Mother of Prevention (13 page)

I nodded. “We’ve only been here since the end of November.”

His brow furrowed. “We?”

“My daughters and I. Kris and Kelli.”

“Oh. You have kids.”

“Ages seven and five.”

His eyes glazed over. “Ah, yes. Well, if you’ll excuse me. I see someone I need to talk to. Nice to have you tonight.”

I watched him walk/run away and figured he wouldn’t be asking for my phone number, which was fine with me. I took a fortifying sip from my cup. And smiled.

Mazi, meanwhile, had exchanged the older man for another just as old. The top of his head barely reached to her chin, and Mazi wasn’t tall. Everywhere she went, he trailed her. If she stopped for a glass of punch, he was thirsty. If she joined a group, he was there. I saw her distinctly flash her wedding ring at him, but he didn’t appear to heed the silent warning.

She wore a hunted expression, and I figured I’d better do something. I cornered Beni. “Who’s the guy hanging around Mazi?”

Beni squinted in the man’s direction. “Oh, that’s Earl Ray. He’s a pest, but he’s harmless.”

“What does he do?”

She grinned. “Mostly he chases women.”

I snorted. “Well, right now he’s chasing Mazi. How can we head him off?”

She shot another glance in Mazi’s direction. “Don’t look now, but I think he has competition.”

The white-haired man was back, elbowing Earl out of the way. The two men were joined by a tall, lanky redhead with a friendly smile and a terrible haircut. Suddenly my friend’s hunted expression disappeared and Mazi was her usual bubbly self.

During the evening I had a chance to get acquainted with several people from church I’d not met before, and I was surprised to see Mazi enjoying herself so much. Maybe this was a start. For both of us. Maybe I’d come out of my self-constructed shell, and Mazi would see that organized religion wasn’t the same thing as Christ-based faith. If she got acquainted with the people at the singles group, God could start to move in her life and she would agree to attend morning worship service. For a moment I was filled with relief; I was slowly starting to feel and think like the old Kate. Neil would be proud of me. Better yet, I felt proud of myself. I was far from healed, but I realized that I was closer to forgiving God.

How magnanimous of you, Kate.

I shook the thought aside and filled my plate with smoked sausage and crackers. Mazi was chatting to one of the women while still surrounded by half of the available men present. She seemed to be doing just fine, so I carried my plate to a vacant table. It was as if I had turned on one of those bug-zapper lights. Evidently the men were hungry for a new face. Soon I had my own little entourage offering to refill my punch and fetch more crackers.

The man on my left introduced himself as Sam Whitley, and he proceeded to monopolize the conversation, telling me about his gas station and how hard it was to get dependable employees. I wasn’t sure if he was giving me his résumé or interviewing me for a job.

Hollis Temple, across the table from me, speared a bite of ham and munched on it, while pointing the fork at me. “Have you been to Chinatown?”

I assured him that I had, and Fisherman’s Wharf, and for the time being I was through with the tourist stuff. He looked disappointed and retired behind a piece of cherry pie. If he was planning to ask me to visit either sight, I had successfully nipped the plan in the bud. I considered bringing out pictures of the girls as added insurance to head off any other invitations.

The gift exchange was a hoot. Mazi got a Christmas pin in the shape of a wreath and as big as a teacup. The “jewels” flashed on and off like a traffic light. She immediately put it on, which seemed to earn her brownie points with the others.

My gift was a set of pig bookends. The pink porkers lolled, happy mouths curved in sappy expressions that seemed to match the way I felt. I silently christened them Kate and Mazi.

The gas station man, Sam, got a tie with an alligator on it, but not the little tasteful alligators that in an understated way suggest that you are wearing a classy piece of clothing. This alligator was big and green and glittered. His wide-open mouth displayed big pearly-white teeth. Sam grinned good-naturedly and tied it around his neck. I liked him better after that.

The party started to break up after the gift exchange, and I went to the kitchen to collect our dishes. Mazi joined me, laughing at something one of the women said. I was proud of the way she had fit in, because I knew she had been hesitant to come.

When we got home she consulted her watch. “Only eleven. Early yet. Come over to the house for a few minutes. I’m too wound up to sleep.”

I followed her across the hedge, hoping that she’d wind down quickly. I could fall asleep on a rock. “You looked like you had fun tonight.”

“Oh, yes, I did. Thanks for inviting me. Funny, I had an entirely different opinion of church people. If they are all like this bunch, they’re not bad.”

“People who go to church are just like people who don’t go to church. The only difference is they have God in their life.”

“Yeah.” She paused, key in lock. “That’s the part I don’t understand.”

I swallowed. Were we about to embark on a theological discussion? I wasn’t sure I was up to it. “I’d be glad to answer any question you might have—if I can.”

“I know you would. Trouble is, Kate, I don’t know the questions. But not tonight, okay?”

“Sure. I’m right next door anytime you want to talk.” I would pray for her, pray that God would allow me to plant a seed and he would make it grow.

She unlocked her door and we went inside to slump into soft overstuffed chairs in the living room. Mazi brought cups of hot tea, which seemed to fit the bill tonight on a chilly San Francisco evening. I’d eaten too much, and the light taste of chamomile was exactly what I needed.

Mazi kicked off her shoes. “Did the men come on to you tonight?”

“Some. You?”

“They tried.” She giggled. “You notice that little guy, that Earl Ray?”

I nodded.

“He wanted to take me for a romantic stroll on the beach.”

I grinned. “What did you say?”

“I told him I was allergic to sand.”

I leaned back, cradling the cup of warm liquid in my hands. “I think I almost got an invitation to Chinatown, but I headed it off.”

She shook her head, smiling. “Did you see that big guy, George something, crushing soda cans with his bare hands? That always slays me when they do that. It’s like, ‘Hey, woman,
look at me.’ Real macho stuff. As if crushing soda cans is a trait a woman would want in a husband.”

I laughed, knowing exactly what she meant. “I got an invitation to join Ted Johnson in a one-on-one study of Revelation. At his house. I declined.”

Mazi laughed. “You know what, Kate? The men were all nice guys. When they discovered I was there with you as a guest, and that I was married, they were perfect gentlemen. Kind. Witty. Thoughtful.”

“I know. They’re just lonely.” Like me. Lonely, desperate for someone to love.

My best friend’s eyes twinkled. “You know the really amazing thing? The men were coming on to us.” She leaned over and smacked my knee playfully. “We’ve still got it, girl!”

“Now, if we could just remember where we put it.”

“Or what to do with it.”

We sat there giggling like a couple of schoolgirls.

Out-of-our-silly-gourd sophomores.

N
ew Year’s Eve had never been a big event for us, so I guess that’s why this year the girls and I had stayed home and worked puzzles. We were in bed asleep, blissfully unaware, when the New Year started. Mazi had suggested Chinatown again, but I’d decined the offer.

Neil and I had usually stayed home with the girls anyway on the holiday. Popcorn and a rented family-friendly video was about as wild as we got. Neil always brought home a bottle of sparkling white grape juice. At the stroke of midnight we’d lift stem glasses and drink a toast to the Madisons’ happiness and well-being. Later the girls would polish off the bottle of grape juice.

Last year we’d observed the same rite, unaware of the changes looming on our horizon.

Now it was mid-January, and impulsive Mazi had decided that we needed a New Year’s Eve celebration.

“The year won’t go right without one.”

I’d said, “Whatever.” My life would be the same no matter what.

I closed the salon at three-thirty this afternoon, and everyone made a beeline for their cars, focused on colds and flu. A nasty viral bug had swept the shop. As I watched my staff leave, blowing red noses and coughing, I felt a now-familiar ache in my heart. I would put on a brave front tonight, but I had never felt less like celebrating in my life. Hopefully Mazi wouldn’t insist that we stay at her place until midnight.

I stopped at the supercenter and picked up a bottle of sparkling grape juice. We had microwave popcorn at the house, and for the girls’ sake I would go through the motions, but I would be relieved when the evening was over. I realized how much I had come to depend on Mazi. Maybe too much, but she was willing to help, and I was so willing to let her.

The video I chose,
The Best Little Christmas Pageant Ever,
was a holiday behind, since Christmas had come and gone, but I always enjoyed watching a bunch of scruffy kids teaching a group of church members the real meaning of Christmas.

The house was empty when I got home. The girls were already over at Mazi’s. Alissa had asked for the evening off. The young woman had smiled and said she had a date. Something about the way she said it sent up a red flag and I started to worry that I might soon be looking for a new baby-sitter. I remembered the applicant pool I’d interviewed before hiring Alissa, and I cringed.

The phone rang. Mom calling from Kansas.

“How’s the weather out there?”

“Nice, balmy with a warm breeze.”

She sighed. “We’re in the middle of a blizzard.”

Well, I didn’t miss that. Cold, blowing snow and storm-blocked roads were one part of the Midwest I could do without.

“Are you and Dad all right?”

“We’re fine. I’m just worried about you and the girls.”

I pretended a confidence I didn’t feel. “We’re doing all right. The girls have adapted to their new school, and things are going well at work.” If you didn’t count the flu going around, fussy, difficult-to-please customers and high-strung stylists. I’d become so good at negotiating peace I was thinking about sending my résumé to the United Nations.

“Well, we know you’re a grown woman, but your dad and I still worry about you, Kate.”

I had a hunch about the purpose of tonight’s call: Mom wanted to ride to the rescue. Trade wintry Kansas for sunny California. Who could blame her? I didn’t really need her. I wasn’t proud of my thoughts, but I didn’t even want her here right now.

“Really, Mom. The girls and I are adjusting.” I couldn’t bring myself to say “doing fine,” because we weren’t exactly blooming in our new environment, but we were gradually coming to grips with our new life. “Why don’t you and Dad plan to come see us sometime in spring?” By then I’d be more in control of my emotions, although control had never been a major character trait of mine.

“I suppose that would be better. It’s difficult to travel this time of the year. Airport delays, terrible road conditions. What are you planning to do tonight?”

“Oh, we’re going to the neighbor’s for a delayed New Year’s Eve party.”

“New Year’s Eve? That was two weeks ago. You be careful, Kate. I worry about all of those strange people I hear about walking the streets in San Francisco. You’re too innocent to cope with them, honey.”

Right. Really innocent. I needed my mommy. I wondered what her reaction would have been to Tina with the striped stockings or Mrs. Ferguson and Homer. I knew how she would have reacted to the battleship demeanor of Mrs. Harrod. Mom might look more like a frivolous sailboat, but that’s one battleship she would have torpedoed on sight.

“I have a routine, Mom. Home, work, the grocery store. There’s not a lot of opportunity to encounter foul play.”

“What about church?” Her voice had a “gotcha” ring to it.

Rats. I’d forgotten church. “That, too. We’ve visited a nice church and we’re fitting in just fine.”

“That’s a relief, dear. Then I guess you don’t need me.”

“I always need you, Mom, but not at the moment. My job takes up all my spare time and the girls are in school all day. I’d rather you wait and visit when we can spend time together.” I paused. “I’ll take you and Dad to Chinatown and Fisherman’s Wharf.”

“That sounds interesting. Are there a lot of strange people hanging around there?”

“Oh—hey, Mom. I hear the kids. Can I call you later?”

“Your father and I are going to a prayer study tonight. He’s waiting in the car right now. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Great. Have a good time, Mom. Drive safely and don’t drink too much.”

Mom poohed. “Kate, you’re an incurable tease.”

I grinned. “Give Dad my love.”

“The same to you, darling. And kiss Kelli and Kris for us.”

I hung up as the front door opened and Kris and Kelli burst inside the foyer. I walked through the kitchen to greet them.

“Mom! Mazi’s husband is
sick,
but she said we can still have our not-really-New-Year’s-Eve party!”

I cast a quick look toward Mazi’s picture window, half expecting to see the elusive Warren “Is she sure? We might disturb him.” Plus, I wasn’t crazy about the thought of coming down with a roaring case of the flu.

“He’s upstairs in bed,” Kelli said “He’s sort of cranky.”

“Well, probably he doesn’t feel good.” The chattering girls followed me into the kitchen explaining that Mazi really wanted us to come. Really, really.

I was reluctant to go over, with her husband ill and probably wanting quiet instead of a houseful of company, but one
look at the girls with their flushed, excited expressions, and I caved. After all, it was Mazi’s place to worry about her husband, not mine.

“Okay. Let me change clothes and we’ll go.” I considered my usual jeans and sweatshirt, but instead pulled on navy blue dress pants and a rose-and-navy-print blouse, a final birthday gift from Neil.

The girls had gone back across the drive by now. I grabbed a packet of microwave popcorn and the bottle of juice. At the last moment I decided to take the video, wishing I had more to contribute, but Mazi liked to cook. She probably had six trays of snacks already prepared.

She met us at the door, beaming. “I’m so glad you could still make it. Warren’s upstairs so he won’t expose you to the virus.” She beamed. “It looked for a minute like I was going to spend the evening alone. Just me and the TV.”

“Miss a belated New Year’s Eve party?” I deadpanned. “You know me—a real party animal.”

The girls had spread a quilt in front of the television. The cats were scattered around them. Kelli lay stretched out on her stomach, chin propped in her hands, while Mimi walked up and down her spine. Mystic and Minto curled up next to Kris with their topaz eyes cracked open slightly to stare at me.

I carried my offerings to the kitchen and Mazi eyed them as if she’d never seen sparkling grape juice before. “Juice?”

“It’s a Madison family tradition.”

“Oh. Well, sure. We’ll drink a toast at midnight.”

I dropped into my usual chair and relaxed, weary from the day’s stress. Instead of getting easier, it seemed as if the personnel problems at work were coming more frequently. Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be a manager.

Mazi had set the table with her best china and crystal goblets. We were getting the full treatment tonight. Everything looked delicious, and suddenly I was hungry. She had a cheese
ball to die for. One dab on a cracker and I could have eaten the whole thing.

Mazi paused in filling her plate. “I fixed beds on the sun-porch for the girls to have a sleepover, if that’s all right.”

I started to protest, but they begged to stay, so I gave in. But that meant I’d have to go home alone. An empty house, all by myself?

Mazi couldn’t get enough food tonight. She went back to the table several times to fill her plate. I could never understand her eating habits. One day she ate as if there was no tomorrow, and the next she starved herself, consequently throwing her into a really foul mood. I wondered if I should point out temperance in all things, but then decided Mazi’s eating habits were none of my business.

Around midnight we poured the white grape juice into the footed crystal glasses. I watched, worried, as Kelli and Kris took theirs.

“Those goblets are probably expensive. I’d hate for them to get broken.”

“My dear Kate. The only way Kelli and Kris are going to learn to care for and enjoy nice things is by use. If the glasses get broken, well, they’re just glasses. I want the girls to remember they drank out of the best tonight.”

I realized she was right. We had to use things to appreciate them, and Kris’s and Kelli’s ability to develop memories hadn’t died with Neil. I needed to adopt more of Mazi’s attitude. Things were, after all, just things, and that included crystal goblets.

Mazi was doing everything to make us comfortable. She’d even made popcorn balls for the girls. I filled my plate with shrimp and water chestnut pastry cups, filled mushrooms and more of the cheese ball. I had no right to criticize Mazi’s over-indulgence. After all, tonight was special.

Mazi got up from the table. “I need to check on Warren. I’ll be right back.”

She left the room, and again I worried that we might disturb him. But then, the girls were quietly watching television and Mazi and I weren’t exactly tooting horns and yelling. It was a very low-key celebration.

She came back into the room and answered my questioning lift of the eyebrows. “He’s fine. Sleeping.”

The girls watched the video and even Mazi got interested, although she left the room a few times to check on Warren, which made me nervous. If he was that sick, we really shouldn’t be here.

The girls couldn’t make it much past midnight. Once we’d shared our ceremonial toast, they sacked out on their pallets. Everything in me wanted them home tonight. With me. They were tired, but we could have gone home. However, Mazi begged us to stay and I could see she was lonely. She switched the television off and we nursed our grape juice.

“Warren really should see a doctor in the morning.” Actually I didn’t really care about his state. I was royally miffed at him for leaving Mazi alone so much.

She laughed, staring into her glass. “He’s not as sick as he thinks he is. Warren takes good care of Warren.”

I detected a hint of bitterness beneath her good-natured manner. Well, who could blame her? Sure he must make good money, judging from their home, but nothing could take the place of having a companion to share that home. Nobody knew that better than me.

Mazi left the room again and I helped myself to more cheese ball. If I didn’t stop eating, my first act of the New Year would be a stringent diet.

My host returned and I asked, “So, what do you think the next year will bring?” I popped a jalapeño popper into my mouth.

Mazi was once again her usually bubbly self. I noticed she discreetly put her plate in the trash. “For starters, maybe we’ll both find the gold at the end of the rainbow.”

“And we’ll be stars on TV.”

She pursed her lips “The White House will call for advice on how to plan a state dinner.”

“We’ll open a restaurant in Chinatown.”

“And top the list of the world’s best-dressed women.”

I toasted her with grape juice. “It was a lucky day when I moved into your neighborhood.”

She nodded. “A lucky day for the both of us. Do you still miss Oklahoma?”

I thought about it. “I miss Liv. She was my best friend. Moving here was hard and, yes, there are days when I’m still mad at God for taking Neil and turning my world upside down.”

Mazi smiled. “That’s just the pain talking. You’ll feel differently someday.”

I nibbled on a cracker. Maybe I’d get over my anger at God, but I didn’t think I’d ever adjust to California—too much traffic, a job that was proving to be more stressful than flying. “I don’t think I will, but I’m learning I can’t run away from my past or my fears. Some days I feel like I’ve made matters worse by leaving Oklahoma City.” I paused for a moment. “Do you think God is trying to teach me something and if so, what?”

“Wow. You know more about God’s ways than I do. If He’s trying to teach you anything, maybe it’s patience. Or stronger faith?”

I sighed.

“And who knows. Someday you’ll meet someone and remarry—”

I shook my head. “I’ve heard too many horror stories about stepfathers. I won’t subject Kelli or Kris to a stranger and make them call him father. No one will ever take Neil’s place. For them or for me.”

She grinned. “Have you met our postman? He’s kind of cute and he’s single.”

At that she reached over and said softly, “You never said how your anniversary went. That night, when the kids told me it
was your anniversary, I said a prayer for you, and you know I don’t pray.”

My mind skipped back to January 5. Bummer of a day. Neil and I would have been married nine years. I didn’t think the kids had remembered and I wasn’t sure Mazi even knew.

I’d watched my top stylist, Connie, leave that afternoon and suddenly I’d known I couldn’t go home in my state. I’d have been bawling all night and upset the girls. I’d needed to do something. Get away by myself. It had struck me that I hadn’t been by myself since Neil died. Unless you counted the nights I slept alone, wishing he was there beside me.