A Life Less Ordinary (9 page)

“You’re
staring,” Leila said, gently amused.

Manny’s
eyes widened and she flushed guiltily.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to be rude.”
She sighed ruefully.  “I hadn’t realized just how much my social skills have
withered away.”  She squared her shoulders and smiled at Leila.  “I was
admiring your complexion and your voice.  They’re both beautiful.”

“Thank
you,” Leila replied, her eyes dancing with amusement.  “I appreciate that,
especially about my complexion, since I’ve spent most of my life in the sun. 
I’m from Hawaii,” she added at Manny’s curious frown.

“Oh! 
I’ve never been there,” Manny said wistfully.

“It’s
beautiful and everyone should experience it at least once.”

“How
did you end up here in northern California?”

“A
combination of things, but mainly because my grandchildren are here.  Once I
started having trouble walking, it made sense to move where I had family who
could help take care of me.”  Leila gestured ruefully at the cane beside her
and Manny glanced over at the wheelchair sitting discreetly in the corner of
the dining room.

Manny
grimaced in sympathy.  “I’m sorry.”  Something struck her and she frowned
slightly.  “You moved here to be near your grandchildren?  Does that mean your
children...?”

Leila
laughed huskily.  “Oh, no – my son isn’t dead if that’s what you’re worried
about.  He’s also here in northern California, but he doesn’t approve of my
husband and while he was at my wedding, he’s currently not speaking to me.” 
She shrugged gracefully.  “He’ll forgive me sooner or later.”

“Oh,”
Manny said, feeling almost ridiculously relieved.

Leila
considered her thoughtfully.  “You seem like a nice girl, Ms Mankowski.”

Manny
blushed and squirmed slightly at the compliment.

“Please
– call me Manny,” she mumbled, looking down at her coffee cup.

“But
isn’t your name Rose?”  She shrugged at Manny’s startled look.  “I checked the
register.  I’m always curious about who’s eating breakfast with me.”

Manny
nodded and grinned sheepishly.  “I can understand that.  And yes, my name is
Rose, but I’ve never been very Rose-like.  Everyone calls me Manny.”

“Even
your mother?”

Manny
laughed.  “No, but my mom and dad were the only exceptions.  Everyone else –
even my sister – calls me Manny.”

Zeke
walked into the dining room as she finished speaking.  He smiled at them,
giving Leila a smile with extra charm as he wished them good morning. 

“Good
morning, Mr. Powell,” Leila greeted.

“Zeke,
please.”

“Leila.”

“Nice
to meet you.  I want to compliment you on your establishment here.  It’s a
beautiful house.”

“Thank
you,” Leila nodded graciously.  “The house is a hundred and fifty years old and
far too big for me.  I’m very glad my grandchildren came up with the bed and
breakfast idea.”

“Don’t
you find it odd, though, to have strangers in your house?”  Manny asked.

Leila
shrugged.  “Some are stranger than others, I’ll admit, and some have caused a
few moments of concern.  However, I truly believe that a stranger is simply a
friend you haven’t met yet.  My grandchildren knew I couldn’t get out into the
world as easily as I used to, so they decided to bring the world to me.  I have
to admit, for the most part, we’ve loved every minute of it!”

They
smiled at each other in perfect harmony.

“Breakfast
will be served shortly,” Leila continued.

Zeke
nodded and turned to Manny.  “What’s on the agenda for today, Auntie Em?” he
asked with a raised eyebrow.

Manny
mock-glared at him.  “I told you not to call me that!”

Zeke’s
grin was challenging.  “If I’m a puppy, then you’re definitely my old maiden
aunt.  So – Auntie Em it is.”

Leila
laughed.  “That’s rather sweet, actually.”

“If
you say so,” Manny sighed.  “Makes me feel ancient, though.”

“Better
than
being
ancient.  Trust me, I know!”

Manny
looked embarrassed and stricken, and Zeke watched with interest as she blushed
and stammered a garbled apology.

“No
need to apologize,” Leila assured her with an airy wave of her hand.  She
directed a suddenly serious look at Manny as she said, “Enjoy your youth – and
from where I’m sitting, you
are
still in your youth.”  She reached over
and gently tapped the back of Manny’s hand.  “Don’t make yourself older than
you are.”

Manny
stared at her with wide eyes, unable to think of what to say in response.

Leila
smiled, sat back and nodded decisively.  “Now, what’s on your agenda for today,
Manny?”

Manny
bit her lip then said, “We’re going to San Francisco today.  I have a whole
list of sights to see and things to do, including a Victorian house tour,
Fisherman’s Wharf and Alcatraz.”

Zeke
rolled his eyes.  “Ugh,” he said, but he winked when he met Leila’s questioning
gaze.  She sternly suppressed a smile but her eyes danced at him. 

Manny
rolled her own eyes back at him.  “You can do what you like once we get to San
Francisco,” she sniffed, “
I
have
plans
.”

Leila
chuckled.  “Do you have a place to stay in San Francisco?”

“Not
yet,” Manny replied.  “I’m sure we’ll find a place when we get there.”

“Well,
I have another bed and breakfast there, in one of the Victorian houses.  We
can’t take many guests but I happen to know we have two vacant rooms right
now.  How long are you planning on staying?”

“I
don’t really have a time when we have to leave.”  She glanced at Zeke.  “I’m
planning on staying until I’ve seen and done everything I want to see and do. 
There’s also a ghost tour, and Coit Tower – and shopping!  Ghirandelli
chocolates...shoes...” she trailed off, staring off into the distance with a
dreamy smile.

Zeke
stared at her in growing consternation.  “Oh,
man
...”

Manny
deliberately ignored him.  “I’m not sure what
he’s
going to do – and I
don’t care – oh, except Winchester House!”  She turned to Zeke with an excited
grin.  “You have
got
to go with me to that one!”

She
was practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

Zeke
stared at her, taken aback.  “Old maiden aunt is right!”

Manny
wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at him.

Leila
laughed, and gently tapped the back of his hand.  “You should keep an open
mind, young man.  You might be surprised by what happens when you do.”

Zeke
grinned wickedly.  “You’re very sweet, Leila, but a little naïve.  My idea of a
good time involves loud music and women who -” He stopped, suddenly disconcerted
as he realized what he was about to say to a woman who was old enough to be his
grandmother. 
Great
-grandmother, if he wanted to be cruel.

Leila
laughed delightedly.  “I’ve been around, young man, and I’m virtually
unshockable.  I’m not surprised you like women who...” She trailed off and
raised her eyebrows suggestively, “and with those criteria, there’s more than
enough to keep you entertained in San Francisco.  But I also recommend you do
at least some of the activities Manny has planned.  You’ll enjoy yourself – I
promise.”

Zeke
glanced over at Manny and shrugged.  “I make no promises that I’ll enjoy myself
but I’ll escort her on all of the activities she has planned.”

Manny
beamed at him.

“Except
the shopping,” he added quickly.

“Fair
enough,” she agreed.  She turned her grin to Leila.  “This is going to be
awesome
!”

* * * * *

Leah
and TJ sat in their living room surrounded by pamphlets and reference books
their doctor had provided or recommended.  They were each studiously reading a
pamphlet on different fertility treatments and options, and TJ, for one, felt
like he’d fallen down the rabbit hole.  The options were so varied, he had no
idea how they’d ever decide which one – or ones - to pursue.

He
finished his pamphlet and tossed it on the coffee table with a groan.  He
rubbed his eyes as Leah glanced up and smiled at him.

“What
was yours?” she asked.

“In
vitro fertilization – yours?”

“Intrauterine
insemination.”

“What’s
the difference?”

Leah
raised her pamphlet.  “Turkey baster.”  She gestured at the pamphlet he’d
tossed down.  “Petri dish.”

“Ew.”

Leah
shrugged. “Well, the old-fashioned way isn’t going to work,” she said breezily.

“I
know,” TJ said and subsided into brooding silence, lost in his own thoughts. 
Leah watched him, her mouth turned down in a concerned frown.

TJ
looked at her with solemn, sad eyes.  “I’m sorry, Leah.”

Leah
smiled at him and shook her head. “Not your fault.”

“Well,
technically -”

“I
mean,” Leah chuckled, waving his words off, “it’s not something you did deliberately. 
I’m pretty sure the doctor would have mentioned a vasectomy.”

TJ
shrugged and nodded.  “Or you would have noticed a scar,” he conceded.

“Depends
on the skill of the doctor.”  TJ stared.  “Or so I’ve heard,” she quickly
added.

TJ
slowly smiled then laughed.

“Still,”
he said, his smile slowly fading, “it
is
my fault – whether deliberate
or not.”

“No,”
Leah said firmly.  “It’s not your fault.  It isn’t
anyone’s
fault.  It
just...
is
.”

Leah
moved to sit beside him.  She put her arms around him and rested her head on
his shoulder.

“I
love you, you know,” she said softly.  “For
you
- and not because you’re
supposed to give me children.

TJ
swallowed heavily.  “What about my money?” he joked weakly, his voice choked.

Leah
smiled against his shoulder.  “We-ell, that doesn’t hurt.  Naturally.”

“Naturally,”
TJ agreed solemnly and kissed her.

Leah
smiled softly.  “I love you.”

“I
love you, too.  And...whatever you want to do about...” he gestured vaguely at
the pamphlets strewn over the coffee table, “...all of this...Money’s no
object,  you know.”

“I
know.”

“I
just want you to be happy.”

“I
know,” Leah assured him, “and I just want
you
to be happy.  We’ll decide
together; we’ll do what we’re
both
comfortable with, not just me. 
Okay?  But I am not going to lose you over this.”

TJ
hugged her closer and kissed her again.  “And I’m not going to lose you,” he
promised.  “We’ll figure something out,” he vowed softly.

She
smiled sweetly at him.  “No doubt about it,” she agreed firmly.

* * * * *

Rebecca
opened the front door and greeted Jaime and Tris with a smile.

“Tris,
why don’t you go to your room while I talk to Gramma,” Jaime said after the
obligatory chat about what was new since the last time they’d seen each other.

Rebecca
raised an eyebrow but kept silent until Tris closed her bedroom door.

Jaime
jiggled her leg in a fit of nervous energy then blurted, “Look – Mom – Max
found my dad.”

Rebecca
froze, her eyes widening as she stared silently at her daughter.  She felt
suspended, caught in time and her memories.

For
a moment, she was once again sixteen-going-on-seventeen, being disowned by her
father, the door being closed in her face by her mother.  She was once again
hysterically sobbing, pounding on the Mankowskis’ door, expecting it, too, to
be slammed in her face, her only two friends turned away from her just like her
family had turned away.

Instead,
Mrs. Mankowski had taken one appalled look at the broken child on her doorstep,
and bundled her inside.  They’d dried her tears, coaxed the story out of her, and
tucked her into bed with Daisy and Manny.  Manny had been only fourteen, almost
fifteen; Daisy the same age as Rebecca, and neither had known what to say or
do.  So they’d just hugged her close, and told her everything would be all
right.

She
hadn’t believed them.

The
next morning she could hear the Mankowskis’ whispered conversation in the
kitchen, but she couldn’t make out the words.  She’d been in that suspended
state between waking and sleeping, and the low murmur of voices had been
unusual, yet soothing.  Then she heard Mr. Mankowski leave the house.

Jaime
was almost a year old before Rebecca learned that Mr. Mankowski had gone on the
warpath that day.  He’d talked to her parents; told them to accept the baby and
her.

They
refused.