Wish List (4 page)

“
Snot’
s the word you’re looking for,” Dolly said and grinned.

“It’s as good as any I can come up with. C’mon, let’s go home and get that turkey ready. Are you really making dinner rolls from scratch, Carla? I thought you didn’t know how to cook.”

“I don’t. It’s going to be a first. They’ll probably come out like hockey pucks.”

“Who cares?”

Ariel sat down on the edge of the bed, weary beyond belief. The performance she’d given for Dolly and Carla’s benefit during the preceding hours was worthy of an Oscar. She rolled over and snuggled with her pillow. She was alone now, in her own room, with the door locked. Now she could beat the walls, smash things, howl, swear and curse, do whatever she damn well pleased. Well, it pleased her to cry. Not just for what she was experiencing, but for all the negatives in her life. She could allow herself the luxury of tears now because it didn’t matter if her eyes got red and puffy. There would be no cameras tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. There would never be cameras again.
I wish
. . . She was off the bed in a flash. She reached for the pencil hanging on a string next to the batch of wish lists. She-scribbled furiously.
I wish I was still married to Felix. I wish I could find Felix. I wish he would remember me, still love me, come looking for me so he can tell me none of this matters. I wish I could recapture those wonderful, special feelings I felt that day when I was sixteen and we got married in secrecy in Tijuana. I wish . . . Oh, Felix, where are you?

Ariel stared at the only entry on her wish list. One entry in thirty years. How was that possible? Why did she ever begin the wish list in the first place? So I would never forget Felix, that’s why. He’d promised to start his own wish list. She wished she knew if he’d followed through.

Ariel slammed the door of the louvered closet with a bang. She was crying again. The only time you think about Felix Sanchez is when things aren’t going right for you and you wonder what would have happened if . . .
If.
It’s always
if.
Track it, Ariel, track it to the present. If you have the guts. Make a list, number it. I dare you. Then get the guts to add it to the wish list. Go ahead, Ariel. That’s why you want to go back to Chula Vista. It’s not that home thing, it’s that Felix thing. Admit it. Make the damn list, Ariel. Now.

Ariel walked back to the closet, removed the sheaf of papers, and added the list she’d just finished to the back of the thick pile. She tacked it back up, stared at it a minute, and then closed the door.

Why was she doing this? Because . . . because . . . Felix was always so comforting. Just thinking about him makes me feel calm. Okay, now that you’ve calmed down, do what you have to do. Go in the bathroom, stare at yourself, and get ready for bed. Tomorrow is another day. A new day. It’s going to be whatever you make it.

Never one to follow her own advice, Ariel flopped down on the bed and was asleep within minutes. Her dreams were invaded by a tall, slender, black-eyed boy with a halo of ebony curls and the sweetest smile in the world.

“Don’t be scared, Aggie. He’s just going to say some words. They’re going to be in Spanish. I’ll whisper the meaning as he goes along. I have the ring. I made it from fishing wire. I braided it. I made one for me, too. You have to put it on my finger just the way I have to put it on yours. Someday when I’m rich and famous, I’ll buy you one that’s full of diamonds. What kind will you buy me?”

“A thick, fat, gold one, maybe with a design on it. Our initials on the inside and the date. How long will we have to keep our marriage a secret, Felix?”

“Until your parents start to like me. Maybe that will be soon. How long do you think it will be, Aggie?”

“I don’t know, Felix. I think we might have to wait until I’m twenty-one. Then I can do whatever I want. They won’t be able to say anything. It makes me mad that my mother used to let your mother clean our house, but says you aren’t good enough for me. I wish my father didn’t hate you. He’s not tolerant at all. He doesn’t even care that you have a dual citizenship. I wish your mother hadn’t told my mother that you were born on her employer’s kitchen floor. I heard my mother talking to my father. She said you told her that after she cleaned you up, she continued to clean the kitchen. She knew she wouldn’t get paid if she didn’t finish out the day. I cried when I heard her say that.”

Felix’s face burned crimson. “My mother worked herself into an early grave. She did all she could for us. There’s no shame in hard work, Aggie. I wish . . . I wish she was alive so that when I get rich and famous I could buy her a big house and have some Anglo lady clean it for her.”

She squeezed Felix’s hand. “I love you so much. This is right, what we’re doing, but I’m scared. How about you?”

“I’m excited. It’s going to be wonderful because we love each other. Don’t be scared. I found the perfect place. I fixed it up yesterday. It smells so good, Aggie. I put flowers all around and there’s moss all over the place. My people call it a wedding bower. It’s perfect, just the way you’re perfect.”

“Are you sure no one will find out, Felix? My father will kill you if he . . . he will, Felix.”

“No one will find out. That’s why we’re going up to the mountains. The man who will marry us is a very old priest. I’ve known him since I was a small boy. He will keep our papers safe until we want them. I thought that was best. Do you think so, too, Aggie?”

“I can’t keep them at home. My mother goes through my things. She’s always looking for something. She shakes out my school books. I always tear up your notes after I memorize them. It’s good that the priest is willing to keep them. You can always go back and get them when the time is right. I think I’m getting excited. More excited than scared. At this time tomorrow I’ll be Mrs. Felix Sanchez. It sounds nice. Agnes Sanchez. Someday I’m going to get writing paper and have my name at the top. Should I put Aggie or Agnes?”

“I like Aggie best. It’s time to go, Aggie. We’re going to cross the bridge—it’s a long walk. Then we’ll go through town till I find the path that will take us up to the mountains. It’s a three-hour walk. If you get tired I’ll carry you. I’m stronger than I look.”

“You’re perfect, Felix. Two whole days! The most time we’ve ever spent together. I’m so happy. We wouldn’t be able to do this if my friend Helen hadn’t agreed to say I was spending the weekend with her. Promise me we’ll always be this happy.”

“I promise. Promise me you’ll love me forever and ever.”

“I promise if you promise, too.”

It was a long, steep climb and it took all of the three hours Felix said it would take. “I could never find my way up here again. How do you know where you’re going?”

“I used to take sacks of food to the padre twice a week. Now, another family in the parish does it. The padre is a very kind man. He won’t ask us any questions. I spoke to him three times. The only thing he made me promise was that I would love you in sickness and health and that part about till death do us part. I promised. You have to promise, too. I told you he doesn’t speak English, didn’t I? It’s not a problem. We’re almost there. I brought water and a soft cloth so you could freshen up. I made you a present, too,” he said shyly.

“A present. Is it a wedding present? I brought something for you, too,” Aggie said just as shyly.

“I love you, Aggie.”

She believed him because she loved him, too.

Twenty minutes later, Felix said, “We’re here.” He looked up at the sun. “We have fifteen minutes before we meet the padre. We have to be on time. He takes a long nap and you can’t wake him. If we don’t get there on time we’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Hurry, Aggie.”

She wore a simple white dimity dress with a pale satin sash. She’d brought a pair of soft leather slippers to complete her wedding outfit. “I’m ready.”

“Oh, Aggie, you look so beautiful. When I close my eyes I’ll always remember how you looked at this moment. Here, I made this crown of flowers for your hair and this is your bouquet. I kept them in water so they’re still fresh. Do I look okay?”

“Oh, yes,” Aggie said. “You look more handsome than a movie star. I like your tie.”

“Hurry, Aggie, It’s not far, but we can’t dilly around. Actually, we should run. Are you up to it?”

“For my wedding, I could fly if I had to. Lead the way, Felix.”

They were breathless and flushed when they came to a halt outside a small hut in a nest of lush greenery. There were flowers everywhere, colorful blooms that were so heady, Aggie felt drunk on the scent.

The padre was old and frail, his shoulders bowed from carrying the sins of the world. His hair was a glistening pearl white in the bright sunshine. Later she swore she saw a halo over his head. He was ill, too. She didn’t know how she knew, she just knew.

“Pinch me, Felix. I want to be sure I’m not dreaming,” Aggie whispered as she held out her left hand. Tears misted in her eyes when she stared at the simple homemade wedding ring. She was so in love she picked up Felix’s hand and kissed his ring finger.

“It’s over—he just pronounced us man and wife. He’s waiting for me to kiss you, and then I have to give him his present. Rich people give the padre money. I’m giving him a pouch of tobacco.”

It was the sweetest kiss in all the world.

“I love you, Mrs. Sanchez.”

“I love you, Mr. Sanchez.

Ariel woke from her dream, the same dream she’d had many times, her body bathed in sweat. She felt disoriented and her head was pounding. She reached over to turn on the bedside lamp. From the nighttable drawer she withdrew her keepsake box. In the bottom, wrapped in tissue, was the ring Felix had slipped on her finger. She’d looked at it before, but had never put it on her finger. She did so now, and all the memories of what came after flooded through her. That had never happened before. She told herself she’d never been this vulnerable before.

Ariel crawled back into bed. She pressed her left hand against her cheek. She was back in a mossy, flower-laden bower, a gentle smile on her face as she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Three

Ariel looked at the Christmas tree with disdain. It was one of those perfect, artificial Hollywood Christmas trees, complete with gilt and plastic. She hated it.

It was January 2, 1995. The second day of the New Year. “I say we just dump this tree and forget about it. There’s something really depressing about a white plastic tree with blue ornaments. I must have been out of my mind. It doesn’t give off one bit of Christmas cheer, at least none that I’ve ever noticed. Less to pack, Dolly. Anything that’s artificial, get rid of it. If I’m going to move into the real world, I don’t want any leftovers from this world. Next Christmas we’ll order a real live tree from Oregon and lots and lots of garlands to hang everywhere. Evergreens that smell good. No matter what or where we lived, my mother always insisted on a real Christmas tree. I hope next Christmas is better than this one.”

Dolly ripped a strip of packing tape from the roll. “If you’re in a better frame of mind than this year, it’ll be great. Did you hear anything more on the house?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Max called me this morning and made an offer. Twice what it’s worth. He said he wants it for his wife’s mother. I don’t know if I believe him or not. I know Max—he wants to make sure I’m taken care of. He’s such a decent person. In the end, I’m sure I’ll sell to him because it will make life simpler. When we leave at the end of the month we won’t look back.”

“Are you all right with the move, Ariel? Things have moved so fast, and I worry that you might have regrets. In twenty-nine days we’re moving, lock, stock, and barrel, as they say. You’ve been through a lot these past few months and it isn’t too late to change your mind.”

How worried she sounds, Ariel thought. As concerned as Max sounded. Didn’t they have any faith? Do they think I can’t manage my life? “Yes, it’s too late, and I have no intention of changing my mind because I realize this is best for me. I’m just sorry I didn’t do it two years ago. I do regret getting everyone stirred up about Perfect Productions. The truth is, it wouldn’t have worked. Knowing me, I would have run myself into the ground in six months. And I would have used a lot of energy trying to stay away from people so they wouldn’t pity me.
That
I couldn’t handle. Since my options are limited, I’m looking at this as an adventure. Or, the beginning of the second half of my life.”

“Then I say, okay. Let’s roll, baby,” Dolly said as she bent over to drag the white Christmas tree to the sliding door where she gave it a shove. The casters on the tree stand sped across the flagstone patio. Both women clapped their hands in glee.

“Decision number one. Accomplished! Let’s get rid of all these ricky-ticky decorations. We’ll get new stuff next year. Stuff that has some meaning to it. You know, things people make. Ken’s bringing the pictures of our new house. It has a guest cottage on the premises. Five bedrooms, oversize den, library, Mexican kitchen, whatever that means. An Olympic-size swimming pool, tennis court, Japanese garden. A front porch. Honest, Dolly, a real front porch with rocking chairs and all kinds of green plants. He said it was gorgeous and half the price of this one. Taxes are good, he said. Oh, it has four fireplaces and you know how I love fireplaces. A dual one in the kitchen and dining room, one in the den, one in the family room, and one in my bedroom. We can put one in your room if you like. You know, in case you get the romantic urge to entertain and have a fire going. They do it in the movies all the time.”

“Forget the fireplace. If I ever find someone I want to go to bed with I’ll use the guest house so I can make him breakfast.”

“That’s a hoot, Dolly. This is the 90’s. He makes breakfast for you, and do you know how I know that? I read that in not one, but two of the scripts that came in.”

“I’ll bear it in mind. This is the last box for this room. Do you want to start on another room or wait until after Mr. Lamantia leaves? How about if I make some hot pepperoni bread? I think it will go better with the vegetable soup than tuna, and it will be done by the time Mr. Lamantia gets here. There’s some ambrosia left from yesterday.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll stack these cartons against the wall. All my personal stuff that’s going with us in the Range Rover is in the hallway. I don’t want it to get mixed up with these cartons. When I’m done, I think I’ll go for a walk around the yard.”

Outside, Ariel pulled up short and stared at the house she’d lived in for twenty-five long years. Was she going to miss it? Perhaps, for a little while. God, what was she going to do with her life? She touched the holes in her face and wanted to cry. Don’t think of them as holes, the surgeon had said; think of them as indentations. He’d also said if she put on some weight they would be even less visible.
They aren’t as bad as you think they are, Ariel.
Easy for him to say, it wasn’t his face.
Come to terms with it and move on.
“I’m trying, I really am. I’ll try harder tomorrow and harder yet the day after tomorrow.”

Ariel was by the front gate when a horn sounded. She pressed the release button for Ken Lamantia. His baby blue 560 SEL crept between the gates. “I do like it when my hostess meets me personally at the gate. Hop in, Ariel. I’ll park in the back. This way I can go through the kitchen and see what Dolly’s making for lunch and maybe filch one of those fat sugar cookies she keeps in the cookie jar.”

He was a nice man, a dear man. More than that, he was a good friend of many years. He was tall and thin with dark hair graying at the temples that matched his mustache. His dark eyes twinkled behind wire-rimmed glasses. He was also a monogamous man, something almost unheard of in Hollywood. One of the things Ariel loved about him was his soft, cultured, caring voice. When he spoke, even if he was relaying bad news, you knew he was going to make things better.

Ariel could feel the knots of tension in her shoulders start to loosen. “It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

“I see you finally got rid of that ratty Christmas tree. About time. This is the time, Ariel, to get rid of all your old baggage, physically and emotionally. I found you a wonderful house. Dory says it’s to die for. She also said she’s jealous. I think she was just saying that, don’t you, Ariel? We have a beautiful house and she works hard to keep it looking that way. Sometimes I think maybe we should move, too, but my life is here, and Dory has family up in the canyon.”

“Dory loves her house and no, I don’t think she’d ever leave here. She’s the happiest, most well-adjusted person I know, next to you. It’s just an expression, Ken. And, she probably said it for my benefit, knowing you’d say something. I still can’t believe I let you buy me a house.”

“Why? I bought this one for you. And don’t tell me I didn’t get you a good deal. Max called me yesterday and told me he’s making you an offer today. Snap it up, Ariel, and don’t look back.”

“He’s offering twice what it’s worth. That’s not right. I don’t want or need his charity.” Her voice sounded huffy, something she didn’t intend.

“Not in today’s real estate market. I say take it, and Max will be forever in your debt. If you don’t sell to him, his mother-in-law will be living with them and he doesn’t want that. You’re actually doing him a favor. So, can I call him and tell him it’s a deal?”

“Okay. Tell me about the business I’m buying.” Ariel linked her arm with Ken’s and led him around the side of the house to the kitchen patio.

“Not till you feed me. You have to eat, too, because this is the kind of business you’re going to need a full stomach to hear about. Did I say that right?”

“It doesn’t matter. I get your point. I think we can handle a catering business with Dolly doing the cooking and me doing the delivering and scheduling. The other possibility we discussed was a kennel—you know, grooming, breeding. Jack Russell Terriers, maybe. I’d like that. The only problem is I’d probably want to keep all the puppies. Dolly seems to think a tea room would be nice. Lunch and brunch, that kind of thing. Carla suggested one of those year-round Christmas shops. None of this is right away, of course. I’ll need some time to settle in and maybe piddle around with my memoirs. Everyone wants to put it on paper. Why should I be any different? I’ll want to set up my house, buy some new things. If I’m going to live there the rest of my life, I want it to reflect me, Aggie Bixby, not Ariel Hart. Do you understand what I mean, Ken?”

“Yep. That’s all prissy stuff, Ariel. You have so much to offer. You need to do something meaningful. You need to make a contribution, to give back a little for all the good in your life. If you think of it in those terms we’re going to make this work.”

The idea was overwhelming. What did
meaningful
mean? “Dolly, I’m starved,” Ariel said, to cover her discomfort. “What’s for lunch?”

Dolly grinned. “Your favorite—pepperoni bread and my homemade vegetable soup. The one with the little white beans. Ambrosia for dessert.”

“Our cook only makes desserts that have pumpkin in them and the only thing she cooks well is pork chops. My wife likes pork chops. Or a pork loin with potatoes and carrots. Spareribs. Pork. Callandra says pork is the other white meat. She makes wonderful desserts so we don’t complain. I’ll double whatever Ariel is paying you, Dolly.” It was an offer he made every time he came to visit. Neither woman took him seriously.

“Eat, eat! Hurry up, Dolly,” Ariel said as they finished the meal. “I can’t wait to hear how we’re going to earn our living from now on. More coffee? Drink it fast, Ken. Okay, tell us.”

Ken leaned over the table, his chin cupped in his hands. A devilish light gleamed in his eyes. “Ariel, you are buying a trucking company, the biggest trucking company in the San Diego area. Aren’t you thrilled? It’s profitable. The owner thinks he’s too old to run it any longer, and his wife wants to move to Hawaii. They have a son, a rock musician, who wants no part of the trucking business. Good price. You can make a fortune if you run it right. Say something, ladies.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Ariel said.

“Now wait a minute, Ariel, think about it,” Dolly urged. “I could cook and sell the truckers baskets of food. You’re right, he’s out of his mind.”

“I knew that would be your first reaction. It was my wife’s, too. Even our housekeeper said the same thing. Think about it—you’re moving produce across the country. Truckers are what makes this country tick. The company is called Able Body Trucking. Mr. Able is the owner. His father and grandfather owned it before him. Very stable company. The offices leave a little to be desired. Great compound. Nine rigs go with the deal. Do you know what those babies go for? A hundred grand, some are two hundred. I signed both of you up for truck driving lessons. Can’t you see yourself tooling down the roadway of life? God, this is one of the best deals I’ve ever put together.”

“You signed us up for WHAT?” Ariel screeched.

“Truck driving lessons. You can do short hauls when business is booming. I thought you’d be excited. I spent a lot of time with Mr. Able to get the deal I got. I didn’t exactly think you’d jump up and down with joy, but I did think you’d have an open mind. You do, don’t you? Have an open mind, I mean. Think about the get-ups you can wear. Tight Levi’s, flannel shirts, baseball caps, those yellow work boots that lace up around your ankles. Men, all kinds of men. Provided you’re looking. You’ll be the talk of the town. Trust me, you are gonna love this. Besides, I bought it. We can’t back out now. You told me to go ahead, Ariel. You said whatever would provide a decent living, something you could sink your teeth into. This is it! The rigs have names. You can rename yours and you get to use a CB and get a handle. You know, something like ‘Hot Lips’ or ‘Doll Baby’.” He faltered at this last bit when he saw how glazed the women’s eyes had become. “C’mon, Ariel, this is going to be the adventure of your life. Dolly, you tell her. I guess it is a bit of a shock. A tea room or a catering company isn’t on a par with a trucking company. You need to be open-minded.”

“You already said that. Whatever possessed you to buy a
trucking company?
I don’t know the first thing about trucks and I don’t want to learn, Ken. Neither does Dolly. Truckers are always going on strike. They want more, more, more. Those big, burly men will never accept a woman boss, much less an ex-movie actress with a disfigured face. God, Ken, I can see it now—
hear them
is more like it. Men don’t like taking orders from a woman. No, get our money back. I’m not interested in the trucking business.”

“It’s too late. It’s a done deal.”

“Then you and Dory run it. This is your chance to hit the open road and take the little woman with you. Those eighteen-wheelers are nothing but penis extensions and you know it. NO!”

“Will you at least sleep on it for a few days? It’s so totally unlike anything you’ve ever done. From the wide screen to the open road is a big change. Ariel, if this wasn’t one of those once-in-a-lifetime deals I wouldn’t have gone ahead with it. You love challenges. It’s the perfect new life for you, in my opinion. You can do it—that’s the beauty of it. A very wise investment. All right, I’m leaving now if Dolly will brown bag some of those sugar cookies. It was a delightful lunch, Ariel, and I hope I haven’t made you too unhappy. I’ll call you at the end of the week.”

Dolly winked at Ken as she slid four plump sugar cookies into a plastic bag. “I think it’s kind of a neat idea,” she whispered. “What do you think about ‘Big Doll’ for a handle?”

“I love it! When the smoke settles, head for Rodeo Drive and pick up some classy truck driving duds. Those yellow boots will do it. They have a name, but I can’t remember what it is. They never wear out, and if they do, the company replaces them. Well, I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Don’t bother, Ken. I’m not driving a truck!” Ariel snapped.

Ken retraced his steps until he was towering over her. His usual smile and the twinkle in his eyes disappeared. “I forgot to tell you the most important thing. You have to get a dog and you need a shotgun and a revolver. The dog goes with you at all times, as do the weapons. I’d suggest a shepherd or a Doberman. I signed up both of you for lessons at a rifle range nearby. Consider it a refresher course. I know you were a crack shot in
Lady Bandit
, but this is real life and you probably forgot everything you learned. A retired police officer will teach you. I also signed you up for a refresher course in karate. You were a star pupil, as I recall, and I know that you kept up with it, but again, this is real life so a few lessons will be good.”