Finding Casey (15 page)

“Look at how hungry they are,” Ave said. “They need more than dry food.”

“As I was saying,” Juniper muttered, and looked at Glory sympathetically.

“You can't go to the movies today,” Halle said. “Every screaming child in the universe will be there. Besides, I thought we had this all planned. Shop, lunch, shop some more, and then manis and pedis. It's our holiday ritual, Juniper. You pick out clothes your mom won't let you wear and I buy them because I'm your favorite aunt.”

Topher had just the hint of a smile on his face and Glory appreciated it. “Halle, they have to go back to school soon. Why don't you just take her sizes if you want to buy something? Or better yet, get her a gift card.”

Halle shook her head and poured Baileys into her coffee. “I thought this was our tradition, Glory, girls' shopping day every Black Friday.”

The truth was, it was Halle's tradition and Halle's credit cards that got swiped until her signature wore off the reverse side of the card. Glory went along just to keep her company while she shopped. But seven months pregnant was just not a
great stage to be on your feet all day. “I have an idea. How about I take Mom to lunch at the Blue Corn Cafe, and you can shop at Dillard's and meet us afterwards?”

Juniper looked at Glory with the please-save-me face she'd mastered over the last several years. “Besides, the kids were already planning to see this movie,” Glory continued. “You can see them tonight at dinner. We'll play Scrabble.”

Ave Smith sipped her coffee and continued breaking off bits of her toast for the dogs. “I'm too gimpy to go out to lunch today,” she said. “You girls want to shop, go by yourselves. I'll stay home with the dogs and read my new romance novel.” Caddy licked her coffee spoon right off the table and Glory sighed. “See?” Ave said. “A dog doesn't do that unless it's hungry.”

“Mom, they aren't hungry, they're mooches! For the last time, please don't feed them from your plate. They get plenty of dog food. Halle? To tell you the truth, I'm a little tired. Why don't we make turkey sandwiches for lunch, watch a movie, and visit?” She peered out the window. “Looks like it's going to snow again.”

“Never mind,” Halle said, excusing herself from the table with her coffee and Baileys.

“Gopher, hand me her plate,” Ave said. “Looks like all she did was move things around.” She began chopping the eggs into dog-sized bites.

Glory looked at Juniper and mouthed,
Please take me with you
.

Juniper laughed.

“What're you laughing at?” Ave said. “Out of the way, you monsters, this bite's for skinny Freddy.”

“Eddie,” Glory said, and the Italian greyhound came racing around the table, his feet skidding on the floor. He reminded Glory of Kramer on
Seinfeld
, one of Juniper's favorite reruns,
now that she had her own television. Seeing that Glory's lap was unavailable, he leapt into Topher's, and Topher leaned back, horrified. “Mom, if you feed him again, I'll have to break your arms. Italian greyhounds are naturally lean, and Eddie's on a special diet, remember? For his seizures?”

Her mother sighed. “Even animals deserve holiday food.”

Glory took Halle's plate to the sink and dumped the contents into the disposal. “There, it's all settled. Topher, if you don't want Eddie on your lap, just say ‘off' and he'll get down. Not everyone loves dogs.”

Topher smiled. “I don't mind, Mrs. Vigil. I'm used to dogs.”

Glory didn't miss the surprised look Juniper gave him. “Oh, does your family have dogs? Any particular breed? I prefer mutts.”

“My paternal grandmother raises champion Russian wolfhounds. She shows at Westminster every year. My stepmother doesn't like dog hair, so we don't have any dogs at home.”

“That's too bad,” Glory said. “Borzois are such elegant creatures, but they do need space to run, and I mean a lot of space. Well, I imagine you'll have had your fill of dogs by the end of this weekend. What movie are you going to see?”

“We're still deciding. I'm up for
Twilight
,
Hellboy II
, or
The Dark Knight
, which is at the dollar theater, but Junie wants to see a chick flick.”

Junie? Glory tried not to react.

“They're
not
chick flicks,” Juniper said.

Topher made a face. “But
Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants
? Don't tell me that's not a chick flick.”

“Well, maybe I'll go see that one on my own,” Juniper said. “
Twilight
is about vampires. I hate blood. I feel sick just taking off a Band-Aid.”

“I've heard good things about
Pineapple Express
,” Halle said, returning to the kitchen with her empty mug. “It's about pot, though, so I don't know if your mom would be all right with that.”

“Pot as in marijuana?” Ave said. “Halle, have you lost your mind?”

Halle frowned and set the coffee mug down so hard everything on the table rattled. “Yes, I have, Mom. Since I've lost my house and my husband, I decided why not just throw my mind into the abyss along with everything else? It never got me anywhere and it certainly didn't help keep my husband. Does that make you happy?”

The kitchen went silent. Glory heard a car drive by, the branches of Joseph's beloved aspen trees scraping against the kitchen window, and, under the table, Eddie pawing at her mother's leg.

Juniper broke the silence. “Aunt Halle, please come with us. We'll go see
The Secret Life of Bees.
You loved that book, right? Then you can take us to the mall and I'll show you where Hot Topic is. You're so thin now that I think you'd look great in their skinny jeans. We'll pick out a new wardrobe to go with your new life. Starting over can be a good thing. I ought to know. You sure helped me when I was so down I tried to kill myself.”

Glory looked around the table in amazement. Topher: The expression on his face looked like he'd just been told folk music had been banned. Ave: Her mouth was slightly open; nothing silenced her mother as effectively as the hard truth. Halle, however, was all smiles. “Juniper, bless your heart,” she said, and hugged her. “You two go on your date. When the movie's over, call my cell and I'll come meet you. We can shop at Hot Topic
or wherever you want to go. I have a little something for you, so hang on while I get my purse.”

When her sister hurried back to the bedroom, Glory felt her pain so deeply that her heart ached. There was nothing like the holidays for ramping up heartache. That first year without Dan she'd spent so many hours sitting in her closet crying and feeling sorry for herself that she'd considered putting up wallpaper. All her married years, Halle had lived the good life. The sprawling home in Santa Rosa, trips to Europe twice a year, designer clothes, the latest model car. Why did Bart deserve to get everything? Why not Halle, who'd made a home out of a house, thrown parties for people he worked with, and stood by him every step of the way as he worked his way up in the company? Ave had her house, free and clear; Glory had this lovely old adobe they were restoring, Joseph and Juniper, her dogs and chickens, even time off from work while she waited for the best gift of all, a new baby. There was no reason for her to feel even a tinge of longing, but there was always a moment in the day when she'd remember Dan's whistle, or the way he smelled like cedar from his woodworking shop, or how it felt to make dinner knowing that at five o'clock every evening he'd walk in the door and sing, “Hey, good-lookin', whatcha got cookin'?”

Halle was back with her Louis Vuitton purse. “Juniper,” Halle said, handing her some folded bills, “show Topher how we put the Milk Duds on the popcorn. Be sure to sit in the high seats so you can kiss.”

“Er, thanks, Aunt Halle,” Juniper said. “Topher and I have to go or we'll miss the previews.”

And zoom, just like that, there went the kids. Halle gathered up her keys. “Coming or not, Glory?” she said.

Glory knew she should go because her sister needed to talk the
sorrow out. She'd been there for Glory. They both flirted with anorexia when things turned dismal in their lives, and this way she could make sure her sister ate lunch, but she was worried about her mother being alone and the dogs' digestive tracts. “Sure, I could use a bigger pair of maternity jeans,” she said. “But you have to promise me we can sit and rest a lot.”

“I swear,” Halle said. “Mom, I've circled things you might like in the
TV Guide
. Think you can work the remote or do you need me to show you?”

Ave looked at the sisters until Glory felt as if her face should have melted. “Halle, don't spend all your money,” she said. “Divorces start out with each party acting genial, but when the rubber hits the road, it's a different story.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Halle said. “I've just decided. I think I'll spend it here in the Land of Enchantment instead of in California. How's that sound, Glory?”

“All I need is one pair of jeans in size whale,” Glory said. “Let's go to Target.”

Halle continued tapping into her iPhone and then smiled. “Hurrah! Your Dillard's carries Eileen Fisher! Let's go there and find you something yummy to wear for the holidays.”

“I can't afford that,” Glory said. “I'm on leave from work. Target's right on the way to the mall. You can wait in the car. I'll just waddle in and grab them.”

“You shop in that horrid place where you worked for minimum wage?”

“Hal, everyone shops at Target. Besides, it's just a pair of maternity jeans. In three months I'll give them to the thrift shop, because I'm never getting pregnant again.”

Her sister set her phone down on the console. “Everyone wants nicer things. You might not think it's important, it may only be a matter of months, but looking good on the outside makes a girl feel good inside. Besides, I'm buying, so end of argument.”

Although it sounded like Halle was talking about herself, Glory knew better than to argue. She couldn't help wondering about what their mother had said. And Halle without Bart—it
was still hard to imagine. All Halle had said last night was, “He met someone else. You can't help who you love,” and to Glory that sounded like therapist lingo, not a woman whose husband had just dumped her after twenty years.

Glory watched the road for icy patches as they drove across town. Traffic was insane, probably because it was snowing; that and Thanksgiving caused people to panic at how short a time it was until Christmas. After living her whole life in California, Glory loved how snow turned the scrubby piñon trees from a dull green to Christmas-card brilliance. They'd gotten a late start due to having to type up directions for the remote for their mom, who absolutely refused to go to lunch, but she did let Glory make her a sandwich for later, and made a solemn promise on pain of death that she would not feed so much as a crumb to the dogs. Glory saw the way Halle slipped her mom the pain medication. Ave would never come right out and say she was suffering, but when it flared, her mom's lupus took a toll. One snide comment was Mom's unfortunate tendency to be snarky with those she loved best; two meant she had a bug up her bottom and likely for a good reason; but three comments meant major uh-oh time—pain and the aforementioned folded into the mix led to hurt feelings.
It feels as if each one of my joints has the flu
, was how she described it. Maybe it had been a bad idea to ask them to travel all this way for Thanksgiving. When Glory asked Dr. Montano if it was okay for her to fly to California, her doctor had shook her head no before Glory finished her sentence. “You need a low-key holiday season,” she'd said. “Your blood pressure is high normal, but if it goes any higher I'm going to have to hospitalize you.” Glory knew Dr. Montano was exaggerating to get her to listen. The only person she told was Joseph. Why add to anyone else's worries?

Halle fiddled with the radio station. “I can't believe rental cars don't come with Sirius radio,” she said. “See if you can find a decent station, please?”

Glory tuned in classic rock. She adjusted the volume and sat back in her seat. Twenty years of marriage, and then your husband says sorry, he can't help it, he's fallen in love with someone else? She couldn't have imagined Dan doing something like that, but what if she was being naïve? Would Joseph come home one day and say their cultures were too different? Divorce statistics made it hardly worth the trouble to take vows, but vows were supposed to be promises. Could even the most timeworn cliché be proven true, or was life simply a matter of knocking the idealism out of a person bit by bit until she waved the white flag? Glory fussed with the seat belt that pressed uncomfortably against her belly, finally placing her hand between it and her belly so it wouldn't irritate her skin. “I'm paying for lunch,” she said. “It's the least I can do, you giving Juniper all that money. By the way, if you think she'll use it to buy a Christmas sweater with a sequined reindeer on it, you're delusional. She'll put it in the bank, or go to the thrift store.”

“Sequined reindeer! Listen to you. I'm hoping she buys a slinky black New Year's Eve dress and dances all night.” Halle looked across traffic, waiting to make her turn. “When I get home I'm turning the Volvo in and buying myself a convertible Mercedes for Christmas. Yellow. All my life I wanted a car like that. Now I'm going for it. What's your dream car, Glory?”

“Whatever I can depend on not to break down. I also appreciate air-conditioning and a working heater. Halle, I know Mom's a buttinsky, but are you sure you can afford a Mercedes?”

“No, but Bart can.”

“Don't spend money for revenge.”

“I'm not.”