Nothing But Trouble (12 page)

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Authors: Bettye Griffin

BOOK: Nothing But Trouble
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Chapter 14
“
W
ell, I must say,” Dana said, “this is a very nice surprise.”
Irene Albacete, sitting across from Dana in the booth, nodded in agreement. “I'm beginning my Mother's Day feeling like a queen.”
Next to them, their respective daughters beamed. “It was my idea,” they said in unison, then looked at each other indignantly.
“It's perfectly reasonable for it to have occurred to both of you at the same time,” Irene said reassuringly. She held up her menu. “Mmmm. The ham and eggs looks very tasty. What are you having, Dana?”
“Order anything you want, Mom,” Brittany said confidently. “Money is no object.”
“Well, if you're sure... .”
“An-y-thing you want,” Brittany repeated.
Dana suppressed a smile. She remembered the air mail envelope that came last week addressed to Brittany from the Covingtons in Nassau. It must have contained cash so Brittany could do something special in honor of Mother's Day. Dana knew her in-laws really couldn't afford the expenditure—they put everything they could into an annuity for Niles for his care after they were gone—but they wanted her first Mother's Day without Kenny to be a happy one.
She didn't know how much they'd sent, but she guessed they'd been generous. Perkins was one of the nicer restaurants in its category, definitely a cut above Denny's or Shoney's. In addition to Brittany's insisting that she order whatever she want from the menu, she had also awakened Dana with a colorful bouquet of spring flowers and presented her with a lovely sterling silver amethyst pendant, a reference to Dana's February birthday.
“Well,” Dana said, perusing the menu, “since money's no object and I'm starving, I think I'll go with the big breakfast, the one with a little bit of everything.” She stole a glance over at Brittany, wanting to make sure it was all right.
But Brittany showed no distress. “I'm getting the blueberry pancakes.”
“And I want the Belgian waffles with strawberries,” Vanessa added.
Irene flagged down a waitress. Ten minutes later their food was delivered. “My goodness, Dana, that's a lot of food!” Irene exclaimed. “Are you really going to finish all that?”
Dana cast a satisfied look at the three large pancakes, scrambled eggs, home-fried potatoes, and bacon. “Oh, I'll finish it, all right. But I won't eat anything else all day.”
“I'll skip lunch, but I'll have dinner,” Irene said.
“My Popi is taking my Mama out to dinner,” Vanessa announced happily.
“Oh, how nice,” Dana said, careful not to let the wistfulness she felt creep into her voice. Kenny used to take her out for Mother's Day. They used to celebrate the night before, when the restaurants were less crowded. This year, this meal would be the high point of her weekend. Although she'd had lunch with Sean on Thursday, he'd told her he would be unable to see her this weekend because he would be spending the afternoon with his mother. Absently she wondered if he planned on seeing his estranged wife as well.
Irene looked a little embarrassed at Vanessa's outburst. Because of her fair complexion, the color of milk with a few chocolate drops, it was easy to tell she was blushing. Between her happiness and Vanessa's, Dana wondered if perhaps a reconciliation was in the works between Irene and Gil, whom she hadn't seen since their lunch together.
She couldn't understand why that prospect made her feel sad.
 
 
Norell awoke in a sour mood. In honor of Mother's Day, one of the cable networks was showing a feature of
Imitation of Life
,
Stella Dallas
,
Mildred Pierce
, and
Madame X
, all classic stories of maternal sacrifice. That programming executive was going to have half the country dabbing at their eyes.
She absolutely hated Mother's Day. Not only did it remind her of how much she missed her own mother, but it reminded her of her own longing for a child, a longing she now knew would never be fulfilled.
She shuffled languidly to the front door when the doorbell sounded, her colorful caftan billowing behind her as she walked, not caring that the soles of her slippers were scratching her gleaming tile-edged hardwood floors. Vic had invited a few friends over to watch the NBA semifinals. Somebody must be arriving early. Vic had gone to pick up some Chinese food and hadn't returned yet, and she had the set tuned in to
Imitation of Life
. She used to enjoy the glossy Ross Hunter production with its Jean Louis outfits, but now she felt that Lana Turner delivered her lines with all the genuineness of cubic zirconia.
“Who is it?” Norell asked through the closed door.
“Da-na.”
“And Cé-ci-el,” said a second voice in the same singsong manner.
Norell's mouth dropped open. She quickly reached to unlatch the door and flung it open.
“We thought you could stand some company this afternoon,” Dana explained as they entered the house.
“But it's Mother's Day!”
“That's the point,” Cécile said.
“But you've got your own families. What are you doing out here with me?” The mere thought of Dana and Cécile wanting to spend Mother's Day with her made her get all choked up, and her voice broke.
“Now, we're not having any of that,” Dana admonished.
“Michael's watching the kids so I could enjoy the afternoon,” Cécile added. “They're busy making dinner for me.”
Norell smiled at her two best friends through vision blurred by tears. “You two are the best.” She held out her arms, and they moved in for a group hug.
They'd just sat in the living room when Vic returned. “Hi, girls,” Vic greeted cheerfully as he passed through on his way to the kitchen, a white plastic bag hanging from each hand.
“Hi, Vic.”
Norell noted that he didn't seem surprised to see Dana and Cécile. She walked over to assist him with unloading the bags.
“Vic, you bought enough food for an army,” Norell commented as she lifted carton after carton from the bags. “Who's coming, anyway?”
“Just Rodney and Gregory. And, of course, Dana and Cécile.”
“You did know they were coming!” she exclaimed.
“We didn't think it was such a hot idea to just show up unannounced in case you really weren't in the mood,” Cécile said. “Vic said it would be fine for us to surprise you.”
Norell gave Vic's arm an affectionate squeeze. “It was a good surprise. Thank you.” The doorbell rang just as she finished talking.
“I'll get it,” Vic said.
“I'll get the plates and stuff,” Dana offered, rising.
“There's paper plates in the pantry,” Norell called out.
At the door Vic greeted Rodney, then called out to someone who was apparently just pulling up. They all came inside together.
Norell soon saw there were five more guests, not three. Rodney had brought two of his sons along. Good thing Vic bought plenty of food.
She greeted her guests. Cécile already knew Rodney, and Norell introduced her to Gregory Weston. Gregory was a bounty hunter whose services Vic used to track down his clients who skipped bail. It didn't happen often—Vic didn't post bail for clients unless their family members or very good friends gave him the impression that they would move heaven and earth to get the incarcerated individual out of jail. He often said that if Grandma was reluctant to put up her house for the imprisoned, it was probably because she knew he or she wasn't any good, so why should
he
risk it?
Dana emerged from the kitchen and set the plates and plastic utensils on the table. “Okay, guys, I think we should hit this before it gets cold.”
“Ladies first,” Vic said.
“No, you men fix your plates first,” Norell said, “so we can sit at the table and talk while y'all watch the game.”
Dana greeted Rodney and said hello to his sons. Then she introduced herself to the man she hadn't met before. At maybe six-three and in the three-hundred-pound range, he looked like a linebacker, an overweight one. His large size probably prevented him from doing much running without getting short of breath.
“Ah, so
you're
Dana. It's nice to meet you.”
“You've heard of me?”
Gregory looked embarrassed. “Ah ... Norell talks about you frequently. I understand you and she are real good friends, and now business partners as well.”
“Yes, we are.” Instantly Dana knew Norell was trying to fix her up with this bear of a man to get her away from Sean. It annoyed her, but she couldn't take it out on Gregory. He seemed nice enough, even though he gave her the impression that he'd like to gobble her up like a turkey dinner. She was searching for a pleasant parting comment so she could make a graceful exit when Vic joined them.
“I see you two have met,” Vic said, putting an arm around each of them like he was proud of them or something. “This is my main man, Dana. No one can hide from him.”
“Hide? Why would anyone want to hide from you, Gregory?” Dana asked.
“Because I'm a bounty hunter.”
“Bounty hunter?” Dana repeated. “That makes me think of the Wild West. Do they still exist?”
“People jump bail every day,” Gregory replied with a smile. “But instead of horses I use airplanes and cars.”
“He's the best in the Southeast,” Vic said.
 
 
Cécile and Dana moved the food cartons off to one end of the table while Norell fixed beverages for the men. Then they fixed their own plates and settled in to eat.
“Dana, did you meet Gregory?” Norell asked.
“Yes, I did.” A sixth sense urged her to glance over at the area near the Bellamy's wide-screen television. Sure enough, Gregory Weston's gaze was affixed to her. But instead of being embarrassed at having been caught, his smile merely broadened. Dana simply flashed a quick, insincere smile—the kind she used for posed photographs—and turned away.
“So what'd you think?” Norell pressed.
“I didn't.” She calmly helped herself to another helping of rice.
Cécile jumped into the breach. “Well, guys, it's official. Michael and I have begun house hunting. We went out last weekend and again yesterday.” She deliberately left out the parts about Michael still being cool toward her because of the coming baby, and that the prospects for finding a large enough house they could afford looked dismal.
“That's wonderful, Cécile!” Dana exclaimed, glad to have the conversation on a matter other than Gregory Weston. “I knew Michael would come around sooner or later.”
“Well, that's good news,” Norell said. “It's miraculous how all of you can live in the house you have now without falling over each other's feet.”
Dana's eyes grew wide. How could Norell say such a thing?
Cécile glared at her. “Well, Norell, if you had six kids this house would seem small, too.”
Norell's lower lip quivered, and Cécile covered her mouth with her hand, like she'd realized too late that her reference to children must have cut like a sharp blade. “I'm sorry, Norell,” she said. “I didn't mean to be so thoughtless, but you weren't exactly considerate yourself.”
“I know. I apologize. I guess I'm a little jealous of you because you can have a baby just like that, and I can't.”
“I'm sorry, Norell. I wish I had the answer, but I don't.”
Norell sighed. “I know.” She turned to Dana. “So where is Brittany this afternoon? Did you leave her home alone?”
Dana took a moment to let out the breath she'd been holding. The exchange between Norell and Cécile had the potential to get really nasty, but now it looked like it would be all right, thank God. Sometimes she could just strangle Norell. That girl really needed to learn to control that mouth of hers. “No. I made a deal with her best friend's mother. She's watching Brittany this afternoon, and when she goes out with her ex-husband tonight, Vanessa will stay with me.” Now she realized why she had that sinking feeling when she heard about Irene's dinner with Gil. Irene had a second chance with her husband, while hers was gone forever.
As mothers of best friends, she and Irene had known each other for six years, but Irene had always been close mouthed, almost haughty in her bearing. When she and Irene made arrangements to watch each other's children, she'd volunteered her plans to spend the afternoon with a friend whose difficulty conceiving would make the day difficult, but Irene mentioned nothing about her plans to dine with Gil. If Vanessa hadn't blurted out Irene's plans at breakfast she still wouldn't know about it.

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