Chapter Seven

 

There’s one in every family. Or so Mama tells me. I don’t know if she’s right or if Mama is just trying to make the point that it’s not the fault of her parenting that my sister DeLorean turned out the way she did.

In any case, I was not up for trying to analyze what went wrong in the years between the self-assured toddler who could charm any kid in Sunday School out of their last piece of candy and the current helpless princess. Why did she have to have another major life crisis now, on the morning after my argument with Mama? I’d lain awake half the night, plans for the new career fighting for space in my mind with replays of Mama’s disapproving lecture.

The phone woke me before my alarm could do the job. All I wanted was to find some way for DeLorean to manage, for once, without me having to disrupt my entire life. Hadn’t I told Jack just two days ago that I’d learned to say no?

I twisted a hunk of my hair around my fingers so tight my nails started turning blue. Against the advice of all the youthful appearance experts—and Mama--I puckered my face into a frown guaranteed to lead to wrinkles and premature aging unless I hit the botox center soon and often.

“You’re sure the breakup is for real? After all, this isn’t the first time you and Baldwin have argued and you wouldn’t want to make another mistake.” Yet, I hoped it was real, that she was finally leaving that jerk she’d hooked up with.

“Susan, give me a break. I’m twenty-eight and, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve had a ton of boyfriends, so I know a breakup when I see one. I could throw myself in front of a train for trusting him to begin with, but then where would that leave me? You’ve gotta see how devastated I am.” She said devastated in long, drawn-out tones in case I still didn’t get it. “He’s paid for plane tickets back to Charleston from LA. He never wants to see me or our baby again, like we don’t even exist and we never did. He says marriage is for fools, so he never intended to marry me to begin with and I was kidding myself. You should see the way he acts, getting jealous over his own son and talking mean to us both, though of course Cole doesn’t understand.” She sounded out of breath when she finally stopped talking.

“I’m sorry. You did the right thing to break it off, Dee.” All thoughts of sticking to my position evaporated like so much morning mist burning off in the sun. I experienced a surge of protective anger at the thought of Baldwin behaving so coldly toward my sister and her baby. I was glad for DeLorean, glad she was getting away from Baldwin and I would stop selfishly worrying over the impact of her troubles on my own plans. And yet, the rush of words on the other end of the line had pelted me like chunks of ice.

DeLorean, once again, had turned her life into hash, and I would have to pick up the pieces. She’d never ask Mama to take her in. Mama and the Chihuahuas live in a one-bedroom condo the size of my garage. Besides, Mama and DeLorean get along like two crocodiles fighting over a zebra carcass.

“Does Mama know about this?” I asked stupidly.

“God, no. I can’t deal with hysterics long distance and she’d just worry herself into a heart attack. Let’s wait till I get there and then when she sees me and Cole it will be a nice surprise for her.”

Nice surprise wasn’t exactly the phrase that came to mind when I imagined Mama, her latest lecture forming on her lips, catching sight of DeLorean and Cole camped out in my guestroom.

“Of course I’ll help. You don’t seem to have many options and Baldwin has been unbelievably cruel.”

“I knew it. I knew I could count on you, Susan. You’re the best sister ever.”

“Sure, that’s me.” I still thought it would be a good idea to call Mama, but knowing I’d have better luck trying to bore a hole through my kitchen wall with a toothpick than I would winning an argument with DeLorean, I asked, “When are you arriving?”

“One o’clock this afternoon, your time. See you.” The line went dead. I didn’t even have a chance to tell her that Jack Maxwell was back in town and he’d asked me to lunch today and one o’clock was not convenient.

DeLorean’s an expert at scripting other people’s lives for them, mostly mine. I sighed and plunked myself into the nearest chair. I love DeLorean and her baby son, but why did this have to happen today? Veronica’s new business would need all my attention, and I was determined to make it work. Having finally woken up or had ice water thrown in my face or whatever you want to call it, I deserved a chance at happiness.

Why couldn’t I do what I wanted now that I didn’t have a husband to stop me? T. Chandler would have gone quietly indignant if I’d ever done something for myself while we were married.

“Your first priority is our son,” he’d have said, speaking in low tones so I’d have to lean toward him like a serf obeying to her master in order to make out his words. “Second is our marriage. You can’t jump into something as risky as ghost tours, or whatever you’re calling it, something with evening hours that would demand such a big chunk of your time and energy. And you know I don’t care for that woman.” That woman was Veronica, who’d caught on to T. Chandler a lot faster than I had.

But T. Chandler was out of my life, thank God. In fact, he was out of the city, having moved to Atlanta with his new wife. I was not going to let either him or DeLorean and her latest disaster weigh on my mind.

As far as moving ahead with my job plans, I could start the ghost tours, but I’d have to wait to move into the Seaside View until DeLorean and her son settled in to a place of their own. Presumably this would be after she found a job here in Mount Pleasant or across the river in Charleston. There had to be a way to manage with two extra people. I was simply going to have to rearrange my schedule. I thrust my chin out and pasted on a “can-do” smile. Mission accomplished—almost.

I called Jack and left a message that I couldn’t make lunch due to a problem with my sister. Then I called Odell to say I’d had a family emergency. He was still screaming about “short-timers attitude” and making inarticulate noises when I hung up. Brenda would be fine. She’d taken copious notes yesterday. Besides, she’d shown every sign of wanting to do things her way and this was her golden opportunity to assume command.

After I hung up on Odell, I spared myself a moment of keen disappointment that I wouldn’t be seeing Jack today. He was right--we still had a lot of catching up to do and, after all, we used to be best friends.

Then I raced around like a madwoman getting the guest room ready, cleaning out the closet where I’d stored the overflow from Christian’s room and rearranging the second guest room, which I’d been using as an office. DeLorean could have that room for the baby as soon as he was old enough to leave her side.

When I was done, I barely had time to shower and change before I had to head out to pick up DeLorean at the Charleston airport. The airport is only about fifteen miles from my home in Mount Pleasant. Unfortunately, an accident somewhere ahead of me blocked the westbound lanes. I crawled along in a line of cars moving bumper to bumper.

DeLorean’s plane had already touched down by the time I rushed into the terminal panting like an overheated dog. Swarms of newly arrived travelers milled around me, jostling for space next to the baggage carousel. I stepped back against the nearest wall just in time to avoid being crushed between two football player-sized men in suits, turned slightly to the right, and spotted DeLorean huddled in a corner clutching Cole in front of her in a baby carrier. Various carry-on bags swung from her shoulders.

She was wearing an emerald green cocktail dress and spiked heels—silver in color. I didn’t know how she managed to keep her balance. Her auburn hair stood out from her head in a mass of thick, unruly curls. If the break up with Baldwin had stressed her, the effects didn’t show on the perfect oval of her face. Her make-up, lightly applied, was enough to highlight her long-lashed blue eyes and her full lips. More than a few men turned for a second look as they walked past. I felt a surge of pride. That was my little sister they were admiring.

Cole looked in my direction. His chubby fist, clutching a rattle, waved back and forth. My heart melted and I stepped forward and somehow managed to hug them both. Then I held out my arms. DeLorean handed him over, carrier and all.

“Thank God you’re finally here, Susan. What took you so long? All this stuff weighs a ton.”

“Come over to this side.” I led the way to a bench. “Let’s wait till the herd thins before we fetch your luggage.”

“Good idea.” She collapsed on the bench, her bags spread out around her, and on my feet. “I have three suitcases. Can you believe it? Two years with Baldwin, that flaming narcissist, and all I have to show for it are a few bags and suitcases. And my precious Cole, but you know what I mean.”

I’d flown out to California six months ago when Cole was born because Mama was not quite over her hysterectomy and couldn’t make the trip. DeLorean had proudly shown me the beautifully decorated apartment and expensive furniture that looked like it had come out of a showroom. Baldwin liked to have friends over and he obviously wanted them to see that his place was first class. He’d paid more attention to his décor than he did to his son, bragging that he’d had his home professionally decorated. Later DeLorean had pulled me aside and told me with a pout that Baldwin didn’t want a child, but she was going to get him to be reasonable now that the child had actually been born and was lying right there in a crib staring up at him.

As if she were reading my mind, DeLorean said, “Baldwin got custody of the furniture and all the other gorgeous things in the apartment, and I got Cole and Brad. Not that I’m complaining.”

I’d been nodding, thinking that since Baldwin paid for everything and set such store by his possessions, he’d want to claim them for himself. But when she said, "Brad,” my senses went on high alert.

“Who or what is Brad?” I was almost afraid to hear the answer. Long years of experience with DeLorean had made me cautious.

Her bright expression didn’t change. “He’s Cole’s puppy. Named after Brad Pitt. Don’t you think he’s the handsomest thing in Hollywood?” DeLorean beamed me a smile that would have prompted whole cities of admiring men to throw themselves off cliffs on her behalf. “Goodness, it’s crowded in here.” She extracted a sheaf of papers from her purse and used them to fan herself.

I knew DeLorean too well to let her distract me. “You didn’t say anything about a puppy.” I glanced at Cole and when he flashed his dimples at me and gurgled, I reached down and stroked his silky blond hair. A baby this age wouldn’t know a puppy from a giraffe. What was DeLorean thinking?

Big, troubled sigh from DeLorean, accompanied by a mini-pout. “There wasn’t time. I had a ton of stuff to do, getting my stuff packed, picking up Cole’s medical records from his pediatrician, putting in change of address forms at the post office. You have no idea. You’ve always been willing to stay stuck in Mount Pleasant like it’s the Garden of Eden or something. Moving across country is hard work. I can’t be expected to think of every single thing like I’m some kind of robot with a computer for a brain.”

It didn’t take a computer brain to remember you had a dog. “We can pick up the puppy after we load your bags.”

“Did you bring your old car, that van thing with all the room in the back?”

“The minivan. It’s the only vehicle I have, Dee. I haven’t gotten rich and added a little sports number to the fleet since you last talked to me. Why?”

“Brad’s crate wouldn’t fit in a regular car. And I don’t want him bouncing around loose next to Cole in his car seat.”

Okay, so Brad sounded like a lively puppy. There was plenty of room at my place for him to run in the fenced back yard. True, the fenced part of the yard wasn’t all that big, but how much room could a puppy need?

The answer to that question took on new dimensions after we pulled around to the cargo area to get Brad. I left DeLorean and Cole in the car and walked over to a service window. One of the baggage handlers wandered out and led me into a building that looked like an oversized metal garage. He pointed out a crate about three feet high and two feet wide.

“There’s got to be a mistake.” I just managed to keep a civil tone. I was hot, tired after loading DeLorean’s things, and in no mood for incompetence. “I’m picking up a puppy, not a pony.”

I turned in a complete circle and pointed to a row of crates that could have held cocker spaniels. “He’s probably in one of those.”

“DeLorean Marsh, right?”

“My sister.”

“There’s your dog, lady.” He pointed to the big crate again. Then he motioned to a co-worker, who brought over a cart that looked sturdy enough to move an elephant.

My heart rate totally out of control, I approached the crate and squatted to peer inside. A mass of long, curly, gold-colored fur undulated back and forth and a pink tongue tried to lick my hand through the bars. I sucked in a deep centering breath and read the tag on the crate. No wonder DeLorean hadn’t mentioned Brad during our brief phone conversation this morning. She’d known I would have put my foot down. Probably.

Toy poodle-sized puppy, okay. Massive designer dog--a golden doodle according to the tag on the crate--not okay. Hairy, too big to be a housedog. And knowing DeLorean, probably not trained and not housebroken.

“You could have told me,” I said in barely civil tones when I was back in the minivan and the crate was loaded. We’d had to take out and rearrange the suitcases to squeeze the crate in. “You could have said you were bringing a dog that could swallow me whole and not show a tummy bulge.”

“Don’t be so bitchy. Brad is Cole’s golden doodle. You wouldn’t want to deprive your baby nephew of his pet, would you?” She shoved a wayward curl out of her face and when it sprang back, she pushed it behind her ear and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m exhausted and I haven’t eaten all day. As if I don’t have enough to worry about, you’re giving me grief about my baby’s pet.”

“I though a golden doodle was a cross between a poodle and a golden retriever. Brad’s huge. He looks more like a great dane-kanoodle on steroids if you ask me.”

“There isn’t any such thing.” Her pout assumed record-breaking proportions, threatening to dislocate her jaw.

“Gee, why not? Surely there are babies all over the country crying in their cribs to get one.”

I eased out of the parking lot and into a break in traffic. I took deep centering breaths until I felt lightheaded. I was not going to argue with my sister, who was clearly suffering after her breakup. I was not going to let DeLorean ruin my day. What was left of my day.

Even when we got home and I freed Brad from the crate and discovered that A. my backyard fence had a hole in it that a horse could fit through and B. Brad’s coat was matted and he had fleas, I maintained control. I pasted on my best “I am coping” smile and held tight to the leash to keep DeLorean’s designer dog from dragging me out of the neighborhood.

When I rubbed his fur backward and pointed out a couple of scurrying fleas, DeLorean looked at me helplessly.

“I’ve been too busy with Cole to have time to comb Brad or worry over parasites. You’re a mother, you know how it is with a baby and their constant needs. And Baldwin insisted I be the only caregiver instead of hiring a babysitter so I could go back to work. I thought it was because he finally learned to love Cole, but it turned out that was only another way to control me.” Her voice trembled, and I noticed faint blue circles showing through her under-eye concealer.

Yeah, I could have told her all about control tactics. After T. Chandler and I married, he took charge and I didn’t have to think anymore, never had to wonder what to say or do. Never realized I was exactly the kind of possession he’d been looking for; not until we’d been married a couple of years and I started to develop too much personality, as he called it. He’d let me know he’d wanted someone who was pretty, quiet, and obedient, so he’d be “free to pursue his interests.” I eventually outgrew my meekness. Then I developed enough outrage to get into frequent shouting matches with him before our marriage finally ended, with him accusing me in injured tones of pulling a “bait and switch.” Maybe the new Mrs. Caraway, the one who spent all her spare time at the plastic surgeon’s, was the mannequin he craved.

“Sorry, Susan. If it’s too much trouble to help me, I’ll call some of my friends.” She sounded close to tears.

My heart softened. My baby sister had gotten herself into a real mess with Baldwin. But at least she hadn’t married him and stuck with him for nineteen soul-numbing years the way I had with T. Chandler.

I held up my right hand, palm facing out. “It’s okay. I can take the dog to be groomed and get him a flea bath. Everything will turn out fine.” I put Brad back in his crate.

After putting her things in her room, I told her to help herself in the kitchen. She had to be starved.

“There’s leftover salad and ham for sandwiches, iced tea if you want it.”

“I’m hungry, but I don’t know if I can eat. I feel like I’ve been run through a paper shredder.”

That was understandable. I fixed her a tuna salad sandwich anyway. She made a face. A stranger walking in would think I’d just placed an armed grenade in front of her, but she picked up the sandwich and nibbled at the edges.

It was late afternoon, probably too late to get Brad fumigated, but I had to get something set up. I tapped a pencil against the countertop until DeLorean shot me a pained look. Right. Her nerves were shredded.

I remembered that Mama took her babies to a place called the Pet Wellness Center and Spa that I passed every day on the way to work. I dialed them and said I had an emergency.

“Sure, we’ll do him tomorrow morning if you bring him early. We’re always busy on Saturdays, but we’ve had a cancellation.”

Tomorrow morning didn’t seem soon enough given the number of fleas I’d seen setting up homesteads on Brad’s back, but I had no desire to waste more time calling around to other shops.

As soon as I broke off the call, I started dialing Mama’s number. DeLorean looked over my shoulder and let out a shriek. She dropped her sandwich on the table, grabbed the receiver from me and slammed it down in its cradle. Her eyes went huge.

“Susan, give me a break. I knew you’d want to involve Mama first thing. You have no clue how exhausted I am. Not one clue. Cole doesn’t sleep all night long--he wakes me up like every three hours--and I had to get up way early for my flight. I had to finish packing and they make you arrive hours early for security, and then he fussed all the way across the country and I couldn’t eat those airplane snacks, so I feel positively ill.”

“Mama won’t be pleased that we didn’t tell her right away. She’s never seen Cole.”

Mama had planned to fly to LA next month, a trip that involved the services of a whole office full of travel agents, as well as at least an hour of my time every few days. We’d spent countless hours discussing how much luggage she’d need and whether she should invest in a new wardrobe. We’d argued over whether she should bring little coats for the Chihuahuas or if it would be warm enough in LA. to keep them from developing hypothermia.

“Mama will have to get over it. I simply can’t handle her right now.”

I shrugged. I put a leash on Brad and walked him in the back yard. Then I tried to put him back in his crate, an operation that took a lot more time then I’d budgeted since he dug in all four feet when I tried to move him. I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to be cramped up, but there was no way I could turn him loose in the house. I supposed I’d have to hire someone to repair the fence. I gave up and jailed him in the utility room.

I grabbed my keys and left for an emergency trip to the grocery with a list that included a large bag of dog food. When I got back, DeLorean was holding Cole, feeding him a concoction that was supposed to be strained peas, but looked like what would happen if someone boiled a pot of grasshoppers and scraped the resulting goo into a jar. He was greedily slurping up his dinner and grinning at the same time. What hadn’t dribbled onto the front of DeLorean had made its way onto what used to be my clean kitchen floor. I made a mental note to shop for a high chair.

DeLorean wiped a green glob off a towel she’d draped across her front. “Susan? Would you mind feeding Cole the rest of his peas while I take a nap? I’m soooo wiped out from the trip.”

“Go,” I said, lifting Cole out of her arms and waving her toward the stairs. Out of habit I glanced at the answering machine before I sat in the chair she’d just vacated. No messages. But then DeLorean would have answered the phone while I was out and told me if anyone had called. I’d have to get used to not living alone, even though it was only a few weeks since Christian went away to college.

Cole started fussing the minute DeLorean left the room. I managed to get him to take a spoonful of his peas, which he then promptly spat at me. I cleaned the two of us and sat in a rocker with him and hummed Brahms’ Lullaby. After about ten minutes, his eyes started to droop and he was nearly asleep when Brad broke into a barking fit.

The baby startled awake and wailed loud enough to wake Rip Van Winkle if he’d been sacked out in the next room. I beamed a couple of choice thoughts Brad’s way. I expected DeLorean to hear Cole’s distress cries and rush back down to take him over from me, but she didn’t put in an appearance.

Sighing with frustration, I got up and walked Cole back and forth from the front door to the kitchen. Yesterday at this time I was still at work, wishing I were home. I’d been looking forward to lunch with Jack. Funny how fast things could change.

The phone rang and, even though the sound prompted Brad to break into a fresh barking session and Cole to break into a fresh round of crying, I was glad for the interruption. “Caraway residence, Susan speaking,” I said breathlessly.

“Honey, you sound like you were expecting Tom Cruise to give you a ring. Is that a baby I hear?” Patty sounded as cheery as ever.

“How did you know? Could it have been the distinctive, ear-splitting wail? My sister flew in from LA with her baby this afternoon.” My voice was considerably less cheery. I hadn’t been expecting Tom Cruise, but somehow I’d gotten the idea that Jack might call to reschedule our lunch date.

No, not a date, just lunch. But still.

“Brenda is on the other line with a customer. She said to ask where you keep the copies of the loan contracts because she can’t find them and she’s practically turned the office inside out. She has, too, wait ‘til you see it. It’s completely rearranged, but I don’t like the feng shui at all. She’s got the trashcan in the family center and she refuses to listen when I try to tell her she’s setting herself up for problems with Odell.”

“I think problems with Odell are in the job description.”

“Whatever. I’m going to miss you, Susan. Brenda is simply too opinionated and she says she doesn’t believe in the Universe. How can you not believe in the Universe? I mean, it’s right out there.”

Cole let out an extra loud wail, and Brad responded by throwing himself against the door of the utility room and howling like a love-starved werewolf. “The contracts are in Odell’s file cabinet next to his desk. He doesn’t let them out of his sight.”

“I’ll tell her. Sounds like you have your hands full, so I’ll let you go.”

“Later, Patty.”

What made her think I had my hands full? She couldn’t possibly know that Brad needed another walk and Cole needed his diaper changed and my sister was working on a new Guinness record for napping.

By seven o’clock, DeLorean still hadn’t come downstairs. I fixed Cole a bottle and took him to her room. She rolled over sleepily and reached for him, cuddling him next to her.

“Thanks,” she whispered huskily.

I experienced a moment of tenderness toward the little sister who used to follow me everywhere and copy everything I did. She’d even named her favorite doll after me, though I hadn’t been exactly thrilled to have a grubby, green-haired, one-eyed namesake that lived naked in the toy box.

The tender feeling lasted until I got back downstairs and discovered that Brad hadn’t been gentleman enough to wait for his next walk. I had to tie him to an oak tree in the back yard while I shoveled the mess off the utility room floor.

I turned on the TV and alternated between watching Casablanca–again--and reading a book about country houses. When was someone going to write a book about divorce houses?

The phone rang and when I glanced at the caller ID, I gave up all thoughts of feeling sorry for myself.

“Hello, Jack.”

“I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“I’m watching Casablanca.” I grabbed the remote and pressed mute. Rick was in the middle of telling Ilsa that they’d always have Paris.

“Woman, you need to get a life.”

“Sorry about canceling lunch, but DeLorean few in from LA with a crisis situation.” My voice was flat and matter-of-fact, but inside I was screaming, Damn it, why does my sister have such rotten timing?

“We can reschedule. But I need to ask you something. I kind of need a woman’s opinion about the master bath in my new place, the house I’m renovating. Think you can help me out?”

“You’re talking to a woman who’s relatively clueless when it comes to home decor.” I wasn’t colorblind, though Mama had accused me in injured tones of being color impaired when I tried to hang purple drapes on the windows of my scarlet walled dining room. Hey, even I knew it wasn’t a match, but they were on sale and I was too tired to keep shopping. “But if you think I can help, I’d be glad to tell you what I think about your bathroom.”

“Great. I’m working part of the day tomorrow. I’ll call you when I get off and we’ll arrange to go over there and take a look.”

He had to cut the call short. When I put the receiver down, I caught a reflection of myself in the kitchen window and saw that I was grinning like a demented smiley face.

So what? I was glad he’d phoned, despite my doubts over the value of my bathroom decorating input. For a few minutes I’d been able to feel like a desirable woman instead of DeLorean’s overworked sister. Maybe I could sneak away during the bathroom inspection and use my cell phone to consult Veronica about the decorating and then return with priceless advice. When Kelly The Girlfriend showed up, she’d be thankful for my help. We’d become good friends, maybe even go shopping together.

Something in my forehead started to thump like a jungle drum. I hoped Kelly hated Charleston.