Raquel's Abel (3 page)

In a bright pink cover-up, Regina sipped iced tea on our mother’s settee. She looked like she should be in a posh resort rather than sitting in our dusty living room in Richmond, Virginia.

Out the front window, the trees on either side of the driveway were so dense they were almost growing together. I’d have to pay someone to trim them back. More money I didn’t have. There were those that said I should sell this house, but how could I sell a house that had been in my family for more than a hundred years?

Regina ran her finger across the French provincial end table and eyed the dust. “How often is this place cleaned?”

“There’s a girl that comes once a week, but the house is so big.”

“And,” she held her glass in one hand and ran her fingers up and down the outside, making streaks in the condensation. “The way Grandmother is seeing things, I’m wondering if we shouldn’t consider putting her in a home.”

Would she be happier in a place with other old people? “I don’t know about that.”

Regina jumped, spilling some iced tea on her bare leg. “What was that?”

I looked around. “A bug?”

“No, it felt like something pulled on my sleeve.”

Iced tea was running down her leg and onto the rug. It was an oriental carpet my mother had picked out on a trip she and my father had taken to Istanbul.

I picked up the box of tissues that had been sitting on the coffee table. I carefully lowered myself to my knees and began to wipe at Regina’s shins and feet. I threw a few on the floor to mop up the overflow.

“Grandmother belongs in a home,” Regina continued.

I didn’t know why my sister thought Grandmother couldn’t just continue living here. “She seems to be doing very well here. Dr. Blake makes house calls when we need him.”

“Old people belong with other old people.”

I was still blotting at the tea on the rug and trying to think of a response when Regina screamed. I looked up at her.

“Raquel!” I looked up to see the remainder of the iced tea spilling down her front. Pieces of ice were lodged in her bikini top.

“How did that happen?” I wobbled to my feet and plodded to the kitchen for a towel.

“You act like you don’t know,” she screamed.

I came back with the towels, wondering what she was talking about.

Regina’s eyes looked like they were on fire. “I was wiping the carpet when the glass was pushed then upended.”

“You don’t think it was me,” I said remembering how Regina used to love to blame things on me when we were kids.

“Who else could it have been?” She glared accusingly at me.

“Regina, come on, I wouldn’t spill tea on you. Don’t be ridiculous.”

She stood up and was busy pulling pieces of ice out from her cleavage and drying off her flat stomach.

“Oh, Mother’s settee is all wet. I hope the tea doesn’t stain.” I wiped at the upholstery that had Williamsburg blue and cranberry designs on a white background.

“You should have thought of that when you spilled it all over me.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

She stood there looking at me like she was going to cry. “You probably think Carter was justified in leaving me.”

I strained my arms pulling myself to my feet. “Oh,” I pushed out between breaths. Standing up took all my strength.

“He said I’m not warm enough.” She sniffed.

I fell into the chair behind me. “What does that mean?” I’d hardly known Carter at all. As usual, my sister had entered into a whirlwind romance and married him before I’d even met him.

“He said he didn’t like spending time with me.”

“Oh, he’s crazy,” I said wanting to console her. Regina didn’t have enough education to be much of a conversationalist, but Carter shouldn’t have said that to my little sister.

“Just like Daddy. He didn’t want to be around me, either.” Regina pouted.

Daddy not caring much for Regina had always been a mystery. Ironically, Regina looked exactly like him, whereas, no one knew where my red hair came from, and I was the only one in the entire family with a weight problem.

After I’d calmed Regina down and said goodbye, I went upstairs. Grandmother was up from her nap. “I saw what happened.”

I glanced back downstairs. The circular stairway gave anyone in the second floor hallway a bird’s eye view of the living room. “What did you see, Grandmother?”

“I saw that Abel Rollins pour tea on Regina.”

“I was right there, and I didn’t see this Abel Rollins.”

“I’m not sure why that is,” she said, bringing an arthritic hand up to her mouth.

“Grandmother, you are seeing things that aren’t there.”

“Balderdash. You just need to open your eyes.”

“Grandmother, do you ever think you’d be happier somewhere else?” It pained me to even think about this.

“Do you mean like back in Russia?”

I covered my face so she wouldn’t see me laugh. “No, I mean like a place where people would take care of you.”

“Oh, I know what you’re suggesting.” Her wrinkled face turned hard, like corrugated steel. “You want to send me somewhere to die, to waste away into nothingness.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” I’d miss her if she were gone.

The thin skin around her old eyes tensed. “Maybe that’s what Abel got so upset about. He heard you two plotting to put me away.” She pointed her finger at me. “If you aren’t careful, I won’t tell you two where the Romanov jewels are hidden.”

“I thought you might be more comfortable…”

“I suppose you want to send Tatiana away, also.”

“Grandmother, please forget I said anything about this.” I kissed the top of her head. “I want you here with me.”

“Hmmph,” she grunted, then pressed the button on her wheelchair and sped down the hallway toward her wing.

I walked into my bedroom and immediately, the phone rang. “Hello,” I said, wondering if it were Regina. You thought people would get used to breakups when they had one every few years, but Regina never did.

“Raquey-el,” Owen drawled into the phone. “Are you about ready, girl?”

I’d completely forgotten. “I’m running a little behind.” Owen was my very gay, very sweet dance partner.

“Me too, but I’ll be over to get you in just a few, and I hope you’re wearing that turquoise number.” He hung up the phone.

The only good thing about being fat – you mesmerized people if you could actually dance. Even though I trudged up stairs and felt like I was running the gauntlet just getting into a car, for some reason, when I got out on that dance floor, I was more of a fairy or a ballerina than an obese woman approaching middle age.

Owen had been referring to a turquoise pants suit that had sequins all over the top and had wide legs that fluttered when I moved. Tonight we were dancing at a supper club that was having us as entertainment during intermission.

I put on the outfit, slipped on a pair of silver heels, and swept my hair up on top of my head, letting my red ringlets fall down to my shoulders. As I was walking down the hallway, I closed my eyes, imagining doing the foxtrot one hundred and fifty pounds lighter.

I opened them again and saw a form in front of me. “Maria Elena,” I called, not knowing why she’d be on this wing. She didn’t answer. Haze surrounded the form. I reached over and flipped the hallway lights on.

I gasped. There was a man standing a few yards from me. Who could have gotten inside the house? The gardener wasn’t on the grounds and he never came upstairs. I squinted as he took a step closer. This man’s hair was dirty blond—definitely not the Hispanic gardener. It was parted in the middle and combed back. Kind chocolate brown eyes peered at me. He certainly didn’t appear to be menacing, in fact, he wore a very elegant smoking jacket. Wait. That was my father’s.

“How did you get in here?” I demanded. “And, have you been going through my father’s clothes just taking what you want?” Grandmother had mentioned the man she saw had on my father’s smoking jacket.

“My dear, I have been in this house longer than you have been alive.” His voice sounded more flirtatious than intimidating.

I stared at him, thinking that was absurd, since he looked like he wasn’t a day over forty. In fact, he was very handsome. My heart beat faster as his eyes raked over me. Then I realized, except for Maria Elena and Grandmother, I was alone in the house.

“What do you want?” I backed up. “Do you want my wallet, my jewelry?” I held out my purse with one hand and jerked my earrings off with the other. “Here, take them and don’t hurt us.” Maybe he hadn’t seen them. “I mean me.”

“Not to worry, I’m no common thief.” He moved under one of the hallway lights. A pencil-thin blond mustache outlined his top lip. “I want to tell you that you are a lovely woman and, as a man, I like you just the way you are.”

I always thought if I were going to be raped, I’d figure a way to talk myself out of it. “Sir, I’d like to tell you that I was just diagnosed with AIDS.”

He pinched up his face. “It sounds dreadful, really, but I have no idea what that is.”