When I got home I was disappointed there were no messages from Axton or Dane. There was, however, one from Jacks telling me she was excited I was coming to dinner. That made one of us. And yet another message from Kevin, which I deleted.
Girding myself for dinner with my parents, I straightened my hair, put on some makeup, and donned a pair of black slacks and nice flats. I took one last look in the mirror and made a face.
My parents lived in a subdivision called The Greens, which skirted a golf course — of course. In an effort to downsize, they bought this home a few years back. My childhood home boasted a two acre plot with easy access to horse trails, which we never made use of because we had no horses. My mother was allergic. This newer, smaller house had four bedrooms, five baths, a media room, a state of the art kitchen, and a game room. But it was less of a home, more of a showplace. A sterile, gorgeous showplace.
I parked on the street in front of the house — I didn’t want to hear about my car leaving oil stains — and walked to the front door. My sister’s SUV was already in the driveway. I glanced at my watch. Two minutes early. I admit I felt a little smug when I rang the bell.
Barbara, my mother, answered the door with a glass of wine in her hand. Her champagne blond hair perfectly coiffed, her slacks and blouse fashionably chic. “Hello, Rosalyn. You’re late.” She turned and walked toward the living room, leaving me on the front porch.
I found my family gathered in the ivory and beige living room. Standing by the empty fireplace with a drink in one hand, my father talked hospital politics, gesturing with his glass. My brother-in-law, Allen nodded, a look of concentration of his face. Their plaid shirts, khaki pants and sweater vests were almost identical. Allen, with his sandy blond hair and handsome features reminded me of a younger version of my dad. What that said about Jacks, I didn’t want question too closely.
Jacqueline sat on an ivory chair with a glass of white wine in her hand. Although she was six years older than me, she didn’t look it. She wore her expensive blonde hair several inches shorter than mine and kept herself trimmed and toned by working out at the country club gym. I, on the other hand, kept my girlish figure by not being able to afford a lot of groceries and got my hair cut at Huntingford Beauty Academy.
When she saw me, Jacks set her glass down on the marble-top coffee table and hopped up to give me a hug. “Hey, you,” she said, embracing me. “I haven’t heard from you since Monday.”
I hugged her back.
Barbara, her head tipped to one side, gestured with her wine glass. “Don’t feel bad, Jacqueline, I never hear from her.”
“I called you yesterday, Mom.”
Her lips thinned. “Only because you wanted something fr—”
“Rosalyn.” My dad set his glass on the mantle as he walked toward me. He leaned down and kissed my cheek. “Your mother said something about Axton Graystone?”
Barbara put a hand to her temple. “We can discuss that unpleasant subject later.”
My dad nodded. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Yes, please.” I was going to need it to get through the evening.
“No,” my mother said, “she’s late. There’s no time for drinks.” With that, she walked to the kitchen. “Get Scotty to the table, Jacqueline,” she said over her shoulder.
Jacks raised one brow. I sighed and shook my head. The maternal unit was in fine form tonight.
“I’ll get Scotty, hon,” said Allen. “Good to see you, Rose.” He smiled and headed to the game room.
My father drained his glass. “I’ll go help your mother.”
Left alone with Jacks, I grinned. “I ran into one of my old classmates yesterday.”
We walked slowly toward the dining room. “Oh really?” She linked her arm in mine. “Who?”
“Dane Harker.”
“I’ve seen him around the club. He’s a hottie.”
“I didn’t remember him at first. But the dimples—”
“Oh, those dimples.” She gave a little sigh.
“Apparently he had a crush on me in sixth grade.”
“Where did you meet him and is he still pining away?”
“The police station and nope, I’m pretty sure he got over his crush a long time ago.”
“Just think about how romantic it would be if you married your childhood sweetheart.”
“We weren’t sweethearts and nobody’s said anything about marriage.”
“You never know.” She turned to me and frowned. “Were you at the police station because of Axton?”
“Yeah, I’ll give you the details later.” And I would have to give her the abbreviated version, because there was no way I’d tell Jacks about seeing BJ in the park. I didn’t want her to worry about leaving Scotty in my care. He would always be safe with me — I’d take a bullet for that kid.
“Tell me now.”
Barbara popped her head out of the kitchen. “Rosalyn, are you going to sit down? Or should we continue to wait on you?”
Grinding my teeth, I sat next to Scotty.
“Look, Aunt Rose,” he said with a wide grin. There was a hole where his front tooth should have been.
I ruffled his hair. “Hey, Sport, where’d it go?”
“I lost it,” he said. “And I got five whole dollars when the tooth fairy took it. So I’m trying to make this one come out too.” He wiggled another tooth.
“Well, good luck with that.” I unfolded my beige linen napkin and placed it on my lap.
My mom and dad brought platters of food from the kitchen and took their seats at the table. On the menu: salmon. I hated salmon. My mother knew I hated salmon. She was definitely bringing her A-game.
Everyone settled in and began passing the food. I piled my plate with rice and grilled vegetables, but passed the salmon off to my dad.
Barbara noticed and attempted to raise an eyebrow. Since she had regular Botox injections, she was not entirely successful. “Is there something wrong, Rosalyn?” She delicately wiped the corner of her mouth.
I blinked and tried to look serene. “No, I don’t think so.” I took a small bite of rice.
“Was there something wrong with the salmon, dear? I noticed you didn’t have any. You’re not turning into a vegan, are you?”
“No, of course not, mother.”
She pursed her lips. “Then why won’t you try the salmon?”
“Barbara,” my father cut in, “if she doesn’t want salmon…” he trailed off with a shrug.
Taking a deep breath through her nose, she sucked in her cheeks. “But the salmon is delicious.”
“Mmm. It is delicious, Barb,” Allen said. Suck up.
“And the wine is great. What is this wine, Dad?” Jacks asked.
“It’s—”
“Salmon is good for the heart. Isn’t that right, darling?” she asked my father. Well, since he was a podiatrist, he should know.
“Yes, dear, it is,” he said, before lapsing into silence.
“Did you hear that, Rosalyn?”
“Yes, I heard. Salmon — it’s all the rage with the kids these days.”
Barbara set her fork on the side of her plate. “Why must you be so contrary?”
“She hates salmon. She said that the last time she was here, Grandma,” Scotty said. “And I don’t like it either.”
I bit my lip to smother a grin.
My mother picked up her fork and continued to eat. She didn’t say another word.
I winked at Scotty. He smiled back. Darn, that kid was cute.
“So,” Jacks said with a little too much enthusiasm. “How’s school, Rose? You’re taking ethics now, right?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but wasn’t quick enough.
“Are you concerned about the ethics of serving your customers heart attacks along with their biscuits and gravy?” my mother asked. Each word was a bullet shot through a tight smile. “So useful, these little classes.”
Wow, Jacks was really crappy at defusing. I pierced a carrot. “You’re right as usual, Mom.”
No one said much after that, and only the clinking of silverware broke the uncomfortable silence. The tension was almost painful.
Eventually the torture came to an end. My mother, Jacks, and I cleared the table while Scotty went back to his video game. Allen and my dad retired to the media room to watch TV.
“Rosalyn?”
“Yes, Mom?” I grinned, baring my teeth.
She held a glass in one hand and a dirty plate in the other. “Why don’t you go relax? After all, you clean tables for a living. I’m sure you don’t want to do it on your off hours, too.”
“Don’t be silly. Since I’m a pro, it will go that much quicker if I help.”
Jacks’ nervous gaze shifted between my mom and me. “Why don’t you both go relax? I can do it.” She hurried into the kitchen.
As we cleaned up, my mother chatted with Jacks, freezing me out entirely. She considered this a punishment. I considered it a reprieve.
After we filled the dishwasher, Jacks left the kitchen with the sorry excuse she needed to check on Scotty while my mother and I stood in silence.
“Did you get the phone numbers for Mary and Packard?” I finally asked.
She raised her chin in the air and stared at me with her lips pursed before walking to the small desk attached to the countertop. She pulled a piece of paper from the top drawer. “I want you to know that I’m doing this against my better judgment. You can’t hound these people.”
“Darn, hounding and grain alcohol are all I have going for me.” I took the paper. It had Mary’s new married name, her address and phone number, as well as Packard’s number and address.
She acted as if I hadn’t spoken. “Packard is very busy. He’s on the city council, you know.”
“So?”
“There’s talk of him running for mayor.”
“And?”
She closed her eyes for a second and sighed. “Axton is nothing but trouble, and why you continue to be friends with him is beyond me. He ruined my birthday party with his drugs.”
Ah, the infamous country club fire alarm incident where Ax toked up in the bathroom. “That was four years ago. Seriously, when are you going to let it go?” My guess was never.
“Furthermore, Packard doesn’t need some drugged up relative causing him problems.”
My turn to ignore. “Thanks, Mom,” I said, waving the paper. I almost made it to the stairs when her voice stopped me.
“Why can’t you just for once do what is expected of you?”
I turned to face her. “What exactly is expected of me in this situation, Mom?”
“He’s probably somewhere getting high. Just stay out of it. It doesn’t concern you. You’d be better off trying to get a good job and make some decent friends.”
I clenched my teeth and took a deep breath. “Axton is decent. He’s the sweetest, kindest, most generous person I know, and he’s in trouble.” I stepped forward and lowered my voice. “And I like my job, thank you. Just because you were too good—”
She made a slashing motion with one hand. “As far as I can see, you’ve had a pretty good life. We gave you the best of everything so you could make something of yourself, but you’re throwing it away with both hands.”
I rubbed my eyes. We’d had this conversation a million times. We could have it again tonight, but it wouldn’t change anything.
I turned and left the kitchen, made hasty farewells to my dad and Allen, gave Scotty a kiss on the head, and promised my sister I’d call later in the week.
My mother stood on the front step, her arms crossed, and watched me drive away. I felt unsettled, sad and angry at the same time.
But in a way, she was right. Although I’d rather stick a shrimp fork in my eye than admit it to her. Lately, I felt like life was passing me by. I’d been coasting.
I diddled my time away, taking classes like Film Appreciation and Sex Throughout History for the past five years without any direction whatsoever. I couldn’t decide what to do with my life, and it scared me I might never figure it out.
I blew out a breath. What I needed was action, not introspection. I wasn’t going to find Axton by driving around feeling sorry for myself.
I pulled into a Quickie Mart and asked for directions.
Packard Graystone lived on the outskirts of Huntingford in a development so new half the houses were under construction. Silhouettes of backhoes and earthmovers, their jagged claws hovering in the air, bordered the neighborhood. I got lost driving down partially finished streets that led to nowhere. Kind of like my life.
The luxury homes all looked the same in the dark. Cookie cutter housing for the professional set. I finally found Packard’s house — two chimneys, two bay windows, and a four car garage — in the middle of a cul-de-sac. A white SUV sat in the driveway and most of the lights were shining from inside the house.
I grabbed my purse and keys, marched up to the front door, and knocked. Axton’s niece or nephew — I couldn’t tell which because it had one of those floppy haircuts and long eyelashes — answered.
“We don’t want any,” he/she said and started to close the door.
I wedged my foot in the gap. “Get your dad, kid.” Ax never talked about his brother or this kid. Axton was on the outs with this family, even more so than I was with mine. But it was going to drive me batty. Was this kid a boy or girl?
The child looked at me, then my foot, and proceeded to yell at the top of its lungs, “Dad!”
Packard walked toward the door, wiping his hands on a green and white plaid dishcloth. He resembled Axton, but where Axton was small and scrawny, Packard was taller, beefier, and almost fifteen years older. The wiry blond hair was obviously a family trait, but Packard wore his short and full of hair product.
“May I help you?”
“Hi. I’m Rose Strickland.” I waited, but there was no look of recognition on his face. “I’m a friend of Axton’s.”
“Jordan,” he said to the kid, “go finish your homework.”
Darn, I still didn’t know if that kid was a boy or a girl. Jordan could be used for both, right?
When the kid zoomed out of sight, Packard narrowed his cold blue eyes. “Listen,” he pointed a finger at me. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but that little shit has nothing to do with me.”