Things Remembered (13 page)

Susan laughed. “That's a terrible thing to say.”

“Terrible, maybe, but true.”

“Pardon me for intruding,” Mark said, draping his arm across Allen's shoulder. “But I could swear I just heard my name mentioned.”

“You did, but only in the highest terms,” Allen assured him.

Mark looked directly into Karla's eyes. “I don't think we've met—no, I know we haven't met. I would remember.”

She tried to break the eye contact but was held by the force of his gaze. “Karla Esterbrook.”

He held out his hand. “Of course. I should have known.”

“I don't understand.” He held her hand as long and confidently as he'd looked into her eyes.

“Cindy told me about you.”

“She did?” Knowing that Cindy thought her important enough to talk about to her father pleased Karla. She held up her glass. “Great wine.”

He looked confused for a second and then understood. “The man who gave it to me said that it was from one of those wineries in Sonoma that only sells to restaurants and a select list of customers. He told me to save it to share with special friends.”

His curiosity getting the better of him, Allen finally took a drink. “My God, have you tasted this stuff?” he asked Mark.

“Not yet.”

“It's terrible. I can't imagine what that guy was thinking dumping it on you that way, especially after you saved his dog. Why don't you let me take it off your hands? If nothing else, we can use it to cook with at the fire house.”

“It must be even better than I thought,” Mark said, reaching for Allen's glass. He held it aloft and tipped it in Karla's direction. “Here's to new friends . . .” He tilted his head to Susan and Allen and smiled. “And to old ones, too.”

Mark Taylor was the kind of man who could carry off the disheveled look. She had no doubt he was more handsome when his shirt and hair didn't show the effects of wrestling on the lawn with preschoolers, but then she wouldn't have to fight the urge to finger-comb the strands from his forehead or brush the grass from his shoulder. And she'd never been attracted to the smile or sparkle in the eyes of someone more slickly turned out. Maybe it was that he looked safe. Or maybe it was that he was one of the best looking men she'd ever met.

“Not bad,” Mark said after tasting the wine. “Almost as good as that stuff we had the other night at the pizza place.”

Allen shook his head. “What a waste.”

Cindy came up and leaned against Mark's leg. “I'm hungry, Dad. Would it be okay if I had a cookie?”

“You can have three pieces of celery and two carrot sticks or one cookie.”

“Some olives, too?”

“Black or green?”

“Black.”

“You can have four.”

She took off without saying anything more.

“Was that four olives and a cookie?” Karla asked.

Mark blinked in surprise and then laughed. “Probably.”

“How did trick-or-treating go last night?” Susan asked him.

“She came home with a ton of candy. I don't remember people being that generous when I was a kid.”

“Are you from around here?” Karla asked.

“Fresno. My folks have a farm there.”

Susan nudged Allen. “Cindy's not the only hungry one. My stomach's growling, too. You start the barbecue and I'll bring out the salads.”

The salmon was the best Karla had ever eaten. Even Anna had a second helping but began to fade long before the party was ready to break up.

“I don't know about you, but I'm getting a little tired,” Karla said as she sat down next to Anna.

“You're no more tired than Cindy is,” Anna gently chided her. “But I appreciate the gesture. Why don't I stay here while you say good-bye for both of us? And be sure to tell Susan I said everything was perfect, as usual.”

Karla made the rounds, thanking Susan and Allen for their hospitality, wrapping a piece of cake to take home for Anna to eat later, and retrieving her and Anna's purses from the closet. On her way out she ran into Mark.

“It was nice meeting you,” she said politely, adding an equally polite smile.

“Allen said you're going to be in town for a while.”

“A couple more weeks at least.”

“I have tickets to some kind of concert this Wednesday; how about going with me?”

“Some kind of concert?” she repeated. “Another grateful client, I suppose?”

“Something like that. If you need to know who's going to be there, I'll look and call you when I get home. Otherwise, we could just live dangerously and both be surprised.”

“I really hate surprises.”

“Then I'll call.”

“No, don't.” She had no business going out with him. She was there to work, not play.

“Decided to be adventurous—I like that. I'll pick you up at six. That way we can grab a hamburger first.”

He smiled, and she was tongue-tied, incapable of putting together the words that would get her out of a date she'd had no intention of making. “Do you need directions?”

“To the concert?”

“To my grandmother's house.” As soon as she'd said it, she realized she'd been had. “I'll see you Wednesday. If I'm not home, go ahead without me. I'll meet you there.”

“But how will you know where to go?” A second later he grinned. “You got me. Nice going.”

When Karla came downstairs the next morning, Anna was in the living room waiting for her. She looked up from the book she was reading and motioned for Karla to sit next to her.

“Come see what I found in that box you brought in from the garage yesterday. It's been so long since I looked at what was out there, I'd forgotten most of this stuff existed.”

Karla sat on the cushion next to Anna's. “What is it?”

“A scrapbook your mother put together when she was a junior in high school.” Anna slid the leatherbound album halfway onto Karla's lap. “This was the program from her first big dance.” Something slipped out of the pages. “Oh, and look . . . one of the flowers from her corsage.” She gently turned to the next page as if she were afraid it would disintegrate in her hands. “And this is the letter she earned playing varsity tennis.”

“She played tennis?”

“All four years.” She pointed to a faded color photograph of two young girls standing behind prison bars. “I'd forgotten all about the time we took Marie and her friend Donna to San Francisco for Marie's birthday.”

“Where were they when this was taken?”

“Alcatraz. It was the middle of May and bright sunshine outside, and still we almost froze before we got off that island.”

“I don't remember Mom ever talking about a Donna. Were they good friends?”

“Best friends—until she stole your mother's first serious boyfriend and dropped out of school six months later to have his baby.”

“Mom must have been devastated.”

“She was, for about a month or so, but then she met your father.”

“Did you like my dad back then?”

“Not one bit. I could see from the first time she brought him home that it was serious between them. She was only sixteen, he was twenty, in the Air Force, and out on his own. They were married the summer she graduated and left for Arkansas a month later. Did you know they stayed here with me and your grandfather when they got back from their honeymoon? It was only a couple of weeks, but I loved every minute they were here.”

Karla shook her head. “Maybe she was saving that to tell me when I was older.” She picked up a picture of her mother and father that had been tucked behind another program, this one for a school play. They were standing in front of an old car. “She looks so young here.”

“She was. They both were.”

“She was only a year older than I am right now when she died,” Karla said. “I've thought about that a lot lately, about how much she missed. It's hard to imagine her growing old. She'd be a grandmother now—with gray hair and glasses.”

“Gray hair, maybe, but not glasses. I can't remember one member of our family ever wearing glasses.” Anna turned the page. “Here she is on the homecoming float.”

“Where?”

“The one in the lumberjack costume.”

Karla opened the dance program for that same homecoming that had been glued to the opposite page. There was writing inside. Her mother's. She leaned forward and read aloud what it said. “Tonight was the best night of my life. I didn't think I was going to get to go to the dance because Dad said we didn't have money for a new dress. But Mom found some material and she made me one that looked like it came from the Weinstocks' downtown. No one could tell it was homemade. None of my friends have mothers like her. She's the best there is. I love her to pieces.”

Karla glanced at Anna. “Did you know this was here?”

“I never looked at this without your mother.” She read and reread the long-ago written note. “It's almost as if she sent you here to find it for me.”

Karla closed the book. “Come with me.” She stood and held out her hand to Anna, a gesture that would not have happened just a week ago. “I'm taking you to breakfast.”

“Are we celebrating something?”

“Indeed we are. I'm not sure what it is, but I don't care.” She felt wonderful and she felt free and didn't question that she didn't know why.

Chapter

10

S
o, how's it going?” Heather asked. “You were supposed to call me last weekend.”

Karla balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder and opened the closet door. Not knowing how to dress, she'd checked the paper to see what concerts were playing in the Sacramento area and had come up with everything from chamber music to Clint Black. “I forgot.”

“How's Grandma?”

“Fine.”

“Fine? That's it? You can't elaborate a little?”

“Could I call you back later?” She took a sweater out and studied it. Too bulky. “Tomorrow, maybe? Anna and I just got back from the bank and I'm running late.”

“All I want is five minutes.”

“I still haven't decided what I'm going to wear and Mark—” She caught herself, but too late.

“Whoa . . . Did I hear you right? Could you possibly have said a man's name in connection with looking for something to wear? Does this mean you actually have a date?”

“It isn't exactly a date.”

“Then what is it exactly?”

“He's the father of a friend. He happened to have an extra ticket to a concert and didn't have anyone to go with him. So I said I wasn't doing anything and he asked me if I'd like to come along.” The truth, but stretched farther than the old Rubber Man could have managed, even on his most flexible day.

“How disappointing.”

Karla pulled out a second sweater, a short-sleeved, burnt orange cashmere more in keeping with the lower temperatures that had moved in on Monday. “How are you feeling? Better yet, how's the baby? Still using your bladder for a trampoline?”

“She's been quieter than usual lately. I have an appointment next week to talk to the doctor about it. Bill thinks it's my imagination. He says I'm anxious for the baby to get here so I can get Anna moved in with us. I don't know, maybe he's right.”

Karla started through the limited clothing she'd brought with her all over again. “When was the last time you talked to Anna about moving in with you?”

“I know, she says she doesn't want to, but that's because she's worried about being a burden. As soon as I convince her that it's something Bill and I really want, she'll change her mind.”

“She likes living in Rocklin, Heather.” Karla added a brown wool skirt and jacket to the growing pile of clothes on the bed. “She doesn't want to give up her home and friends. Susan is wonderful with her, and I have an appointment with an agency that does in-home care. As soon as Anna and Dr. Michaels think it's necessary, she can have someone come and stay at the house with her.”

“Why would you do that?” Heather said angrily. “You know how much I've been looking forward to having her stay with me.”

“Isn't what she wants more important?”

“Since when do you care what Grandma wants?”

“Can we
please
talk about this later?”

“Promise me you won't do anything more about hiring someone until we do.”

“Okay, I promise.”

“How is Susan?”

“
Heather
, I really do have to get ready.”

“It would take you less time to tell me than to complain about it.”

“She's fine.”

“Just like Grandma, huh?”

“The same.” Karla kicked off her shoes and unzipped her jeans. “Now I'm going to hang up on you.”

“Give Grandma my love.”