Crain's Landing (22 page)

“Are you enrolling your daughter in pageant classes?” Her excitement at the possibility was evident from her megawatt smile. Her eyes shifted back and forth from my face to the two girls who were spinning in silly pirouettes.

“Actually, no. I was told this was a great place to purchase children’s clothing.”

The woman, whose name I’d already forgotten, frowned slightly. “Oh, that’s too bad. She is such a natural beauty.”

I couldn’t argue; Peyton was born a beautiful baby. Her features had only grown more appealing each and every day.

I thanked her for the compliment and then began to take in the interior of the store.

When I was seventeen, our family took a trip to Fort Lauderdale, it was the first time I ever saw the ocean. I had been rendered speechless with the absolute magnitude of the endless amount of water. Once I entered Sissy’s Place today and laid my eyes on its interior, where there were waves upon waves of sparkly, fluffy dresses, I was once again in awe of something. As surprising as it might seem, that ocean, which once impressed the hell out of me, seemed quite small and insignificant compared to what stood before me.

I was facing a soft pink and white striped wall, open on each end to reveal even more sparkle. In the center of the dividing wall hung several gold framed portraits. Each contained a smiling beauty queen complete with sash and crown. The similarities between the pictures were striking; it was clear they were two different women, yet most definitely related. Closer observation revealed the gorgeous girl on the left was a crown wearing winner of the title Miss South Carolina, while the lady on the right was labeled runner up.

Rows and rows of trophies, ribbons and what I guessed to be scepters, covered shelf after shelf. All reflected repeatedly from the mirror behind the shelf, covering the wall. Display cases housing sparkling tiaras, fancy feather and diamond hair barrettes and, oddly enough, something called a flipper kit.

Music, combined with a female voice barking out instructions, caught my attention. I peered to my left, following the sound past several rows of white Mary Jane shoes, not another color to be found.

“Pretty feet,” a tall, slender girl commanded. Her hair hung in perfect ringlets down her flawless back. A tiny girl who couldn’t be much older than Peyton was doing an over-exaggerated walk on stage. I’d seen children like this on reality television. I always believed it was scripted, yet here it was, live and up close.

“Can I help you?” A voice spoke from behind me.

I turned quickly, finding the source belonged to yet another amazon-like woman. With Peyton’s hand grasped firmly in mine, I took two steps in her direction, extending out my empty hand to introduce myself. “Hello, I am—” I started, only to be cut off.

“I know who you are,” the woman across from me said with an icy tone. Her dismissiveness left me as cold as the ice that hung from her ass. “I was wondering how long it would take you to bring
her
into my boutique.”

See here was the thing, I’d been in boutiques when I lived in New York, clothes hung on plain metal racks while music thumped so loud overhead you couldn’t hear the gasps of ladies as they looked at the price tags. This wasn’t a boutique; it was an overpriced dream shop. Ms. Amazon, who incidentally was the very woman pictured in the runner up picture, was fighting a battle against her fading youth and glory. She still felt inside like the girl in the picture. It was safe to say if I looked closely, I would find signs of plastic enhancements and her bathroom full of the latest face and body creams. Hell, she might just consider a deal with the Devil himself to go back in time. The knowledge of her certain unfortunate loss in the battle gave me the ability to let her comments directed at Peyton go unaddressed...for now.

“You have me at a disadvantage. I can only assume you’re the owner.”

She nodded her head and turned slightly, revealing a row of photos I failed to notice. Nestled in a silver frame were Grant and the blonde from the crowned Queen photo above. He was wrapped around her from behind, their heads facing each other, big smiles reflecting their apparent happiness.

The second photo showed Grant kissing her nose as they sat in a convertible—her eyes were shut tight, his grasp on her shoulders was tight. Lastly, a formal picture, Grant in a tux with whom I assumed was the infamous Rebecca. She was a true beauty, her blond hair not a curl wavering nor a single blemish showing.

“I’m Constance Whitaker, but everyone calls me Sissy. Been that way since Dr. Crain, Sr. did so when I was only four.” Her fingers graced the photo of Grant and Rebecca and I realized she looked too much like her to be a coincidence. Constance had to be Rebecca's mother.

“See, the Crains and the Whitakers have a long-standing history. My Becky could make it much closer, but you knew that.” She looked over her shoulder at me.

She was right, the more I heard and now saw about this Rebecca, the more I questioned why Grant didn’t go after her?

“Everyone in town was so distraught when Grant and Becky parted ways.” Looking now at the photos of her daughter and Grant. Her thumb rubbing circles over their faces. “Mr. Parker, over at the jewelry shop, would not stop talking about how large the diamond was in the ring Grant bought for her.”

Something broke inside my chest at the thought of Grant marrying someone else. It was clear on his face he was head over heals in love with the beauty queen. What could have gone so wrong to tear the two apart?

Sissy might have been a professional beauty queen, but now she was living vicariously through her little minions and, by the looks of things, her daughter.

“You know, I couldn’t help but notice your picture hanging on the wall there.” I pointed at the picture in question, ready to address that comment about Peyton. “Runner up seems to be a trend with you. Always striving for the best, just not
quite
reaching it.” I motioned to the endless amounts of second place finishes, celebrated with the trophies and ribbons. “Seems you place a lot of faith in the ability of your daughter there.” I pointed again at Rebecca's smiling face. “Yet, I don’t seem to see a Miss South Carolina win for her either.” I looked around again, then finished my point. “Hell, I don’t even see where she was a competitor—or do they not give away a trophy for only showing up?”

I adjusted my purse on my shoulder, the desired look of anger now on Sissy’s face. “When was the last time she visited or spoke with Grant?” I was losing the ability to keep the smile off my face. She might have won a battle with her biting words, but I was about to win the war with mine. “Hey, I get it. She has to be a very busy girl these days, following her dreams and all. Or are they still
your
dreams? Maybe she left not to get away from Grant, but to separate herself from you.

“Constance, it’s been a pleasure, but I don’t think I will find anything in your shop for Peyton,” I said as I headed for the door.

“It’s Sissy,” she returned.

I stopped just shy of the door, another group of girls and mothers entered at the same time. “You see, I find Constance to be much more refined, mature. But I guess if you prefer a pet name given to you by someone who considered you a sibling, who am I to ruin it for you.” I turned away as the girls walked by, greeting me as Ms. Reid and wishing me a good day.

Before leaving, I turned back and pointed, one last time, at the photo of her second place finish. “Look on the bright side, you finally got a crown to your name. Granted it’s on a marquee of a building, but it’s something, right?” With a big smile and the feeling of finally taking up for myself Peyton, I left. It was as close to a ‘bless your heart’ moment I had come to since I arrived in this town. Sissy Whitaker would not shake me, and she certainly wouldn’t take a dime of my money either.

We had an appointment in the afternoon with Grant and I had no doubt he would give her a clean bill of health. The weather was surprisingly on the cooler side this morning. It was nice to not breathe in moisture as I walked to my car. I was feeling brave as I drove with my driver’s side window down the two blocks to Grant’s office. He had called every day, but hadn’t returned to the house. I wondered if he regretted our almost-kiss that night.

Grant’s office was the same as the last time I’d been there. Peyton didn’t wait a second before scrambling into the toy area while I checked us in.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Reid, I see Peyton is feeling better.” Carolyn wasn’t sitting behind the desk this time. A pretty young lady, I would have guessed to be in her early twenties, sat proudly with a huge smile on her face. Her red hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, while her pink scrubs looked to be heavily starched. “Dr. Grant is still in surgery. He phoned a few minutes ago and said that if you wanted to wait for him, I could show you to his office, or if you’d like to see Dr. Garrison, he was fine with that, as well.”

I did want to see Grant. I wanted to finalize the day and time of our date. But I also wanted to get out of here quickly and take advantage of the nice weather, if Peyton’s lungs sounded good. “I’ll be happy to see Dr. Garrison.”

“Very well, I’ll let her know you’re here.” I smiled and thanked her. Crossing the room, I spotted an excited Peyton building a tower with the red and blue blocks. I was just about to take a seat when a voice called Peyton’s name.

I walked over and cleaned up the mess my daughter had created before hoisting her into my arms. The young lady that stood in the doorway, holding what I assumed was Peyton’s chart, smiled and then addressed Peyton directly. “Good afternoon, princess.” Peyton buried her face in my neck as we followed her down the hall. “My name is Vanessa and I’m Dr. Grant’s nurse.” Peyton shyly smiled at her. I would have to start working on her communication skills now that she was going to be more exposed to people.

Vanessa was very patient with Peyton as she took her temperature and got the rest of her vitals. She ushered us into a room that, not surprisingly, was decorated to look like the grand hall of a castle. I knew Carolyn had played a huge part in making this room a happy place.

Vanessa didn’t even get a chance to exit the room before Dr. Garrison entered. Tiffany was dressed in a white lab coat that barely reached the hem of her rather short skirt. Her knees and lower thighs were proudly on display. The silk green top she wore had the first three buttons undone, flashing some serious cleavage. That seemed a little much for treating small children.

“Well, hello, how is Ms. Reid today?” Tiffany never looked at me and only addressed Peyton. I assumed this was her way of making this all about the child. She helped Peyton raise her little shirt and listened to her lungs. She was just about to look into her ears when Vanessa knocked and came into the room. “Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Garrison, but Dr. Grant is on line one and wishes to be placed on speaker phone.”

Vanessa didn’t wait for Dr. Garrison to say anything as she pressed two buttons and the sounds of slow beeps filled the room. “Go ahead, Dr. Grant, Ms. Reid can hear you.” Vanessa backed out of the room, closing the door slowly and softly.

“Natalie, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you and the princess.”

The sound of his voice did funny things to me. Every time we had spoken this week, I’d had to visit my treasure chest. He was costing me a fortune in batteries. “It’s fine, Grant. I was told you were in surgery. I hope everything went well.”

The wall that I sat facing was painted with a green hill. The hill had, what looked to be, young children playing and horses carrying knights to a castle. I followed the mural around until the castle came into sight. High in the tallest tower was a princess leaning out of one of the windows, waving to one of the knights that rode toward her. Somehow, I felt a connection to this scene when I thought of Grant.

“I’m actually still in surgery.” So that was what that beeping must have been. He had someone lying on a table, correcting a problem and making life better for them.

“Are you serious, Grant? Hang up the phone and concentrate on what you’re doing! Dr. Garrison can handle this.” I heard him chuckle and it made me smile in return.

“I’m actually watching my colleague stitch up my patient. I had to check on Peyton myself.”

Dr. Garrison must have felt left out, as she interrupted our conversation. “Dr. Crain, her lungs are clear bilaterally and her vitals are all normal.” I noticed that when she spoke to Grant, her voice changed. It was subtle, but I could hear the pitch change. She was definitely interested.

“Natalie, how has the princess’s activity level been since she left the hospital?” he asked, completely ignoring her.

I looked to Dr. Garrison’s face, her brow was wrinkled and she looked quite put out. I told him of Peyton’s earlier running around the house and he agreed that she was doing fine and released her to return to her regular activities.

“You have no idea how wonderful it is to hear you say that. I wanted to take advantage of this nice weather and head over to the park.” Peyton’s eyes lit up when she heard the word park. Back in New York, our complex had a playground and every day the sun was out and the weather warm enough, we would walk over and play for hours. I knew she missed her playtime outside.