Looking for Me

  “When we talked about our families, he said he had a brother but that he was a lazy scapegrace.” Olivia laughed. “Isn’t that a great word? So after Martin left, I looked it up—it means a reckless scoundrel.”

  “Maybe he reads a thesaurus every night before going to bed.”

  “All I know is that I loved every minute I spent with him. I even loved his socks.”

  I nearly choked on a piece of tomato. “You loved his socks? Oh, man, you’ve got it bad.”

  Olivia grinned and sliced into the bread. “Really nice argyle. I don’t know why, but they just seemed sexy. I think they were cashmere. I have to admit I’ve been having fantasies ever since he left.”

  “So when’s your date?”

  “He’s coming into town for business next Friday. We’ll have dinner Saturday evening. So I have a question,” she said, lifting her arms and tightening the band around her ponytail. “Can you take an hour or two off work tomorrow and help me find a new dress?”

  I blotted my lips with my napkin and shook my head. “I can’t. I’m jammed until Monday. What about Tuesday, would that work?”

  “Sure. What time?”

  “Let’s go first thing in the morning when the stores open. Inez won’t mind watching the shop, and if you don’t find something right away, you’ll have several more days to look.”

  We chattered as we finished our salads and then moved to the two wicker chaise lounges under the oak tree. Eddie, who was happily gnawing the fuzz off a tennis ball, got up and trotted to the flower garden. Out from her hiding place beneath an azalea came his new friend. She rubbed against his legs, and they sniffed noses.

  “Look at that beautiful feline,” Olivia said. “Where did she come from?”

  “She belongs to the people who moved in next door. Her name is Dee-Dee. Eddie adores her. She comes into the garden and waits for him. They’re so cute together.”

  Eddie trotted toward us with Dee-Dee by his side. She was a tiny, green-eyed girl, with a pure white coat and a fluffy tail. I bent over and scooped her up in my arms.

  “She’s gorgeous,” Olivia said, smoothing her hand over Dee-Dee’s head. “Makes the cat in the Fancy Feast commercial look like a flea-bitten slut!”

  I flopped back against the cushion and howled. “Olivia, the things you say! You know what I’ll do when I buy a house? Go to a shelter and adopt a kitty from death row. I might even get two.”

  Olivia kicked off her shoes. “Why not adopt one now?”

  “I can’t. My lease specifically states only one animal.”

  “All the more reason to start house hunting.”

  “Soon,” I said, scratching Dee-Dee’s back.

  At ten o’clock the phone rang. The dishes had been washed and put away, Olivia had gone home, and I was so comfortable reading out on the porch that I had half a mind to let the answering machine get it. But on the third ring, I got up and walked into the kitchen.

  “Hello.”

  “Teddi, it’s Gabe.”

  I smiled and leaned my hip against the counter. “Hey, how are you?”

  “Good, real good. Sally and I have had several long talks about your idea, and I talked with my parents, too.” There came a long pause, and then he lowered his voice. “Teddi, you’re . . . you’re really serious about this? I mean one hundred percent serious and won’t regret it later?”

  “Yes, Gabe. I’m serious. So have you made a decision?”

  I was certain I heard an emotional crack in his voice when he said, “Then the answer is yes.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll have my attorney draw up the papers.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Inez walked past my office in a cloud of spicy perfume and called out, “Olivia’s on line one.”

  I picked up the phone. “Hey. What’s up?”

  “What’s up? Every hair on my head. You won’t believe who arrived at my door.”

  “An IRS agent?”

  “Worse. Much, much worse. My mother. She’s in the kitchen right now, so if I change the subject, that means she came back upstairs. She was in Myrtle Beach for a golf tournament and decided to stop and see me on her way back to Jacksonville. She didn’t even call to see if it was convenient. For the past hour, she’s been complaining about how much her body aches, how life is so unfair, yadda, yadda. I’m tired of her ‘Oh, woe is me song,’ like she’s the only one who’s ever been served a shit sandwich.”

  Olivia spewed fire about her mother while I sat at my desk and doodled on a scratch pad.

  “And I blew it but good. I mentioned I had a date and that you and I were going shopping tomorrow to look for a dress. Well, she belly-flopped right in and invited herself to go with us.”

  “Why did you tell her?”

  “Because I’m stupid. The last time we shopped together was for my wedding dress, and look where that got me.”

  I leaned back in my chair and laughed. “Don’t be so hard on her. I like your mother. I think she’s funny.”

  “Yeah, funny as a root canal. Teddi, no matter what happens, please don’t cancel out on me . . .”

  At ten-thirty on Tuesday morning, I flung open the door of Sylvia’s Dress Shop, glad for the cold blast of air-conditioning. Though Sylvia was busy with other customers, she waved to me and said, “They’re in the back.”

  I found Olivia’s mother sitting in an overstuffed chair across from the dressing room. Her too-much-time-spent-on-the-golf-course skin was darker than I remembered, and her bleached hair was teased and lacquered into a genuine sixties French twist. But it was her jacket that gave me pause—dizzying zigzag stripes in hot pink and yellow splashed with sequins. Liberace came to mind.

  As I strolled into view, Olivia’s mother sang out, “Here she is!”

  “Hello, Lorna. You’re looking bright this morning.” I bent down and kissed her rouged cheek.

  “What do you think of my jacket? I found in a bargain-basement sale for eight dollars. Isn’t it something?”

  I winked. “Yes, it surely is.”

  Just then Olivia padded out of the dressing room wearing a frown and a remarkably unflattering lime green dress with a plunging neckline.

  Lorna’s eyes shone with approval. “You look like a movie star.”

  “No, Mother,” Olivia said evenly. “I look like I’ve crammed grapefruits into a teacup. This dress belongs on a drag queen.”

  “Drag queen? Why do you always bring up Eric?”

  “What? You’re the one who mentioned his name!”

  Lorna gave her an exasperated look. “You said drag queen. Same difference.”

  “Please don’t ruin this day.”

  “I’m not. But—”

  I stepped between them and opened my arms like a referee. “Hey, you two. Let’s play nice.”

  “Olivia, if you don’t like the dress, take it off. What about that one?” Lorna pointed to a lace dress on a mannequin. “It’s pretty, don’t you think, Teddi?”

  I shook my head. “It looks like a giant doily.”

  Lorna raised her eyebrows, but before she could protest, I pulled a pale peach sheath dress from the rack and held it up. “What about this, Olivia?”

  “That’s too plain,” Lorna said with a dismissive groan.

  “I like it, Mother. It’s classic.” Olivia tossed the dress over her shoulder and disappeared behind the velvet curtain.

  Lorna looked at me and sighed. “How did I raise a daughter to have no taste? That green dress was perfect.”

  I patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. She’ll find something wonderful.”

  Lorna lowered her voice and motioned for me to lean close. “Why is she so obsessed with Eric? What’s done is done.”

  “She’s not obsessed,” I whispered. “She’s hurt. There’s a big difference. And to be honest, you brought him up.??
? It was time to change the subject, and fast. I stood and rested my hand on the back of the chair. “Olivia says you’re heading home to Jacksonville this afternoon.”

  “Yes. I wish I could stay longer, but the painters are coming Thursday. I’m having my bedroom painted purple.”

  “I love that about you, Lorna. You’re so courageous with color.”

  She beamed up at me, her brown eyes framed in electric blue liner. “Olivia thinks I’m garish, but color makes me happy.”

  The dressing-room curtain flipped open, and Olivia stepped out.

  “Wow. Look at you,” I said. “That color is beautiful.”

  The dress skimmed her body in all the right places, and there was something about the shimmer of the peach silk that brought her blue eyes to life.

  Lorna dug around in her handbag and popped a mint into her mouth. “The color is pretty, but you need something more stylish. That dress makes you look like hired help.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out and giving Lorna’s arm a pinch.

  Olivia stepped to the three-way mirror. “I would never have picked this dress from a hanger, but I love it,” she said, turning from side to side. “Does it make my hips look big—I mean, bigger than they already are?”

  “Yes,” Lorna said too quickly.

  “No,” I said too loudly.

  Ignoring her mother, Olivia looked down at her bare feet. “Teddi, what would I wear for shoes?”

  “Strappy sandals with a medium heel.”

  Lorna’s shoulders collapsed in defeat. “Well, I can see that my opinion doesn’t count. If that’s the one you really want, at least let me buy it for you.” Reaching into her handbag, she pulled out a rhinestone-studded wallet. “How much is it?” she asked, riffling through her cash.

  “Three hundred,” Olivia said.

  Lorna looked from Olivia to me and then back at Olivia. Snapping her wallet closed, she dropped it into her handbag. “Forget it. I’ll buy the shoes.”

  On Saturday I closed up the shop and walked home through a haze of sweltering heat. The air burned my nose, and the sky was as yellow as sulfur. After cranking down the air-conditioning, I slipped into the lightest cotton nightgown I owned and tuned the radio to a classical station. With a pad of graph paper and a box of colored pencils, I sat at the kitchen table and began sketching a layout for a chest I’d been commissioned to paint. My customer wanted it to look as though a paisley scarf were draped across the top with its fringed ends hanging over the edge. It would be the most difficult trompe l’oeil I’d ever tackled.

  Eddie was sprawled out on the floor beneath the table, lulled into a deep sleep by the music. While I sketched the front of the chest to half-inch scale, the doorbell chimed. I ignored it and continued working.

  It chimed again.

  “Go away,” I mumbled.

  After two more chimes, Eddie let out a sleepy, unenthusiastic bark. I shoved back the chair, went downstairs, and squinted through the peephole.

  “Wow” I said, opening the door. “How fabulous are you!”

  Olivia gave me a wilted look. “Remember that old saying ‘All dressed up and no place to go’? Well, that’s me.”

  “What happened?”

  She stepped inside. “Right when I was putting on my pearls, Martin called. He’s sick. I guess it’s the flu.” Olivia looked at my nightgown. “Did I get you out of bed?”

  “No, I just wanted to be cool.” I latched the door and motioned to the stairs. “C’mon up.”

  She scratched Eddie’s ears and then plunked down at the kitchen table. “And what really ticks me off is this is the best my hair has ever looked.”

  I poured her a glass of iced tea and sat down. “I’m sure he’s just as disappointed as you. It must be awful being sick in a hotel. Where’s he staying?”

  “I didn’t think to ask.” Olivia turned toward the radio and frowned. “What the hell are you listening to, Hopelessness in C Major? This music makes me want to slit my wrists.”

  I picked up a pencil and bopped her on the head. “It’s the Adagietto from Mahler’s Fifth Symphony. It’s beautiful.”

  Olivia took a long drink of iced tea, and as she set down her glass, I saw her eyes shift to the large manila envelope sitting on the shelf directly across from the sink. The label, GANNON RAWLINGS—ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, was clearly visible.

  Unashamedly nosy, or curious, as she liked to say, Olivia didn’t think twice about asking, “Is that something serious?”

  “As a matter of fact, it is. When I was up home in the spring, I met a young man named Gabe Tucker. He’s a naturalist who’s dedicated his life to animal and avian rescue. He reminded me so much of Josh that it was almost eerie. Anyway, it’s a long story, but I gave him the remaining acreage of the farm, which includes the house and the barn.”

  Olivia looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “You gave him the farm. Why?”

  “Because I liked him, and I knew he’d do something positive with it. Gabe’s fiancée is a veterinarian, and they’re—”

  “Teddi, have you lost your mind? Why would you up and give away something you could have sold?”

  “I know what I’m doing and I feel real good about it, so don’t beat me up.” I gave her a warning look when I added, “I mean it, Olivia. I’m happy, so leave it alone. Okay?”

  Though a storm of questions formed in her eyes, she didn’t push for anything more. Glancing down at my drawing, she scrunched up her nose. “Do you ever not work?”

  “This isn’t work. It’s fun.”

  “Well, I’ll go in a few minutes so you can get back to your work, fun, or whatever it is.”

  “C’mon, Olivia, don’t be such a cranky-pants.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m really disappointed about tonight.”

  I looked at her beautiful new dress, her chestnut hair pulled up in a fashionable knot, and her perfect manicure. Gathering my pencils, I put them back into the box and closed the lid. “Don’t go anywhere, and for Pete’s sake don’t slit your wrists. I’ll be right back.”

  The moment I entered my bedroom, I heard Olivia change the radio station. I stripped off my nightgown and took a white eyelet sundress from the closet. With a tug and a shimmy, I smoothed it over my hips and slipped my feet into a pair of heels. After brushing my hair and pulling it into a ponytail, I put on earrings and touched up my blush. A spritz of cologne finished me off, and in less than five minutes I returned to the kitchen.

  Olivia looked stunned. “What are you doing?”

  “We’re going out for dinner.”

  She pressed her lips together and squinted at me. “You’re the best, do you know that?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said with a wave of my hand. “You say that to everyone when you get your way.”

  She laughed and rose from the chair. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Fine cuisine is in order. I vote for McCrady’s.”

  “Do you think they’ll seat us without reservations? Maybe we should call.”

  I grabbed my handbag and car keys. “We’ll flash the maître d’ our best smiles and hope for the best. C’mon, I’ll drive.”

  A tangerine sunset bled through the sky as I maneuvered through traffic. When I turned on Bay Street, I slowed while passing a grand three-story mansion. Its stucco walls were painted tropical pink, and its candlelit piazza was filled with the seersucker-and-linen crowd, no doubt all of them born-and-bred Charlestonians. I imagined the tinkling of crystal goblets, silver trays filled with artfully arranged hors d’oeuvres, and the air scented with a mélange of expensive perfumes and fine cigars. A sudden longing to be back in Kentucky washed over me—to be sitting on the warped old porch with my family, drinking lemonade from those silly Rocky and Bullwinkle glasses that Grammy collected when I was a little girl—to hear the song of my family’s collective la
ughter move through the evening air.

  Olivia broke into my moment of nostalgia when she pointed out the windshield and said, “There’s one. It’s probably the best we’ll find.”

  The memory of my family faded away as I squeezed my car into the small space and cut the engine. “I hope they can seat us, I’m starved.”

  We hadn’t walked a block, and already I was starting to perspire, and by the time we stepped inside McCrady’s, the hair at my temples was wet. Though the maître d’ raised an eyebrow when we declared our lack of a reservation, he ran his finger down the seating list and glanced at his watch. “Yes, I have a table. Please, right this way.”

  I gestured for Olivia to go first and followed behind. The aroma of sizzling shrimp filtered through the air as he led us toward the back of the restaurant. Just as we maneuvered around a waiter, Olivia stopped so abruptly that I bumped into her, nearly knocking her into a table. She caught her balance, turned, and grabbed my arm. From the look on her face, I couldn’t tell if she was angry or frightened. Without saying a word, she yanked me through the restaurant and out the front door.

  “Olivia, what are you doing?”

  She released my arm and set off walking in the opposite direction of my car. I trotted to catch up with her. “Hey, what in the world is going on?”

  Coming to a sudden stop, Olivia turned and looked at me. A bead of sweat dripped along the side of her face. “You know what I am? A cliché—a forty-year-old fool who splurged on a silk dress, a manicure, and a pedicure, and all for nothing.”

  “I’m not following you. Just tell me, what happened?”

  She set off walking again, her heels clicking angrily on the hot sidewalk. “Sick, my fat ass. Martin—that no-good bastard. He’s in McCrady’s with a gorgeous brunette!”

  “No.”

  “Yes! And she’s probably half my age.”

  I took hold of her wrist and forced her to slow down. “Now, wait a minute. Are you sure—do you have your contacts in?”

  Stopping to face me, she flicked a tear from her cheek and nodded.