of the demands,” she called out, then appeared a minute later, after she’d printed it off. Dropping it onto Hennessy’s lap as she sat back down, she said, “Have you ever seen anything more…what’s the word?”

“Entitled?”

“That’s a damned good one. This is like working in the hospitality industry.”

“Regrets?” Hennessy asked, already knowing the answer.

Townsend’s eyes were a little puffy, and her hair was back in a ponytail, not blown straight, which took her a few extra minutes to accomplish. It was clear she hadn’t had much sleep. But her smile was as sunny as a spring day. “Not a single one.”

“Me either. Let’s do this!”

Organizing sixty students and four instructors shouldn’t have been a tremendously difficult undertaking. But this wasn’t like taking a scout troop on a hike. These people, mostly well-off women over fifty, were used to being catered to.

Townsend was facing off with a woman who was ready to slug her with a birdcage—the empty one her Jandaya parakeet should have been in. The bird sat on the metal crosspiece of a large floor lamp, about four feet off the ground, glaring at Townsend. “Love Mommy,” it cawed—loudly. “Love Mommy.”

The woman was not nearly as attractive as her bird, who was, objectively, gorgeous. A reddish orange body, grass green wings and tail, and a sunny yellow head with vivid orange cheeks, cocked, with his black eyes boring into Townsend.

“I can see how attached Skittles is to you, Margot, but we can’t allow him in your cabin. I’m happy to find a place to board him—”

“Board him!” Margot’s cheeks were nearly as colorful as Skittle’s, but hers weren’t her natural plumage. Her anger controlled their hue. “Over my dead body! We’ve been inseparable for ten years. If he can’t stay, I’m leaving.”

The front door opened and Miranda Bartley glided in. Townsend couldn’t keep herself from smiling, despite the tension in the room. Her mother had perfected the ability to seem like a regular person, while commanding attention from all. There was something about her that said, “Yes, I’m very famous, but feel free to approach.”

“Good morning,” Miranda said, perfectly turned out in pastel resort wear. Actually, her tailored blouse was nearly the color of Skittle’s cheeks.

“Good morning, Mom,” Townsend said, having already decided to refer to her as she usually would. “Let me introduce you to Margot Keane and Skittles. Margot this is my mother, Miranda.” She didn’t feel the need to add her last name. Everyone who read much knew it.

“What a gorgeous bird,” Miranda said, sliding over to shake Margot’s hand. “Is he a parakeet?”

“He is,” Margot said. “He’s also a member of my family,” she added. “That your daughter wants to stick in a storage locker somewhere.”

“Townsend?” Miranda said, turning to give her a curious look. “That’s…puzzling.”

Townsend moved closer to her office, trying to allow for a safe room if Skittles attempted to peck her eyes out. He was only about a foot long, but his beady eyes followed her avidly. “Skittles is a lovely bird. And if you had your own cabin…” She tried to give Margot an empathetic look. “But he’s…vocal, and I can’t expect the other students to share a cabin with him.”

“Don’t you have a spare cabin?” Miranda asked, also edging away from the bird. She wasn’t a fan of any form of wildlife, even something named after candy, who referred to his owner as mommy.

“We’re fully booked,” Townsend said.

The door opened again and Hennessy appeared. As if drawn by a force field, she made a bee-line for the bird, her mouth slightly open as she drew near. “What do we have here?” she asked, her accent as thick and syrupy as it had been when she was eighteen.

“That’s Skittles,” Townsend said. “There are humans in the room, Hennessy.”

Her mouth slammed shut as Hennessy wheeled around and stared at their guests. “It’s so good to see you, Mrs. Bartley,” she said, her grin showing half of her teeth.

Miranda opened her arms, chiding, “I won’t hug you if you insist on calling me by my last name.”

“Miranda it is,” Hennessy said, bending over slightly to offer a gentle hug. She pulled away and lightly touched the cast that looked more like a torture device. “I’m so sorry you hurt yourself so badly.”

“I’ve been through worse,” she said, sloughing off the injury. “The critical issue is what to do with Skittles.” There was a definite streak of merriment to her expression. Knowing her, she was getting a charge out of watching Townsend try to placate an unreasonable person. Payback time.

Just hearing his name made Skittles call out. “Mango!” His voice was so stunningly loud the walls nearly shook. Townsend was sure her feet left the ground when he spoke or yelled or whatever it was called, and she was well sick of it.

“He’s hungry,” Margot said. “Mangoes are his favorite food. Can you get him one?”

Townsend turned to stare at her. “Oddly, I’m fresh out.”

Hennessy, probably seeing this was going downhill, stepped up to the plate. “I can run to the store and buy some. What else?”

“I have everything else,” Margot said, sniffing as she gave Townsend a withering look. “I came directly from my winter home in San Miguel de Allende and customs doesn’t allow me to bring fresh fruit in.”

“I’ll be back in a few,” Hennessy said as she went to Townsend and held out her hand. “I need your keys.”

Townsend took them from her pocket, but didn’t hand them over yet. “Feeding Skittles isn’t our biggest problem. He needs to sleep somewhere. Somewhere other than a shared cabin.”

“I’ll watch him,” she said immediately. Turning to Margot, she added, “I’m all alone in my cabin, and there are three empty bedrooms. I’d be delighted to have you both, unless you’d rather stay with your fellow students.”

“I want to stay with Skittles,” she said, turning her nose up at Townsend. “Thank you for understanding.”

“I love birds,” Hennessy said, inching back over to the parakeet. “Can I touch him?”

As she spoke, he jumped from his perch and landed on her shoulder, clearly delighting her. “He’s fantastic!”

Townsend couldn’t help but laugh when Skittles rubbed his head against Hennessy’s face, then once again made his needs known.

“MANGO!”

On Saturday night, after the last of their first class departed, Townsend hosted dinner. Mary Ann had come down from Charleston, her winter home, and the four of them sat on the porch, warmed by the infrared heater Townsend had installed near the ceiling.

Mary Ann had brought a bottle of sparkling cider and she popped the cork when Townsend brought out a cheese board.

A delighted smile lit her face, and Hennessy watched as Townsend gladly accepted a glass and Mary Ann’s compliments.

Mary Ann tilted her glass to clink against Townsend’s, then moved around the group, repeating the action. “I was a little afraid you were too young to handle this,” Mary Ann said. “And I’m so happy to see that my fears were completely unfounded.”

“She’s a natural,” Hennessy said, playfully elbowing Townsend when she leaned over to take a piece of cheese from the board. “I haven’t had a boss I’ve more enjoyed working with since I was last at camp.”

“I’d just be sitting in the office, processing refunds if it wasn’t for Hennessy,” Townsend said, clinking their glasses once again. “Every single sane camper raved about the instructors.”

“You already read the evaluations?” Hennessy asked. “When did you have time?”

“I made time. Those evaluations are what’s going to make us a success.”

Miranda chimed in. “I must say, both of you did a masterful job of keeping things running smoothly—despite having some
very
demanding students. How did Margot enjoy her week?”

“Skittles has more natural writing talent,” Townsend growled. “Margot had the nerve to complain that we weren’t therapy-pet friendly. After Hennessy put up with that bag of feathers for a whole week!”

“I liked him,” Hennessy said. “But I’ll admit I prefer birds in their natural settings, where they can’t scream in my ear. That thing had a
powerful
voice, didn’t he?”

The darned bird had really gotten under Townsend’s skin. “He’s lucky he wasn’t dinner. But I learned a lot this week. I’m sending urgent notes to everyone who’s due here tomorrow. No pets of any kind, dietary requirements must be disclosed before arrival, and no recreational drugs. Can you believe those two women? Smoking pot right in the living room!”

“They said it was prescribed,” Hennessy reminded her, laughing at Townsend’s outraged expression.

“I miss pot,” Miranda sighed, while Townsend rolled her eyes.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said with a lighthearted tone. “I mean that literally. Lusting after things you can’t have is an exercise in futility.”

Hennessy watched her as she spread some herb-encrusted cheese on a cracker. She’d gone all out for the final day of their first session. Hair just so, a little eye makeup to enhance their striking color, a blouse that brought out the pink in her cheeks. Townsend offered sage advice. Advice Hennessy damned well ought to listen to.