Relatively Crazy Read online

  “So you see, it’s really the same situation. And as I said, it’s currently a non-issue.”

  “A non-issue?”

  “Certainly. As I told you, the venture didn’t work as planned. I am a man who does learn from my mistakes. Now we will simply return to our former life. We were a good team, and we will be again.”

  “A team?” I parroted as my thoughts swirled into a pea-soup-thick fog.

  “Naturally.” Reed extracted a thick white envelope from his pocket and held it out.

  I accepted it, opening the flap with numb fingers. Inside was a wad of cash large enough to choke a rhino.

  “What is this for?”

  “Just think of it as a sign-on bonus. A little something to sweeten the deal.”

  “Deal?” I seemed to have lost the ability to speak aside from parroting Reed’s words.

  “Absolutely. A partnership arrangement, like we originally had. It worked well for us. I’m once again in my former position at Burn and Wainright. I’ve entered into negotiations for a suitable home. And once we return, things will be just as they were before. I do have to give you credit, Ash. You certainly had a talent.” He paused, giving a chuckle. “I’ve been through two cleaning services in the last four weeks. Neither could do the job as well as you always did. And don’t even get me started on the subject of laundry. My shirts are a mess.”

  “You want me to come back because you can’t find a good cleaning service?” I asked, finally finding my voice.

  “Well, of course not. You wore many hats during our partnership. And wore each exceptionally well.”

  I suppose I had. Maid, cook, engagement secretary, laundress, private shopper and personal escort, to name only a few. I’d been something like a Super Barbie—just take her out of the box and watch her go. Even after a hard day of cleaning and ironing she’s ready to be presented at the career social occasion of your choice with only a quick wardrobe change. Additional outfits and accessories sold separately.

  All in all, I’d twisted, tied, and bent myself into the shape Reed had wanted because I thought he loved me. Because I thought he was my Knight. And it had really been all for nothing.

  My evil twin popped in to play devil’s advocate. “And you want this for how long? Just until you have another shot at the good life?”

  Reed seemed to warm to the topic. “No. Absolutely not. I’m through with that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Moonlight, romance, spouting poetry. Nonsense.”

  Ah, so the fabulously wealthy Miss Kilgreen had a romantic void she’d expected Reed to fill in exchange for her almighty dollar.

  “Why me, specifically?” I asked, and then added, “No pretense of emotion, or romance, necessary?”

  Reed smiled, and for the first time I became aware of the cold gleam in his ice-blue eyes. “Just so. We were a great team. Combined skills and all that. You even look the part.” His gaze swept from my head to the tips of my toes, a critical expression on his face. “Well, not now, of course. You look like the very devil, at the moment. But no matter. That’s something easily rectified.”

  And this, I realized in the following silence, was what I’d married. A cold, hard man who saw value only in the reality of a substantial bottom line.

  I’d spent years deceiving myself, thinking his lack of physical affection and romance were signs of nothing more than a reserved character. I’d believed his devotion to career to be a reflection of his moral dedication and work ethic combined with personal determination to be a good husband and father.

  God, I’d been so wrong. About everything.

  Reed smacked his hands together, a gleeful smile spreading across his face. “So why don’t we round up the child and get going before the stench of this place permanently embeds itself in my clothes.”

  “No.” I returned the envelope. “We’re not going with you.”

  Reed’s jaw slackened. “You can’t be serious. I mean, look around you. What other options have you got?”

  Dozens of images flashed behind my eyes like a silent slide show: Olivia and Kate happily rolling out pastry dough on our kitchen counter; Val, Mitzi, and I stripping the faded, flower-sprigged wallpaper from the salon’s walls while sharing laughter and friendship; the impromptu celebration we’d all shared in honor of Kate and Olivia’s conquest of The Test… So many more followed.

  And there were so many more just waiting to be.

  I looked at Reed, my gaze level. “A lifetime full of them.”

  He hesitated for a moment as if weighing his own options. Finally, he sighed. “Suit yourself, then. I’ll be heading on.”

  “Wait,” I called as he turned toward the door. “Don’t you want to see Olivia while you’re here?”

  Reed snorted. “Why?”

  “Because she’s your daughter.”

  He swatted the fact away as though it were a bothersome insect. “Without you, she’s of no possible use to me.”

  “You unimaginable bastard,” I whispered at his retreating back.

  I should feel something, I thought as I watched Reed exit through the door. Anything. Surely there should be some something inside of me. But there wasn’t. And then a small smile of realization formed on my lips. There was something inside of me. Me.

  I was Wanda Jo Ashton. And that was just fine.

  Without further ado, I crossed the kitchen, making my way toward the dining room, expecting to find both Val and Mitzi anxiously waiting.

  But I didn’t.

  In fact, I didn’t find anyone at all. The dining room was curiously empty. Even my sullen cousin was nowhere to be seen.

  I crossed the room and pushed outward on the door. And then promptly wished I hadn’t. I grimaced against the wall of stench that could only come from the combined efforts of poultry waste and unseasonably warm temperatures. I found myself at the very back of a small crowd.

  “Well, would you look at that,” a woman I recognized as one of the earlier customers commented.

  “Not every day you see an accident like that,” her companion admitted.

  My heart lurched at the word “accident.” I pushed forward past another group of customers.

  “Maybe one,” a woman with dark hair said.

  “But two? I don’t see how…” another woman commented.

  I kept pushing forward until I was between Val and Mitzi. I quickly scanned the parking lot and street in front for signs of crumpled metal, broken glass, and crushed cars. Not finding any, my heart resumed its normal rhythm.

  “That’s gonna be a real booger to clean up,” Ray said from his vantage point slightly to the left of Val. “Odd that both lids should have come off so easy.”

  “Shit.” Jamie Sue whistled low.

  “That’s my boy,” Val announced proudly with a grin.

  “What happened?” I asked, looking toward the edge of the parking lot where Rye, seated in the driver’s seat, appeared to be waiting patiently, his left turn signal blinking, to pull the waste truck onto the main road.

  “A little to the left.” Mitzi gestured with an incline of her head. “There.”

  It was a very new, very shiny, bright red Mercedes convertible, its top down and sporting a California license plate below the front grille. Nice. Or at least the outside was. From what I could see of the interior, the white leather had once probably been equally nice. But at this moment it was a tad difficult to tell, what with the two fifty-gallon drums, “BackHill’s” stenciled in black on their sides, sticking up from the back seat.

  Their former contents, in all their smelly glory, were slopped across the once-spiffy bucket seats in front. And, interestingly enough, it seemed to be spreading. Several large blobs best not identified slimed their way down the driver’s side door, leaving a trail before plopping onto the pavement below.

  “Oh. My. God,” I gasped.

  “What in the—” Reed cut loose with a variety of expletives I’d never before heard him use as he rounded the corner of the building.
/>
  Rye gave a cheery toot of the air horn, and I glanced toward them just in time to see Olivia’s outstretched hand wave, the sun glinting off the silver charm bracelet fastened around her wrist.

  I returned the wave. “And that’s most definitely my girl.”

  “We raised good kids, didn’t we?” Val asked, linking her arm through mine.

  “Damn straight.”

  “The best,” Mitzi agreed, also linking arms.

  “So are we opening a salon, or what?” Val asked.

  “Let’s do it,” I agreed.

  And the three of us, heedless of Reed’s agonized screams, headed through the parking lot toward Val’s purple pickup truck.

  “Ashton!” Reed bellowed. “What the hell am I supposed to do about this?”

  I halted, looking first toward Val and then Mitzi. “Excuse me for just a sec.”

  I turned toward Reed. “One piece of advice, Reed. Don’t open the door.”

  “Ashton! Get over here and deal with this mess!”

  “Deal with it yourself, Law Dog.” I paused. “And one more thing: my name is Wanda Jo.”

  “Nice,” Mitzi admired as I turned my back on Reed’s red-faced screeches.

  “Good advice. Excellent delivery, too,” Val agreed.

  “Thank you.” I opened the bright purple passenger door as Val slid behind the wheel. “After you,” I said to Mitzi.

  We quickly buckled up, and Val turned the key. Another agonized scream from Reed drowned out the sound of the engine firing to life.

  I looked toward Mitzi and then Val. “He opened the door, didn’t he?”

  Val glanced in the rearview mirror as Mitzi looked in the sideview one. “Sure did,” they said in unison.

  I shook my head, a slow grin forming.

  “Those little tassels are never going to be the same,” Val commented.

  And with one final laugh we were pulling out of the parking lot, moving on to better things.

  ****

  A good many hours later, I propped my sore feet up on one of my kitchen chairs and washed down a yawn with a healthy swig of freshly brewed Verona.

  Val held up a vinyl swatch, turning it first toward me and then to Mitzi. “So are we agreed on this for the chairs?” We nodded. “French Country Morning, it is,” she announced, laying the small fabric square atop the decided pile.

  “This is really going to be awesome,” Mitzi commented, fanning the assorted swatches and paint chips in a small arc on the table.

  I agreed with a nod as I polished off the last of my current éclair, byproduct of Olivia and Kate’s baking spree last night.

  “Awesome” certainly was the word for it. The sunny yellow we’d selected for the upright stations and mirror frames was a perfect complement to the warm blue vinyl which would soon replace the worn white upholstery of our chairs. Both colors, to the exact shade, were blended beautifully in the chintz pattern we’d selected for window treatments.

  The vibrant yellows and vivid blues were a complete departure from the pink-and-white ice-cream-social look of the old Cut and Curl. It would still be feminine and welcoming, but in a more classic, relaxed way.

  Val had been correct when she’d said earlier that the workmen had finished their part. What had once been the Cut and Curl in its entirety now housed a waiting area, front desk, and nail station, and several shampoo sinks ran along the back wall. We’d cleverly converted Mama Dove’s old office into two large closet areas—one lined with shelves for our dispensary and the other housing our newly installed upright tanning bed.

  As amazing as that transformation had been, it was nothing at all compared to what had been the hardware store next door. Our three individual stations lined one wall, with a state-of-the-art whirlpool pedicure station opposite. Two smallish rooms had been created from the storage area. One would be Mitzi’s domain entirely, where all advanced skin care—from facials to waxing to complete body massage—would happen in absolute privacy. The other would soon be transformed into a play area where little ones would be kept safely occupied while their moms received the finest pampering around.

  We three had spent the first few hours cleaning—everything from eliminating leftover drywall dust to damp mopping our new, easy maintenance, wood-grain flooring. And then, in a never-before-felt burst of energy, we’d painted the playroom a cheerful mint green and the balance of the salon’s walls a warm buttery yellow.

  And now that burst of energy was long gone, and I was feeling the day’s activity in every inch of my body. I noticed both Val and Mitzi were drowning yawns of their own with healthy swigs of coffee.

  Val picked up the chintz swatch. “I’ll get this at the fabric store along with the vinyl tomorrow.” I nodded, and she slipped me the paint chips. “You fetch the paint, and we’ll swap off.”

  “Sounds good,” I said.

  “Swap?” Mitzi asked, clearly puzzled.

  “Val hates machine sewing,” I clarified.

  Mitzi swung her gaze toward Val and then back to me.

  I chuckled. “I’ll sew the window treatments and you two will do the chairs.”

  “You can do that?” Mitzi gaped.

  I gestured toward the bright print curtains at the kitchen window. “In my sleep.”

  Suddenly Mitzi looked suspicious. “Did you say, we?” She turned toward Val.

  “Yep. You and me, girlfriend. We get the chairs.” Val did an excited body shiver. “God, I love power screwdrivers.”

  “We?” Mitzi fairly squeaked.

  Val and I each patted an arm. “Nothing to it. By the end of the day, you’ll be an expert,” Val assured.

  “Olivia’s called dibs on the trim and station painting. Along with Kate, that is,” I added.

  Val nodded. “Well, in that case, I think our business here is concluded.”

  I stood on already stiff legs, looking forward to a hot shower. “Do I have paint in my hair?” I leaned toward Val.

  “Both colors. Green and yellow, very cheerful,” Val returned, and I groaned. “But remember, you are a hairdresser.” She raised one finger high. “You have the technology. You can handle it.”

  I shot her a look. “Technology? I’m not too sure about that. But I think there’s some kerosene around here somewhere.”

  “Kerosene. Technology. Same thing, really.” Val shrugged. “But forget the paint. This is a historic moment. We must celebrate.”

  We three nodded silently, and then I topped off our coffee.

  “A toast, I think,” Val declared.

  Mitzi moved the plate of éclairs to the center of the table.

  “To success.” I selected mine and held it aloft.

  “Here, here,” Val and Mitzi chorused, each likewise holding an éclair.

  We solemnly tapped pastries above the kitchen table and settled back for a delicious bite of rich cream in chocolate-covered pastry.

  Val swallowed first. “Now it’s time to move on to personal matters.” She turned toward me. “Spill.”

  I promptly choked.

  “Not going to get out of it that easy, girlfriend,” Val said, giving my back a hearty slap.

  Mitzi quietly passed my coffee.

  “Anytime now,” Val urged once I’d downed a few fortifying sips.

  “Okay.” I sighed, holding my hands outward, palms up.

  I related, in deep detail, every particular of Reed’s most untimely and shocking visit.

  When I was finished Val sat back, crossing her arms. “What a son of a poodle,” she concluded.

  “True,” I agreed. “And know what else?”

  They looked at me expectantly.

  “Those bags under his eyes were big enough to use as carry-ons.”

  “Absolutely,” Val agreed. “I’ve got to say it: I never did like him.”

  I raised a brow. “But when—”

  Val waved. “At the grocery. Years ago.”

  The memory resurfaced from the back depths of my mind and clicked into place.
>
  “It just made me so damn mad.”

  I nodded, remembering how Reed, at his imperious best, had dragged me quickly through Clausen’s Grocery as I’d desperately tried to grab enough baby supplies to tide Olivia over for a few days.

  “He acted as though he owned you,” Val growled in a rare show of true anger.

  I shook my head, ashamed of the memory. It was sad, really. In those days—hell, the whole of the marriage, to be perfectly honest—he had owned me. I’d always felt as though my very life—my complete and total wellbeing—depended on Reed’s grudging approval.

  “And then he had the nerve to pick on your outfit. And your makeup,” Val continued, on a roll now. “Loudly. In public!”

  And what had I done? I scurried home, several paces behind Reed, doing my best to repair my lacking appearance. The memory galled me right down to the bone.

  “Why, that little horse’s ass,” I declared.

  Of all the reasons I’d thought I’d fallen in love with Reed, physical appearance certainly hadn’t been part of the list. Hell, Reed’s appearance alone couldn’t have gotten him on anyone’s extended list.

  Reed Trews, twenty years ago, had been even less than average in the looks department. He’d been a man of unremarkable height, coupled with a likewise unremarkable build—when in a three-piece suit. Without the expensive Armani shell, his body was a riot of flaws, a concave chest leading to a convex belly that flowed to knobby knees and slightly bowed legs.

  Age, the simply unavoidable passing of time, had not improved the situation. And he’d always had the unmitigated gall to criticize my looks? I could only shake my head at the hypocrisy.

  Thank God Olivia favored me, her chestnut hair coloring the only thing she’d gotten from her father.

  “I am so done with him.” I smacked the table for emphasis, realizing this last burst of anger had completely cleansed me of the entire Reed Trews chapter of my life.

  “Damn straight,” Val and Mitzi chorused.

  “You deserve so much better,” Mitzi added.

  “Ah,” Val paused, leaning closer. “Which brings us to our next topic. You have so much better.” She grinned.

  “Ah, no. Don’t think so, actually.” I gobbled the last of my éclair, a lame attempt to buy time.