Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy (140 page)

What the hell, she thought, and nodded. 'I'm staying at the
Sou'westerner Motel. It's listed. Just ask for me.'

He grinned. 'By the way, my name's Clyde. Clyde
Woolery.' He extended his hand across the counter and she
shook it. His grip was strong and firm.

She watched as he stuffed the two green bottles into a brown
paper bag and slid a piece of cardboard between them so they
wouldn't knock against each other. He handed it to her and
smiled.

'I haven't paid you for the bubbly yet.' She looked at the
cash register. 'How much do I owe you?'

He laughed and flapped a hand. 'Forget it. I'll ring it up as
a mistake. When inventory time rolls around, it'll be listed
under breakage. It's no skin off my back.'

She indicated the bag by hoisting it a few inches. 'Many
thanks, Clyde Woolery. I owe you.'

He shrugged. 'It's nothing. I'll call you tomorrow afternoon
sometime.'

'Okay.' She waggled her fingers. 'Bye-bye.'

As she walked back outside to her car, the night air felt cool
and smelled tangy with salt, and in the distance she could hear
the muted crashing of the surf. It felt good to be away from
the rat race. A week away from it all would work wonders.

She placed the bag on the front seat beside her and glanced
one last time at the store as she started the engine. Behind the
well-lit expanse of plate glass, she could see that Clyde was
already bent over his little Smith Corona, and that made her
feel good. Maybe she really would go out with him, even if it
was only for drinks. After all, he wasn't ogling her from the door like she was some sort of creature set down by a UFO, which was usually the case when she was recognized. Nor,
thank God, had he been silly enough to ask for her autograph.

He looked up then and waved to her. She waved back, put
the car in reverse, and backed out neatly with a showy squeal
of the tyres.

She grinned devilishly to herself. What the hell, it was her
vacation. She might as well enjoy herself.

She looked both ways. There wasn't a headlight or taillight
as far as the eye could see. Then she slammed her foot down
on the accelerator and took off as though a man with a check
ered flag was waiting two miles down the road at the motel.

Daliah nosed the rented Cutlass into the car park just as the bright white moon broke through the clouds and plated the
weathered motel cottages in its silver glow. The motel was
modest, the individual units grey-shingled and sagging, but it
more than made up for its size and sad state of disrepair by occupying eight full acres of prime oceanfront land.

The moment she pulled in, she could see Inge lifting the
checkered print curtain and peering out the window. Within
seconds the front door of the manager's cabin was thrown wide
and Inge came flying out, a huge golden retriever bounding
alongside her. Daliah had to smile. Despite her age, Inge
could still move like a whippet when she wanted, and seemed
taller and much younger than she was, her snow-white hair
braided and coiled in a crown of concentric circles atop her
head like links of sausages at the butcher's in her native Ger
many. She wore a loose cotton print housedress and low white
canvas sneakers.

The instant Daliah ducked out of the car, Inge flung herself
at her, throwing her arms around her in a stranglehold.

Inge's energy was in contradiction to her age. She was the
antithesis of an eighty-four-year-old. Those who met her were
instantly thrown off guard and tended to forget at once her
advanced years and her diminutive size. There was a robust,
energetic spark of life and an inner glow to her that most
people a fraction of her age did not possess. Her face was
lined and creased with a network of fine wrinkles, but her skin
glowed with a rich, healthy pink sheen and her eyes were still
porcelain white, the irises the same cheerful bright cornflower
blue they had always been. They could have been the eyes of
a child. She was quick of both foot and mind, with a salty,
witty retort to anyone's comments ready on her tongue, yet
her feistiness was tempered with a warm sense of humour and
a loving heart. Clearly, neither age nor the fact that she had lived on three continents and had had to start life over twice
from scratch could put as much as a dent in Inge's indomitability. She was more than just a survivor; no matter where
she was, she seemed to be able to adapt magnificently.

'Daliah!
Liebchen!
'
Inge cried, clinging to her as tightly as a Siamese twin. 'I'm so glad you could come! It has been so,
so long!'

Not to be outdone, the dog jumped up and was all over
them, his huge paws resting on Daliah's shoulders while he
happily licked both women's faces with drooly slurps.

Daliah tried to hide her face. 'Down, Happy,' she laughed.
'Down, boy, down!'

Happy obediently let go and sat down next to their feet. He
looked up worshipfully, a huge openmouthed grin on his face.

Inge gripped Daliah's forearms. 'Is everything all right?' she
asked worriedly. 'You sounded upset over the telephone.'

'It's nothing serious, Inge.'

Inge looked up at her with anxious eyes. 'I can always tell by your voice when things are not quite right.'

'It's nothing earth-shattering,' Daliah assured her. 'Really.'

'It does not have to be earth-shattering. Sometimes things
can be just as upsetting that they might as well be.'

'I promise to tell you all about it later.' Daliah gave Inge a
kiss on the lips. 'You look marvellous!' she said, drawing back
to arm's length. 'Let me look at you! This place really must be the fountain of youth! You haven't aged a day!'

'Daliah, you lie through your teeth,' Inge declared. 'You
know I am seventy-nine and look every day of it.' But she
looked pleased.

'Now you're the one who's lying through her teeth,' Daliah
accused with good-humoured badinage. 'I happen to have it
on good authority that you're eighty-four, and that you'll be
eighty-five on September 3.'

Inge stuck her nose in the air. 'That just goes to prove
you have been snooping around where you have no business
snooping.'

'Why should I have to snoop? I've got everyone's birthdate
written in my calendar book,' Daliah said. 'My mother gave
me the information, and she's never wrong about these
things.'

Inge's eyes slid shiftily sideways. 'Daliah, even your mother
can get dates mixed up,' she said testily.

Daliah was distracted from retorting by Happy's impatient
whine. When she didn't react, he gave two deep barks to
get her attention. She looked down at him. His quill tail was
sweeping back and forth, creating a curved furrow in the
gravel.

'Okay, okay!' she said affectionately. She squatted down in
front of him and gave him a big hug. He smelled of dog and perfumed flea powder. 'Have you been taking good care of
Inge?' she asked him softly.

The dog cocked his head to listen and offered her a huge
paw. Solemnly she shook it. Then she got up, yanked her giant
Vuitton shoulder bag out of the car, and slammed the door
shut.

Inge had prudently dropped the subject of age. 'Your usual
cabin is available,' she told Daliah as they walked toward the
manager's office. 'I make it a point never to rent it out.'

'You know you don't need to do that.'

'Of course I don't
need
to,' Inge said irritably, 'but I want
to. I like to keep it available in case you should visit unexpect
edly. I just had it repainted, and sewed some nice new curtains
and slipcovers. It's all blue, just the way you like it.'

Daliah looked up and down the row of moonlit cottages.
Each one, except for the one she always stayed in, at the
farther end, had a car parked in front of it. It wasn't Memorial
Day yet, but a lot of tourists had obviously jumped the gun. 'You shouldn't keep it empty just for me, Inge,' she scolded. 'I know you could have rented it. I would be just as happy
sleeping on the convertible sofa in the back of the office.'

Inge shrugged. 'What's the difference if I rent every unit or
keep one empty for you? I am an old woman, and I don't need
the extra money. I've got more than I can ever spend.'

'Nobody has more than she can spend,' Daliah said.

Inge looked at her sternly. 'When you get to be my age,
believe me, you do. What is there to buy? Clothes? They are
all designed for younger women. Appliances? I have got so
many they do not even fit in the kitchen. Jewellery? I never wear any except for what you give me. A new car? I cannot
drive anymore, anyway. They wouldn't renew my driver's
licence.' Inge opened first the screen door and then the inner
door of the manager's cabin.

Daliah followed her inside. She held open the door for Happy, but he wanted to stay outside. He was ecstatically
lifting his leg against his favourite yew branch.

'I'll just give you your key, and then I'll let you go off to
your bungalow,' Inge said. 'Everything should be just the way
you left it. Otha was in and cleaned it earlier today.' She
headed behind the counter and fished a key out of one of the little cubbyholes against the back wall. 'I know you will want
to freshen up. By the time you have done that, I will have
something ready for you to eat.'

Idly Daliah twirled a postcard rack, watching the glossy
Cape Cod scenes spin around. She shook her head. 'Don't go
to any trouble. It's late, and I don't want to keep you from
going to bed.'

'It isn't any trouble,' Inge declared. 'Besides, I like staying
up late. The trouble is, there usually is no reason to. The
tourists are at the restaurants or have gone dancing, and there
is no one to talk to. If I turn on the TV, all the movies they show on the late show are ones I have already seen.' She
handed Daliah the key. 'Go clean up. In half an hour I'll have
fixed you a nice Kaiserschmarnn.'