Contemporary/Upmarket/Women’s Fiction
Date Published: September 2017
Vi Masters wonders…can you come home again? More, she wonders why anyone would want to. She fled upright, backwater Freedom, Iowa at seventeen and hoped never to return. But this time, she can’t stand up against the pleas of the aunt who raised her. It’s one weekend. How bad can three days be?
Three measly days in a wonderful eighteen-year marriage – that’s what Vi’s stepmother hopes. But what if Ben discovers what Tammy knew about why his daughter ran away – something he seems determined to finally find out? She can’t be sure Ben would forgive her, and that’s got Tammy scared to her bones.
One day in and Vi has to face how Aunt Sadie is failing, Caregiving will surely wreak havoc on Vi’s hard-won career, but how can she not? At least she might be able to turn the party Sadie’s planned into a night even Alzheimer’s won’t let Sadie forget.
But that’s before Vi finds out Nate Barlow has moved back to town. Now after all she’s already survived, Vi must dig deep for courage. Nate will never be able to accept Vi’s past. Will he? Who knew hope would be so scary?
Excerpt:
Chapter 12
Nate
I figured I’d chat
with Victoria at Sadie’s shindig Saturday and leave it at that. So it caught me
off guard when she showed up for a Pinewood breakfast Friday. Makes sense, I thought. Sadie wanted to
show her off. Not because she was famous, but because she doted on Victoria,
always had.
So why was I
surprised? And worse, why did it feel like a punch in the gut?
Chill, I thought as my ears went hot. No biggie. I had famous clients. Got
tongue-tied with the first few, but as my dealer says, they all put their
underwear on one leg at a time. But picturing Vi Masters in underwear didn’t
help at all.
It felt like seventh
grade. I wasn’t prepared then either. The guys had ragged on me something
fierce – those days when all girls had cooties – which meant I stopped hanging
with her a few years before. So when she walked into school that fall, I hardly
knew her. When did she get so tall and willowy?
With these subtle curves that set my imagination reeling? Why hadn’t I ever
noticed her eyes were like the river at sunset?
From then on, she was
Victoria, not Vicky, not Vee, like I called her when we were kids. Sexy,
sultry, worthy-of-worship Victoria. And from then on, my damn ears and tongue
were an adolescent nightmare whenever I came within ten feet of her. Smooth,
that’s what I was.
Find your smooth now Slick, I thought as she
moved toward my end of the counter.
I had more than a few
minutes to get myself under control. Every last customer – Dick the retired
trucker, George the retired math teacher, Mrs. Briggs and about a dozen more –
wanted to shake her hand and have a word.
Working the room, I thought. Like a gallery opening. Coffee instead of
wine.
I watched her smile
and chat her way through the crowd. A pat on the arm here, a question there, a
compliment on Miss Harriet Blue’s tacky old sweater, one I remembered from
piano lessons. Miss Harriet puffed right up. She’ll likely go to her grave in that sweater now.
Mrs. Briggs got most
of Victoria’s time. No surprise there. Even before we could read, the library
was her favorite haunt. Worked there senior year – when she wasn’t bussing
tables here at the Pinewood. So it was my haunt too.
That year I finally
started acting human around her. Made conversation, joked around. Took till
prom before I got the nerve to ask her out. She about knocked me flat when she
said, “We’ll have a better time on prom night, don’t you think, if we go to a
movie or something the night before?”
Long time ago. I jerked back to the
present as Sadie tugged Victoria to the counter.
“Connie, just look at
my Vicky.” She giggled as only Sadie can. “Vi, I mean. Oh, I’ll never get used
to it.” Sadie turned from Victoria to Ma, “Doesn’t she look wonderful? I can’t
tell you how thrilled I was to see my baby again!”
Up close,
seventh grade memories didn’t hold a candle to this gorgeous creature.
“Connie, it’s so good
to see you,” she said. “The Pinewood wouldn’t be the same without you. And you
look better than ever.” Actress or no, she sounded like she meant it.
Victoria reached out
to squeeze Ma’s shoulder – a simple greeting between old friends – but Ma
pulled back, slammed the coffee pot down on the counter, and said, “Victoria
Johansen – Vi Masters – whatever you call yourself – I always did like you. But
I have a mammoth-sized bone to pick with you!”
Obviously not the
greeting Ms. Hollywood expected. A calm veneer slid over her face fast as a
lick, but like most painters, I notice things. Her hand dropped to the strap of
her handbag, white fingers gripped tight. No wonder. Ma can be a scary lady.
“Do you have
any idea what you put my boy through when you ran off?”
I tried to
interrupt. “Ma. Let it be.”
She gave me the eye.
“I will not. She ought to know what it was like for you to get hauled down to
the police station. As if you knew where the silly girl went.” Ma wheeled back
to Victoria. “And your father! Son of a bitch hit my boy! Blackened his eye. Worse, he made my Nate feel like a
criminal, like he’d hurt you, or drove you away when anybody – anybody with a
brain not up his butt – could see the only bad thing Nate ever did was fall for
you.”
So much for calm
veneer. Victoria’s face went white beneath her California tan, and I respected
the maker of that handbag strap. She swallowed hard. Her eyes cut to me for the
first time, then back to Ma. She opened her mouth, but it was clear she didn’t
know what to say, where to begin.
Ma, on the
other hand, still had plenty to say. Or would have, except I interrupted again.
“Ma. She
didn’t know. Look at her face. How could she know? Let it be.”
“Well she ought to know.” Ma wasn’t done, but she
was running down. Ma’s like that. The woman has a mighty temper. But when she’s
said her piece, it’s done. Usually. “You left a mess for other people to clean
up, missy, and you ought to know it!” Then, apparently satisfied she’d said
what she needed to say, Ma picked up the coffee pot with her right hand, swung
her left around for a mug, and said. “Now. How do you take your coffee?”
Victoria sank onto a
stool, looked at Ma, at me. “Connie. Nate. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I…” She
swallowed hard again. “I didn’t know. Didn’t think… Oh God. I wish… I’m just so
sorry.”
I decided to let her
off the hook. “Long time ago. We survived. And so did you, I’m glad to see.”
“Nate. Nate Barlow.”
Like she saw me for the first time. “You’re still here. You look…”
I grinned. “Yeah. I
know. Like an aging hippy. I get that all the time.” I tugged on my ponytail.
“You wouldn’t believe the grief I get from the Freedom Regulars.”
She smiled – less
assured, less sparkling than the Hollywood smile she’d dished out on her way
down the counter. Softer. A little rueful. A lot like the night I kissed her.
“I’ll just bet. Didn’t we always say that the Freedom Regulars would never
change? But that’s not what I was going to say. You look good. That’s what I
was going to say. Good.”
“Ah, hell. I
can’t do it.”
“Can’t do
what?”
“Can’t stay
mad at you.”
Her smile faded. “Oh
Nate. I am sorry. So sorry. I never
thought Ben would come after you. Hit you? Oh Nate.”
I waved her off. “No
biggie. It wasn’t my first black eye. Or my last for that matter. Can’t pin
Ben’s actions on you. Wouldn’t be mad at you for that. If I could.”
The smile was nearly
back. “Okay. I’ll bite. Why would you be mad at me? If you could?”
I picked up my
coffee. Took a long swallow. Milked the moment. “The prom. You stood me up. For
the prom.”
I said it lightly.
Like it didn’t matter. Not anymore. Back
then? Stood up on prom night? Suspected of something awful. Not the best night
of my life.
Now trumps then. I expected a snappy comeback like she zings
on TV, but she seemed as much at a loss for words as during Ma’s rant. An odd
cast shaded her eyes. Almost like…sorrow. I cut her a break.
“Even so,
can’t seem to stay mad at you.”
Funny how
the relief on her face made me feel easier too.
“I’m glad,”
she said.
Watch yourself pal.
Ma came back with the
coffee pot. And a smile. She can’t stay mad either. Just don’t get between her
and her cub. As if you could.
“More
coffee, you two? Crayons, coloring books? Legos?”
Victoria’s laugh came
out low and husky. “Just like when we were kids, Connie? In the back booth?
Waiting for you and Sadie to close up? That’s a good memory.”
“For me too,” Ma
said. “For half the town, I’ll wager. You two were good for business. Got folks
to dig deeper in their pockets.”
“Good old Pinewood.”
Victoria looked around the diner. “So much the same. But different too.
Brighter than I remember. And those wonderful drawings! Those are new.” She
gestured to the framed caricatures that lined the walls. “The Freedom
Regulars!” She grinned.
“Those are Nate’s.
He’s a very successful artist, you know. He’s had shows in New York, London,
all over.”
“Ma. Stop
bragging.” My damn ears went hot again.
“Nate!
Really? These are yours?”
I nodded.
“They’re
wonderful! So fun! So…real.”
Funny. That’s what I
was going for. To poke fun – gently – at folks, and still show I like them.
Each one has hopes and dreams and sorrows – all important, all real.
“Nate did well up at
Ames, even studied in Paris.” Ma came around the counter to stand behind me,
hands on my shoulders. A united front. I let Victoria off the hook, but Ma
wasn’t quite done with her. “He was gone a long time. I thought maybe he’d stay
in New York City, he did so well there. I’m sure glad to have him home though.”
Victoria got the
message. “Connie. I really am sorry for…what happened after I left. I wouldn’t
have brought on trouble for you or Nate. Not if I could help it.”
“And you
couldn’t help it then?”
Victoria
studied the inside of her coffee mug.
Ma
persisted. “So you’re not telling why you put us through that?”
“Ma. Give
the girl a break.”
“No harm
asking, is there?”
But there
was. I could see it in Victoria’s eyes.
“No.” She said it
quietly, dropped her eyes, then raised and leveled them at Ma first, then me.
“I had…reasons. Good reasons. Private reasons.”
I know Ma. She wasn’t
satisfied. If she chose, Ma could wear you down till you’d confess crimes you
never committed. But this time, she only gave Victoria the eye. And when that
didn’t produce answers, Ma nodded, and said, “All right then. We’ll leave it at
that.”
“Guess she
can’t stay mad at you either,” I said.
“I hope
that’s true.” She paused. “Friends?”
“Friends,” I
said.
Ma nodded.
“Friends.”
“Just like that?” Her
voice was light but there was effort behind it. The handbag strap wasn’t out of
danger yet.
Ma and I
glanced at each other and shrugged.
“Just like
that,” I said.
“Once a
friend, always a friend,” Ma said.
“Thank you.” She
blinked, seemed about to say something, but gave her head a tiny shake. She
gave us both a bright smile – still sincere, but somehow not quite so personal.
Like she pulled on a cape of Hollywood bravado. She glanced over to where Sadie
was in full chat with Miss Harriet Blue and said, “I hope maybe you can help me
with something.”
What now?
Victoria leaned
toward Ma. “Connie. You’ve known Sadie a long time. You see her as much as
anybody. How’s she doing?”
“Well… Now
honey, you know your aunt is an old friend. A good friend.”
“I wouldn’t
ask if it weren’t important.”
“Well…”
“What Ma’s
trying not to say is that Sadie never was the sharpest crayon in the box.”
Victoria smiled. A
sad smile this time and a nod. “Oh, I know. She’s a dear, sweet woman, and I
love her. But she’s always been a little…dizzy. What I want to know is…well, is
she getting dizzier?”
I was surprised to
see Ma’s eyes fill. She grabbed a napkin, turned toward the wall, dabbed.
“Damn, damn, damn.”
“Ma? You
okay?” Nobody gets between the cub and his mama either.
I saw her shoulders
square like they do before she tackles any hard thing like pull a splinter from
my finger or face down Ben Johansen. She nodded. “She’s slipping. Not a lot.
Not enough so most people notice. But she gets confused. More now. Carleen and
I, we’ve been picking up the slack.” She gave a little grin. “Not exactly new.
More this last year.”
Victoria nodded and
studied her coffee again. And then, damned if her shoulders didn’t square up
just like Ma’s. She looked up. “I’m not surprised. Afraid and sad and…royally
pissed off. But not surprised.” She paused. “How long can you keep covering for
her, Connie?”
“As long as she’s
able to get here. To stand upright, to walk. As long as she stays…docile and
will follow directions. If it gets to the point when she fights us, well… Then
it won’t be good for her to be here. For her – or for us. Till then…” There
went the shoulders again. “We’ve got her back.” This was no off-the-cuff
response. Ma’d given it considerable thought.
Victoria
nodded. “Thank you. I needed to know.” She looked my way. “Nate?”
“Can’t say I’ve
noticed much. Not job-related. But…” I didn’t want to say any more than Ma had.
“She’s not as careful with her hair as she used to be.”
“Her hair?”
I caught the tone. The surprise. And the speculation. Not the first time.
“No, I’m not
gay,” I said. “I’m a painter. I notice things.”
Ma looked at
Victoria. “I raised a boy who notices a woman’s hair. I’m so proud.”
She is. I know it and
she knows I know it. Won’t stop her pulling my chain though. The two of them
laughed – till they had to grab and dab. Which was fun to see.
Sadie left Miss Harriet
Blue and joined us at the counter with a look that said, “I know there was a
joke here. I know I won’t get it. But I like to laugh too.” Classic Sadie. Out
loud she said, “Vicky, honey, I’ve got my hair appointment.” Poor Sadie.
“What’s so funny?”
Victoria smothered a
laugh before she kissed Sadie’s cheek.
“You go ahead. I’ll walk over to Lindy’s and meet you. Half an hour?”
“Okey
dokey!” Sadie bounced toward the door.
As
soon as she was out of sight, Victoria said, “I want to do something for her.
Something that will matter later, when… Later. I could use your help. It’s
about tomorrow night’s party.” Ma and I listened as Victoria told us what she
wanted to cook up.
About the Author
Sally Crosiar lives in the Finger Lakes of New York State where she reads incessantly, enjoys time in and on the water, savors dark chocolate with red wine at every opportunity, and teaches about health and play for Empire State College. She is the author of Find the Love of Your Life, based on her own true story, My Uncle Dave, a children’s book with an adult message, and co-author with Dr. Sidney B. Simon of Love Builders: Tools to Build Every Relationship. Come Back is her debut novel.
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1 comments:
Thanks so much for being a stop on my first blog tour, Nancy! I am deeply appreciative!
And to your followers, I'm happy to answer questions! Bring them on!
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