Best Staged Plans Page 18

  “That’s the good news?”

  I put the coffeepot back. “I’m warming up to it. I think we should have a frozen signature drink, too. Maybe chocolate frozen yogurt and peppermint schnapps. We could call it Chocolate Chill.”

  Josh’s pants pocket started to play “Stairway to Heaven.” He pretended not to notice.

  I raised my eyebrows. The tinny music stopped.

  Josh stood up. “Sounds good. Okay, well, let me know if you need anything. I’ll be . . . around.”

  I took a deep breath. “I can have the first-floor rooms completely staged by the end of the week. As soon as the paint dries, I think we need to start filling them. Nothing says success like a hotel full of guests.”

  “Whoa,” Josh said. “I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves here. Unless you’re planning to move in and run the place yourself.”

  “Better than that,” I said. “I found the perfect manager. Extensive bed-and-breakfast and inn experience, both as a manager and a former owner. Charming, reliable, detail-oriented. Up-to-date computer, reservations, and bookkeeping skills, cooking skills, the whole package. And, if we play our cards right, I think we can get her to move right into that efficiency next to the kitchen. We order her a computer and reconnect the phone lines, and we’ll be up and running.”

  Josh tilted his head. “What’s she looking for in terms of salary?”

  “I don’t have a figure,” I said, “but essentially she’ll be working round the clock, so she’s not going to come cheap.”

  “I’m not going to pay her a cent over—”

  And he named a figure that was double what I’d been thinking.

  “Fine,” I said. “But she’ll need health care and a 401K. Matching.”

  Josh pursed his lips together and shook his head. “No way. It has to be contract. If she’s still here and I haven’t sold in six months, we’ll talk.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “She has to have health care. It’s nonnegotiable. Period.”

  Josh drained the rest of his coffee. “Done. Anything else?”

  I gave him my most intimidating stare. “Yeah, her name is Naomi Hall, and if you hit on her, or so much as look at her cross-eyed, you and Denise and Melissa and her husband and I are going to have a nice long conversation, Mr. Stairway to Heaven. Got it?”

  If he didn’t gulp, he wanted to. “Got it,” he said.

  My eyes didn’t tear up until he walked away and relief washed over me like a wave.

  There are times when it makes sense to look at the big picture, and other times when you just have to look at one temporarily homeless woman at a time.

  BEFORE I WENT BACK into the beauty school, I sat in the car and made some calls. I didn’t want to keep Naomi waiting, but I just had to tell my family how much I loved them.

  I dug my cell out of my shoulder bag and called the landline at home. It rang four times and went to voice mail. “I love you guys,” I said after the beep. “I miss you and wish I were there with you. Whatever is or isn’t happening with the house, I hope you’re all having fun and just, I don’t know, really appreciating each other. You know, having pizza and playing board games and all that good stuff. Anyway, call me when you get this.”

  I tried Greg’s cell phone next. It went right to voice mail. “Hey, babe,” I said. “Just want you to know I love you. I hope things are going well with the house, but even if they’re not, I love you anyway. Call me when you get this, okay? I have so much to tell you. Did I say that I love you?”

  I called Luke next. “Hey, sweetie,” I said to his voice mail. “I love you. And I want you to know whatever you need from Dad and me, we’re just totally there to support you. And I hope things are going well with your job and your girlfriend, and well, everything, but even if they’re not, I mean, that’s okay, you have plenty of time. Call me when you get this, okay?”

  “Hi, honey,” I said to Shannon’s voice mail. “Hope your training is going well, and don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Chance. Well, I won’t do everything, but I’ll definitely meet him halfway. And even though it would be great if you can get Dad and Luke moving, it’s not the end of the world if you don’t. Have some fun with them, okay? I love you. Call me when you get this, okay, honey?”

  I sat for a minute, just drinking it in, feeling the love for my family coursing through every ounce of my being. I wondered if Naomi had ever taken the time to count her blessings, to appreciate her husband and her kids and her life before it all fell apart. The world was such a terrifyingly fragile place.

  “I guess we’ve just got to appreciate the good parts while they last,” I said to the GPS before I unplugged her. “And I want you to know that I was pretty sure Naomi wasn’t going to take you, but if she did, the two of you would have had a nice life together.”

  Lucky I’d threatened Josh, because Naomi sure, as they say, cleaned up good. Her chin-length hair was as shiny as a newly stained mahogany floor, and when she turned her head, the highlights sparkled like a fresh coat of high-gloss polyurethane. As soon as we hit CVS for some makeup, she’d be good to go.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off herself in the salon mirror.

  I paid and tipped, and we headed for the car.

  “I swear I’ll find a way to pay you back every cent,” Naomi said.

  “Damn right you will,” I said. “The first paycheck is all yours, but after that, we’ll set up a payment plan.”

  She stopped, one hand on the handle of the rental car. Her pretty green eyes filled with tears. “It might take me a while to find a job,” she whispered. “I’m a little bit rusty.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “You start today.”

  I went over the details on the way back to the hotel.

  “The weird thing is,” Naomi said, “I actually think I can do this. And I’m okay with bartering it for a place to stay.”

  “Oh, puh-lease,” I said. I told her the amount Josh had agreed to pay her.

  “Dollars?” she said.

  “Thousands,” I said.

  “Seriously?” she said.

  “Seriously,” I said.

  Naomi closed her eyes. “OMG,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER 33

  I COULDN’T BELIEVE Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport let you park for the first half hour for free.

  I reached over and grabbed my ticket from the machine. “Do you hear that, Logan Airport?” I yelled as my window rolled up again. “The world is not all about making a buck. A kind gesture goes a long way.”

  The GPS crackled awake. “Continue point eight miles, then turn left onto Airport Road.”

  “Nice try,” I said, “but we’re just about to park.”

  Denise was already waiting in the North baggage terminal when I got there.

  “Take your time, why don’t you,” she said when she saw me.

  I shrugged. “So, next time call a taxi.”

  We gave each other a quick hug.

  “How’re you doing?” we both said at once.

  “Owe me a Coke,” we said as fast as we could.

  “Tie,” we said together.

  “Two, two, two mints in one,” I said.

  “I wish we’d gotten to do one of those old Doublemint commercials,” Denise said. “We would have been brilliant.”

  “You look great,” I said. I started rolling her carry-on toward the exit. “Did you check anything?”

  Denise reached in her bag for her iPhone. “Nope. You know me: travel light, lighten up, don’t be a lightweight.”

  Denise really did look fantastic. Great jeans, kick-ass boots, fresh blond highlights in her hair, and not a hint of regrowth at the roots. Her skin glowed like she was in love, possibly the result of a good chemical peel. She’d deny it, but she’d probably been prepping all week. I’d pretend I believed she’d just rolled out of Boston looking this good. That’s what friends did for each other.

  I had an odd urge to introduce her to the GPS when
we got in the rental car, but I restrained myself.

  “So,” I said. “Have you talked to him?”

  Denise put one hand behind her head and struck a glamour-puss pose. “Yes. I. Have.”

  “And?” I turned in my seat so I could back out of the parking spot without taking anyone out.

  “And he lusts me, he really lusts me.”

  “Great,” I said.

  “Recalculating,” the GPS said.

  “You’re not the one I’m worried about, honey,” I said.

  “What?” Denise said.

  “Never mind,” I said.

  I slid my ticket into the machine. “Do you believe you don’t have to pay for the first half hour here? It totally makes me want to move to Atlanta.”

  “It’s still my turn,” Denise said. “Okay, so our conversation went really well. Actually, I think Josh has been having some of the same feelings, and I’m okay with being the first to say it. I mean, I can understand that being in a committed relationship with me might be a little bit intimidating for him. I mean, I’m—”

  “Older?” I said.

  “Thanks. Anyway, we had such a great talk that I almost told him I was heading to Atlanta, but then I decided it would be more romantic if I surprised him.”

  We merged onto the highway. “The thing about surprises,” I said, “is that you don’t always get to pick the surprise.”

  Denise turned to look at me. “Did you really just say that?”

  “In one mile, take ramp on right onto Interstate 85 North,” the GPS said belatedly.

  “Did she really just say that?” I said.

  “Who?” Denise said.

  “Hel-lo, we’re already on 85. Listen,” I said. “Josh is a cheater. It’s all over him. I mean, what is he even doing in Atlanta?”

  “Helping my best friend with the hotel?” Denise said.

  “Not so I’ve noticed.” I put on my blinker and managed to squeeze through the gridlock and over to a potentially faster lane.

  Denise pitched her head forward and started fluffing her hair. “Okay, so he’s not that helpful. Whatever.”

  “Denise, I’m ninety-nine percent positive he’s here screwing around with his married college friend.”

  When Denise flipped her head back, her hair had tripled in volume. “I told you, that’s just Melissa. Men and women really can just be friends, you know. We’ve evolved a lot as a species since When Harry Met Sally.”

  “We’re not talking about men and women,” I said. “We’re talking about Josh.”

  Denise didn’t say anything.

  The car in front of us was covered in about six inches of pollen. Just looking at it made me want to sneeze. I wondered if the bees even bothered pollinating flowers in the South, or if they just sat back and said whatever. I mean, how could it miss?

  “When I’m talking to him,” I said, “his phone keeps ringing ‘Stairway to Heaven’ and he doesn’t answer it.”

  “Big deal.” Denise opened a bottle of water and took a long sip. “So it’s her ring. Once they played it for twelve hours straight in college. That doesn’t mean a thing.”

  “Reverse direction at the earliest opportunity,” the GPS said.

  “Good advice,” I said. “Let’s see if she takes it.”

  We drove for a while in silence.

  “Shit,” Denise said finally. “I did it again, didn’t I?”

  I exhaled. “I think so.”

  “But I wanna know-oh for sure,” Denise sang.

  “Don’t worry, wild thing,” I said. “We’ll catch him—”

  “And then we’ll shoot him,” Denise said.

  “They’ll never find us in Paris,” I said.

  BY THE TIME Chance pulled into the driveway, we were working on our second blender of Truwhip-topped brandied mint coolers, and Denise was just adding a big dollop of Truwhip to the strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries we’d layered in wineglasses.

  “Genius,” Denise said. “Who knew Truwhip was so versatile.” She took a long sip of her drink. “Who even knew what Truwhip was.”

  “I know,” I said. “It’s the perfect counterpoint to whatever you’re assembling. Hey, did I tell you yet that I did your penance?”

  “Huh?”

  “You know, do three nice things and give away a pair of reading glasses?” I took a sip of my drink. “Did you ever stop to think what it would be like to try to get through the day without your readers?”

  Denise sat down at the table and gave me her lawyerly look. “Not having reading glasses is the biggest obstacle to disadvantaged people over forty reentering the workplace.”

  I shook my head. “How did I not know that?”

  We heard the sound of a BMW SUV pulling into the driveway, and I dashed out to the garage to bury the assembled dinner evidence in the trash.

  I made it to the door just in time to open it for Chance. “Hi, honey, you’re home,” I said sweetly.

  Denise turned and struck a pose in the apron.

  “Oh, boy,” Chance said.

  “Double trouble,” Denise said.

  “You remember Denise from the wedding,” I said.

  “Of course he does,” Denise said.

  I smiled my most persuasive smile. “You don’t mind if she stays for a night or two, do you, son?”

  My son-in-law stretched his mouth into a smile. “No, mo’am,” he said.

  Denise poured Chance a brandied mint cooler and topped it with an extra-large spoonful of Truwhip.

  I pulled his chair out at the table. “Sit,” I said. “We’ve been cooking for you for hours.”

  I finished assembling dinner while they chatted. I’d swung into Trader Joe’s on the way home and picked up frozen grilled zucchini and eggplant, jarred bruschetta, shredded cheese, and a premade pizza shell. The whole meal will totally pass for homemade if you simply distress the edges of the pizza shell the way you might a mass-produced coffee table. Just whack the edges a few times with the back of a spoon. (With a table, it’s better to use a ball-peen hammer.) Assemble a Trader Joe’s Caesar salad kit, and you are good to go.

  “Mmm-mmm,” Chance said.

  “Thanks, son,” I said.

  We watched Chance eat for a while.

  Denise tilted her head back and polished off her mint cooler. “So tell me, Chance, why is it that men are such assholes?”

  CHAPTER 34

  “THAT SON-IN-LAW of yours sure does go to bed early,” Denise said. “It wasn’t even dark out.”

  “Ha.”

  “He’s adorable. I didn’t know it was possible to sigh with a southern accent. And those manners. To die for.”

  “I know. I think that’s why Shannon fell for him. She said northern men are Neanderthals in comparison.”

  “I don’t know, I love a good caveman.”

  We were each stretched out in one of the twin beds in the guest room, the covers pulled up to our chins. A single table lamp between the two beds made a circle of light on the ceiling.

  Denise reached over and held her hand over the light.

  I looked up at the ceiling. “Is that supposed to be a rabbit?”

  “No, it’s me giving Josh the finger.”

  “Got it. That’s good though, right? I mean, if you’re pissed, you’re not feeling like a victim. I think you’ll feel so much better after you confront him.”

  Denise made a fist with one hand and a peace sign with the other, then held both hands over the light. “That’s a rabbit.”

  “Genius,” I said.

  “The thing is, I’m not even sure I should bother. Maybe I’ll just block his calls. It kind of pales when you compare it to what you just told me about Naomi. God, I’m so superficial.”

  I put the backs of my wrists together and held them over the light. I flapped my fingers.

  “True,” I said. “But even superficial people have the right to be angry.”

  “Thank you. Is that a dog?”

  “No, it’s not
a dog. It’s a bird.” I took one hand away. “And this is me giving you the bird.”

  Denise pulled her pillow out from behind her head and hugged it. “Do you think I’ll ever get it right?”

  “Sure, as soon as you pick someone who’s not a loser.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I mean, you act like it’s this great big secret, Denise, but the truth is nobody gets it completely right. You just pick someone who has your back and wants the same things as you do, and then you make it work.”

  We stared at the ceiling.

  “I hope Naomi’s doing okay,” I said. “I’ll get it fixed up, but that little efficiency she’s staying in is kind of a dump.”

  “Ha, but it’s not a Dumpster. God, can you imagine?”

  “No. And wait till you meet her. She’s so normal. You’d swear we went to high school with her or something.”

  I fluffed up my pillow and put it back behind my head. I loved Denise, but she’d definitely taken the better pillow while I was in the bathroom. She’d commandeered my mood ring, too.

  “What if we’re wrong?” Denise said. “What if he’s not really seeing someone else?”

  “See,” I said. “That’s why you get yourself in trouble. Even if we’re wrong about this particular situation, which we’re not, you shouldn’t spend five minutes with someone you don’t trust. You have to know that you’re a team, that neither of you would ever betray each other. You just wouldn’t.”

  “No offense,” Denise said. “But you and your family are a tiny bit too perfect for my taste.”

  “Ha,” I said. “Tell me that after one of them calls me back.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I reached into the light and tried to make a rabbit. Maybe there was a certain developmental stage in your life when you moved from real pets to shadow pets. No vet bills, no poop or puke to clean up.

  “It’s just that I went through this big epiphany after Naomi told me her story, and I thought, why am I making such a big deal about selling the house? I mean, it’s a house. I have a great husband. What does it really matter where we live?”