Cheesecake

Chapter 1

"No one notices your tears
no one notices your sadness
no one notices your pain
But they all notice your mistakes"

~ An Unknown Quote~

Belinda


I am making cheesecake. Mother's orders. As if I have nothing else to do.

Mother is walking around like a dancer on butterfly wings, even though she may be leaning on a cane just to imitate Aunt Greta, or maybe, she's really hurting somewhere. How should I know! I'm not the bug in her blood, circulating through her body, although she thinks I'm the vilest bug in her life.

Mother is happy because Ariadne will be in town for Thanksgiving. You'd think my mother gave birth to that lame-ass diva instead of me.

"Aria loves your cheesecake," she said. "Make sure you use Stevia instead of the sugar you so love. She watches her weight, you know. Some people know better what's good for them." Then she threw her famous she's-better- than-you glance at me.

I bit my lower lip and mumbled. "Okay, Mother. Will do."

Damn Fuck! Of course, I won't. I always do what I always do.

Mother, my very own Nurse Ratchett, harrumphed, not believing. She knows me well after being my mother for fifty-three years.

A springform pan works best for a cheesecake because I can remove the cake easily, just the way I have managed to remove myself from sticky situations.

The key to a perfect outcome is in the baking. The water-bath method bakes the cake very gently, so it won't darken, curdle or crack. That is, using a larger pan filled with water under the springform one.

A cheesecake's curdling and cracking is worse than a government shutdown. Bakers like me know that. When a government shuts down, people find peace and quiet, but a curdled or cracked cheesecake means it is the end of the world, because if the cheesecake won't hold, nothing else will.

According to my plans, the larger pan with water is my coolness and patience. This didn't come to me easily. I had to work at it real hard. But if you ask my mother, I'm still the hot-headed one.

"Carrot-tops are hot-headed, Girl, don't you know," Mother says. The old fart should know. Her hair used to be red, too.

In the beginning, I was like any inexperienced person. I jumped at stuff, like on the day when Ariadne and I were in class together. I don't regret what I have done to her, then or later. The bitch deserved it. Every tiny bit of it.

She deserved it for many reasons. "How do I love thee, let me count the ways." Nope, in my case, it should be, how do I hate thee...Ariadne.

For one thing, because Ariadne had Aunt Greta for a mother. Aunt Greta is not my real aunt. She is my mother's friend from Stamford, Connecticut. They grew up together. I call her Aunt Greta just the same way Ariadne calls my mother Aunt Fi. So much for the two best friends trying to fake a family connection.

Aunt Greta always made me feel better about everything, especially my own self. When I was a kid, I used to daydream I was Aunt Greta's daughter and my mom exchanged the babies. Of course, I knew the absurdity of that. To start with, Ariadne was several months older than me. Then, I resembled my mother. Also my mom and Aunt Greta were from different kinds of families.

But Aunt Greta was a second mother to me. What am I saying? She was no second mother; she was my first mother, with my own mother lacking in mothering.

Of course Aunt Greta loved Ariadne the most. I wish she didn't but she does. I have no qualms about that.

"Aria is everything a parent hopes for." Those have been my own mother's words.

Chances are, Ariadne or her dear "Aria" was everything my mother and Aunt Greta hoped for, only because Aunt Greta never deprived her of a father. After Ariadne's own father passed away, Aunt Greta married Clifford Wieland. Clifford was a great father to her, more so than even to his own children, if he had them, that is. He was married before, but the wife died. That's all I know. Still, he must have bedded quite a few sluts on the sly. You never know with men...they first get you on the bed, then you're pushed under the bed.

I, on the other hand, had no idea who my father was, and my mother wouldn't tell, as if she plagiarized me. I should sue her for copyright infringement.

Did my mother, at least, provide me with a father figure? Nope, except for Pa Hirsh who gave me his name and treated me like I was the scum of the earth. Picking me up and throwing me out of the door was the recurring aspect of his paternal show. Was he a father figure? Nope. The jury in my head has decided against it. If I called him Pa, he was the faux pa.

One specific memory still haunts me.

I wasn't even at the school age, then. I must have been sick with the flu or a virus or something, which probably no one had noticed. I was sitting near Pa Hirsh, a Saddam look-alike. I was just watching him work. A sudden nausea hit me and I threw up on his work. Pa Hirsh's face turned crimson all the way to his neck and chest.

"You bastard!" he yelled. "Couldn't you move your head the other way?"

Then he picked me up and threw me out of the back door. On the porch where I landed, I could hear his screaming at my mother.

"Fiona get back here and clean this mess. I'm ruined. What'll I tell the boss now?
"Woman, will you move? This is no laughing matter. Stop it. I give you a home, take in your bastard kid, and what do you do? You laugh at my misery, caused by your kid. Did I have any obligation to take in your kid who's someone else's? This is what I get. I'm nice to your kid and the ugly frog messes up my life."

At that instant, reality hit me. I was not Pa Hirsh's real kid, and that explained many other things I was subjected to. But then who was my real father?

No matter how often I asked and pleaded for the answer, no one ever told me the truth. Moreover, my mother yelled at me for asking dumb questions. If my real father should not be talked about, then who was I? Ariadne never went through what I went through.

And of course Ariadne is the way she is with no Saddam and Nurse Ratchet in her life. It's unbelievable how well she is treated by everyone, but mostly, look who her mother is.

Aunt Greta never let Ariadne down, with either of her husbands.

Clifford trained Ariadne from the day we both started high school. On school vacations, he used to take her with him to New York and have her work and learn in the company. Ariadne now works at Kinney and Russell Corp. and owns a good part of the shares. That is what having a good father does to a person.

I, on the other hand, have more ridges than Ruffles potato chips on the subject, since I had to work after school in the bakery for minimum wage. Not that I'm complaining. I loved the job. I still do. Maryanne Kett, my bakery's original owner, was a great baker and she took to me. She took to "my creativity with dough." That's what she used to say, although the dough was a real dough and not the green kind.

When Maryanne retired she left the bakery to me for half its worth. Surely, I paid for it, although in small installments that took me more than ten years. Still, it was a nice gesture on her part to turn Kett's Bakery into Le Nouveau Bakery, the name, Aunt Greta's idea. "Just to give it class," she had said.

It had been two years after I had graduated from high school when Maryanne told me her plans of selling the bakery. She said she'd rather sell it to me since I deserved to have it, and the price was negotiable. On the same day, Aunt Greta told me she'd foot the bill if I chose to go to college. Me in college? I had barely graduated from high school a couple of years too-late and through GED. It did not compare favorably to Ariadne's high scholastic achievements and stinky Valedictorian speech, for which she got a standing ovation and I didn't applaud.

If I had gone on to college, whatever I would choose to study, I would be her shadow, that bitchy diva's shadow, and I would so hate that.

Partly because of that, Maryanne's proposal sounded better, given the circumstances. So, I told Aunt Greta I really liked baking and would love to stay with Kett's Bakery. She understood. Then she offered to send me to the Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts in Orlando.

"But I only like baking," I told her, although the fancy French name of the school had my attention.

She said, "Then get the diploma of a pastry chef. If no one sees your talent at first glance, they'll see the diploma."

"What about Kett's Bakery?" I asked.

"Don't put all your eggs in one basket," Aunt Greta said. "Kett's is good, but still get your diploma. You never know when you'll need it in life."

"But if I go to school, that will mean leaving Maryanne and ignoring her offer."

"I'll talk to her," she said. "She isn't that old. She can hold the fort for another two years without you."

And she did. They both did. Except it took four years, not two, on account of me having Lyle, my son, and marrying Marvin, his so-called father, and Marvin divorcing me almost as soon as the kid was born. But that's over and done with, and I feel I've been very lucky with Maryanne and Aunt Greta, but not with my parents.

Marvin, fuck him...I don't care if he liked me or not. But why not my parents? Damn! The thought kills me.

Talking about cheesecake and the springform pan, the smartest idea, which I picked up in Le Cordon Bleu, is to wrap aluminum foil completely around the bottom and halfway up the sides of the pan. This will prevent water from seeping into the cheesecake through the removable bottom of the springform pan. Also more water as steam is necessary for texture. I usually place two or three separate containers of water in the oven, even if the baking pan with sides, in which the springform pan is sitting, has a lot of water.

Like the springform pan, I have sat in hot water, too, at times--many times. One was when I lost a baby while in tenth grade. It was just a high school thing. I didn't even know I was pregnant. I was going with a guy named Chuck, and it must have happened.

I didn't understand what was happening until I suddenly bled a lot. I went to the bathroom and screamed with pain. My mother, the devil, was livid, but what did she do? She said, "You made your own bed. Now lie in it."

Then she went to the living room and watched Jeopardy from beginning to end, while, on the commode, I doubled over in pain.

I yelled: "If I die here, you'll go to jail!"

I must have scared her some because she called Aunt Greta and asked her what to do.

Aunt Greta came right over with all the towels she took from her own home. She took a look inside the bowl and shook her head in disgust.

Then she turned to my mother. "Fiona, how can you be so heartless? She's your own flesh and blood."

My mother shrugged. "My own flesh and blood. Pfft. What of the..." she didn't finish, but added, "you know why." The way she looked at me then, I was sure, if Aunt Greta weren't there, she'd beat me up.

Aunt Greta helped me to her car after padding the seat with towels and told her driver to take us to the Meadows Hospital. In the hospital, they checked me up and let me rest a few hours, then discharged me.

I understand my mother being livid, but how could any mother act like that when her daughter is in such dire straits? It was Aunt Greta who helped me then. It was she who took me to the hospital. It was she who held my hand while I sobbed. It was she who took me to Maine for a vacation right after my stupidity.

And where was Ariadne? Since it was the spring break, she was with her stepfather, strolling around Manhattan, looking up at the skyscrapers, probably planning how she could better their façades.

My façade needed bettering, too, Aunt Greta must have thought, but she did this in the nicest way possible. She said she wanted a vacation herself and she wanted me to keep her company as Clifford and Ariadne were in New York and my mother had to work. I expected a lecture in morals or sex education on the way, but neither came, except for her understanding and giving me a great time.

We stayed at a fancy resort in Maine, called Stage Neck. It faced the Atlantic Ocean, which I thought was so different there than in Florida.

During the daytime, we ventured around the coast. I especially liked the seaside areas where the dark tangled lines of green meandered the length of a beach, with the tide bringing in the damp seaweed along with pastel sea-glass and perfect clamshells, white or pink. I wished I were those shells and would never leave that beach.

At nights, we stood at the edge of the sea, mesmerized by a swath of pale moonlight falling from the sky on the dark water as the rhythm of waves broke close by our feet. I could have stayed there forever, without sleep or anything, just watching the ocean.

One morning, the day before we returned, we were walking on the sand when I suddenly asked. "Aunt Greta, are you upset with me?"

She reached for my hand. "Why, my dear, why do you think that?"

My voice came out in a whisper. "Because of the trouble I was in."

"Who am I to judge?" She sighed. "It happened. You learned from it. And that's that. Right?"

I nodded and said, "Thank you. My mother thinks I am the worst thing walking the face of the earth."

"Never think that," she said. "Your mother loves you. It is just that different people have different ways of showing love."

I knew she would defend mother to death, so I didn't say anything else. Instead, I stared at a driftwood on the beach, plain and lifeless, naked like a bone, but with a story to tell of the ocean.

A driftwood, like the baby I had but never realized existed. Like the baby I had been once when my real father left, if he left; if there had been a real father who knew about me. Chances were, my real father didn't even know he had caused my existence. What a lame joke on men! They can't know what they can cause.

Then I gazed at the ocean, its salty arms lapping the shores, leaving behind seaweed, snails, and barnacles. Barnacles like me attaching themselves to stronger life forms.

"If you are mourning the baby, I understand," Aunt Greta said, "But you'll have other ones with people you really love, but only when you are ready."

How wrong she was!


Chapter 2

"We must leave this terrifying place to-morrow and go searching for sunshine."
F. Scott Fitzgerald

Ariadne


I have been trying to fix things with the appointments, yesterday afternoon's board meeting, and the tons of papers to attend to on my desk, and Jayce kept calling and sending me memos about our impending marriage. Impending in his mind only because I have no intention of getting married ever again.

Finally, I answered him when he showed up in my office. "Jayce," I said, "please do understand. You work in this place, too. I am playing catch-up here. Rupee's collapsing, and we have interests in India. I want to bundle up the works so I can go home to mother for Thanksgiving."

"Your home is not in Florida. Don't you think you should be with me during the holidays? Your home is right here with me in the city, Park and 38th to be exact," he said in a huff.

I hated it when he brought up my address. I was already kicking myself for selling the Central Park West apartment, which was my stepdad's and buying the brownstone. Who'd know? I thought I'd be happier in a house with a place for everything, especially my painting materials, and a special room, possibly with north light where I could paint.

On the contrary. The brownstone made it easier for Jayce Walder to move in with me, clutter my place with his things, and act as if he ruled the roost. Although I had to give it to him for a few favors that he bestowed upon me like introducing me to the gallery owner David Bromberg who put up two of my earlier paintings in his gallery, Evergreen, in Chelsea, but after two months, I hadn't heard anything from David. "These things take time," Jayce said. Well, so be it, I thought.

Then I stopped by the gallery one day and didn't see my paintings anywhere. An employee checked their books and told me the paintings were sold and the payment was sent to Mr. Walder. Yup, Jayce would do that. If he did you a favor, beware!

I had to handle my situation with Jayce somehow, and I had to handle it right, but I was too busy to talk sense into him, and Jayce was too valuable a CFO for the company to lose. So I said, "Jayce, my mother's getting on in years; I have to be there. Besides Kenton is driving up from Miami. I would have asked you to come, but you know how Kenton feels about you...I mean us."

"So your son and your mother is more precious than me. Isn't that so, Aria?" His thin mustache wavered, the faded hairs swimming across his upper lip, and I felt I had fallen in some deep trouble.

But then, I was saved by Liz, my secretary, who usually sensed when to come to my rescue.

Liz barged in carrying a stack of papers. "Ooops!" She turned around, looking over her shoulder. "I didn't know Mr. Walder was here. Sorry!"

I nearly screamed. "Liz, don't go! I need to tend to those before I leave tomorrow."

Jayce squinted at me, his looks like darts; then he turned to Liz. "Never mind, Liz," he hissed. "I'll leave her to her precious papers, her precious everything." And he walked out.

"I'm so, so sorry," Liz stammered, dropping the papers on my desk. "I really didn't see him come in."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Liz," I said. "You have no idea what a life-saver you are."

Going through the papers, I felt better because of the mass market booyah for the company's benefit. Now I could enjoy my Thanksgiving. I told Liz to take the papers to the chairman, and if anything drastic should surface when I'd be in Rocky Road, to let Scott handle it. Scott was the chairman of the board and we took over each other's work when one of us had to be away. Most of the time, this wasn't even necessary, because of the technology.

It's now the have-iPad-will-travel era for me.

I could hardly wait to get to Rocky Road where I grew up. Unfortunately, I could never enjoy the place as any young person would enjoy a town where she was supposedly growing up. It had always been work, work, work for me.

Not that I was complaining. My stepdad was a wonderful man. After my own father passed away, he didn't let the company go down. If anything, he made it prosper. He also raised me and taught me the ropes as he wanted me take over the company.

Now that the company was public, no one really owned it, even if my mother and I together held the majority of the shares.

It's fair to say that I have been very lucky. I had two great fathers. My own father Jonathan Richard Kinney was a superhuman, our company's founder and president. I remember him as a kind and patient dad and a hard-worker who would help anyone in need. My mother was devastated when he keeled over all of a sudden and died of a heart attack inside the very company he built from scratch.

At about the same time, my stepfather Clifford George Wieland's first wife had died of cancer. Since Clifford, too, worked in Kinney & Russell as a CFO, he helped my mother to look after our interests. During those months while they worked together, Mom and Clifford warmed up to each other with grief as their common bond. That's how, two years after my father's death, I found another father in Clifford. Unfortunately, Clifford died when the company's plane crashed on the Rockies. Two days before Clifford passed away, he and my mother had celebrated their twenty-fifth anniversary. It was such a shame...

As wonderful a man as he was, my stepdad raised me for the company. I sometimes think I would probably take a different route in life, if it hadn't been for him. In school, art was my favorite subject, and I was always drawing, painting, and doing crafts.

Sometimes, I daydreamt of letting it all go and leaving it to the other people to do the work. I imagined selling everything in New York City and getting a house in Rocky Road or anywhere in Florida, then setting up my easel and paints and enjoy my life the way I should have from the beginning. Only a dream though, as I wondered if I could ever lead any other kind of life. I was intensely keyed in to the fast pace of the company and my life in Manhattan with my two cats and boyfriends.

Yet, I was so looking forward to the holidays and being in Rocky Road again. The only drawback was Belle, a.k.a Belinda Constance Hirsh Norris Craine, my mother's best friend Fiona Hirsh's daughter.

For some twisted reason of hers, Belle held me responsible for all the ills in her life. Belle never had a father, not even a father figure, and Aunt Fi's constant glorifying of what little I could achieve didn't help Belle's self-confidence either. On several instances, I tried to convince Aunt Fi that Belle had her good points, too, but she credited even this to my high morals; although, if it were someone else to point this out to her, she would have thought I was butting in her relationship with Belle. This wasn't because I had high morals; it was because I was trying to protect myself from Belle's wrath.

Belle and I are the same age, just months apart. I used to like her when we were very young, but I guess the feeling wasn't mutual. Being the fool that I have been, I didn't catch on to Belle's wrath until an incident in third grade.

I think it was a Thursday in January, but I could be wrong, when we were going out to play in the schoolyard. Januarys in Florida are only slightly cool, and almost every day, the sun is there.

Belle and I were walking together. Suddenly she drifted away and went back inside, then came back in a short time, holding a small pack of tissues. "I almost forgot my tissues," she said. Belle needed tissues all the time since she was allergic to the kyllinga sedge that grew wild in the county. I thought nothing of her retrieving the tissues, and we continued our daily routine until the last bell was about to ring.

Just when we were picking up our backpacks, a boy said, "Cornelius is missing!"

Another girl said, "I know who has it. Aria took it."

"I did not!" I denied her accusation vehemently.

Cornelius was the small teddy bear, our class mascot, that stood on the bookshelf by the wall. We could touch it, even hold it, but no one was allowed to take it because it belonged to the whole class.

"Everyone, lift the tops of your desks," the teacher said.

Sure enough, Cornelius was in my desk. Bewildered and highly agitated, I looked around me and caught the triumphant look in Belle's eyes. Just then the bell rang.

"Well, Cornelius wasn't far away," the teacher said as she dismissed the class. "Aria, please put the bear where it belongs. And children, don't forget the multiplication test tomorrow."

I stayed back on purpose to tell the teacher that I had nothing to do with the bear's being in my desk. She said, "I know, dear, you didn't do it. I'm very sure you didn't do it. I can't exactly tell you who did that, but I do suspect someone else. Try not to worry about it."

But the rest of the class wasn't so forgiving. That day became a milestone of reference in the class lingo, as before or after the day Aria took Cornelius.

Then during that week sometime, the teacher called my mother and Aunt Fi to a conference with the school psychologist attending. I think it was after that day that my mother started paying extra attention to Belle.

Mom used to teach high school in Connecticut before she married my father, and she had the know-how of handling children's problems better than Aunt Fi. I am glad Mom took care of Belle that way. Otherwise, she could turn out even much worse.

Being quite sure Belle had something to do with Cornelius's presence in my desk, I told Mom about it. She advised me to let it go and not mention it again. She said, "Your teacher saw Belle walking to your desk with the toy in her hand, but don't confront her with this. Don't make her feel bad. If she loses face, she'll do worse things. You be the nice one."

So I kept my mouth shut, and when anyone referred to the incident, I shrugged it off. Still, as young child, it was a traumatic event for me.

Although not as traumatic as what came to pass in later years.

Enough about the past, now. As if invited in, the past can visit like a pesky wind, whistling in the time-cracked corners of the mind.

Mom had to be making sure to have everything perfectly ready for me when would arrive at Rocky Road. It would be nice being there again. If only I could go back and live my entire teenage years without being burdened by the responsibilities that Clifford thought I should shoulder when the time came... But even then, I welcomed my stepfather's efforts because they took me to Manhattan, this cold, big city, away from Belle's fury.

As I was packing, I thought of home. Mom had to be whipping up a feast for Kenton and stocking up the fridge with Heavenly Hash ice-cream and black forest cake. And...ugh! I just knew Aunt Fi had to be forcing Belle make her famous cheesecake, only because I once said it was the best in the country. I said that to butter Belle up. I didn't mean for Aunt Fi to take my words to heart and make extra work for Belle, and I didn't want to get spammed with cheesecake all my life.

Truth is, Belle's cheesecake is really phenomenal. Belle has so many talents, but is she aware of them? I don't think so.

Belle took over Kett's bakery and made it better, larger, fancier. Mom said people came from the surrounding counties for her creations. If only Belle could have seen this for herself, instead of acting and reacting without forethought.

I believe she is enraged at her life, her missing father, her identity. When I looked at her at times, during the several occasions when we came face to face, I felt an odd scary feeling as if something was very wrong. Yet, when I looked around us, no one acted alarmed. Only, I could see Belle's rage as if a tangible object.

Rage is such a scorcher. It can destroy everything around you, making it all rise up in smoke, until you hardly know who is your enemy and who is not. Even your friends you can't trust. You can't trust anyone anymore. Most of all, you can't trust the one you hold dear.

I should know. I was there once, courtesy of Belle and Marvin.

Thinking of rage makes me recall the man on Times Square who wept and preached, "Repent, repent! The world is coming to an end; so repent and mend your ways." Although this man's action was baloney the size of this planet, mending one's ways is not such a bad idea. I worked on it real hard.

I worked on overcoming my heartbreak and my forgiveness of Belle. I still do, to this day. With little success.

Maybe my mending is still half-hearted. Maybe my pain is still too sharp.


Chapter 3

"Monsters can live inside a person. Sometimes they know about it. More often they don't."
Nikki Rae

Belinda


What I am baking is my very own impressive White Chocolate Raspberry Cheesecake. Different from the classic velvety-smooth white kind. When I go impressive, it means I have a project in mind.

This project has to do with Ariadne's son Kenton who, I believe, will arrive to Aunt Greta's place tomorrow. The second part of the project is Sherrie, my beautiful level-headed daughter. I had thought it wouldn't be very easy to maneuver Sher to agree to my plan, but I lucked in. I found in her a most eager girl. Who could tell, my daughter had been fancying Kenton all along.

Then, who wouldn't? Tall, chestnut hair with blond lights, pleasant face with a wide grin. Athletic. Good education. Clean and positive in every way, and from very good stock, to boot. That he is Ariadne's son doesn't stop me. After all, I never had a problem with Ariadne's family and her background. I even liked Hal, Kenton's father, who Ariadne threw away like a used-up rag. Hal loved Ariadne; I believe he still does.

Whatever!

The cheesecake is coming along. First thing to do with this recipe is to heat the oven to 325 and crumble the cookies.

I don't know if the heat will be effective right away. That part I'll have to leave that to Sher. When my daughter puts something in her beautiful curly head, she'll follow through even if it is the most challenging thing on our side of the earth. I know she will try to reach Kenton, and she will succeed, and this is how the Ariadne's cookies will crumble.

When I told Sher Kenton would be in town for the holidays, she closed the Vogue Magazine she was glued to. She sat up with a grin, her brightly glossed lips spreading over the entire bottom half of her face, and her mouth opened up to reveal her perfect teeth.

"Really, Mom? That's awesome! Kenton's such an easygoing guy; Everyone's after him. All my friends..."

"All your friends?"

"Yeah, Meagan, Liz, Patricia, everyone. They're all pushing me for an introduction."

"Oh, well. I was thinking...You're twenty-five. Young yet, but..." I wiggled my eyebrows at her.

"Mom, what are you getting at?" She waited for my answer with a mischievous smile, twisting her lips this way and that.

"I mean Kenton is twenty-nine. Just the right age to be attached to someone seriously."

Sher's gorgeous green eyes, replicas of mine--if I may say so, ferreted into each corner of the room, as if memorizing each detail and searching an endorsement for my words.

"I'm not mad at all," she said, in a whisper. "But, Mom, are you really wanting this for me, or has a miracle occurred? A miracle such as you wishing for peace with aunt Aria. Or is there any other warped reason?"

I don't like lying to Sher, so I said, "Both, Dammit! Although mending fences with her is not my priority. I thought maybe through your association, we...you would be respected better in this town."

"You mean raise the family's status through Kenton? You mean it would make you more of an equal with Aunt Aria?"

"Something like that, but of course, I want you have a decent partner in life, too."

"Yes, Kenton's decent," she said. "But what if he doesn't want me? He may not, you know. He may have someone else in his life we don't know about."

"If there's someone else, he'll leave her," I said, "if you play your cards right. Life is negotiation, Sher. You are a beautiful young woman, and you know it."

Like bait, my words dangled in the air for a few seconds.

Sher crinkled her nose coquettishly. "I sorta always liked Kenton," she said, pushing the Vogue away from her. Then she smiled, her smile transforming her face, engulfing her cheeks, swallowing her nose, so that it looked as if her eyes, too, were smiling.

"Hold that smile," I said, giggling. "Remember this smile. Smile like that to him."

Spreading her fingers like a fan, she waved away my compliment and laughed. "Okay, Mom," she said. "I'm in!"

Melted butter with sugar mixed into the cookie crumbs, pressed into the base of the springform pan. Next combine raspberries, a little sugar, cornstarch, and water. Bring to boil, and continue boiling until the sauce is thick. This should take about five minutes.

Five minutes...not enough for Sher and Kenton. It may at least take five visits to Rocky Road by Kenton. But that, I'll have to leave to Sher.

Kenton has Ariadne's features and eyes, just like Sher has mine, but he looks more like his father in stature. He looks like Aunt Greta, too, around his mouth and chin.

Aunt Greta and my mother are both from Stamford, Connecticut. They went to high school together and have been lifelong best friends. But even in Stamford, they belonged to different socioeconomic classes. Aunt Greta's father was a college professor. My mother's father was a plumber. Both girls had stay-at-home moms. Nothing wrong with that. Those were the times when women were taken care of properly.

Aunt Greta finished college and became a social-studies teacher, and my crazy mother worked in fast-food joints and ran around with different guys. Aunt Greta married her first husband, the multimillionaire Jonathan Richard Kinney, who founded the investment company titled Kinney & Co. then, which became Kinney & Russell Corp. afterwards.

My mother, on the other hand, ran off to with a good-for-nothing door-to-door encyclopedia salesman to Philadelphia; yet, she didn't stay with him very long. She found work with a cleaning service for offices and roomed with a stenographer who taught her the symbols and abbreviations of shorthand. After a short while, mother was employed inside a small establishment's secretary pool, but her love life was another matter.

Several months after working behind a desk, she got pregnant with me. To this day, my mother. Fiona Elaine Hirsh, won't tell me who my father is. What a shame! Even plants must know where their seeds come from.

Where seeds are in question, to remove the seeds for the cheesecake, I strain the raspberry sauce through a mesh strainer.

Unfortunately, neither can I remove the seed of the man who fathered me, nor respect myself because that seed in me is of an unknown origin.

A few months after I was born, my mother married Edward Hirsh, a security guard in Nazareth Hospital in Northeast Philadelphia, a man thirty-five years her senior, Edward Hirsh. Pa Hirsh adopted me while I was less than a year old, and we moved to Florida, to Rocky Road, which was a very small town at the time. Edward and Mother bought a tiny house and settled here. It is the house I grew up in and where we now live.

In the meantime, Aunt Greta and my mother never lost touch. Aunt Greta moved to Rocky Road after visiting my mother there. At the time, I was told, Ariadne and I were probably two years old. Aunt Greta says we used to toddle around in diapers, holding hands and talking gibberish at each other. Jonathan Kinney's work was in Manhattan and he wanted his family nearby, but since Aunt Greta insisted, he agreed to it on the condition that the house would be the one he wanted and the way he wanted it.

And what he wanted is really a mansion, built on the outskirts of the town with a huge land around it, enclosed with high stone walls. That mansion has been known in Rocky Road as the Kinney House, ever since.

When we were little, I remember Uncle Jon, Ariadne's father, coming every weekend and flying to NYC from Orlando every Sunday evening or early Monday morning.

One day, Uncle Jon just keeled over and died during a board meeting. Aunt Greta was devastated. Ariadne walked around with a bewildered look on her face. During that time, I felt sorry for her. Life had equalized us where fathers were concerned.

But no, what compassion I felt was short-lived. Within a year, Aunt Greta married Uncle Cliff, a.k.a. Clifford G. Wieland, a CFO in Kinney & Russell, and Greta Mary Kinney became Greta Mary Kinney Wieland.

Such fancy names that family has... They don't easily roll of the tongue, unlike the white chocolate melting with half and half over a pan of simmering water that I am stirring to absolute smoothness.

And absolute smoothness was what happened to Ariadne's life. She just exchanged one father with another in a wink, and we were back where we started from; she had a father and I didn't. I mean most children resent a stepparent and create all sorts of problems, right? No, not Ariadne. She was always the model daughter, model student, model everything.

Ariadne is a master in exchanging people in an instant. Just the way she exchanged her father with Clifford, she exchanged Marvin with Hal. Then, when she was done with Hal, she dumped him, too, and now it's Jayce's turn. What is shocking is that no one sees her for who she really is.

What gets me is that how can one person make herself look like she is doing everything right, and I mean everything? Most everyone, except Aunt Greta, at least once told me to be like Ariadne. This made me so mad. It still does. It especially hurts when my own mother says it.

Clifford, Uncle Cliff, never liked me either, and more than that. He simply despised my presence. Oh, he was diplomatic enough near my mother and Aunt Greta, but I know the old geezer didn't want me around while he was doting on Ariadne. Chances are he didn't want Ariadne stand close to me either, as if I had some communicable disease. Damn fuck! To prevent her being around me, he took every opportunity to take Ariadne with him to Manhattan.

Did they ever ask me if I could go with them? Nope, never.

I even dared to ask Ariadne if I could go with her just once. She said what they did over there was all company work; I'd hate it, and it was no picnic for her, either. Some fucking copout!

Aunt Greta said, maybe she and I could go together one day. We could make a vacation of it and see something on Broadway. But this never came to pass. I can guess why. Uncle Clifford must have stopped her. Chances are he didn't even want me in the same city with his prized treasure of a stepdaughter. Come to think of it, I feel bad for Aunt Greta. She lived in that big house, which was turned into a piss bowl with the likes of Clifford and Ariadne.

Talking of bowls, I have in my hands a large mixing bowl. I have mixed—by hand...definitely—cream cheese and sugar until smooth, and I am beating eggs into it one at a time. As long as the cream cheese and sugar are mixed smoothly, the beating part will take hold. Smooth like Sher and Kenton.

And the beating part? That will be served cold and hard. To her highness. Possibly in cold blood.


Chapter 4

"But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown"

Maya Angelou

Ariadne


Maybe I warmed up to Jayce because he is the CFO for Kinney & Russell just like Clifford or maybe because he emerged right around the time I was changing boyfriends faster than I changed my socks, after getting a divorce from Hal, Kenton's father, which was an amicable divorce, but still the feeling of having failed had affected me. Hal and I do have a friendly relationship to this day, partly because of Kenton, our son.

In hindsight, I suspect the feeling of having failed at another relationship had affected me.

I had met Hal, around the time Belle gave birth to her first child, Lyle. That day, I had called my mother. She said, "You're going to hear this anyhow. It is better you hear it from me and be done with it."

"Mom, is it bad news? Is Aunt Fi okay?" I asked, worrying about Aunt Fi who was being hospitalized with hepatitis A.

"Fi is out of the hospital, Aria. We're all fine. Just that Belle had a son," Mom said. "Marvin named him Lyle, after his father."

At the time, I was trying to heal by drowning myself in work since I had known for at least seven months that Belle had become pregnant with Marvin's child. So this news shouldn't have wounded me all that much, but it did. After a short pause, I swallowed my next breath together with my pride, and I said, "Congratulations! Tell them I said that."

"Take it easy," Mom said. "Don't let me worry about you. You hold a more favorable position now. Don't you forget that. You gained an edge by getting your diplomas and building up a profession, and Clifford says you're shooting upwards in Kinney & Russell. You're aware of your successes, aren't you?"

"I don't know if all that counts for anything, Mom, but this is where I am, and this is where Marvin should be...together with me. But he had to do the right thing." I wiped the tears off my face and did not let a single sob escape. Even Mom should not zero in to the fact that I was hurt beyond repair.

"Aria, weren't you the one to tell him to marry Belle since she expected his child?"

"Yes, Mom, I did...on Clifford's urging."

"It is difficult, I know. But who knows, you might be better off this way."

Yet, I wasn't better off.

Marvin had been my first love, maybe my only real love. We had been together since our teen years. Everyone knew this in town. After high school, we even went to the same college together and took the same or similar courses. Just that for only one rotten time, he went home during the spring break, and I had to stay with Clifford to work in the company and be ready for graduation. That one rotten time...

I remember how Marvin and I loved Manhattan, how we enjoyed walking around the Central Park, Rockefeller Center, up and down the Fifth Avenue, and SoHo.


One afternoon after classes, during our second year, we bought bagels and whitefish at Zabar's, an awesome Delicatessen on 80th and Columbus and strolled to Central Park. It was a cold day but the sky was bright blue. Just when we perched on a bench and started eating, a Japanese television crew appeared. They were making a documentary about life in New York City, and one of them, a woman with a round smiley face began asking us all sorts of questions. We realized we were being interviewed on Japanese TV with our mouths full. I think we laughed more than we talked.

The interviewer said, "You must have been married for a while. You seem so comfortable with each other."

Marvin and I answered at the same time, I saying no, he saying yes. Marvin, the joker, said, "We are students but married with children."

I giggled uncontrollably. Marvin said, pointing to me, "She is embarrassed because we are so young, and we already have three little ones." He had such an astonishing sense of humor. The interviewer didn't catch on to the joke, and she took his words for real. That made the situation even more hilarious.

Later that day, we went to Clifford's apartment, in which I had a room. Clifford was in Rocky Road at that time, and we had the place to ourselves, much better than Marvin's dorm room. That day holds the most hauntingly beautiful love-making memory in my heart.

That and many other memories like it were ruined in one night.

My knowledge of that night, the night of March 19, is secondhand, but Marvin did not deny it, neither could he remember exactly what happened.

This is what several people told me. Hector Buzbee the son of the owner of Buzbee's Lumber and Hardware threw an engagement party for his fiancée Rebecca at Blue Sail Beach, forty miles to the east of Rocky Road on the Atlantic. Hector and Marvin were first cousins and buddies from high school, so he drove to the beach with Hector along with a whole bunch of people from Rocky Road. Belle was there too, as Kett's bakery was providing some of the food. The party was lively with quite a bit of drinking going on. Marvin had a lot to drink and wasn't looking good. Belle said, since she had to take back the bakery's van, she would take Marvin home, so Hector and others could stay at the party.

From this point on, the story took a bizarre turn, according to who was telling it. Belle admitted coming into Mrs. Norris's place with Marvin. Mrs. Norris was Marvin's grandmother who took care of him after his parents died, but Mrs. Norris was in West Palm Beach that night, visiting her sick sister, and Belle and Marvin walked into an empty house. According to Belle again, Marvin told her that he and I were through, and he needed her to comfort him.

According to Marvin...Oh God! There was nothing according to Marvin.

He said they had made a fire at the beach, and they were sitting around it. At one point, Belle came to sit next to him after serving something or other and started talking. They were just talking, Marvin said. He swore there was nothing going on. Somehow, at one point, he felt dizzy drunk. After that, he didn't remember anything. He didn't even recall riding in the van with Belle. Close to the morning when he opened his eyes, he found himself stripped naked with Belle sleeping next to him.

To his credit, he told me this himself when the spring break was over. I was very upset, truly upset, but after a while, I said, "Let it go, Marvin. It was a one-time thing, not likely to happen again. Let's act as if it never happened." And we made up.

On May 22, when the semester ended, Marvin and I returned to Rocky Road. To my horror, Belle was pregnant, and Marvin was dumbstruck.

According to Aunt Fi and my mother, Belle was seeing nobody at the time but working at Kett's bakery and coming straight home every day . Moreover, Belle hadn't told who the father was in the beginning, but Aunt Fi thought she might have been raped, and she suspected the wrong people, Fireman Mike and Maryanne's son, Vick, to be exact, as Mike would come to bakery every day to buy something or other and sang Belle's praise all over the town. Vick came to the bakery a lot, running errands for his mother when he was in town.

To clear Mike and Vick, Belle admitted to being with Marvin instead of spending that night at Pamela's place, because she had originally told Aunt Fi the reason she didn't come home was because she had been at Pamela's. Pamela, a bizarre character, was the florist in Rocky Road and lived with her mother in a house across from her store.

"If Belle wanted to point the finger at Marvin, she would do that right from the start, wouldn't she?" My mother said, arguing Belle's case. "She told his name after the wrong persons were accused. I don't think she did what she did intentionally."

So that was that. Life changed in an instant for all three of us. As Clifford urged me to, I told Marvin to marry Belle, period. Marvin said he didn't want any part of Belle, but I told him I was leaving him for good and hurried back to New York with Clifford.

I am immensely grateful to Clifford for his support of me, for his understanding of my situation, and for encouraging me to always do the right thing. I sometimes wonder if a real father would do as much. Clifford was so furious at both Marvin and Belle and the whole situation at hand that not only he took me with him back to New York City, but also made me the director of a few serious company ventures, encouraging me to divert my attention to Kinney and Russell's success and my post-graduate studies.

Still, Marvin had since been my greatest heartbreak, the one I pushed away, but the one my heart and mind could not let go. As wonderful a human being as Hal was, he could never live up to what Marvin had been for me.

I had met Hal during the time I was studying to get my MBA in Columbia while attending a student activity. He was somewhat interested in me and I paid attention to him, but I can't say we had a sizzling romance going on, possibly all my fault. In any case, I thought if I married Hal, I would forget Marvin.

Wrong move.

Hal is a decent human being and the father of my son. Our marriage was all right for a few years, but never as a marriage should be, and the breakup was probably the result of my marrying him for the wrong reasons.

In my life, everything seemed to happen for the wrong reasons, and anything hurtful had Belle in it. Isn't that something?


So the next day after that nasty exchange with Jayce, I made arrangements to fly to Florida. I was looking forward to seeing my mother and my son, but then, Belle would be there, too. There was no escaping her. There was no knowing what she would be up to. Sometimes, she sneaked on me in a subtle way. Sometimes, she'd be the punch in my gut, knocking the wind out of me.

I was sick and tired of taking it from her, and I wondered if it was time to plan some kind of a war strategy.



Chapter 5

"O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock
The meat it feeds on."
William Shakespeare

Belinda


Oh, well, time to blend in the vanilla and white chocolate. White chocolate like Ariadne. Looking pure and angelic, but not good for you like dark chocolate.

I am the dark one, though my skin is white with freckles. She is the one with a shapely nose. I have the nose with a hook, no matter how slight. She never wears mascara. She doesn't like smudges. I love mascara, smudges or not. Mascara diverts the attention from my nose to my eyes.

You'd think a good mother would get me a nose job early on, but no, not mine. The witch wouldn't even let Aunt Greta pay for it, not that I brought it up with Aunt Greta. I didn't because I overheard them discuss it one day. I guess I could have pushed it a bit, but I didn't and I won't. I am not going to take rejection from Aunt Greta on account of my nurse Ratchett of a mother. God knows I get enough rejection from everyone else, especially Mommy Dearest.

"Belle, don't walk like an ostrich. Why can't you be a little graceful?" or "Belle, keep your mouth closed when you smile. Your teeth stick out something awful." This, of course, is the reminder that I didn't wear the dental braces, which Aunt Greta had paid for. I hated those things. As a child, I reasoned inside myself, Ariadne never has to wear them, why should I? What a goofball I was...

The thing is, while growing up, I believed the insults of my mother, the witch. Maybe I still do, and I still hate it when she calls my face, moon-shaped.

Sometimes I wonder why the fuck my mother acts as if I look like some kind of an amorphous monster that sprung from the bowels of the earth. There has to be a reason for such a dislike; a reason I search for but cannot zero in on it.

Now, that the batter is ready, I'm pouring half of it over the crust. Then I'll spoon the raspberry sauce, and add the rest of the batter to swirl it with the tip of a knife to create a marbled effect. If I may say so, if there ever was a creation, it is this cheesecake.

Now the oven. Ooops!

I can't believe what I did about twenty minutes ago. I dropped the pan before putting it in the oven, and I had to clean the batter off the tiles. Lucky, my mother wasn't home yet. I should really do this in the bakery, but the kitchen was busy and all the appliances were in use by the other chefs, being that it is the holiday season. I should go and check on things over there, really, but now I had to redo the fucking cheesecake all over again.

Did my spilling the first batter happen because my mother asked for it or was it because the cheesecake was for her ladyship Ariadne? Nope, neither. I think I just got clumsy. Or these tiles on the floor are bullying me because they hate me, having learned the hate from my Nurse Ratchett of a mother.

I had to redo things over and over so many times in my life. Like what happened with Hector and Marvin, not that I'm sorry for it...

Hector was engaged to Rebecca at the time. They have married since then.

Hector came in the store one day, looking to pick up something for lunch. One corner of the bakery Maryanne had turned into a deli, providing sandwiches. Since the deli worker was delivering something or other, I made Hector's sandwich. We talked a bit, gossiping about this or that in Rocky Road.

After that, he began coming in more often. In time, our conversations turned to teasing. One day when I had just delivered a birthday cake to one of the condos, I ran into Hector. I knew he lived there, but I didn't know which unit was his. He invited me into his place for coffee, and I accepted, knowing Maryanne wouldn't mind.

But it wasn't coffee that was in his mind, although he did make coffee. While the coffee was dripping, he came and sat near me. He took my hand in his and brought it to his lips.

"So nice you're here, Belle," he said. "I love to see a beautiful woman in my place, any time."

I smiled but could say nothing. No one had called me beautiful before. Many had said my eyes were good and I had large sexy breasts, but that was that.

Now Hector was saying such nice things...and I was undercooked in receiving praises.

Mesmerized with his tone and his words, I began noticing his wild good looks, his dusky gold skin, his thick gloriously wavy black hair, his dark rich brown eyes, and the way his mouth curved in a smile. Soon enough, one thing led to another and we ended up having unprotected sex. But what a guy! Manic, hyper. Wanted to do it over and over. Afterwards, as we both liked Rebecca and neither one of us wanted to hurt her, we promised each other to be mum about the incident.

Truth be it, it was what it was. Just a bright flash of an incident. Two ships passing in the night sort of a thing. Though it was a bit more than passing, more like tackling.

And Lyle was conceived that night. Within a month, I found out I was pregnant. I was mortified. This was my second unwanted pregnancy, and I wasn't about to mess with Hector and Rebecca. Both were my friends, and in earnest, I didn't want to have anything to do with Hector, the fast one.

While I was thinking of how to handle my situation, Kett's bakery took orders for Hector's beach party. Since Maryanne knew I was friends with Rebecca and Hector and there would be other people our age there, she told me to take the van and deliver the provisions. Then she said I could stay there and enjoy myself afterwards. Maryanne was nice and flexible that way, and she always treated me well.

I was surprised to see Marvin at the party, as he usually hung around with Ariadne. They had been an item ever since high school. That evening, Marvin said Ariadne stayed in New York because she had to study for the graduation exams, and also, Clifford wanted her attending some meetings in the company. At one point, I sat near Marvin and we started talking.

While saying something to him, I sneezed and reached in my pocket for a tissue. That was when I felt the pills. In my pocket were several valium pills that were prescribed for my mother. I was stealing one or two at a time and hoarding, with the hope that if I took a high dosage, they would cause me to abort the baby.

When Marvin's glass was empty, I took it, saying I would refill it and bring back some hors de 'oeuvres, too. I don't know what I was thinking at the time. Did I plan the whole thing when I felt the pills in my pocket or did the thought come to me in a flash after I took his glass to the bar? I really can't recall.

I left the glass at the side of the bar and walked into the bathroom. In a stall, I crushed the pills by putting them inside a Kleenex and stepping on them. When I went back to the bar, Marvin's glass was gone. I asked for another drink and sprinkled the powder in it.

What did I think? Did I think by hurting Marvin, I would be hurting Ariadne, or did I think of something else? I doubt that it was any elaborate scheme. It never is with me. I'd say more like an adventure, something I concocted as things came to pass.

I strolled back to where Marvin was sitting, and with a casual smile, placed the glass in front of him. At that moment, his back was turned to me and he was telling a joke to someone else on the other side of him. I left the drink there without saying anything and walked away to mingle with the crowd, to make nonsensical conversation with different people. I remember telling Rebecca that I should take the van back to the bakery soon, and if anyone needed a ride, I had two seats up front.

When I glanced at Marvin's direction, I saw that he was at the point of passing out. "Marvin drank too much," I remarked to someone, I can't recall who. A few other people had noticed Marvin's condition, too. Rebecca said, "Belle, since you're the only sober one, would you mind taking Marvin home, so he can sleep it out?"

"Sure," I said, "I was just about to take the van back anyhow."

Honest to God, the rest of it came by surprise.

When I parked the van in front of Mrs. Norris's house and rang the bell, there was no answer. I didn't know then that Mrs. Norris was out of town. I walked back to the van and tried to wake Marvin, but he mumbled, "Cut it out, Aria."

That got my dander up. Ariadne, again. Goddamn her.

I found the key in one of his pockets and opened the door. I half carried him into the house. There were three bedrooms in the house. I didn't know which one Marvin slept in. So I dragged him to the closest one. It had a double bed and a dresser with a mirror. I guessed it to be Mrs. Norris's room.

Marvin was totally out of it. I slapped his face so he could wake up.

He opened his eyes a slit, and "Don't play with me, Aria," he murmured and closed his eyes again.

At this point, I was more worried than furious. Could Marvin die because of the Valium and Scotch? I decided to stay with him some, at least until Mrs. Norris came home. I wasn't worried what Mrs. Norris would think. I had a good reason to be there.

While I was waiting, the phone rang. After four rings, the message machine picked up the call. "Marvin, are you home, yet? I came here just fine. Sheila is doing better. I'll be back in a day or so. There's juice and milk in the fridge, and tuna salad for you in the Tupperware. You know where everything else is. Love you, Son. Bye, now."

Sheila was Mrs. Norris's sister in West Palm Beach. She sometimes came for a visit to the bakery, as she knew Maryanne. That meant Mrs. Norris was with Sheila and wouldn't be home that night.

With that realization, the wheels started turning inside my head. I looked at Marvin lying on top of the bed, out cold but fully clothed. I began undressing him slowly taking my time, all the while trying to endure his voice calling me Aria.

Then I called home and told my mother that I was sleeping over at Pamela's.

"Couldn't you find someone else to be bosom bodies with, other than that shrew?" she remarked.

Pamela had a dubious fame in Rocky Road, but she was my friend. We had made friends, when she and her mother had opened the flower shop a couple of years earlier and were new in town. Although she was a few years older than me, I knew Pamela would back me up, if questioned. Just in case, I made a mental note to talk to her the next morning about this night.

It was more of a job to pull the sheets from under Marvin than undressing him earlier, but I managed it just fine. After pulling the sheet over him, I took off my clothes and slipped inside the bed near him, my naked flesh touching his. So this is what Ariadne must be feeling all the time, With that thought, I was aroused uncontrollably. But, no matter what I did, I couldn't get Marvin to respond to me, even in his plastered state. Giving up, I fell asleep.

The next morning, Marvin woke up looking and feeling as if the Amtrak train ran over him. I took an easy breath. At least, he had awakened. A tiny part of me was worried that he wouldn't. If he hadn't awakened, what would that make me?

When Marvin saw me lying next to him, both of us butt naked, his reaction was one of revulsion. He looked shocked as if he saw the Wicked Witch of the West instead of me in my birthday suit. He scampered off the bed, picked a piece of his clothing, something blue—I think it was his shirt—and held it in front of him to cover his parts. The horror in his eyes was so tangible that if I had a knife, I could probably chop it to pieces.

"Did we?" he said, his voice quivering.

I nodded. "Your idea," I said. "Since you broke up with Aria...you told me."

"I said that? No way. We never broke up." He brought a hand to his head, while still holding the shirt in front of him with the other hand. "This has to be a nightmare," he murmured.

"Then why did you say you were through with her? If I knew..."

"Are you sure I said that? Are you sure you're telling me the truth?"

"If not, why are we here like this? Don't you remember a thing? Don't you remember how you wanted over and over..."

"Cut it out, Belle. Don't tell me. Whatever happened, happened." I thought he would cry, but he started getting dressed, so I got out of the bed unashamed of my nakedness and walked slowly toward the bathroom, while checking him from the mirror on the dresser. He didn't watch me at all. He even turned his back.

Damn Fuck! What did Ariadne do to him that made him so blind to other women?

As of the day earlier, I hadn't planned any of this. Honest! But things fell in place almost by design. What do they say, two birds with one stone? Now I had a daddy for the fetus developing inside me, and this would get Ariadne big time.

A few minutes later, I came back to the room, draped in a towel. "Let's not talk about this to other people," Marvin said, now fully dressed. "I'm really sorry, Belle. I guess we were both too drunk."

"I wasn't drunk," I said. "I was half-working, if you remember. But I trusted you, Marvin. You convinced me it was over with Ariadne. You asked for my help for..."

"Belle, stop." He lifted his hands to his ears as if to block my words. "Please forgive me. I don't remember a thing. Not a thing," he said. "You are a beautiful lady, but I'm with Aria. I'll always be with Aria. Please understand." He hesitated a little, then added, "Can we keep this between the two of us?"

"Oh," I looked down. "I won't say a thing to Ariadne. I promise."

And I kept my word. I didn't say anything to Ariadne, but since my pregnancy became public knowledge within a few months, I made it look like I was confessing Marvin's being the father, only to my mother and Aunt Greta. I said I didn't want my mother creating a ruckus by blaming the innocent men in Rocky Road, since, over Aunt Greta's and my objections, she had started doing just that by naming two of the young men I barely said hello to.

As soon as I blurted out Marvin's name, my mother and Aunt Greta wanted to know the details of the night I had spent with him. I told them the truth. My version of it. And I begged them not to tell anything to Ariadne or Marvin. I would somehow take care of this baby myself, I said, even if it would mean postponing my education or dropping out of Le Cordon Bleu. "I'll find a second job, instead," I said, "to take care of the baby."

"That is not a solution," Aunt Greta said. "Marvin has the right to know."

"Oh, no," I moaned. "I promised him I wouldn't talk about the thing that happened between us."

Mother yelled. "How many times do you have to put me through this? Didn't you learn anything from the first one, Slut?"

Aunt Greta, then, kept insisting Marvin should be told, while my mother got busy calling me names.

The rest raveled on its own.

And when, in front of the justice of peace, Marvin said, "I do," as if answering the grim reaper, I mimicked him for appearances. Afterwards, a few people came to our house for tea and cupcakes. I can count them on the fingers of my hands; not the cupcakes, I mean the people.

I still remember everyone's faces as if in a movie. Aunt Greta was solemn, understandably so. My mother looked around her, probably wishing she were somewhere else or bitching me for something or other, and Mrs. Norris cried as if she were at a wake. Maryanne, Pamela, and a couple of other people just made polite talk avoiding those mourners.

During all this, Ariadne and Uncle Cliff were in New York. Ariadne remained there for a very long time, and rarely if ever returned to Rocky Road for the first several years.

Marvin, meanwhile, took a leave of absence from school and worked as the deli manager in a health-food store in Gatortown, as long as he stayed in Rocky Road. During our so-called marriage, no matter what I tried, Marvin never touched me. He brought a cot from his grandmother's and slept on it. Every single night. Although we shared the same bedroom in my mother's house. Come to think of it, I have always lived in my mother's house, not counting the nights I slept away after Marvin took Lyle permanently.

About a month or so after Lyle was born, Ariadne married Halsey Richard Wright, a lawyer. A couple of months later, when Lyle was about three months old, Marvin asked for a divorce and moved out. I let him have the divorce, for I had no use for him anymore.

As soon as the final divorce papers were in our hands, Marvin left for Texas, since he had transferred to Texas U. to finish his studies. He did not return to Rocky Road, except for three times. One was when Lyle had fallen down and had to be hospitalized with a deep gash on his head. The other was when Mrs. Norris passed away, and the last one was to take Lyle away from me. By then, Marvin had married in Texas and had a daughter. Since he could provide a better family life for the child, and I had begun seeing Peter at the time who was hesitant about getting serious about a woman with a toddler, I let Marvin take Lyle.

Marvin made a good father for Lyle, and he let him visit me every now and then.

If Lyle knew his Uncle Hector was his real father...oh boy, the shit would hit the fan. But he won't. This is something I'll always keep to myself. After all, what difference does it make? Hector and Marvin are in the same family, aren't they?



The filling is set in the cheesecake. It's time to take it out of the oven, since it has cooled bit. I'll refrigerate it until ready to use. The raspberry sauce has to be added just before serving it.

And once more, Ariadne is going to be well-served by me.


Chapter 6

"I am hitting my head against the walls. But the walls are giving way "
Gustav Mahler

Ariadne


Thoughts haunt me all the time, and they haunted me again while Jayce drove me to the airport early in the morning while I watched the city from the car's door. I should have been thinking of Jayce, feeling sad for going away without him, but I didn't. Instead I kept reminiscing my time with Marvin.

Isn't that something? My umpteenth serious relationship after Marvin, and it is still Marvin.

I thought:
So much takes place in the city...neon lights, folks in a hurry flagging cabs down with their forefingers in the air, those with cell-phones attached to their ears with an earpiece or without, Central Park, Fifth Avenue, downtown...on and on and on.

I love Manhattan. Marvin loved it, too. Yet, I've been living in the city without him for over thirty years. Each step I took there reminds me of him, each step a dagger in my heart. Worse yet, each man I had been with since Marvin has been an endurance. Hal was an endurance. Others were, too, but Jayce now was more of an endurance than Hal or anyone else. He has become a pest. For none of my lovers, I felt what I still feel for Marvin.

I miss Marvin's hand guiding me from behind, the tips of his fingers touching the small of my back, when I walked in front of him. I miss the way he lowered himself on the bench, our bench, in Central Park. I miss him noticing everything new about me, and everything old. I miss the sensation his words created inside me when he talked, joked, laughed. But most of all, I miss his touch.

Where Marvin is concerned, I feel like the quote from The Life of Pie: "Richard Parker has stayed with me. I've never forgotten him. Dare I say miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart."

Just like that. Just like Pi, I have been held captive by Marvin. Strangeness of the human heart. Madness. My love for Marvin is madness. Yet, I would be so lost without that madness.


I stifled a sob and turned my face completely away from Jayce.

"Honey, you can still cancel this. Would you like me to turn back?"

God! Men and their egos...

"No, I have to go, Jayce," I said. "We already discussed this."

"Okay, but don't worry. The week will pass quickly. You'll be back in no time."

As if I were dying to be back with him...

Hal was the same way. As were the few insignificant lovers before Jayce. Why did I send out mistaken vibes to men? There had to be something wrong with me. Maybe I was worn out from overwork. That was it. Being worn out...from something.

In the plane, I asked for a Jameson on rocks. They didn't carry Jameson, the hostess said; so I ordered Jim Beam instead. If I had taken the company plane, Jameson would be available, but I was hesitant to do that after Kinney & Russell went public.


The guy sitting next to me in the window seat, fortyish I thought, tried to strike out a conversation. He was a tour promoter for some rock bands. I didn't want to be impolite, but I didn't like his flirtatious manner. Why do men think all middle-aged women are cougars?

Anyhow, I ordered another drink, and after finishing it, I closed my eyes and acted like I was sleeping just to shut him up. Then I heard a strange sound. When I squinted, I saw through my eyelids the big-mouth tour-promoter-slash-ladies-man snoring as his head lolled toward the window.

Without making much noise, I took out my iPad and began checking the markets. Then I chanced upon an interesting article and began reading it. Samsung opened up about its design strategy at the IFA electronics trade fair... The word strategy jolted me in my seat.

What had happened to my war strategy with Belle? Did I know what she would be up to this time? No, I didn't, as I never did. I could handle all kinds of creeps and market maneuvers in the company, but when it came to Belle, whatever she did or said so shocked me that I froze without a comeback, without giving it back to her.

My war strategy had to start with observation, just like in business. So first, I had to observe myself.

In the past, I disliked her so much that I avoided her; I even stayed away from Rocky Road, although I had grown up there and loved the town. I refused to pay attention to Belle. I refused to think why or how she would hurt me or say something to wound me for days.

Second, I had to recall and classify her past actions, like the past performance of a company.

Belle loved to throw mud at me. She didn't do this to other people, but only me. Why? I didn't need to answer this right away, but I'd let the thought stay in the forefront of my mind.

She didn't really like or want Marvin, but she took him away from me. Just like she took my things, gifts given to me, my toys, or my clothes when we were children. Even then, she made sure what she took from me was something I cherished. What else could she take away from me that could be more important than Marvin? Nothing.

But then I had My mother. Of course, my mother, but my mother already mothered her more than Aunt Fi ever did. I made a mental note to speak about her to Mom. Mom would defend her, I knew that. Maybe I should first find out why Mom had been so nice to her. Could there be something other than what our grade school teacher told her that I didn't know about?

Belle had a child by Marvin. My child is by a man I didn't love. What else does Belle want? She even got to live with Marvin as his wife for more than a year. Something I also refuse to look back on, since the images of them torture me inside my head, but I ought to face facts because I have been sick and tired of getting pushed around by her.

What was it about our childhood that made Belle so hostile? Our families? Our looks? My so-called success?

Our families, neither of us could do anything about. Our looks, the same. Her looks were good enough, but maybe she didn't notice them with Aunt Fi always putting her down and praising me. Not just Aunt Fi, a few others, too. This sort of thing is dangerous for a child's ego. Why didn't anyone see that?

As for things Belle needed, my mother saw to it that she didn't go without. So money shouldn't have been that much of a problem, especially now that her bakery has been doing so well.

Success? She's had enough of it. She thought Maryanne gave her a big cut when she turned the bakery over to her. I paid three quarters of the bakery's price to Maryanne without Belle or Aunt Fi knowing about it. Of course, that was before Belle backstabbed me when she took Marvin away. But I still kept mum about the fact that I made her bakery possible; as this was for me and my mother to know.

If Belle thought I had success, she is so wrong. I never wanted this company thing. It was loaded on my shoulders whether I liked it or not. I'd rather paint. I mean not like a hobby, but seriously, very seriously.


Two drinks on the plane had relaxed me and opened my mind to weigh the disturbing situation with Belle. Maybe I should give a damn rather than trying to disregard her antics. Maybe this war strategy could bring about the peace I so needed. Thinking about the problem on this flight, rather than ignoring it, had been a productive start, a really bullish catching up, and it had made this two-and-a-half-hour plane-ride time well-spent.

Maybe I was aging, too, and this was what I needed: a quiet time alone, to figure things out for myself. My life had been made of nights, days, and years of chasing, pacing, and racing for the company, for the men in my life, and tending to Kenton's needs in between. I never had the opportunity to think for myself, to figure out how to handle the discrepancies in my life, and Jayce had been no help at all. If anything, he crowded me with his always on-the-go projects, his missions of let's-party with this friend or that, and now lately, his insatiable zest for marriage and domesticity. I mean, weren't we domesticated enough by living together? And now, why was he shooting for even more than I was willing to give?

I appreciated Jayce's attentions; yet, too much was too much. I had put up with him for the sake of the company because he was irreplaceable as a CFO. However, time had come to take the bull by the horns, so to speak, but first, I'd have to talk this out with Mom, as her advice had always been valuable to me.

Having thought out all these, I turned my attention to Kenton, my son. I clicked on photos and pulled out an image of him. He was so like Hal with his tall athletic stature, chestnut hair with blond lights, alert gaze, wide grin...

That vision probably put a smile on my lips that the hostess, as she passed by, remarked, "You must be looking at something happy."

I looked up. "Yes, my son's photo."

She bent and checked. "He's handsome!" I nodded, grinning. Dr. Kenton Richard Wright, the internist I gloated, although I didn't say his name or title out loud.

But Kenton was more than his title and more than just handsome. To start with, he had a positive outlook on life and he enjoyed people. Even as a little boy, he had made friends easily. He was athletic; he liked sailing, tennis, running, and sweets. Kenton, my pride and joy, and what I considered the greatest achievement—no, the only achievement—of my life. The rest of the things I did in my life, no matter what, wasn't worth a penny, compared to raising Kenton. Surely, Hal had something to do with it, too. Our amicable divorce, sharing the custody, Hal's attentiveness to our son all favored Kenton to become Kenton.


The hostess tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the iPad. "Time to put it away," she said.

Lucky for me, the tour-promoter flirt had snored almost all the way to Orlando and opened his eyes only when the plane started its downward motion before landing.


I was expecting Mom's driver Ramon to meet me at the airport, but instead, my mouth fell open when I saw Sherrie by the baggage claim. Sherrie and Evelyn were Belle's daughters by Belle's second husband Peter. I am not too sure she ever married him, although once Mom had introduced him to me as Peter, Belle's husband. It was during a time I visited Rocky Road rarely and I don't think I saw Peter again, but I heard he had left Belle and the kids and moved to Italy with another woman, taking the name Pietro. Who could blame him?

"Aunt Aria, welcome back." Sherrie hugged me warmly. "Ramon's wife had surgery yesterday, so we volunteered to come for you instead. I hope you don't mind."

Even with shapelier features than Belle, Sher looked disturbingly like her mother when Belle was about her age-- the age when she had Lyle and married Marvin. Maybe a couple of years younger, but nevertheless...I took a deep breath trying to make my mind's chatter fade away, trying to concentrate on my breathing and the steady hammering of my heart, a practice I had learned in the instant-meditation class Jayce had dragged me to.

"We?" I asked. "Is your sister with you? Where is she?"

"No, not Eve, my brother is here. He's waiting for us in the garage. He's a much better driver than I am, Mom says."

"Lyle?"

"He's the only brother I have, Aunt Aria. Remember?" She giggled. "Trust Lyle. He's just as good a driver as Ramon. And we were sooo lucky. Lyle found parking space on level one."

Lyle, Marvin and Belle's son. So it was Belle's maneuvering to send him here. She had to have been pushing on the fluster-Aria pedal to the floor and holding it there. She certainly knew how to get to me. Why wouldn't she ever quit?

But I wasn't about to show my frustration. I wasn't going to have Sher report to Belle how I had reacted to Lyle.

"How wonderful!" I said with a big smile, regardless of its being a fake one. "It's been ages since I saw Lyle. Thank you, Sher." And I placed a couple of short pecks on her cheeks.

"It is so great to see you again, Aunt Aria," she said with a wide smile. "And you look so in shape and so elegant, even after the flight. I flew to Texas to visit Lyle last summer and I was falling apart."

"Thank you, Sher," I said, pulling one of my bags off the carousel. "Coming home must have perked me up."

Nothing could be farther from the truth, as I usually dreaded to face Belle, the people who knew how in love Marvin and I had been, or the strangers now living in Mrs. Norris's place where Marvin used to live. Yet, at the same time, I looked forward to see my mom and the house I grew up in.

Sher grabbed the handle of the bag. "I'll take this. How many other bags, Aunt Aria? Shall I get a cart?"

"Oh, no. Just one more bag, dear," I said. "They both have wheels. If you would roll that one, please, I'll get the other."

I wondered about Sher's demeanor, her unusual friendly approach. Should I be worried? No, I decided. Why punish the daughter for her mother's attitude, be it in thought...Sher might not even be aware of Belle's negativity against me. Even if she were, would she follow in her footsteps? I hoped not.

Lyle was standing by the car, tapping his foot on the cement floor inside the short-term parking level one. When he saw us, he straightened up and clicked on the key to open the trunk. Then he held out his hand. "Welcome, home."

I took his hand and searched his face for something of Marvin, but I couldn't find it. He had red hair, short cropped, dark brown eyes and very dark olive skin.

"Nice to see you, Lyle," I said. "And thank you for driving us."

"No problem," he said, and reached for the bags to load them into the trunk. Then he quickly moved next to me.

"Now you be extra careful, Bro," Sher said as Lyle held the car's door open for me. "This is Aunt Greta's car and we want you to take us home in one piece." She turned around and winked at me with mischief on her face.

"I'm always careful," Lyle said, his voice gruff, defensive. Then he turned to me and smiled. "I never drove a Lincoln before, but I could get used to it. It handles great."

"My mother always liked the classic cars," I answered just to say something, as I was still searching him for traces of Marvin, however in vain. I realized he was waiting for me to step inside the back seat.

Sher, already in the car, picked on that. "You didn't see Lyle for a long time, did you, Aunt Aria?"

"Yes, somehow whenever I was here, Lyle was in Texas," I said settling on the back seat near the driver's-side window. "I think the last time was when he had his first teaching job."

"He still has that job. I can't believe how he can stand high school kids and math. I hated math when I was in school." Sher prattled on. "Some people can stay in one job for a lifetime. Unreal!" Then she covered her mouth with both hands. "Ooops! Sorry, Aunt Aria. I forgot you had the same job forever, just like my mom. I guess it is your generation's habit."

"Not really. Dad never stays in the same place or apartment for long, and he's from mom's generation," Lyle said.

"Yeah, I heard he changed his address again," Sher said. "Did your stepmother marry that man, Lyle?"

I was looking out the window at a stalled car on the median on Route 4. With Sher's last comment, I turned around. "Aunt Aria, did you know Diana's mom left her and Lyle's dad? That was five years ago. She is about to marry someone else, now." Her voice was high with feminine bubbliness.

"Let's not talk about it," Lyle said. "My stepmother is one...never mind."

"No, Sher. I didn't know, but Lyle is right. Let's not talk about it," I said, not quite believing Marvin's wife had left him, and it had been five years already. Why didn't my mother tell me that?

But the news had made my heart jump.


Chapter 7

"We can never be gods, after all--but we can become something less than human with frightening ease."
N.K. Jemisin

Belle


Her ladyship has to have arrived. I put the cheesecake in a box and the raspberry sauce in a jar to send them over with Sher later in the evening. Time to begin the Black Forest Cake for Kenton. He loves sweets, especially my baking. One thing I have over Ariadne. Compared to me, she can't even boil water. Not that she needs it. Should she need it, she'd probably do that better than me, too. My mother would certainly applaud her the most.

"We're back, Mom." Sher announced their arrival in a singsong voice. "I called you on your cell, but you didn't answer."

"I have been busy in the kitchen. Don't get too comfortable, Sher. You'll take the cheesecake over to Ariadne."

"Mom, why do you keep calling her Ariadne?"

"That's her name, isn't it?"

"Yes, but she's Aria. You sound so weird when everyone else calls her Aria."

"Maybe, she likes the melody of her full name," Lyle said, entering the kitchen. He stepped near and gave me a peck on the cheek. "I put the car in the garage."

"Which car?" I hoped they didn't take Aunt Greta's car to our house.

"Sher's of course. We left the Lincoln when we helped Aria into Greta's."

"Lyle, don't call Aunt Greta by her first name. She's an old lady. It's disrespectful," I said.

Lyle sniffed the air. "Mmm. Smells Great. Sweets for the sweet Aria, I suppose." He chuckled.

"Stop supposing," I said. "Your grandmother made me bake it."

Lyle shrugged and walked out of the kitchen. Sher began telling me the way they arrived at the airport, thinking it was a tad late, but they made it fine.

"Mom, I thought I would lose her in the terminal; so I waited by the baggage claim. I think it was a good decision, too. Aunt Aria was looking for Ramon. When she saw me, she was surprised. Mom, you should see the way she looked."

"How, pray tell."

"Regal. She's so dignified. She had her hair up in a bun. She had a tight crimson skirt with a beige turtleneck, and she carried a black coat on her arm. Although she was overly dressed for the weather here, several heads turned her way. I think it is the way she walked and carried herself, pulling a small overnighter on wheels that was sooo out of this world. Aunt Aria is fashion itself, without even trying."

"You too, Sher? I think you're exaggerating like everyone else."

"No. Mom. I'm not. If she had a crown on her head, she'd be mistaken for a queen or something."

"Queen of something, all right," I mumbled. "Never mind. Go on."

"She had two bags. She attached her carry-on on one of the bags. I took the other and we went to the garage where Lyle was waiting."

"I wonder what she did when she saw Lyle. Was she surprised?"

"Maybe. I couldn't tell. Her eyes were on him for a while, but she was nice to both of us. She's a good person, Mom. Why do you dislike her?"

"Don't ask that question again, Sher. It's my business, and it doesn't matter if I like her or not. What matters is when Kenton arrives..."

"He's coming tomorrow, Aunt Aria said. She said she missed him, of course being his mother and all. I better go change, now."

"No, don't change yet. You're going to take this cheesecake to Aunt Greta's. Hurry back for dinner, so we can have dinner together as a family, now that Lyle is here."

"Aunt Aria will like this one," Sher said, opening up the corner of the box and peeking inside. "You're the best baker in the world, Mom."

"Close that box now, and put it in a bag with that jar. Here...like this. And off you go. Don't forget to say hi from me to Aunt Greta, and...and Ariadne."

Sher grimaced in a mocking way, then giggled and took the bag. "You'd better be nice to Aunt Aria if you want Kenton as your son in-law, Mom," she said over her shoulder as she exited.

She was right, of course, but at the moment, I felt hurt and irate. Had Ariadne gotten under Sher's skin, too? But I had to wipe out the disgust from my face before I saw Ariadne's evil face again. I burned with so much rage that whenever I saw her, I shook. She had the guts to enter into the hearts of every person dear to me.

Sher's words, Aunt Aria is fashion itself playing non-stop in my head, I checked the lamb stew and rice on the stove, deciding to add a side salad and top it off with the coconut custard, and voila, we would have our family dinner.

But first things first. I went to my bedroom and locked the door. So it was tight crimson skirt and beige turtleneck, according to my daughter. I should have a couple of tight skirts in my closet. I took them out. And a turtleneck. Yes, I had a white one. Close enough. I laid the skirt with the purple stripes and the turtleneck on the bed. They looked fabulous together. I tried them on.

When I stood in front of the mirror, I screamed. Not elegant, at all. The tight skirt made my thick legs too obvious and pulled on my belly and behind. No, I could never look like Ariadne. Damn her!

"Mom, are you okay?" Lyle was knocking on the door. I went to open it. "I heard you scream..." he said eyeing me top to toe with a frown. "What happened?"

"I thought I saw a palmetto bug," I lied. "But it was just a piece of paper."

"Okay then," he said, and as he was turning around, he added. "You didn't need to change; it's just us. This doesn't look too great on you anyway. Don't you have something else to wear?"

My kids, too? My mother always told me to dress "like Aria," but when I tried to imitate her, she accused me of being frumpy or worse, "like a whore."

And where was Mother now? At Aunt Greta's. And why was she there, and not with us at dinner? To greet her much adored "Aria, Dear." Mother could have waited until the next day, but no. She left as soon as the kids did when they went to the airport.

I ripped the outfit off me and put on a housecoat instead.

Then I started on the Black Forest cake Kenton so liked. Why was it that Kenton was so good to me? Was it because of Sher? I didn't think so. Heavens, he didn't even notice her. Well, he would have to now, wouldn't he? Sher would have to make him notice.

Nothing warms the soul like thick, rich slice of freshly baked cake. "Aunt Belle, there's no better baker in the entire state of Florida," Kenton once told me. That is probably the nicest compliment I heard from anyone, including my own ingrate children.

Damn fuck! Ariadne even raised her child better than I did mine. The idea made me spill the flour on the floor. But then, I consoled myself, she has only one; I have three. As if that were some consolation...

The way this town treated us would have to improve when Sher would get to become Mrs. Sherrie Craine Wright or Mrs. Kenton Wright. I wasn't quite certain which one would be the proper old-fashioned way to address her. In either case, respect for us would be there, for sure.

I was sick of being the pariah for the last fifty some years, my age being fifty-three, and Ariadne's, too. Except she might be a bit older. Her face certainly looks old. That's the thing with the blondies; they age early.

Ariadne and I grew up together. It was unbelievable how differently we were treated. Oh, people weren't bad to my face necessarily, but they did turn up their nose at me; I just knew it. Aunt Greta said I was being overly sensitive and I should forget about the father obsession, but I can't. Most bastards know who their father is, but my mother won't tell me who fathered me, or maybe, she doesn't know for certain, which has to be even worse.

All my three children have decent fathers; I made sure of that. That the lame-ass Marvin and dipshit Peter, a.k.a Pietro, my kids' fathers, spurned me is of little importance. Pietro the dago is the worse one. The retard ran off to Italy without even looking back. I think Eve is writing to him regularly and complaining about me.

Eve is unruly, nothing like Sher. Pig-headed and sassy, too. Could be because she's a teen or ill-affected because Peter ignored them, then fled to Tuscany.

This was sometime last month. "Mom, get real. No kid has a 10 o'clock curfew." Eve yelled at me and slammed the door behind her as she split. So I took away her cellphone. Afterwards, she acted okay for a few days. Then, she started staying out after midnight, again.

And my mother what does she do when Eve and I lock horns? She takes Eve's side. Always. Not on her staying out late, but everything else. I can't chase after the kid; I have a bakery to run. And Lyle is deep-rooted in Texas, courtesy of Marvin. Maybe I shouldn't talk bad of Marvin, being that he isn't the real father, but that's for me to know.

Such a fancy name Schwarzwälder kirsch torte...I learned it in Le Cordon Bleu. It means Black Forest Cherry Torte or the way my chef-teacher used to roll it on his tongue with an affected accent, Le Gateau. It has four layers of chocolate sponge cake, cherries, and whipped cream, just like the layers of a good life. And just like the cheesecake Sher took over to Aunt Greta's, this had to be an addition to the sweet beginnings of my design with cherries on top, one that I planned to serve to cocky diva Ariadne.

After I put the layers of the cake in the oven, I started on the salad, not forgetting the small grape tomatoes, as Lyle liked them. With the stew and rice ready, I set the table and waited. The first one to come to dinner was Lyle.

"It smells great, Mom," he said. I'm starving."

"Sit down, then. Sher'll be here in a few minutes. Where's Eve?"

"She went with Sher."

"That kid! She didn't ask me."

"Don't get all worked up. She's with Sher. Kids her age need their leash loosened a bit."

Great! Mr. Math Teacher suddenly became an expert on child-raising, but I wasn't about to snap back at Lyle. I didn't get to see him too often; I didn't, ever since Marvin took him away.

Just when Sher and Eve entered, the phone rang. Lyle reached for it.

"Yes, thank you. I will. She's right here," he said and handed me the receiver. "Aunt Greta, Mom!"

"Belle, Dear, thank you so much for the lovely cheesecake. Ariadne will love it when she sees it. She's in her room, resting. Another thing, why don't you all come for dinner tomorrow night? Kenton should be here by the afternoon. I told Sher and Eve, but I wanted to hear your sweet voice myself. Oh, and Fi wanted me to tell you; she will be staying here tonight."

Of course, my mother would stay if Aria was there. Did it matter that Lyle, her grandson was here visiting, also? But I had more important things to think about,

With so many people around, how will Kenton notice Sher? Should I hold off on the Black Forest Cake? Nope. Will I be able to act friendly toward Ariadne? Nope again, but I'll just take it down a notch.

For comeuppance, the hour would arrive when I would take Kenton away from Aria. Aria's just desert would be served then.


Chapter 8

"Hey it's good to be back home again - you know it is
Sometimes this old farm feels like a long-lost friend
Hey, it's good to be back home again
I said hey it's good to be back home again"
John Denver

Ariadne


Mom's sweet nostalgic voice, the hope of seeing Kenton again, embracing them both...Heaven!

For so long I had felt like running out of Kinney & Russell's and on the streets of Manhattan as if to search for them. I wanted to hug them until my present self would be dissolved, and I would become the real me. The real Aria who used to laugh, love, and enjoy life in its fullness when she belonged here in Rocky Road, when she was still young, when she still had Marvin, the most important person in her life. But of course, he wasn't in New York City or here in Rocky Road. He was in Houston.

As Lyle drove us in, Vinny, Mom's gardener, climbed down the ladder by the tall elm tree, now oversized. Then Vinnie waved at me and I waved back, but couldn't decipher what he was saying, as he was definitely saying something because his lips were moving. I guessed he was welcoming me. I made a mental note to go talk to him later.

When the car came to a stop, my left eye twitched. I rubbed it off and focused on the front door as it opened, and I saw my mother leaning on her cane. Her arthritis has to be acting up, I thought, as Mom rarely used her cane.

The sight of my childhood home, our old gardener, my mother at the door, made me look around for other important people in my life, and I wanted to lose my hard edges and the framework I usually presented myself in. I found being back at home an exhilarating rediscovery. I had usually worked from inside my gloom well enough, pretending I knew who I was, and that I was cohesive, strong, and sensible. Yet, the moment I saw Mom again, I felt my habitual make-believe and my despair lift off.

I could get used to that.

After embracing Mom and Aunt Fi, I walked upstairs toward my room but stopped in front of the spectacular view of the town of Rocky Road from the window, a view I knew by heart but one that still enchanted me where spaces between man-made structures were wider, greener.

The sun was going down fast, scattering a plethora of reds on the still blue sky over the town. Despite the AC running, I lifted the window and skimmed the rooftops in the distance. I could make out the firehouse, next to it Carmela's bakery, Zoe's Yarns and Crafts, and the Stationery Store. The Avenues and Streets seemed merged together with the roofs standing side by side like sardines. I felt as if I took wings over the town, gulping the wind, riding the air currents over trees, roads, houses, and fences, all the way to the interstate that ruffled in the distance like an indigo sea.

When my father built this house, he made sure we'd have the view of the town and the woods to the west, even though the downstairs windows look only at the walls surrounding the place. In my old room, which Mom kept as if I never grew up, I put away my things in the closet and rested a little, letting myself become absorbed in the familiar atmosphere.


When I came downstairs, Sher and Eve had left after dropping off the cheesecake Belle had made. Mom and I perched on the sofa, facing each other, our knees tucked under. To give us a bit of privacy and mother-daughter time, Aunt Fi was in the kitchen with the pretext of supervising dinner arrangements as if the cook and the maid could not handle things.

"Aria, what is troubling you?" Mom asked. "You are hiding well under your cool surface, but I can tell you are stirring inside."

"Mom, you're right. I did want to talk to you about...about a few things, but I don't know if this is a good time. Maybe I can start with Jayce."

"Jayce? I thought you had an understanding between the two of you, the way you were settled down. Am I wrong?"

"Yes and no. The problem is Jayce wants more. He wants us get married, and I..."

"You don't."

I nodded. "I don't want bad marriages to become the template for my life. I don't want to get stuck in a marriage again, and I don't know how to say no to him. Yet, I have to consider Kinney & Russell. Jayce is too valuable a CFO."

"Marriage should not be company business. It is personal," Mom said.

"Jayce may not think so. More importantly, the board may not think so if he resigns. There's a good chance he may. He hinted at it once."

Mom raised her eyebrows, then frowned without saying anything.

I continued. "Also, Mom, he's too controlling. I find his control over me increasing more and more with time. What would happen, should a marriage take place?"

"Does that mean you have considered his offer?"

"I thought about it but decided against it. I'm not even happy with the present setup. I am not saying I don't like him, but if I have to make an analogy of my situation with him, I'd say Jayce is like a nice vehicle one takes everywhere. He is comfortable. And I don't have the heart to...to leave him."

Mom shifted a little and changed the position of her legs. "Isn't stringing him along more cruel, though?" She sighed. "I can see where you are coming from, and I can see Jayce's point of view, too. Difficulty making up your mind, huh? Well, I can't decide for you, Aria, but I suspect that you know you must make that decision and soon."

"That's just it, Mom. I don't know how to do this. How to go about it."

"Does Jayce have an inkling about how you feel where he is concerned? Maybe he thinks his feelings are reciprocated."

"Exactly, and that's the main problem. I tried to talk to him, but he acts as if he doesn't understand or maybe he can't face it. Then there's this thing between Kenton and him."

"They resent each other. I have sensed that. But Kenton has his own life now, and what he feels about Jayce shouldn't be a factor in your decision."

"It's me too, Mom, not just Kenton. I'm so tired of everything. Tired of working at Kinney & Russell, too. If only Kenton had a business degree instead of medicine..."

My mother raised her voice abruptly. "No, Aria, no!" Then she shook her head, calming herself down. "Kenton's work is his passion. He wouldn't feel alive otherwise."

What had I just said? Had I suggested Kenton take my place in the company, the place I had ambiguous feelings about? "Of course, you're right, Mom," I said. "I don't know why those words slipped out of me like that."

"You said that because you were following a pattern. Both Hal and Cliff were wrong in steering you into this company business. You seemed to enjoy its challenge at the time, so I thought you liked what you were doing."

Mom's scrutiny was written all over her stare. But, I wondered, if she knew what Clifford was making me do, why didn't she interfere? Maybe it was easier for her to let things be, I answered my own thoughts, since I seemed to be in agreement with my stepfather at the time. "I did, and I didn't," I said. "It has been exciting. I loved Clifford's attention to me. Dad wanted the company to stay in the family and Clifford followed after him."

"They had been good friends, true, but let's not forget that Kinney & Russell is not family-managed now."

"Yes. After it went public, I'm an employee there, like Scott, for example. Although you and I hold the majority of shares. Still..."

"You and I and Kenton, dear."

That was true. Ever since Kenton's birth, Hal had accumulated a good amount of stock in the company in Kenton's name.

"You two act as if you haven't spoken to each other in years," Aunt Fi walked in and stood in the middle of the room. "Come on, dinner is ready."

Although I spoke to Mom almost every day on the phone, talking face to face had its advantages. As a result, a tiny decision took shape while we walked to the dining room. I would extend my stay in Rocky Road and see how I felt about things. Maybe during that time, I would find a better solution to my situation with Jayce. Someone, I couldn't recall who, said, "When in doubt take very small steps."

I decided I would take tiny steps first, and as to Belle, I would ignore her and her thorny comments.



It was after lunch sometime the next day when Kenton arrived. As soon as I heard a car sound, I twisted my body around toward the closed window in a futile attempt to see if it was him. Frustrated, I rushed to the door. Golden lights swaying on his chestnut-colored hair, Kenton climbed up the few steps as if dancing to the rhythm of a tune and hugged me.

"Mom, it's been so long. Okay, only three months when I last saw you and Dad in New York, but it feels like it's been a century."

"You flatterer, you look good. Did you gain more muscle, or what?"

"I'm working out at the gym; that is, as time permits. You know how it is. Hospital, emergencies, the whole deal."

"Come on in, handsome!" Mom yelled behind me. "Don't think I'm going to let only your mother take you captive."

"Nice to be back here with you guys," Kenton said, as we sat down for the afternoon tea. "And cooler too. Miami is like a sauna, again. We had a cool couple of days, if you can call it cool."

"But you are the cool one, my dear. Can you believe, Fi, how children grow?" Mom turned to Aunt Fi.

"You're telling me," Aunt Fi said. "I'd say how difficult it is to raise them, aside from the present company. Aria and Kenton were model children, but not everybody I know..."

"Here, take another slice of the cheesecake Belle sent over." Mom served Kenton another slice.

"Delicious! Aunt Belle shouldn't go to all that trouble for me, really," Kenton said.

Aunt Fi waved Kenton's compliment for Belle aside, using her fingers as a fan. "No trouble at all. At least, once in a blue moon, she did something nice for somebody. This cheesecake was for Aria, but she's only had a sliver of it," Aunt Fi said, directing her gaze toward me.

"And I loved every little bite of it," I said and pressed my fork down on several errant crumbs scattered on the side of the plate, lifting them to my mouth. I had to show appreciation as I knew in my gut, Aunt Fi made Belle bake the cheesecake. I smiled appreciatively for Aunt Fi's sake, regardless of the nasty memories ready to suffocate me. Memories that I kept well-preserved.

Would Belle ever do something nice for me? If she did, would I believe her? Definitely not. Belle doing anything nice for me would be like the sea parting or Lazarus rising from the dead. No way!


Right after we finished tea, Sherrie showed up. She said she had come directly from the hospital and her mother and Lyle would be arriving soon.

"What were you doing in the hospital?" Kenton asked.

"I work there, in the Meadows Hospital, remember?" Sherrie giggled, pushing her hair behind her ears.

"She's an X-ray technician," Aunt Fi said. "If I remember correctly, you advised her to go for it, Kenton."

"I forgot. It must have been a few years. Sorry, Sher," Kenton said, as if seeing her for the first time.

Before she could answer him, Sher's cellphone rang. She took it out of her bag and cocked her head to the side, checking the screen. She tightened her lips to a full circle and mouthed to us, "Mom."

Then she excused herself and stepped out of the room. Was Belle keeping a tight leash on her daughter? Poor kid...

"They'll be just a little late," Sher said as she walked back inside. "She has car trouble. I said I could go get her, but Lyle managed to get it working again. It's always something with her."

I couldn't have said it better. It was always something with Belle.

"We can wait a little bit more," Mom said. "All our loved ones are here, our children. I can't wait to see everyone together around the dinner table."

"We're like family, right, Aunt Greta?" Sher said. "My grandma and you have been more than friends all through your lives. I wish I could find someone like you to be friends with...lifelong."

"We're more than friends. We're almost sisters." Mom said, putting her arm around Aunt Fi, who had perched next to her. Aunt Fi hugged her as if Mom just granted her the moon, sun, and the entire heavens. When they separated, both had tear-stained cheeks.

We were all silent, watching them. "More than sisters, even. We'd trust each other with more than our lives, with our everything," Aunt Fi said, mopping her face with her sleeve.

I couldn't help but think, I wish you two weren't so close. I wish you weren't like friend-sisters. I wish I had never met you or Belle. The thought sat heavily on my chest, crushing it, and making me hate myself. I rubbed my hands around my arms trying to get rid of the chill that had suddenly settled in my bones.

"Mom, are you all right?" Kenton asked, pivoting toward me in his seat. "You seem uncomfortable."

"Nothing, Kent," I answered, forcing a grin. "Always the doctor, aren't you? I just felt a little chill. Must be the change in the weather."

"It gets a bit chilly in the evenings, around this time, Aunt Aria," Sher said. "Can I get you a sweater or something?"

Hard to believe Sher is Belle's daughter. She is so sweet. Almost too sweet. Am I becoming paranoid or what?

"No, thank you, dear. It is my age," I said. "My internal thermostat has turned askew, lately."

"Oh, sorry, Aunt Aria. My mom's like that, too. But she's always hot. We always have the AC on low," Sher said.

"That's one reason I don't stay around her," Aunt Fi said. "Because of her hot flashes, I am freezing to my bones with the house kept so cold."

Surely, she'd be so hot. It has to be from the hell fires, I thought, not liking myself again.

By the time Belle and Kyle walked through the door, we were in the dining room, and I had regained my bearings and forced control over my mind. Belle was carrying a large white box of something, as if she had unearthed it from a dig site and there was no way to hold it properly.

Sher rose and rushed to her. "Mom, let me take that," she said.

"No way," Belle said. "This is for Kenton."

"She wouldn't even let me carry it for fear I'd do something to it," Lyle said, grinning.

"Aunt Belle, you didn't!" Kent's eyes were like saucers as his lips spread from ear to ear. "Is it?"

"Yes, it is," Belle chimed. "Hope you like it. It's similar to the last one."

God, no! Another icky, sugary thing to clog up our arteries, but then, that's Belle's specialty. To poison people.

As I sat in my seat, smirking, the box was on the table, a place setting shoved aside to make way for it. Everyone, except me, rose and bent over it with oohs and aaahs.

"I am having desert first," Kenton said, eyeing me, as if he were suddenly a ten-year old. "Mom, just look at this! I can taste it with my eyes."

Sher laughed. "I'll help you, Kenton, if you let me have a piece."

I leaned in my chair toward the box and saw the corner of a cake with white icing, chocolate slivers, and maraschino cherries. Yummy and it was a work of art, no kidding. Maybe I should tell Belle that, although she might answer with a sour comeback and spoil the sweetness of the moment. So what, let everyone see her true colors.

"We can all have it for desert," Kenton said. "Although we still have the cheesecake."

"This truly is a work of art, and I bet it is scrumptious," I said. "And thank you, Belle, for the cheesecake, too. I appreciate it."

Surprise, surprise...Belle simply said, "You're welcome," frowning a little. But no bitter retort.

The dinner went well with no hitch or implied insults between Belle and me. I noticed Sher, who was sitting across from Kenton, telling him about an incident in the X-Ray room. I caught her saying, "But this guy was something else, so uncooperative. But the location I knew because the rays emerged as a cone of radiation. The bullet's caliber, the estimation of it, is possible if the shank of the bullet is seen."

"God, we could use you in Miami, Sher," Kenton said. "Not a day passes without me sending someone with a bullet inside, to the zapper, with a cop breathing down my neck."

"Nice conversation at the dinner table, kids," Aunt Fi said. "Can't you come up with some happy topic? And Lyle, why are you so quiet?"

Sher and Kenton looked at each other, making faces. Lyle said with his Texan lilt, "I'm only listening to them. It is an interesting topic, Grandma."

"You say something cheerful, Lyle," Mom said.

Lyle winked at Sher. "I guess I could tell how two of my students came to blows over square roots."

All four youngsters giggled, even Evelyn who had been sulking through the entire evening. Mom and Aunt Fi shook their heads.

Aunt Fi said, "All this blood and gore. This must be what your generation was taught. All those movies, that TV..." She shook her head.

Mom said, "Fi, are you aware the kids are doing all the talking and their mothers are mum?"

"Too bad you're returning right after Thanksgiving, Aunt Aria," Sher said, turning to me. "I'd like to see more of you."

"Thank you, Sher," I said. "But I don't plan going back just yet."

"You don't?" Mom's face lit up. "That's wonderful, Aria."

"I decided to stick around here a little longer," I said. "Maybe I can dust off my old easel or something."

"Oh, Aunt Aria. I'm soooo delighted," Sher's face beamed. "I see your paintings around this house and in ours, in my Grandma's room. They're so good. I wish I could do something like that."

"Aria is definitely talented. Highly talented. I was planning to hang one of her paintings in the bakery, the one with the Paris Street Scene, but Mom wouldn't part with it," Belle said.

My jaw fell open. Belle had just called me "Aria" like everyone else, and not "Ariadne" like she used to spit out my name like venom. And she had complimented me, too. Was this a peace offering? A split-second vision of a highly stylized dove carrying laurel leaves emerged inside my mind. No, it couldn't be. Was Belle changing? Could Belle change?

"Aria once had the idea of becoming an artist, professionally," Mom said. "But Clifford steered her toward holding up the company, which was terribly important to us at the time."

"Aunt Aria, your portrait of my grandma, it is superb," Sher said. "I wish I had mine painted. Aunt Aria, while you're here, may I, if it isn't too much to ask..."

"Sure it is too much. Aria has better things to do," Belle spoke up, the tone of her voice irritated. "Watch your manners, Sher."

"Sorry," Sher answered her, dejected.

"But I'd love to, Sher," I said. "If you don't mind my rusty brush and sitting motionless for a few hours. You'd be fun to paint. If you can spare the time, that is. Maybe I can stay here, until the New Year's, even."

"What about New York?" Kenton asked. Everyone around the table was speechless, baffled, as I had never been back in Rocky Road more than a couple of days, after the fiasco with Belle and Marvin.

"I can manage things from here with the iPad," I said. "Even in New York, I sometimes do that from home, unless there's a meeting or something. Scott is used to covering up for me."

"And Jayce?" Kenton asked, his voice gaining a hopeful tone.

"He'll be in Southampton, more or less. His mother hasn't been feeling too great, lately," I lied. Jayce's mother did live in Southampton, but she wasn't ill, and Jayce had no idea I'd stay here until after New Year's. Even I had no idea, a day ago.

"This'll be great, Mom. I'll try to drive up often to see you. I like it here myself," Kenton said.

I glanced at Belle who was sitting quietly, too quietly, with a sparkle of victory on her face.

Why?

What was I missing?


Chapter 9

"The trust of the innocent is the liar's most useful tool."
Stephen King

Belinda


The bitch said she is staying. To pollute my air.

Let's hope I can continue with this fucking charade. But I have to give it to my daughter. She handled herself brilliantly, without overdoing anything, and managed to lure Kenton here. And...definitely, Kenton noticed her. Their conversation was heated even if it was about work. I saw it in Kenton's eyes. The way he looked at Sher...

But getting her portrait painted? By Ariadne, no less? I guess Sher is covering the project from all sides. Was this a good idea, the project? I mean, am I going to put up with getting even closer to Ariadne? Talking about Ariadne, Sher told me my calling her Aria was definitely a plus. A plus? I was only doing my part in helping her.

Now I have to come up with the pies for Thanksgiving, which is tomorrow. No problem. I'll just take a few from the bakery. I'll bring some other stuff, too. Aunt Greta's cook Pauline was happy when I called her on the phone and told her. And Pauline doesn't even like me all that much.


After we came home last night, the minute we stepped in the house, Eve asked, "When did you ask Grandma for that painting for the bakery? I don't remember that, and I remember everything."

"You don't have the best memory, Eve," I said. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Hey Ma, don't talk to Eve like that," Lyle said. "I know you guys are joking, but..." He didn't finish.

Eve tilted her head to the side and glared at me. "Aren't you the one to make me put all Aunt Aria's paintings in the attic?"

"Yeah, but I changed my mind. We should bring them down and hang them on the walls around the house," I said.

"I can help you with those," Lyle said, "Even tomorrow. Because I have to return right after Thanksgiving."

Eve was staring at me as if seeing me for the first time ever. "What's up, Mom? What do you have in mind? Are you scheming something hideous?"

"Eve, I asked her," Sher said sharply. "I don't want you bickering and bad-mouthing Mom anymore."

"Don't start, girls," I said. "I need my peace."

Sher winked at me. "Mom, you're right. We should all get along."

"Try getting along with me, first." Eve grimaced at Sher.

"Only if you don't borrow my things behind my back," Sher answered.

"I don't believe this. Who are you kidding? I saw you wink at Mom." Eve shook her head. "Something's up and no one's telling me."

One thing about Eve. As rotten as she is at her age, the smartass senses things as if she has ESP or something.



Now that the fucking paintings are hanging all over the house, I have to walk with my eyes glued to the floor in order not to throw up. Gee whiz, if it wasn't enough, this morning, Lyle hung that shitty Paris street scene on the bakery's wall, with all my staff oohing and aahing over the damn thing, as if they never saw a painting in their lives. But I have to stand all that. Sher thinks it is important. Let's hope she knows what she's doing. I told her she owed me big time for this.

"Mom, come of it," She said. "Whatever it is with Aunt Aria, put it behind you, will ya?"

Dammit! How can I?

But for Sher, I'm trying. After all, she is my oldest girl, and in some way, my oldest child. My oldest, Lyle, wasn't with me. He visited often, for sure, but I needed him to grow up near me. Nothing much can I do about it now... Though I love Lyle all the same, I missed on his growing up.

Of all my kids, Lyle deserves the quiet-one trophy. What bothers me is that, the older he gets, he's looking more and more like Hector. Last night at dinner, I caught Ariadne staring at him several times as if searching for something in his face. The bitch is probably searching for any resemblance of him to Marvin for their good times' sakes. She can search all she wants. She won't find it, but what if she gets suspicious? Nope, I gotta stop thinking of such bullshit. She ain't that shrewd. She's just book-learned, is all.

I have to say, last night, she seemed withdrawn somewhat. Her world must be wobbling on its axis with her universe flying apart.

Nope, again. She's too cunning for that.


That was just wishful thinking on my part. Nothing bad ever happens to her. Even when it does, like Marvin marrying me, she turns around and reaches for something better. I thought Marvin would be the end of her, but what did she do? She hooked Halsey. The guy was better than Marvin in every way, a little older maybe, but certainly richer, better educated, and a lot more respectable. I have to give it to her. That is art. The witch's brew kind of art. Fuck her!

And, as sure as God made little apples, she doesn't lack nerve. When we were little, nine-years old or so, we were in her room, playing. She opened the closet's door to get something. A sparkling purple-colored shoe fell off the shoe-rack. The edge of the shoe near the top were scalloped and the shoe had a ribbon and a strap on top of it. I cradled the shoe in my hand, admiring it.

"So nice," I said. "I love how it sparkles. Like Cinderella's shoe. I wish my mother would get me something like this."

Truth was, I was due for another pair, but my mother would never buy me anything like that. What I usually wore were slightly large loafers with thick soles to stand against the wear and tear and my fast-growing feet.

Ariadne pulled the other shoe from the rack. "See if they fit you," she said.

The fit was perfect. I looked at myself in the mirror and imagined I was a princess, a red-haired princess with savage curls and fancy feet.

"If you like the shoes, they are yours," Ariadne said. I was so happy that I hugged her. When we went downstairs, my mother said I couldn't have those shoes because they belonged to Ariadne, but Aunt Greta intervened. "Let the girls be, Fi. After all, Aria gave them to her. They are hers now."

"Thank you, Aria," my mother said, stroking Ariadne's silky blonde hair. "You are a very kind, generous girl. I wish everyone could learn from you," and in saying that, she threw a disapproving glance my way.

The shoes were mine all right, but they kept my mother from buying me any new ones for a long time. Soon enough, one shoe lost its ribbon, and a few days later, the soles loosened and kept flapping as I walked. I tried to fix the soles with Elmer's Glue, but it was useless.

Other kids knew me from the flapping sound without even seeing me when I approached them. They knew me from my torn-apart shoes. My situation was pathetic, and my mother refused to buy me new shoes. I felt as if I were caught in a nightmare with half the world pressing on top of me. All because Ariadne gave those shoes to me. Goddamn bitch, even as a child, she must have known the shoes would never last. Dread pools at the bottom of my stomach thinking about it

This ordeal lasted until Aunt Greta caught on to the situation and put me out of my misery by buying me new shoes that were sturdy and nice, although they didn't sparkle at all. Aunt Greta should have been my real mother, not Ariadne's. While my own mother picked on me and put me down, Aunt Greta always came to my rescue. She still does. I can never repay her, and the reason I have refrained from doing anything real bad to Ariadne is because she is Aunt Greta's child. That is if you don't count a few childish mishaps and the incident with Marvin.

Anyway, later in that year, I got back at Ariadne with Cornelius the bear, the class mascot. She had no inkling that I had anything to do with her fictitious thieving while the whole class, voice after voice, referred to that event as the day Aria took Cornelius, as Aria hovered about, confused. How was that for a nightmare, bitch?

So today, I'm running around inside the Le Nouveau Bakery with my mind flying as fast as my feet. Too much to do everywhere, but I love it all. I love my work; I love having my own bakery. I told my two bakers to bake lots of bread and rolls. Phil got fancy and produced some delightful baguettes that turned for us into major commercial successes, more so than every other day. I told the staff to save five of them for my personal use and some for themselves. And bread, we produced lots of it.

As usual, I inspect each ovenload by breaking a loaf in two. So far it is been a delight to smell the flesh of the bread, milky white, still steaming. Those broken loaves, the staff either takes them to their homes or I do to mine. Waste not, want not.

I'll take the baguettes and a few loaves to Aunt Greta's, together with several rolls and pies. Surely, Ariadne won't eat the bread and will pick on the pie. She would probably refuse it altogether, but Aunt Greta insists everyone has to eat pie on Thanksgiving.

I love Thanksgiving, and I don't care my curves getting curvier. After all, I am fifty-three, and all my children are with me.

Better yet, Lyle's presence must be killing Ariadne. She doesn't show it because she is the snow queen and is trained by Clifford to parade around with a poker face. I know she hides unspoken words inside her, unspoken words of loathing and detestation of me. She must be roasting in her own kind of hell.

But I have to hold back on my firebombing on account of Sher. She was too eager when I mentioned her coupling with Kenton. Is it the law of gravitation or does she really care for him?

If she really does like Kenton, how can I settle the score with Ariadne then?


Chapter 10

"Just when you think it can't get any worse, it can. And just when you think it can't get any better, it can."
Nicholas Sparks

Ariadne


It felt good to be back home. Moving back here, no matter how temporarily, had not been my plan when I had boarded the plane. But then again, nothing in my life had been a part of my plan.

The day after my arrival, I took time to look up old friends and to hang around the yard. Most friends had left Florida to settle in other states. Still some were here in Rocky Road and in the surrounding towns. Some had grandchildren, and one recently had a great grandchild.

In the early morning of the Thanksgiving Day, I peeked through the door in Mom's room, after hearing her humming an off-key tune. As she was always the early riser, she was alone and straightening up the drawers in her dresser.

"Come in Aria," she said. "Don't let Wendie hear it, but I have to reorganize everything after she puts the clean stuff in here haphazardly. Still, she is a nice girl and I like her, so I figure it doesn't hurt me to straighten up a bit after her."

"You and your girls, Mom," I chuckled.

The way my mother ran her house resembled an alternate universe, as everything about it was perfect—impossibly, unbelievably perfect. I sometimes wondered if this was because she lived by the Do-onto-others commandment or because she cared so much about human beings that they turned themselves around and became her disciples. So different from the cut-throat, every-hour-is-the-rush-hour life of the city that choked me but one I still thought I loved. Maybe this paradox in me came about because the pull of my mother's blood was turning out to be stronger than my errant nature. The next few weeks would be a respite, I hoped, a coming-together and taking control of my torn-apart self.

Mom pushed the drawer shut and walked toward the settee in the corner of the room. Just then, my eyes caught sight of the vase of fresh flowers on the credenza by the wall. Freshly picked mums and other flowers in shades of lavender, pink and yellow brightened the space. "Mom, you never allowed flowers in the bedrooms," I said, pointing to the vase.

"Naah," she made a motion with her hand. "Wendie brought them here, early in the morning. I just didn't have the heart to say anything, it being Thanksgiving and all." Then she furrowed her eyebrows and released them, staring at me. "So what is it you want to talk to me about?"

Leave it to Mom to zero in on the gist of things.

"I am wondering if I should leave Jayce and New York and the company...I mean everything," I whispered as if talking to myself.

My statement surprised me the most because, although I had daydreamed about the possibility, I had never brought it to a decision point. For the last three decades, I had thought of myself as a New Yorker. There used to be, for me, only New York. My work, my entertainment, my friends, and even my remote acquaintances from the Columbia Business School. I had made love with Marvin there, lived with Hal there, gave birth to Kenton there, and became involved with Jayce there. I could feel the city's crunch on my shoulders even when I was away from it.

"Ooh." Mom fluffed her white cloud of a hair and flashed a broad smile, as if she were expecting this all along. "If you feel like that, why don't you?"

"It is a big step, Mom. To just leave everything."

"Big steps may lead to huge discoveries, you know. When you were a toddler and against your father's better judgment, I took a big step and moved to Rocky Road, simply because I needed my best friend around me. It felt selfish but I did it, and your father and I worked out the kinks of such a move. Look, it proved to be great for us."

"You wouldn't mind me leaving the company?"

"Why should I, and why do you think I would mind at all? We have enough of everything and the company will go on whether you are there or not. But I have one question for you, though I hesitate to ask."

"What is it, Mom, and why do you hesitate?"

Mom she squinted as if for a chance to see me better. Then she said, "Has any of this leaving everything in New York idea involve Marvin? I mean he's single again, and I'm sure you heard of it."

I swallowed my next breath. Could what she was saying be true?

"For months now, I have been thinking of this because of Jayce's pushiness," I said. "Mom, I heard of Marvin's situation for the first time two days ago in the car when Lyle was driving me here. Marvin built himself a different sort of life. I may not factor in it."

"But you wish you did?"

I couldn't lie to her. She knew me too well. "Even so, it is over, Mom. I am old now. I'm fifty-three. I'm not the girl Marvin knew once."

She shook her head and folded her hands together; thin hands, long fingers with stubby joints and creased skin, hands that verified experience. "He wasn't with you because you were young," she said. "But it is true. Why beat a dead horse. It's been too many years."

"He was also with someone else, while he was with me. And right after her, with another woman and God knows how many more."

Mom looked away. Somehow I thought she seemed relieved. "Always think about what you really want, Aria," she said. "Think about what you'll do with yourself if you quit the company, for example. In the meantime, you are welcome here. This is your home, more so than the one you share with Jayce."

I was just about to bring up the distaste I felt because of Belle when someone knocked on the door.

Before Mom could say, "Come in," Aunt Fi stuck her head through the door. "I thought I heard voices. I thought you were speaking to yourself, Greta."

"I might be. At our age anything's possible, Fi." They giggled together like little girls at an off-color joke.

"Come on down, you two," Aunt Fi said, still leaning against the door jamb. "Pauline has crepes for us this morning. Let's have them while still hot."

"Let's go," Mom said, giving a slight shove to my shoulder. "I don't want to get Pauline in a tiffy."

I noticed she didn't use her cane as the three of us walked down the stairs.


After breakfast, I took a cup of coffee and sat in the swing at the back porch. Little had changed since my last visit. As a matter of fact, only a few changes had taken place since my childhood. Alongside the narrow flagstone path that led to the porch, geraniums stood like red flags in clay pots, the deeply cherished delights for Mom and Aunt Fi left over from their youth in Stamford. Only up north, some people valued geraniums as they were easy to raise and keep. To the side of the house along the wall, mother had cultivated a long row of in-ground plants, also geraniums. The picnic table and chairs were for her and Aunt Fi to spend time there, talking or playing cards.

Marvin, too, liked the geraniums. "They never give up. They are always in bloom, always cheerful," he used to say. One day, my mother had just picked up one of the clay pots and given it Marvin.

If I could curse like Belle, I would have yelled out a curse right now, at myself. Why did everything remind me of Marv? The fear of loving him, the fear of loving someone who isn't there, who will never be there, and the knowing of it was driving me insane. With Marvin, it felt like l left behind a shadow of myself in the past of a long time ago, and on instances like this, I sunk back to connect with it. Since I couldn't have the real thing, the shadow of it, my old shadow, had become my misery. A lifelong misery with no medicine to cure it, no balm to ease its pain.

If I could suffocate my memories, I would. Instead, I had preserved them only too well.

I took the empty coffee cup to the kitchen, and after chatting with Pauline, I trudged up to the room that used to be my studio. Surprisingly, everything was there as I had left it: the studio easel, two table top easels, several unframed, half-finished paintings and empty canvases stacked against the wall, the drafting table, supplies in the long chest of drawers that Clifford had ordered for me, supplies like paper, drawing pencils, brushes and paints. Some of the tubes of paint had dried out but a few others were intact.

"I clean and dust this room regularly." I turned around to Wendie who stood at the door, holding a stack of folded towels for the upstairs bathrooms. "Mrs. Wieland thought you might come back to it someday," she added with a shy smile.

"And I have," I said. "Mom was right. Thank you for all the work you've done, Wendie. I really appreciate it."

"You are going to paint Miss Craine's portrait, right?"

"Yes, she asked me to."

"She is so lucky." She sighed. "I was wondering if.... well, never mind." She walked away. I went to the door and called her back.

"Wendie, don't leave things unsaid. What did you want to tell me?"

"I have a little boy. Four years old..." she gasped. "His father has him. I was wondering if I could have a..."

"You want me to paint his portrait."

She nodded and lowered her gaze to her shoes.

"Do you have any recent photos of him? I can paint him from a photo, if you wish. I can even paint the two of you together."

"Really? Would you?" She bit her bottom lip, I guessed to avoid tears. "I have him every other weekend. I'll ask his father for a photo."

"No need for that. Just bring him here whenever you can, and I'll take your pictures."

"Thank you. Thank you so much, Miss Kinney. I can pay only a little at a time..."

"No, Wendie, no. It will be a gift. Just the joy of holding a brush is my payment."

Her eyes tearing, she thanked me and left to attend to chores. Poor girl! No wonder my mother was going overboard to be nice to her.

And wow, I already had two commissions, if one could call them that. Always think about what you really want, Aria. Mom's words came back to me. I did not have a tea-leaf reader's comments to discern the patterns of my life, but yes, this was what I really wanted. And I was even late to grasp at it, but not too late. I was still alive and kicking, and for once, I would at least kick toward the direction of one old dream, since the most important dream of my life was out of reach for me.

Where I would go from here, I had no idea, but encouraged by Wendie's request, I picked a sixteen by twenty canvas for Sher. For Wendie, I would need a larger one. As soon as she had asked, my instinct told me a painting with some background would be great for a mother and a little boy.

Just the idea of doing two paintings that the people will cherish made me tingle all over like a tide rising. On the other hand, I wondered if this tingly sensation had something to do with menopause.


Three o'clock in the afternoon, I came down the stairs to find Belle helping Mom and Wendie set the table. One thing about Belle, she works like a bee if food is concerned. I believe it is one of her high points, if not the highest, which Mom has always appreciated. Unlike me, but this is fine. To each her own.

"Funny, I didn't hear you come in, Belle," I said. "My, my! All these pies. So generous!"

"I didn't break in, you know," she said in her usual inimitable fashion. "Wendie saw me outside and let me in. Lucky, she works here. She helped me with the packages, too. It is nice when somebody helps with the coarse work."

"Yes, Wendie is very nice," I said.

"Sher is excited about you painting her portrait," she said, a sudden softer change taking over her harsh voice and demeanor. Her mouth moved a few times before she could utter an almost inaudible "Thank you."

Either she's losing it or it is the menopause, I thought.

"Where are they? I mean your children? They haven't arrived yet."

"They should be here in an hour or so. Lyle is waiting for the girls to dress up." She turned her back and went to open the oven's door, to check on the turkey, I assumed, as Pauline had the day off.

"Is there anything I can do, Belle?" I asked. "I'm not much good in the kitchen, but if you tell me what to do..."

"No need," she said. "I've got it covered. Just see how Wendie is doing with setting the table. She needs supervision with the placement of flatware."

"Okay," I said and stepped into the dining room. I had no intention of hanging around her, in fear of something going pop in her head to make her revert to her normal shrewish self.

After that exchange between us, all went well until...

Before I get to until... Thanksgiving dinner was a success, at first. We were amicable, kind, and polite, including me and Belle. Lyle, Kenton and Sher were at the other end of the table, chatting about young people stuff, their vocational concerns, sports, friends, etc. I noticed some dove-eyed staring from Sher to Kenton but didn't make much of it.

Although I was listening to their conversation with one ear, my other ear was tuned into Aunt Fi and Mom, as they were reminiscing something about their high-school years. I don't know how it happened, but the conversation at one end of the table influenced the other end, and the younger crowd started talking about their high-school life and relationships.

Lyle said, "I don't know about you guys, but I was afraid to date anyone seriously for a very long while until...well...some time ago, mostly because Dad kept telling me not to get too involved. He was afraid I'd lose my heart for good."

I sat up stiffly, brought my wine glass partway to my lips. An odd scary feeling had sprung from my middle and I looked around to see if anyone else was getting alarmed. Both Mom and Aunt Fi were silent now, listening to their grandchildren. Belle, opposite me, was staring into her wine goblet, as if it were the most exquisite object from Versailles. The instant her eyes met mine, she quickly drained her glass.

"Old people are so romantic. It is nice in a way," Sher said, looking directly into Kenton's eyes.

Lyle said, "You could say that again. Dad told me he never got over the girl he knew from high school. Can you believe it?"

"Lyle! Watch what you are saying." Belle rose to her feet. "Stop talking about your father. Why don't you people stick to your own business?" She threw her napkin on the table and stormed out of the room, her heels clicking on the floor like gunshots.

"I guess I put my foot in my mouth. I'm sorry, everyone." Crestfallen, Lyle put his fork on his plate and twisted his hands together. "Why did she get like that? I thought mom and dad had an understanding."

"Mom?" Kenton looked at me. "Mom, go after her, please." Then he turned to Lyle. "Don't worry, my mom can handle anything."

"No, she can't." Aunt Fi's voice was distressed. "Of everybody, not Aria. Let Belle be. She'll calm down on her own."

I glanced at my mother who had had sunk into her chair. When she noticed me looking at her, Mom blinked, then stared at Lyle and Kenton. "It is time we faced the elephant in the room," she said, her voice deep and coarse. "You're old enough to know. It was Aria your father was telling you about, Lyle. Now that you know, none of you bring this subject up again, because it was a very hurtful time for everyone concerned."

All four young people stiffened in their seats, obviously in shock. Sher was the first one to react. She arose from the table. "I'll go to Mom," she said and left the room.

Kenton stood up and came to me. "Mom, please don't cry." He held me by the shoulders from my back. I wasn't aware of my tears.

"I'm fine, Kent, don't worry," I said, wiping my face with the edge of the napkin. "Please, son, go sit down. I don't want any more trouble when she comes back."

"Leave it to Belle to spoil everything," Aunt Fi Said. "Greta what did I do wrong with Belle? Why isn't she like Aria?"

"Fi, enough," Mom said. "I guess it was the wine. We all lost our heads tonight. Kent, sit down, please. Don't worry about your mother. She should be able to take anything. I'll ask Wendie to serve the pies as soon as Sher and Belle come back."

"I'm really sorry, really. I didn't know," Lyle said again, glancing at my mother, then looking at me.

"Don't blame yourself, Lyle," I said. "It is not your fault."

The fault, all of it, is your mother's.



Sher did bring Belle back. I watched Belle apologize to my mother, saying she wasn't a drinker and the wine had been too much. But when she turned her gaze to me, I noticed the fury in her eyes, Fury like a howling wind, ready to break into me and tear my body apart.

The rest of the night, Belle and I spoke only a few words to each other. I mostly listened to others' polite chitchat and forced laughter. The conversation among Kenton, Lyle, and Sher had reverted from warm friendship to something empty and transparent like jellyfish. If pulled apart, it wouldn't hold.

Maybe it is easier to pretend that we can go on as before when a crucial truth is unearthed. Maybe it is safer to believe we can still be cohesive, and that things with or without sense do not matter. So we put up faces until we feel free to delve into the depths of things.But I didn't mind. I didn't mind Belle highjacking our Thanksgiving like a crow stealing lunches and shiny objects. I didn't mind the young people now acting awkwardly toward one another. I didn't mind the possibility of Belle's snarling at me later, because what I had heard from Lyle's lips was divine as it heralded magical news.

That astonishing news together with the pleasure of feeling finally alive tore into my chest to bring out something full of bliss, and my head felt like it was caught in a slow rise, with a mixture of nostalgia and joy, to the point of ecstasy.

Marvin still loved me.


Chapter 11

"Welcome to the wonderful world of jealousy, he thought. For the price of admission, you get a splitting headache, a nearly irresistible urge to commit murder, and an inferiority complex. Yippee."
J.R. Ward

Belle


I am...still...so damned furious.

Not because Lyle said what he said, but because at the time he said it, I had just put my goblet down and I was watching Ariadne's face. Its change was abrupt. Her usual poise and tranquil stupidity went through an immediate transformation. First, she lost that deer-in-headlights look, as if the scarecrow that she is became magically animated, suddenly alive, suddenly full of hope. Then the bitch looked at me with a glimmer of triumph in her eyes.

That made me lose my cool, and I bit Lyle's head off. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand her goddam gloating. I couldn't stand to be in the same room with her. I rushed out into the cool night.

I was walking around in circles on the side patio when Sher found me.

"Mom, what have you done? Are you out of your mind? You are ruining everything."

I didn't know how to answer her. I didn't think I should answer her.

She continued. "Mom, why didn't you tell me about Lyle's father and Aunt Aria?"

I stopped my pacing. "How do you know about that?"

"Aunt Greta blurted it out after you left. She said it is time we should face the elephant in the room, or something like that. And Mom, forget about Kenton. He'll never come close to me after this."

I suddenly felt feverish, and I felt sorry, not for Sher but for my Lyle. My son, who by necessity lived several states away from me. My son whom I rarely saw and whose void in my life I felt so often. What had I done to him? I had given him to another man that wasn't his father and had let another woman raise him. And now, when he came to visit for a week, I had given him hell.

"Mom, you must come back and apologize. You understand that, don't you?"

"What? Apologize? Okay, I'll say sorry to Lyle."

"No, Silly. To Aunt Greta. You can talk to Lyle at home. Say something like you had some kind of a trouble at the bakery and you were on edge. Better yet, say the wine went to your head. Aunt Greta already thinks it was the wine."

She was right of course. Sher always carried a cool head, even under the most enervating circumstances. I knew I had acted foolishly, so I did as Sher said.


My mother came home with us that night with the excuse of spending time with her grandchildren, but as soon as Lyle drove the car from the Kinney House's driveway out on the street, she began to chew me out. I was sitting in the front passenger seat next to Lyle, and I wasn't seeing their faces at the back of me. I turned my head to the window and remained silent as her voice grew in volume and anger.

Mom was throwing a barrage of accusations at me. "Why can't you watch your tongue, Belle? I'm embarrassed to call you my child. What kind of a show was that? How am I going to look Greta in the face, tell me, huh? You ruined everyone's Thanksgiving."

"Grandma, enough," Lyle said as he stopped the car at a red light. "It was all my fault. I just made a thoughtless comment. You were talking of your youth with Aunt Greta, and I was talking to Sher and Kenton. I didn't even think what I said could hurt Mom. And Mom, I'm sorry, really. I didn't know. I thought you and Dad had parted ways a long time ago."

"It wasn't your fault, Bro," Sher said. "You didn't know. None of us knew."

"Sher's right, Lyle," Mom said. "It wasn't your fault, Son. Your mother's tongue cuts like a jagged knife. She has no control over it."

"I'm the one who is sorry, Lyle," I said, without turning my face from the window. "You were right in thinking that your father and I had parted ways, and we had done that, but I saw Ariadne's face and felt bad for her."

"Come on, Mom," Eve butted in. "When was the last time you felt bad for Aunt Aria? You can't fool me."

"Don't talk to Mom like that." Sher slapped Eve's arm.

Eve harrumphed and I assumed she turned her head to the window, as the window seat in the back behind the driver had always been her domain.

Ignoring the exchange between Eve and Sher, I said to Lyle, "Forgive me Lyle, I was mad at the situation, not at you. "

"A situation you created," my mother accused me. "Ariadne rarely came to Rocky Road up to now. She leads a totally different life in the big city. You'd think she forgot all that from a long time ago, but the poor thing had tears in her eyes. Belle, you'll never amount to anything."

"Grandma, please.... What's happened, happened. It's over and done with. Stop beating on Mom," Sher said.

"She didn't beat her enough," Eve said. I heard the sound of slaps from the back of the car. Either Sher or my mother had to be hitting Eve. But it had to be Sher because my mother said, "Cut it out you two. You're distracting Lyle. You'll cause an accident."


Coming into the house was like plunging into shadows. I had no intention to talk to anyone as my spirit was shattered by the battering ram of my mother's tireless blows, so I went right up to bed.

Early next morning, I went to Lyle. He was packing his duffel bag. I forced myself to blink and look away. My chest was constricting.

"Lyle, son, you weren't supposed to leave until Sunday. Please, don't go," I begged.

He paused and looked at me. I let out a shaky breath, tucking my hands in my underarms to hide their trembling. "Mom, this has nothing to do with you," he said. "I'm not mad, hurt, or anything. I just decided to spend more time with a friend of mine. Also I want to catch Dad before he leaves for the West Coast. As I said earlier, he'll be attending a conference for the firm."

"Why? You can talk to them later."

He didn't answer right away but finished his packing. I watched him zip up the bag. He heaved it off the bed. The bag hit the floor with a thud. I sat on the other side of the bed. He stopped and stared at me.

"Son, I am sorry, really sorry, for last night," I said. "If that is the reason..."

"No, Mom," he said. "Like I said earlier, I'm not hurt, mad, or anything. Not at you, but just puzzled a bit, as to why Dad would leave someone like Aunt Aria. I want to hear his side of things." He walked around the bed and sat next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. "You know, I am a mathematician, and a teacher. I can't stand unsolved problems."

"There's nothing to be solved," I said. "Things happened a long time ago. I can tell you..."

"No, you told me enough, Mom. I want to hear Dad's version."

"He may not tell you the truth."

"Dad never lies, Mom. But I have a hunch you are hiding something from me, from everybody, maybe even from yourself."

"Why would I? And what did your father tell you exactly? I mean whatever it is you were telling Kenton last night."

"What else did you expect him to say? But I can see why he would be so attached to Aunt Aria."

"Come on, Lyle. Why do you think Ariadne is such a hot shot?"

"Not a hot shot, but a very nice lady. She never said anything nasty to anyone, but when I mentioned Dad, she looked so sad it broke my heart."

Oh, Puhleez! The bitch managed to do it again, and to my son, no less...Far be it from me to contradict Lyle. Wait till she gets what's coming to her.

"You must have misread her," I said. "She has a boyfriend in New York, handsome and successful, but never mind her. Please Lyle, just don't go. You already have your ticket for Sunday."

"That's not a problem. I'll change it at the ticket counter." He paused again, probably to get his words right. "Mom, if Aunt Aria has a boyfriend out there, why is she staying here until after the New Year's? Doesn't that make you think?" He said all that slowly, too slowly, weighing his every word.

"You don't know her like I do, Lyle, but I'll let it be. Please, you just stay. It is not every day I get to see you."

Useless. Nothing I did or said made him to reconsider. When Sher offered to drive him to the airport, he said the shuttle was on its way.


"All right, then," he said, when the driver rang the doorbell. "I'll call you, Mom, when I get there." He slapped his thighs with his palms and rose, slinging the duffel bag on one shoulder. His eyes were shiny and red. "Bye, everyone, I'll miss you."

My last vision of him, waving at us from the shuttle's window as we stood on the curb, stayed with me through the rest of the day, a pang of regret eating me up. Why did I let Marvin take Lyle?

I spent the rest of the day in the bakery, as neither did I want to hear my mother's nonsense, nor did I want to listen to Sher and Eve fight one minute and agree the next minute on how elegant "Aunt Aria" looked last night.

I don't know why everyone goes Gaga over her dress sense. Holy Shit! All she had on was a black, three-quarter sleeved silk shirt, tucked into a beige skirt. The only thing fancy was the black embroidery on the belt and the hem edge of the skirt, and she wore a string of black pearls. Big deal!

But Sher is my little buddy, and I know she cares about me. Otherwise, after her shift at the hospital, why would she stop by the bakery to see how I am doing?

"Don't worry, Mom," she said. "This'll blow over quickly. "I'll see what I can do about Kenton." She took my hand in hers and gazed into my eyes. I saw deep concern in her eyes, but also, something else, too. She was dead serious. "Just don't lose your cool, again, Mom," she said, her voice firm. "I'll have to kiss up to Aunt Aria, but so be it. My friendliness with her will have nothing to do with you or against you. All that will be for a reason."

I pulled away from her, clasped my hands behind my neck, and stretched my back. This is what I usually do to ease the tension. "I worked too hard today, Sher," I said. "Both out there in the kitchen and here in the office, but about your project, don't worry. I won't do anything against you."

She bobbed her head ever so slightly, then looked around to the corridor to see if anybody was there. "Look, Mom, let's not talk about this now. It's absolutely crazy to advertise to the whole world what we're up to. Just trust me, okay?"

I nodded, although I was worried about Ariadne stealing Sher instead of me taking Kenton from her.

The next Monday, when I least expected it, Ariadne walked into the Le Nouveau Bakery.


Chapter 12

"The sands whispered, Be separate,
the stones taught me, Be hard.
I dance, for the joy of surviving,
on the edge of the road."
Stanley Kunitz

Ariadne


"I feel bad for Fi," Mom said, after Aunt Fi left with Belle and her offspring. Aunt Fi's excuse was to spend time with Lyle before he left for Houston. Mom thought it was because of the fiasco Belle created at dinner.

Kenton and Mom are sour at Belle and Lyle. Yet, without intending to, Lyle gave me the sun and the moon. When I think about it, Lyle has an enchanting smile and an intense yet serious way of looking at a person. He now seems to be such a nice young man, especially after he spilled the beans about his father's feelings about me. No wonder Belle lost her head. It gives me a bit of guilty pleasure to think how Marvin left her right after Lyle was born.

Because of what happened, the day after Thanksgiving, I woke up feeling like Shahrazade with a new story to see me through in my battle of existence. Maybe this story would let me survive just one more night, but after enduring thousand and one fights, Lyle's innocently spoken words, like a sip of magic potion, gave the power to renew the blood and urge me re-evaluate my incomplete journey.

Now the universe was mine. I felt like I was about to start my life all over again. All because Marvin still loved me.


"Mom, did I hear you singing early this morning?" Kenton said at breakfast.

"You did," I said, and laughed. "Once in a while, I want to hear how off-key I am in the shower."

"You weren't off-key. Just that I was surprised. Good to hear a happy sound. By the way, did Dad tell you if he sent my notes in the mail?"

"Yes, he did. Sorry son, it slipped my mind."

"My med-school notes. You have no idea how they become useful in practice. I had left them in the house at Westchester. I was afraid he wouldn't be able to find them."

"You were right in a way. Hal called me to ask where you would stash them. With the help of our cellphones, I guided his search through the house. Who would have thought you'd put them in shoe-boxes!" I chuckled.

"It was good times, Mom, when you and I and Dad lived together there."

"Yes, son. We were a family. Your father and I have been friends ever since...We still are."

"I know, and it is a good thing. Well, I'll get going and look up some people in town, before I head back tomorrow. I'm on call Sunday."

"Medicine is such hard work, but I bet you shine. It is so good to see you happy, Kent."

"I'll come up again. Maybe you can have Ramon drive you and grandma to Miami. My apartment is tiny but we'll think of something."

"Look at him inviting us, Aria," Mom said. "My little...ahem, excuse me...my tall and handsome grandson."



Just before lunch, Sher dropped by.

"I have only a few minutes break. Got to get back to hospital," she said. "But Aunt Aria I want to apologize for Lyle and my mother last night. I hope it won't affect your painting my picture."

She seemed sincere, so I hugged her. "Don't blame Lyle," I said. "He was really talking about himself, not anything else. And why should my painting your picture stop because of a verbal slip by someone else? I already have the canvas ready."

"Aunt Aria, you are a splendid person. No wonder you are so liked."

"Splendid, yourself." Her words sounded genuine. Why should I think otherwise?

After Kenton left for Miami, I told Mom I'd e-mail Jayce and tell him my decision to stay in Rocky Road until after the holidays. We were in the back of the house, and Mom was picking out the dying leaves from her begonias.

"He may not like it," Mom said, pinching a leaf. "These need spraying. Remind me to tell Vinny."

"I will, but Mom, about Jayce. I'm sick of doing what everyone tells me to do, and that means Jayce, too."

"All right," she said. "As long as you can handle it."

"I want to break off with Jayce. A clean, friendly parting of ways, just like it happened with Hal."

"Jayce is nothing like Hal," Mom said. "I still wonder why you left Hal."

She was right. Jayce lacked Hal's gentleness and understanding. Jayce wanted what he wanted. Period.

"It wasn't Hal, Mom. I liked him well enough as a friend, but I didn't like being married. If I had wanted to be married, I'd stay with him."

"So it's being married you don't like."

"Let's say there never was a right person."

The fear of it, being with someone for life and wanting another and having done just that over and over in my life, the knowing of it came to me, as I stood there on the porch steps, watching Mom play with her begonias.

"Maybe it is for the better that you leave Jayce," Mom said. "But my guess is it won't be too easy. He won't let you off the hook that easily."

"Huh? I just realized you don't like Jayce, Mom. You've never said anything before. Why"

"Far be it from me to mess with your choice of partners, Aria. I sort of think he wants you not for yourself only."

"What do you mean?"

"Only a suspicion, on my part. So I shouldn't say it."

"Mom? I should know what you think."

"Let me see, how I can say this nicely enough." She raised her hand emphatically as she leaned on her cane. "Jayce may want you, of course. Who wouldn't want a woman like you? But you also come loaded with more than a quarter of the shares in the company. From what little I've seen, material things are just too important for him."

"You think? Maybe that's partly why Kenton dreads to be around him. And I thought it was because of Hal, because he couldn't stand anyone taking Hal's place."

Maybe I did need a clean break with Jayce, but that couldn't be done through e-mail. I needed to face him. I had to think this through.

Mom rubbed her hands against her skirt and walked up the steps. I held her arm to help her.

"You know, it will be nice to have you around, Aria. So you can hold my arm," she smiled.

We both sank side by side into two wicker chairs on the porch. "Mom, I would be here more often," I said, "but..."

"But what? Say it. Even if you think I know..."

"It's Belle, Mom. It's hard to ignore her. She's just...her. And I never understood why you...Oh, never mind."

"But I do mind. Spill the beans once and for all, Aria."

"She's so nasty to me, most of the time. Not always when you're around, but her tongue cuts like a sword. Then there's that thing...that thing with Lyle's birth."

"You mean how she stole Marvin. Well, dear, she stole nothing. Couldn't steal him." She leaned back on the porch chair. "You know better than that. You know what happened between them. But I can see why she's envious of you. She has always been, even before Marvin, maybe because of me. I have been good to her, because...because..."

"Why? Mom, tell me."

"You mustn't let anyone in on this. Understood?"

I nodded.

"The circumstances of her birth. I promised Fi I'd be a second mother to her if she wouldn't abort."

"Aunt Fi? Abort? She wouldn't. She's...she's...overly religious. She's always doing things for the church."

"But she was going to do it. Because Belle is a product of something terrible. Fi was raped by her boss where she worked."

"How awful!"

"She was working in a secretary pool in a company in Philadelphia, happy to have landed this job finally, after all the fast food places and other odd jobs. She left the company immediately after the rape, but she went and confronted him when she found out she was pregnant. Belle's so-called biological father told Fi, the child was her problem and he'd have nothing to do with it, as he was already married with four children. The louse. You wouldn't remember, but Fi was a looker, prettier than Belle and Sher put together."

"I can believe that, but how did you get so involved?"

"Fi and I were always in touch. Through the phone, the mail, whatever. She was and always is my best friend. At the time, I was still in Stamford and pregnant with you. When she told me what happened, I had Jon drive me to Philly. We convinced Fi not to go through with the abortion. And the secret of the child would stay between me and her and Jon. If she had gone through with the abortion, it would have hurt her immensely. Because of her beliefs. That's why I had to butt in."

"Several times when we were little, I heard Belle beg Aunt Fi for the identity of her father, but Aunt Fi never told her anything."

"Belle asked me, too, thinking I'd know. I told her I was in Stamford at the time and Fi was in Philly, and I didn't know. Can you imagine how disturbed she'd be if she learned she's the product of a rape?"

"So that's why she's so mad at me. For having a father, and then Clifford. But, Mom, most kids had their fathers and mothers around. It was me she hated."

"It's probably other things, too, Aria. I mean, her own mother praises you and puts her down, to this day. And you did everything right. You were successful in all you did. You were nice and polite. Everyone applauds you. You had everything."

"Mom, even so...This is so sick." I was even more disgusted. Maybe I didn't understand how envy, or jealousy, worked, but still...

Mom continued. "Unfortunately, Fi could never see Belle as her legitimate daughter. She must love her in some way, being a mother and all, but she doesn't show it to her. I tried to talk sense into Fi, but you know her. There's one more thing. One other reason why Fi doesn't want Belle to know of her father."

"What other reason can there be?"

"The man, the rapist, later was put in a mental hospital, after being diagnosed with schizophrenia. Fi was worried Belle would seek him out."

"So? Wouldn't she have the right?"

"Maybe, but it would complicate matters. This is another reason Fi believes Belle is cursed in some way...Silly as it is."

Cursed, she was. What surprised me though was my mother's involvement in this. It was obvious she felt sorry for the unborn child and took it upon her to be her second mother, but wasn't it exactly where Belle's jealousy of me lay?

Belle's behavior now appeared to me as some sort of a sibling rivalry taken to the extremes. Come to think of it, shouldn't I be the one to feel wronged? Most of the time, after my father's passing, during the time I was busting my butt pulling the company together with Clifford, Mom was playing mother to Belle, for Belle to turn around and do all those rotten things to me.

Where was my mother when I was being abused by Belle? In a way, I felt hurt inside...of all people, I felt Mom hurt me the most. Certainly without meaning to, but still...

I had trusted Mom, always. I had trusted her judgment in everything concerning my life. How didn't she, couldn't she, see that her involvement in Belle's life had been the cause of so much pain for me, her own daughter...My mother certainly had her priorities mixed.

And I was sick of Belle spitting her venom at me. I thought maybe I should go have it out with her. Or maybe at least go to her and test the waters. I wondered whether, after all these years, there could be a manageable if not a peaceful solution between us.

I had to fight back now, against Belle, and if need be, my own mother, too.



Chapter 13

"If you're confused about what to do,
it's a sign that your enemy is winning."
Toba Beta

Belinda



What? The bitch in my bakery? I stood flabbergasted.

"We need to talk. This is serious," Ariadne said, without a greeting as soon as she entered the bakery. She waved her hands in the air as if a gospel singer egging on a snake handler.

Snake handler I am, as she is the snake. "Welcome, how are you today?" I said, in a mocking voice, my graciousness for the sake of my two chefs and the two girls up front and for being polite to Ariadne. I turned to my crew and pointed to the painting on the wall behind the cash register. "Ladies," I announced, "Here is the artist of the painting you so adored."

They crowded around the shitface to bury her in praises, which gave me time to process what could be happening to her and the reason this sudden change of attitude. She either had to be pissed about what happened during the Thanksgiving dinner or she guessed my pushing Sher toward Kenton. What else could be happening, right?

Wrong. She came to have it out with me. I couldn't believe. All these years, and she suddenly decides to bite back...Will wonders never cease. Except I can bite better and bigger. Isn't the past the proof of it?

I showed her to my office, the little cubicle-like room with my desk and two chairs in it.

"Would you like some coffee and cookies, a slice of cake, maybe, Ariadne?" I asked. Darn, I should have called her Aria for Sher's sake, as I had told my daughter I would.

"No, thank you," she said. "I only want to talk to you about us."

"About us? You're talking as if we're...you know..." I moved my eyebrows in a teasing fashion.

"For once, stop being gross, Belle," her ladyship uttered, much insulted to my delight.

A banging noise came from the back of the bakery. One of the chefs, probably Raquel dropped a pan of something.

"Hold on," I said and rushed to the kitchen. Luckily it was an empty pan. I hate it when Raquel drops a ready-to-bake dough. If I don't run to check, she might just pop it in the oven with the floor dirt on it. I know since Phil snitched on her once.

When I came back to my office, her majesty was standing in front of the tiny window facing the alley where the trash bins are located.

"You must like the view of trash," I said.

She turned around. "Must be why I'm looking at you."

Touché! Smart mouth. "All right, Ariadne," I sighed. "Come off it. What's bugging you?"

"You," she said. "You're bugging me. Sit down and I'll tell you exactly."

I had to hear this. Suddenly a rash Ariadne, unbelievable. Just look at the transformation...from a mouse to a lunatic daredevil. I sat at my desk. She took a chair.

"Now, Belle, please listen without interrupting. Ever since we were children, you did nasty things to me."

I shrugged "Children do stuff."

"It didn't stay there. If anything, I have been nice to you. I made it my business to be nice to you. You, on the other hand, did a lot more things in our grown-up years, for which I looked the other way. Remember what you did to my prom dress? And my other belongings, schoolwork, friends, you name it, when I lived here in Rocky Road? I knew it was you, all the time. Clifford knew, too."

"That's why he snatched you away, princess. For himself. I bet you were good in the sack."

"Don't you dare slander a dead man. Clifford had nothing to do with what comes out of your dirty mouth. He was an angel."

"Sure, a fallen one."

The ridicule in my voice should have been enough to jolt her into silence, as she used to do in the past, but not this time. She attacked right back and pulled out what she was hiding under her tongue.

"Are you going to listen or what? But the thing with Lyle's father was the last straw that made me settle far away from here. "

"Good riddance, for me. Except you kept coming back to Rocky Road, didn't you?" I raised my brows as a derisive, questioning gesture. "And he is not called Lyle's father. You can't bear to utter his name, can you? Here, I'll do it for you. Marvin, Marvin, Marvin!"

She ignored my taunting. "Whenever I came back to Rocky Road, it was for my mother. And only for one or two days at a time. Even then, you managed to attack me in offensive, underhanded ways. Now that I'm going to settle here, considering to settle here, I want all your shenanigans stopped."

"My, what accusations, Princess!" My ears were pounding, but I still managed to glare at her. So she meant to stay here? How unfortunate! For her, of course.

"Not accusations but the truth. You spoiled everyone's Thanksgiving, including your mother's and your children's. I want to tell you one thing, Belle..." Her voice came out as a guttural roar as she leaned forward toward me. For a second or two there, I was glad to have the desk between us. "I am not the cause of all the ills in your life. I don't know what you are twisting around in your mind, but take a look at this situation fairly. If we can't be friends, can't we at least be civil to each other? Just don't make me undo the lifelong friendship between my mother and yours. You will be the one to lose."


"God, that is a long speech. Now you listen to me." I pointed at her with my forefinger. And this time, I leaned forward, too. One thing I've learned in life is not to show fear to your attacker. "I am not twisting anything. You are the twisted one. You just brought mothers into this, even. You had everything all your life. You still have everything, and you are still twisted. I look at you and I see someone so fake. Someone gilded on the outside but mushy on the inside. There is nothing to you; yet, you make everyone think you're so hot. This is what I hate about you."

"All right, Belle. So you don't like me. I can live with that, but..." Her nostrils flared and her tone deepened. "I don't want your bad-mouth, your slandering, and your nasty actions directed at me, ever again. Understand?"

Sliding off her chair with a rough motion, she stood up abruptly and left the bakery in a huff.


"What happened?" Kat asked when I stepped walked to the store after her. "Miss Kinney left without saying goodbye to us."

"She's upset," I said. "You know the artistic type. She's also having man troubles."

"Ooh, that'll do it," Marge said from behind the counter, sliding in the showcase a tray of croissants.

"Which means I have to bake her a huge cheesecake this time. Don't you think?" I said.

"Yeah, that should make her happy. Something sweet and gooey. When I broke up with my last boyfriend, I ate a whole jar of Marshmallow Fluff," Kat said, the guru of breakups.

Now, how was I going to tell Sher about today? Maybe a totally different approach? I hoped she'd back me up.

Goddammit! That loser Ariadne darted across my spic-and-span bakery like a Palmetto bug, the largest, meatiest superbug, and disappeared, leaving me behind shaking with disgust and rage. Too bad I didn't have a bug killer at hand. But, hey, wait a minute, I did.

I had a gun, a small legit The Ruger LCP 380, in the drawer of my desk. Not much to look at but would do the deed if I caught a burglar. I had bought it after Carmela's Pizzeria, a block away, was held up, and the poor girl who lived upstairs was scared out of her wits.

Dangit, I can't do away a Palmetto bug with a handgun. A bug like Ariadne deserves planning first, something tricky. But I had to talk to Sher, before she did something to mess up my plan B.

I got a Pepsi from the vending machine at the entrance and took a gulp from the can. I couldn't talk on the phone when my mouth was parched or if I was having an allergy attack. I dabbed my lips with the back of my hand and looked around. I didn't want the girls to imitate me and carry their germs into the ready-to-go merchandise during the handling. Since no customers were present at the moment, both Kat and Marge were leaning against the door jamb that opened to the kitchen area and yakking with the chefs. Give'em an inch; they'd all take a mile.

I'd get them later, but my business with Sher came first. I went inside the office and closed the door. Then I called Sher.

"There's a patient I have to assist in the Imaging, Mom. I'll call you later," she said.

I opened the door of the office and watched Marge arrange Napeleons in a box for Penny, the owner of the Touchless hair salon. I have to remind Sher to have her hair cut and styled. Marge did well with the order, while Kat waited on and flirted with Curt Duffman. They were doing a good enough job. No need to pick on the girls. I took two steps backwards and sat at the desk, watching them handle a sudden surge of customers. I should go help, but...

Come on Sher, call!

That she did, just before I gave up on her. I reached with my right foot and pushed the door shut. Then I told Sher the minute by minute account of my interaction, if you can call it that, with Ariadne.

She panicked. "Mom, what'd you do? You shouldn't argue with her." Her voice was weak at the end. I guessed she was about to weep. Was she in love with Kenton? It would be good for her to have some feeling for believability, but I didn't want her to go all out.

"Don't tell me what I should do, Sher. This may be for the better."

"What? How so? Why better? Mom, are you out of your mind?"

"Watch your mouth, Sher. Better because, if I were to be nice to her suddenly, wouldn't she be suspicious? Especially if I were to be nice to her after she bit my head off?"

"Yeah, but this is even worse. How am I going to talk to her if she starts painting me? That is, if she hasn't given up on it by now?"

"She won't give up on you, but she has taken me on; that's clear. So you and I are going to fight like cats and dogs, starting tonight, near your grandmother and Eve. You know what I am getting at?"

"Yeah!" Her voice perked up. "So devious, Mom. What is going to happen with our weekly lunch at Carmela's, on Tuesday?"

"We can have lunch elsewhere. Fort Swift is a good place, and they have just as good a pizza place as Carmela's. We should take separate cars."

"Which means you and I won't be on speaking terms for the rest of the world."

"You've got it!"

Since Sher's shift ended at 3:30 PM, she was home a few hours earlier than me. My mother was in the kitchen, making lentil soup and chatting with Eve who was struggling with her homework on the kitchen table.

I made a ham and cheese sandwich and sat across from Eve.

"Don't eat that," My mother said. "I'm making dinner."

"I'll eat your dinner, too. I am starving now."

"All that eating and look what happens to your body? You're getting so out of shape."

Unlike your precious, slender Aria. I completed her words inside me.

"She is okay, Grandma," Eve said. "Mom's not fat."

Would wonders never cease! Eve defending me?

Just at that exact second, Sher walked into the kitchen. She looked at my sandwich and wrinkled her nose.

"Eeeeeww, Mom! How can you eat that? You don't know the first thing about nutrition. Gross..."

I started to say, "No, it isn't," but stopped. She was trying to pick up a fight. "How dare you!" I yelled. "Just because you're a low-grade technician in Meadows, you don't have the right to tell me what to eat. Stop picking on my food. Just stop."

"No, I won't stop," Sher answered, her eyes in a slit. "For your information, I am not low-grade anything because I earned a BA. And why are you yelling at me? What's with you? I've had it with your jumping at everybody's throats."

"You can say that again," my mother murmured.

"Miss B.A...How she gloats! I've had it with you, too." I pointed to the glass of water on the table. "You stop your bitching, or I'll throw this at you."

Sher mocked me. "That's Evian, and you're too cheap to waste it."

"Watch me!" I took the glass and threw its contents at her, purposely missing her but letting some water wet her arm.

"I can't believe you did this. Look what happened. I just waxed the floor last night. Who's going to clean this mess, now?" Sher said, pointing to the puddle.

"Well, I'm not," I said. "You started it. The job's yours, you dipshit."

"Don't call me names, or I'll never speak to you again," Sher said, lifting her chin up. "And I'm not going to pick up after you."

"Dammit! After all I have done for you, you say you won't pick up a spill. You ingrate, poor excuse of a daughter." I tilted my head away from her.

Sher grimaced. "I hate it when you swear."

"Are you guys joking or what?" Eve put her pen down and tucked her hands behind her elbows. "Nothing happened here."

"Does this look like a joke to you? And everything happened here. This is very serious," Sher said. "I don't know what's wrong with her lately, but I can't take it from her anymore."

"Neither can I," my mother mumbled again.

Eve stood, picking up her books. "I can't do work here. I'm going up to my room. You should at least not answer her, Sher."

"Eve, get back here. We're going to eat, soon," my mother yelled after her.

"Thanks, Grandma, but I'd rather not eat supper. I may be poisoned by the atmosphere." And Eve left, running up the stairs.

She was so cute, I almost laughed, but didn't. Then I saw Sher covering her mouth with her hand.

"Sher, you idiot, see what you've done." I frowned, and then yelled at her. "You scared your sister."

"Cut it out, Mom, will ya? I don't even want to speak to you." Sher was acting like she was about to burst into tears, but in reality, she was covering up her mouth again, to keep herself from laughing out loud. I felt should put an end to this before we would be found out.

"Okay, Sher. Whatever you want. You are never going to speak to me again. Neither will I ever talk to you." I made a zipping motion with my thumb and forefinger over my mouth.

"I have the worst mom in the world. Grandma, you heard her. I'm not talking to her either." She ran out of the kitchen.

"Why are you like this, Belle? You're impossible. You're scaring the girls. I wonder if it's the menopause getting you off kilter," Mom said, shaking her head. "I think you should give a call to Dr. Kleinsasser."

"I need no doctor. I have a rotten daughter. That's all." I puffed and turned around in my seat to the half-finished ham-and-cheese sandwich. "I'll be damned if I talk to her again."

"Are you aware nothing happened here, Belle? You two just picked on each other. I know you do that to people but..." She lowered her voice. "Between us, I thought Sher was your favorite child."

"Not anymore," I said, taking another bite as I chewed and celebrated inwardly that, now, our little theatrical scene would find its way to Aunt Greta's.

I had to plan better now. Plan things according to myself, to the way I could handle them. Plan them so I could get some slack and get things done, despite my hot-headedness.

Chapter 14

"Hope still aromatic with fresh herbs; the trill
of the nightingale in the morning in the spring;
the white lily cut down by a fatal destiny;
the search for happiness, and evil's persecutions"
Ruben Dario

Ariadne

Why couldn't I get through to Belle? Was I too pushy? Pushiness was never my style, but I was fuming even before I stepped into her bakery. In hindsight, she wasn't so bad at first. I guess she didn't want to cause a scene in front of her employees. I guess I could have started out with a more pleasant attitude, but I didn't want to act too friendly, and I didn't know why. I still don't. Picking up a fight was not my intention. It isn't my style. It never was.

Inside the Kinney & Russell, I had been nice to even worse people, but when it came to Belle, no way. It killed me when I looked at her and thought that Marvin made a child with her, lived with her, touched her. Their images together popped up in my mind's screen like daytime nightmares, and they just about killed me. As usual, I could not stop or control their manifestations, but I could have strangled her, right there in the tiny office in her store. God, I am not proud of myself for these feelings or rather urges. What would Mom say if she knew?

But then wasn't Mom the cause of all this? Was the extra attention she gave to Belle or was her friendship with Aunt Fiona the real culprit? Whichever it was, it puts Mom in the middle. I can't help but feel something breaking inside me when I think of this.


After my fruitless visit to Le Nouveau Bakery, I drove home in a foul mood. I slammed the door of the car at the end of the driveway and handed the keys to Dan, Mom's new employee, a man in his sixties who was to act as manservant-slash-butler. Dan was short, five-feet-three, with every hair sprayed in place.

"Good afternoon, Dan," I said. He acknowledged me with a smile and bent his head, but didn't say anything.

Why did some people act like they were afraid to open their mouths in my presence? Except Belle. When she opened her mouth, she opened her mouth and stuck out her venom spitting tongue. Just the thought of this brought my rage to surface again.

"You look tired, Miss Kinney," Wendie said as soon as I stormed through the front door. "Would you like some Linden tea? Pauline just made a big pot of it in the kitchen."

"Tired I am, Wendie, but no, thanks," I said, my tongue heavy in the back of my throat. "I think I'll just go up to my room."

"If you had stayed home instead of gallivanting around town all day," Mom said in her joking voice with an amused smirk. She was leaning on the banister at the top of the stairs. Well... I certainly was on a roll today. "But I am glad you're reacquainting yourself with the old turf," she added, finishing her opener.

I felt a shiver run through my spine as I slowly raised my eyes to meet her gaze. I was speechless, although I knew she was expecting some kind of an answer from me. I muttered a "Hi, Mom!" and managed a tiny hand wave but, no way, was I going upstairs near her now. If I did, I could spill it all out and break her heart.

Don't do it, Aria, I told myself, Are you going to put a seventy-four year old woman with arthritis on stand and accuse her with ruining her daughter's life, be it without bad intent?

I turned to Wendie. "I think I'll have that tea in the kitchen, Wendie. Why don't you take up a cup to my mother?"

"I could come down, you know," Mom said, turning around to get her cane.

"I'll be right up, Mom." Finally, I succeeded to speak to her. "Don't risk hurting yourself."

"Tell Pauline not to fry the chicken, then," she said and hobbled toward the upstairs living room.


"You look like you've seen the devil itself, Aria," Pauline said when I entered the kitchen. Pauline, whose age I could never tell due to her wrinkle-free skin, had dark blue eyes as placid as a night sea. She was of medium height and slightly chubby. Meticulous about her work, she wrapped her snowy white hair under cover while in the kitchen and she wouldn't let Wendie help her unless Wendie's hair was tied back and covered by a scarf.

Pauline attributed the health of her skin to the masque she used every night, made from cucumber peels and avocado slices beaten with an egg-white. As much as she had tried over the years, she could never get me to use that concoction of hers on me, as I have always hated masks of any kind.

"You can say that again, Pauline," I said. Pauline, who had been in my mother's employ ever since I was in my teens, was just about the only one of Mom's daily crew who called me by my first-name.

"I can guess who," she said and she sliced a carrot into perfect circles without measuring. "If you don't mind me saying so. The baker chick in a frenzy again..."

"Right you are," I said, but didn't say anything more since Wendie and Dan walked in carrying groceries.
\
"Did you get everything on the list, Dan?" Pauline asked, picking up another carrot from the bunch.

As Dan said, "Yes, Ma'am," I took two cups and saucers and poured the tea.

Wendie asked, "Would you like me to take those upstairs, Miss Kinney?"

"Just take my mother's, Wendie. Thanks. I'll put away the groceries. I'd like to stay here and talk to Pauline for a few minutes," I said.

"No, no, don't do that, Miss Kinney," Wendie said. "It's my job. I'll be right down in a minute and finish it up."

After Dan left, I leaned against a wall and sipped my tea.

"Now, what did she do to you?" Pauline said, picking up where we had left off.

"Who? Belle? Just showed her teeth."

"Fangs, you mean." She laughed out loud with a deep rolling laugh that vibrated her broad chest.

"I'm afraid I caused it."

"Sweetie, you never caused any of it." She shot a sideways smile at me. "Somehow she gets away with everything." Pauline could never stomach the way Belle stole Marvin.

I paused for a sip and to get my words right. "That was all in the past."

She stopped the knife's motion and sent me an eloquent stare. "Is it?"

Pauline knows me better than my mother.

Before I could answer her, Wendie marched in. "Mrs. Wieland wants you upstairs, Miss Kinney, and about the chicken..."

"Yeah, yeah...she doesn't want it fried." Ticked off, Pauline shook her head, as I exited the kitchen.

By the time I entered the upstairs living room, most of my nasty thoughts had faded. They'd probably creep back, but I told myself, like Tolstoy and his playmates, }Whatever you do, Aria, don't think of a white polar bear.

Mom's bifocals slid down on her nose, as she lifted her pretty silver head. "You're smiling, Aria. Did Pauline give you fried chicken or something?"

"Fried chicken is afraid to step into kitchen. Pauline will chase it with a shotgun, don't worry, Mom," I said as picked up the empty teacup from the side table near her.

"Fried Chicken kills more people than any shotgun," she said. "Leave it." She pointed to the empty cup in my hand. "Wendie will pick it up later. Come and sit with me a little. Did you get to see anyone?"

That white polar bear... I traced my finger around the rim of the empty cup and put it back on the table. "Some of my tubes have left for the oil supplies' graveyard," I said, as I perched on a chair across from Mom. "They don't have any quality paints neither in Larry's stationery nor in Zoe's Crafts. I think I'll drive to Sam Flax tomorrow and refresh my stuff. I think they have a new location now."

Looking at me intently, Mom said, "Why Sam Flax? There are other stores around."


"I'm sorta used to it," I said averting my eyes, as I felt like a grasshopper jumping in erratic parabolas. It was Marvin who had taken me to Sam Flax for the first time, during the seventies. Mom probably remembered that.

"Ramon could drive you," she offered.

"I'd rather drive myself," I said. "After being away for such a while, I need to discover Florida all over again. Besides, the Audi needs to feel the asphalt."

"What's the rush? You can do it in a few days."

"I told Sher we could start immediately, around her hospital schedule, of course."

"Oh, that! I forgot about it. Funny, what the brain does to a person after a certain age..." She bit her lower lip and clutched her hands together.

I gazed at her lovely face, fascinated. True, she had aged quite a bit. Her beautiful hazel eyes had acquired bluish rings around their pupils, and there was still some wrinkling of the skin despite the face lift of a year ago. My negative feelings changed to affection with kaleidoscopic swiftness.

I stood up, went to her, and gave a peck to her cheek. Better I leave now, before she asks what else I did, or before I myself stir the hornets' nest.

"Mom, I'd better throw out the unusable supplies and make a list before tomorrow. If Sher happens to drop by, would you tell her to come to the studio?"

The studio used to be my father's study. On its one wall, bookshelves lined from floor to ceiling. Its windows were tall, and my father's desk still stood in front of the bookshelves. The room had plenty of floor space.

After my father's passing, my mother had it shut down and never went inside it, even after she married Clifford. When I had her permission to use the room, I had the sofa and chairs in the middle pulled to one side and had the Persian carpet put away. Clifford spread a linoleum cover on the oak-wood floor, fastened casters and wheel locks to my big easel, and suspended a cluster of high quality fluorescent lamps from the ceiling above my workspace. Even in my own home in New York, I didn't have such a well-equipped room, although I had all the paraphernalia as to draft table, several stands and chests of drawers to store my things.

One thing about Clifford, he believed in constructive pastimes. To him, this room was for my pastime as well as being my inheritance from my father, although my work in the company held the top spot in importance.

I flicked the light switch to test the lighting. Something was off. When I lifted my head I noticed the fizzed-out bulbs. Mental reminder: Get better lighting. Replace that lamp with 5500k kino Flo Light.

That I would because, to me, this room had been my haven, my own world inside which nasty people weren't allowed. Except, of course, Marvin.

After Marvin, I had waxed like the dying moon, but the room had stayed as the only tranquil spot left in my existence, waiting for me to return to it.

But now, the promise of a new moon... Sara Teasdale wrote:
"In a world as hard and gray as stone —
Oh who could be bitter and want to die
When a maiden moon wakes up in the sky?"

Even if I was no more a maiden in the biblical sense of the word, an instinctive positivity had started to urge me to take charge. I had begun to wake up.

Sher, full of excuses for being late, came right before supper. She said she was held up first at the hospital, then by her mother and sighed as she said that.

"What's wrong, Dear?" Mom asked, squinting at her.

"Aunt Greta, it's just that Mom is real whacky lately. We had words, Now, we're not speaking to each other."

"What was the problem?"

"Nothing really. She was eating a ham and cheese sandwich while Grandma was making dinner, I told her to eat more nutritiously. I know it is crazy, but she flew off the handle."

Why was it that, as she spoke, it felt like she was a bizarre version of Belle? Something did not add up. Was I being paranoid because Sher looked so like her mother? Or was it the past incidents with Belle that keep coming back and haunting me?

Some events in life I never forget, as if they are glued to me, etched in my DNA. Nothing I do can make those events go away. Their darkness keeps forcing me to turn to who I am, while they heighten my senses. It had to be for those senses that, in Sher's melancholy-laden face, I noticed an immense darkness.

"Aunt Aria, why is Mom like that? Grandma says it's the menopause, but not all people her age are like her. I mean you're the same age, I think. Mom is real bitchy."

But I didn't bite. "Don't talk about your mother like that, Sher," I said. "She is your mother."

"But she is...ooh..." Something was off in her manner, in the tone of her voice, and in her eyes, as good an actress as she was. But was she really acting?

Painting portraits does this to a painter. You learn to look into people. The idea made me recall her request for a portrait. Time to start the preliminary work.

"Sher," I said. "Why don't you stay for dinner? Before though, let's go up. I'd like to make a quick pencil sketch. Could we do this now, Mom?"

"Go ahead," Mom said. "I'll call you when dinner's ready."

I asked Sher to take a seat wherever she felt the most comfortable. She sank into one of the leather armchairs.

"Aunt Aria," she said. "Should I put on make-up? My make-up must be smudged by now."

"It's up to you, Sher, but you don't need it, today. I'll just draw a few sketches to get the feel of your bone structure. If I can relate to any one of the sketches, then we can start the actual work right next time."

"Do I have to sit still? How's this pose?"

"No posing today. Just sit, relax, and talk to me. You can move your face as much as you like. Today's work is just practice."

I took out a large sketch pad. Put it on the drafting table and tilted it at the angle I felt most comfortable.

"Aunt Aria, when did you start painting?"

"I always drew, "I said. "Painting I might have started probably during Junior High."

She was fun to draw...a shapely Belle, a mythical nymph with intensity in her voice. More nuanced than her mother...Nicer? Worse?

"What was your first painting? Do you remember?"

"I had a cat of all colors. I painted her picture."

"How nice! Mom never allowed us to have any pets. She didn't like the mess. What happened to that painting?"

What had happened to it, I couldn't tell. I had painted Chessie many times. One of those paintings I had given to Marvin. I wondered if he held on to it or threw it out.

Chessie for Cheshire Cat. In my adulthood I had no Cheshire cats. Cheshire Cats could never suffer the pain of separation, the unexpectedness of life, unlike people. I wondered if Jayce and the maid Esperanza were taking care of the two tabbies I had in the brownstone.

"You are very quiet, Aunt Aria..."

"I was, wasn't I? Let me ask you a question or two, Sher. Sometimes it helps to bring out the... how shall I put it... angelic side of the sitter."

"I'm afraid I'm no angel, Aunt Aria, but compared to Eve and Kyle, I'm the one who gets along well with Mom, correction, used to get along."

I sensed a truth in her words until she put in the correction. A small bit of a poem –its origin I couldn't recall- flared up inside my mind. Sounds contrapuntal// music of the night. Like The Phantom of the Opera, the guy with the half-mask. Sher had to be wearing a half-mask. Why?

I answered my own question inwardly. Because she doesn't want me to see her damaged side.

"Do you like your job, Sher?"

"Yes," she answered with conviction. "It's so interesting to look at a person on the outside, then after the X-ray, to see what ails him inside. Although a doctor knows better how to interpret the film, I'm trying to outguess him, and learning. But mostly, Aunt Aria, I'm happy to have job, and I'm not depending on anyone."

"In that case, you've got it made. It's important to love one's job."

"Do you love your job?"

"I like art, so I love what I am doing right now, here."

"What about the company? That is the paying one, right?"

"It is the paying one, but I went into it because of family. Someone had to do it. I don't hate it, but..."

"Still, you are lucky, Aunt Aria. As they say, art is universal, even if you have a day job."

Just then Mom called us down on the intercom.

"Sher, let's wrap it up, here," I said. "Why don't you go ahead of me and tell Mom, I'll be down in a minute, just as soon as I put away these things."

As I straightened up, I thought about our company's modus operandi, which began by taking money, maneuvering, making more money from the taking, and then acting like a peacock with the fancy tail as if it ruled the world.

Ridiculous! Where is the art in that?

Then I thought of art, how it always gave and how it was exploited everywhere, at all times. It was exploited because it was generous. What I really wanted in my life were the ideals behind art: To create, to give, to accept, to exchange, to share, to celebrate.

I might have sensed a negative side in Sher at her first sitting, but talking to her had made me more determined to go after my real passions.

Yes, I would quit Kinney & Russell.

And I would go after Marvin.


Chapter 15

"The trust of the innocent is the liar's most useful tool."
Stephen King

Belle


I stood sentry, gazing, waiting for Sher to come home. Had Ariadne told Aunt Greta she came to see me? I had asked Sher to find out about that. I also wondered if she told them about our staged spat in front on my mother. But that was a given. Even if Sher couldn't, I was sure my mother would tell Aunt Greta sooner or later.

Sher finally came back, telling my mother that she had stayed for dinner and Ariadne sketched her. Since I wasn't talking to Sher, I said I was going to bed early.

When I heard Sher's footsteps out on the hallway, I dialed her phone. When she opened, I said, "Don't answer out loud. Go to your room. We'll text."

A little while later, she texted, "Eve is being nosy. Wait." Eve and Sher share a room.

A minute later, I got another text. "I'm texting from the bathroom. I told them we weren't talking. Aunt Aria said nothing. Oh wait, she said, to be nice to you or something like that. But Mom, she's really nice. I don't see any problem. Why don't you like her?"

The nerve of my daughter. But I didn't answer her question. I texted. "That's all I wanted to know. Go to bed now, before Eve thinks you're hiding something."

Really the nerve. Why didn't I like her? Because the fuckface didn't have my mother. Because she had everything. Because she made everyone think she did everything right. More than anything, she had Aunt Greta.

I wish Aunt Greta wasn't Ariadne's mother, but mine. I wish I would be the one to come first with Aunt Greta. I wish Aunt Greta could see that I consider her my real mother, not my mother's friend. If I told this to anyone, they'd think I'd lost it. Then I'd have a hell of a time explaining why I feel Aunt Greta should be my mother.

If I had to explain this, I would probably say: It is because Aunt Greta is the only person who showed me understanding and affection and never judged me, and Aunt Greta is the only person I can talk to freely. Aunt Greta is the only person who was so generous with me, although I would still consider her my mother if she didn't spend a dime on me.

Thanks to her fucked-up ladyship Ariadne, I'll have to stay away from Aunt Greta, too, after the run-in in the bakery. And she's staying until after Christmas. No news about her boyfriend. Did she leave him? I hope not. Otherwise, she'd be in rocky Road more often. Another thing I have to ask Sher to find out.


While planning the week's expenditures in the bakery, Raquel said, "You know the cheesecake you told us you made for your friend, White Chocolate Rasberry Cheesecake, let's make that the highlight of this week."

"Wouldn't it be too time-consuming for us? It takes a bit of guarding over the oven," Phil said.

"We could do ten a day, in small and large sizes, and see how it goes," Raquel said.

"Why not?" I said. Why not, indeed. Why make a very special something for the bitchiest bitch and not for profit? And since Phil didn't seem to be too enthused about the idea, I said, "We can't neglect the rest of the stuff we bake either. So, what do you say to this experimental idea? Phil takes care of the breads, rolls, cookies, for this week, and Raquel and I will take care of the cakes. I mean we can do more of the easier cakes and only a few of the cheesecakes each day. We can still help each other, if need be."

As such, we started production. One thing I love about baking. All bright ideas come to me while baking something I like to bake. On the second day, it hit me. It hit me while I was beating eggs into the cream cheese and sugar mixture. Why not me and Sher take a vacation in Miami? For Sher could drop in on Kenton, for example. I was sure she had his attention during the Thanksgiving dinner. It could be a good idea to keep things warm between them.

Not to attract unnecessary attention, we could tell my mother we wanted to celebrate our making up. Of course we'd have to make up first. It would work.

When I called Sher at work, she agreed. "I don't like us acting like we really fought in the first place," she said. "Mom, did you plan all this from the beginning? If you did, you are the most cunning person since the ancient Greeks."

"I plan as I go along," I told her, which is true.

Look what happened with Lyle and Marvin. And Ariadne, especially. That was my big success, and I hadn't planned anything at all.

If I had, something would get messed up in the process. It is Murphy's Law. Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. But if I don't plan ahead and take things as they come and act accordingly, things do fall where they may, provided the original intent is powerful enough. And, that is my modus operandi.

The thing was neither of us had Kenton's phone number. Sher said she'd get it from Aunt Greta without arousing suspicion.

I trusted my daughter, but how would she manage it, especially with Ariadne in the house?

"Don't worry, Mom," Sher said. "I'll find a way."

Would she? I crossed my fingers.


Chapter 16

"It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."
J.K. Rowling

Aria


I placed the 16" by 20" canvas on the easel, adjusted my reach, and perched on the stool in front of it. I was only going to sketch in the background. Just the preliminaries of it, since Sher wasn't here yet.

Backgrounds are elemental in painting. They set the stage, so to speak. I always spent more energy and time ruminating and playing with ideas, adding and deleting things, moving lighting and the angle. Being happy with the setup is of utmost importance.

Unfortunately, when it came to my own life, I had neglected that. I had neglected the right setup of what was vital. Regardless of the true background of my feelings, I had picked and dropped men, not just Hal and Jayce but many of them, like a wounded beast. And here I was, at 53, still yearning after my only love.

Oil paints have a short blending life on the canvas. It is not hard to turn an area into a dull muddy spot with too many layers and alterations. Just like love, which must not be muddied.

But there's a remedy for everything. If an alteration doesn't work, you have to wipe it off with a rag to make all the paint from that area to come off. Just like what I was planning to do with Jayce, to start over Marvin.

First coat of paint has to be thinner to dry quickly. I put a muted green with some energetic brushwork for Sher's background to bring out the green in her eyes. Even if I sensed something unsavory about the girl, she was still young and hopefully was not damaged too badly by her mother. I felt I had to make her as youthful and untarnished as I could. Despite whatever it was that she had been holding back, there was also an innocent gleam in her eyes. That gleam had to be the commanding asset of hers I needed to capture.

Sher's portrait would be my dedication to mistakes. Mistaken journeys, mistaken lovers, mistaken parents, and mistaken friends, and ignoring things buried alive.

Although I wondered if Sher would show up at all, I felt she would show up somehow. She had said she'd come as soon as she'd leave the hospital at 3:00. It was past 5:30 and no show. But before I cleaned my brushes, Sher arrived. So much the better. Wendie called over the intercom to inform me of her arrival. "Send her right up," I said.

Sher walked in, or rather she hopped, in feisty steps. "So sorry Aunt Greta. The place was full of patients, and girl on the later shift arrived late."

"No problem," I said. "It shouldn't take more than two sittings. Try to sit the way you were sitting the last time, because I already sketched you in from the preliminary studies."

"You won't believe this Aunt Aria, but I am excited," she said, although her face had an expression of delight, her eyes sparkled as if she were on the verge of tears. What a paradox this girl was! I had sensed opposing forces inside her when I had first sketched her, but that feeling was even stronger today.

I am not a clairvoyant, but something weird happens to me when I paint a portrait. I go inside my subjects. Once, way back when, before Jayce had entered my life, Nellie, one of my secretaries requested that I paint her husband, instead of taking her out for lunch as a birthday present, but it had to have been one-sitting only, as her husband was a policeman and his time was limited. I agreed because I didn't have too much time on my hands either. For that portrait, I used pastels since they are a faster medium. While we were talking, I sensed pain in the man's eyes, a funereal pain, and these words gushed of my mouth as if on their own volition. "Were you in a funeral or something, earlier in the day?"

"How did you know? Are you psychic?" he asked. "I didn't even tell Nellie, yet."

"No, I'm not psychic, and I am sorry. I don't even know why I said that." Then I explained. "Maybe the expression on your face. Never mind me. I just blurt out stuff sometimes."

It turned out that the policeman had to escort the van that carried two children who had died in a car crash from the morgue to a funeral home, and children were always difficult on him, as he and Nellie had two of their own.


Sher interrupted my thoughts. "Aunt Aria, they told us in school, during my training, that people's greatest fear is that they are inadequate. I mean, since you are so good with so many things and all, did you ever feel inadequate?"

"Of course, Sher, it is human nature. Do you?"

"Sometimes. Especially when people remind me of it, or I think they do."

"You may be letting those people to hypnotize you. Does it ever occur to you that they do it to make you believe you can't handle your own life or manage on your own? I believe our deepest fear is not being inadequate, but being powerful, extremely powerful. In some way, we are afraid of our own true capabilities. So to counteract that, we believe others when they say we are inadequate or act as if we are. Did I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly. Maybe it is why sometimes I sorta go along with people who are supposed to know better, but I know they don't."

"Insecure people force others to do things their way. Then some nice people like you accept their input in order not to make them feel insecure. But we each can shine on our own for we each have our very own special capabilities."

I didn't understand why Sher was asking these somewhat philosophical questions to me that had to do with interpersonal relationships. Was something the matter in her personal life? So I asked her right out.

"Are we talking like this because something at work is bothering you, Sher? You can talk to me if you wish. I won't tell anyone."

"It has happened to me at work and elsewhere. Like I go along with pushy people sometimes, but then I feel bad about myself for doing that. How do I not do this? Did this ever happen to you?"

"Sure, it did. It still does. But I step back and listen to myself. Then I ask myself, if I really want to do what someone else is proposing. It happens a lot in the office...and in life, too."

"So you think what I really want is the best for me. But what if it isn't?"

"If it isn't, it is your mistake to learn from. Making your own mistakes is better than living with other people's mistakes. Don't you think?"

I was talking big, but hadn't I made the same old mistakes over and over again all my life? I didn't have the heart to tell this young woman I was just awakening to the same situation myself, at my age. Whatever it was bothering her, I hoped she'd solve it on her own, by listening to her own counsel.


After half an hour, I told her to take a break, to walk around and get her limbs moving.

"Aunt Aria, do you mind if I called my mother from the phone in the hallway. My cell's battery is just about dead, and Mom will be worried if I don't call home."

Strange! Since when Belle kept a close watch on her children? For what little my mother told me, it was Fiona laying down the rules on the girls. And why was Sher uncomfortable when asking to use the phone? But then, maybe it was me becoming paranoid.

"Sure," I said. "You know where it is. In the meantime, I'll clean the brushes and squeeze out fresh paint."

For some reason, she evaded looking at me directly when she came back and took her seat. Unlike her, I thought. As she usually looked right into my eyes when she talked. Maybe Belle said something nasty about me, I surmised.

"It is nice that they worry about you, Sher," I said.

"They probably are worried more about themselves," she said.

"Now, why would you say that?"

"I imagine they wouldn't want to deal with it, if I were in some sort of a trouble."

"It doesn't seem to me that you'd be the kind of girl who'd let herself get in trouble."

"Yes, but...still. Aunt Aria, does a thought ever occur to you that the ones who should love you the most love you for themselves, and you're their favorite if you are doing what they want you to do?"

She sounded so sincere. Her timing couldn't have been any better, too. Wasn't that my own question to myself, recently?

"Sometimes that happens," I said. "But you have to do what is good for you and what seems the right thing to do, which is very difficult, Sher. The line between right and wrong is a very fine line."

I thought, in a way, Sher was trying to tell me something. In her voice or words there was some sadness, some trepidation, I couldn't exactly put my finger on. Of course, I didn't know the details of her life, either. Maybe she had boyfriend problems or some stupid thing at work. Then, also, living with Belle had to be bad enough for anyone.

"You know, Aunt Aria, everyone seems to have a clear idea about other people's lives, how they should live, who they should love. But come to think of it, those people have no idea or some warped understanding for their own lives."

"That's humans for you, Sher. But I wouldn't judge anyone's life. Each person knows his or her own joy or pain. One thing I have learned is that you can't make anyone like you, let alone love you."

"But suppose you like someone and that person isn't aware of you."

"Oh, oh, are we talking about a boyfriend?" I looked into her eyes. She blushed.

"No, only theoretically," she said, with a wave of her hand. "I mean something is really happening...to a friend of mine. Another friend pushes her toward someone who doesn't give her the time of the day, telling her if she doesn't go after him, he'll never look at her. My friend says she doesn't want to force things because she doesn't want to hook that person just because she can."

"I see. I'm not an expert on the subject. Far from it. But I tend to think forcing someone's affections should hurt a lot, and what's supposed to be heaven can turn to hell." I paused a bit. If I knew anything about young women, Sher was talking about herself, trying to solve a relationship problem. So I added, "For your friend, I think forcing anything would hurt her more. She should let the person she likes be. Who knows, he may turn to her on his own. If he doesn't, so what? This way, she'll have nothing to lose. No heartbreak, no expectations."

"That's what I have been thinking, although I didn't say anything to...to my friend...yet."

The portrait was halfway done, but I had to stop the session, because I didn't like to make anyone sit too long for a painting. I told her we needed just one more sitting and that would be it.

"How about if I come tomorrow morning?" she asked.

"Works for me," I said. "I'm at home tomorrow. Wendie will bring her son for a few minutes. She had asked me to paint the two of them together. But theirs I can do from a photograph."

"It could be difficult to sit long for a little child, but you're a fast worker."

"Not really, Sher. I'd like to give more time to what I want, but I have things to attend to in NY."

Smart girl, Sher. Pretty, too. Despite the hidden side of her, unlike Belle who was impulsive, Sher had an inkling of good judgment, and I hoped that inkling would lead her to greater things in life.

By next afternoon, her portrait was finished or rather unfinished, but I liked it better this way. So did Sher. Sometimes a seemingly unfinished product is more artistic than a fully developed photographic likeness. I told her to let it dry fully before she does anything with it. She said she wanted to get it framed and asked me if I would go with her to choose a proper frame.

Sher hadn't left yet, when Wendie brought her son, Eric, who was an active little boy with dark brown curls and chocolate skin. He wouldn't sit still for his photo, so I asked Wendie to sit down and just hold him tight, and I'd do what I could. This time the boy covered his face with his arms. Sher knelt down close to the boy and starting singing, Puff the Magic Dragon. Eric lowered his arm from over his eyes and looked into Sher's face. That became the best shot. Even as a photograph, it had to be a winner.

To an artist's eye, Eric and Sher's gazing at each other would have made a better painting than Wendie holding Eric. But a promise was a promise. I decided to paint a quick portrait of Wendie and Eric, and later I would paint what I wanted, when I could put my life in its new order, the order I would choose alone for me.

On the plus side, through her three sittings, I felt I had established a closeness with Sher, a closeness, I guessed, impossible for her to achieve with her mother. Surprising how much you can feel another person's pain by staying calm and very still, and by truly staying on their side.

Sher walked out of the house in small graceful steps as if dancing, while holding her still wet portrait gingerly by its corners. I believe she felt lighter and better about herself.

And so did I.


Chapter 17

"When your mother is made out of your dreams, anything real is bound to disappoint you."
Jodi Picoult

Belle


Well, Sher did get Kenton's phone numbers, both his cell and the one at the hospital. She said she copied them from Aunt Greta's phone book upstairs, but something has changed about her. Damn Fuck, I can't put my finger on it. Now I wonder if it could be the portrait.

The portrait does look like her in a way, but Ariadne left a half of Sher's face in a shadow. Jeez, what kind of a painter would do that! It probably has some meaning because Sher adores it. She sits staring at it, as if it were her altar.

Leave it to that witch Ariadne to mess with my daughter's head. She must have said something against me. I wonder what it is that they talked about during the time they spent together. When I asked Sher, she said they discussed things in general.

"One thing about Aunt Aria," she said, squinting at me, "she never talks against anyone. So you shouldn't worry."

I really wanted to slap her then, but that would solve nothing. So I turned my back to her in order not to face her. "That doesn't mean anything," I said. "You don't know what she says inside her."

She didn't answer me. Except I heard her footsteps leaving the room.

Why are all my children turning against me? Lyle came to visit during the holidays out of duty or maybe because Marvin told him to. Since he grew up without a mother, he encourages Lyle's relationship with me. Eve has been my rebellious lost teen for a long time. Now Sher, the only one who used to be on my side, is showing some defiant tendencies. My fate sucks.

Dammit! I just have bad luck with kids and men. Fuck them all!

Still, I was not done with Sher. I arranged to leave the running of the bakery to the chefs and the front girls, and we left two days later, for Key Largo. It would be one night's stay at the hotel with Sher. On our way over there, I decided we would stop by the hospital where Kenton was working.


"I'll drive, Mom," said Sher, as we threw our overnighters on the backseat. I had refused to take her tiny Volkswagen, since in a small car, we'd be more at each other's throats. Besides her car is blue, which reminds me of Ariadne's eyes, come to think of it, Marvin's as well. I hate the color blue. My Chevy Cobalt Sedan, although eight years old, is slightly larger and its color is rally yellow.

"It's my car," I said, as I moved toward the driver's side.

"Mom, no offense, but your car looks like a school bus. It's okay but if you drive, you'll get mad at other drivers on the road and yell at them or something. I need my peace if we're going to have a vacation."

"Dammit, it's not just a vacation," I reminded her, as I turned on the ignition.

She threw me piercing glance and pulled the passenger side's door shut. As she fastened her seatbelt, she rolled her eyes and muttered, "God!"

"Now you've just become your Grandmother with that God shit."

"Grandma? I wouldn't want to be like her, or you," she said, with disgust in her voice as if repulsed by the very mention of us.

I could slap her for that, but I controlled myself. "You're being obnoxious, Sher. What's got into you?"

She shrugged, saying nothing, as I backed the car out of the driveway.

I drove about twenty minutes without a word, but then I couldn't help myself. I said, "You sit with her a couple of days, and the bitch has changed your blood flow."

"Mom, stop it. Aunt Aria hasn't said one bad word nor implied anything negative about you or anyone else. She could be your friend if you'd let her."

"When hell freezes over..." I said. "So this is how you pay me back because I want the best for you."

"Sure," she said in a sarcastic voice, "the best for me." I'm sure she rolled her eyes again, but I didn't see exactly because I was concentrating on taking I-95 from the ramp.

Once we were on the interstate, I said, "Stop sassing me, Sher, and don't you roll your eyes at me. Even if I am not looking your way, I know what you do. That is how mothers are."

"Most mothers are..." and she mumbled something in between her teeth.

"Are you aware you are being just like Eve now?"

"Eve is the smarter one," she said, with a sigh.

I had to let it go. Otherwise, she wouldn't go along with my plan. Damn that Ariadne! How she got under everyone's skin...Even Sher, who is some peculiar version of me.

Sher looks like me but is younger, prettier, and I shouldn't blame her for finding Ariadne so adorable. More than thirty years ago, I too wanted to be Ariadne. Not like her, but be her, just to own Aunt Greta for good, just to own all that Ariadne had, and I am not even talking about material things.

Still today, when I look at myself in the mirror, I judge me whether I measure up to her in other people's eyes, even though I hate her. I hate her because she flaunted her superiority, strutting around as if to imply, "Look at me. Ain't I the greatest thing to walk the face of the earth?" I hate her because, even though she had Aunt Greta and two fathers, she took my mother's approval from me, not that my mother would ever approve of me with or without Ariadne, but still...

Sher's voice jerked me into reality. "Mom, can we stop at the next exit? I need to use the bathroom."

"Yeah," I said, "I need to pee, too." Wasn't that something? Up to that minute, the only thing Sher and I had agreed upon had to do with peeing, thanks to that fucked up bitch Ariadne...

We stopped at a McDonald's. After the bathroom break, we picked up two cups of coffee, a couple of hamburgers and a salad, which we shared. I had driven roughly one hundred fifty miles and was already tired. We still had another hundred to go to Miami. I handed Sher the keys. "You drive," I said, which seemed to please her.

The rest of the way was more enjoyable. Although the roads were more crowded compared to the north, there were more interesting things to look at and comment about.

"You know, Mom, you can be a pleasant person when you want to," Sher said. "I'm enjoying this trip, now."

Ignoring the hidden insult in her words, I said. "We are coming close to Miami. Call Kenton now."

Frowning, she gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Can't we do that on the way back?"

"No, do it now. We might miss him tomorrow. I'm not paying ninety dollars to the hotel for missing. Anyway, we'll start back early tomorrow."

"Honestly, Mom, I'm embarrassed to call him. What'll he think?"

"Men don't know how to think. Just get in his face, that's all."

She rolled her eyes again, which I ignored. I know not to push it when she is listening to me.

"You're so weird. But okay, I'll call at the next stop," she said.

And she did. When she flipped her phone shut, her eyes were gleaming. "He said to go right over and have them page him from the admissions entrance. I told him I got his number from Aunt Greta's. He was really nice. He gave me directions to the 12th street."

We were there within half an hour. When Kenton came to take us with him, I said, "Why don't you show Sher around? I'll wait here until you're done."

"Come with us, Aunt Belle. Upstairs, we have a lounge for the staff," he offered. "It is more comfortable."

I said, "I feel better here than being deep inside a hospital. This is fine, really." I wasn't lying. I'm squeamish where hospitals are concerned. If I was there at that time, it was because of Sher.

"Let her wait here," Sher said. "She doesn't like hospitals very much. She's never visited me in Meadows."

So they left. I have to say they made a beautiful couple as they walked away. About half an hour later, they showed up again. Kenton said, "I wish you could stay a bit more. In about two hours or so, after I check on some patients, I will take you around Miami, if you can stay."

"We're on our way to the Keys, but thank you so much. I learned a lot about how a large hospital is run." Sher's tone was polite, but the gleam in her eyes was gone.

I interjected. "Maybe we could..."

But Sher cut me short. "I have to be at work for the late shift tomorrow. We have to be on our way, now. Thank you so much, Kenton. You have been very kind."

So we left.

"What was that all about?" I scolded her, once she started driving again. "He was personable and willing to treat you. Why did you turn him down?"

"Mom, you know what would happen? He would take us around town together with his girlfriend who is a physician and a charming person. Then you'd do or say some gross thing, and I would die of shame."

"Kenton has a girlfriend? Well, he is a guy. You went out with other people earlier. Why should that stop you?"

"Mom, don't make me say it, but I'm not going to do to another woman what you did to... to." She didn't say it. After a pause she continued. "Simply because I have my pride...and self-respect, you know."

"Pride will take you real far, Stupid," I said. I was so mad my teeth could have fallen off from my grinding them.

"I would never come here if Kenton hadn't invited me during Thanksgiving. He invited me as a big brother, which you don't want to acknowledge. Also, we are both in the same field, and I appreciate his interest in helping me and showing me around. Anyhow, he and his girlfriend are both planning to stay in this hospital and be on the teaching staff."

One last ditch. "You could work here, too, you know."

"No, I couldn't. Nurse to patient ratio is miserable here, and they are terribly short-handed. Dr. Nelson said, if I decide to, they'd have me work in the imaging department and make it possible for me to attend the nursing school. Heck no, I'm not that desperate."

"Oh, you met another doctor. What's Dr. Nelson like? Is he good looking?"

"You do have a one-track mind. Aargh! Dr. Nelson, SHE is stunning, and SHE is Kenton's girlfriend."

"If they are serious, why didn't he tell anyone at home?"

"I don't know, Mom. Maybe he did, and they are not telling you. Maybe they want the prince to connect with a real princess who is his equal. Did that possibility cross your mind?"

So be it. Because Sher had to be really upset, I didn't push it. This girl never learned how to go after what she wanted. Well, a battle was lost, but not the war. Not yet.

"All right, then," I said. "Let's enjoy an early evening by the ocean, at least. Did I tell you when I was a little older than Eve, Aunt Greta took me to a resort by the side of the ocean in Maine? It was the best vacation I ever had. Even my honeymoon in New Orleans with your father couldn't live up to it. Dammit, I can't even go to see Aunt Greta now."

"Why can't you?"

"Her real daughter is there, remember? The one who came to the bakery to raise hell."

"No, she isn't there. Kenton said she was supposed to fly back to New York, today."

"Oh, I didn't know that. Nobody told me."

"Kenton said she decided suddenly. She told him that on the phone this morning. It had to have something to do with their company."

"Okay, then. Maybe I'll stop by Aunt Greta's the day after tomorrow. Do you know if Ariadne will be back for Christmas?"

"No, I don't, but Mom, why don't you patch things up with Aunt Aria? It is Christmas, too, you know."

I didn't answer. This girl would never understand.

Patch things up. Huh? Gross!



Chapter 18

"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know that your name is safe in their mouth."
Jess C. Scott

Aria

I did it. I called Marvin. Best yet, no one knows about it. Not even Mom.

Thank God for the Internet age. Google Search: Marvin Norris, Attorney, Houston. There. I told his secretary who I was. The next minute Marvin was on the phone.

"Aria!" he gasped.

"Yes, it is me," I said. "Lyle talked about you during the Thanksgiving dinner, and I wanted to say hi."

"Hi back! He told me about you, too. Right then, I wanted to come to Rocky Road to see you, since he said you'd be at your mother's until after Christmas."

"I'm planning to go back to New York tomorrow, to resign from the company and...and to tie up a few loose ends."

"You? Resign?" I could hear the incredulity in his voice.

"Yes. Resign."

"Is there a problem? Can I help in some way?"

"No, no problem. I just want to change my direction. For a very long time, my life has not been the one I wanted."

"Neither is mine. My life is a mess, Aria." He sounded like someone had rammed a steel blade into his chest. I heard him breathe deeply and I felt a pang for him. Maybe that pang was for me, too. We paused for a moment. Then his voice picked up again. "Are you calling from your cell?"

"Yes, I'm on my cell. Right now, I'm in the backyard at my mother's."

"Oh, I can just picture you there, among the begonias. I'm adding your number to my contacts. We should stay in touch. We need to talk. When will you be back?"

"I'm hoping in a week. I'll see how it goes."

"Would you let me know when you'll be where? I need to see you. I'll come to New York if you wish. There is something very important that you should know."

"What is it?"

"Something we need to discuss face to face. I can't do it on the phone."

He wanted to see me. He was coming to see me. But not in New York, not with Jayce around. God, what was I going to do about Jayce? I felt icy twinges in my legs.

No," I said, almost breathless, like someone had punched me in the stomach. "Marvin, New York will be hairy. Come to Rocky Road, but...but...how shall I put it..."

"You mean we shouldn't stir the snake's pit in Rocky Road. I thought about that."

"Exactly...Oh, God!" My heart started racing as my confusion mingled with panic.

"Don't get flustered," His voice was barely audible. Still, he tried to soothe me. "I'll find a way. There's always a way. We'll talk."

But I wasn't flustered or upset at all. I was excited like the day I graduated from high school, ready to embark on a new and sensational phase of my life, and so anxious to see Marvin again. He had sounded a little melancholic, but I felt, he too was searching for a lifeline.

"I have so much to tell you," he said, his voice now growing much stronger.

I shivered, savoring the power in his words. "So much to tell me?"

"I can't begin to articulate. The list's too long," he said.

Before I could answer him, I saw Wendie coming toward me.

"I have to go, Marvin. The maid's coming this way."

At this junction, I wanted to keep our conversation secret. I feared something would mess things up again. But even this fear was the thrilling kind, mixed with anticipation. Sharp that he always was, Marvin understood immediately. "Yes, you're right. Let's keep it quiet for the time being," he said.

I knew from his tone that he had caught on to my intentions. My intentions about him. For now, they had to be secret. Not only for the people in Rocky Road, but also for those in New York, since Jayce was calling me every day, trying to stick to me like glue. I answered him only a few times but cut it short and didn't reply his texts at all.

Aunt Fi had come to stay with Mom, again. I found them in the downstairs sunroom, in animated conversation. "I can't stand it. She is getting nastier each day. She even picked on Sher, the only one in the house who placates her." She had to be talking about the fallout between Sher and Belle, something that didn't interest me one iota.

I greeted her and sat down for tea.

"What's up, Aria?" Mom asked. "Your face is flushed."

"I have to go back to New York, tomorrow," I said. "Company business. Something I have to be there to tend to. But I'll be back in a week or so. Before Christmas. Aunt Fi, would you please let Sher know? Tell her I didn't forget about going with her to get her portrait framed."

Before I left, while I was in the airport waiting to board, Marvin called me. This time we talked a bit longer. I told him I was going to leave Jayce, and I had been thinking about doing this for several months now.

"Why?" he asked. "You must have liked him to be with him, Aria. What seems to be the trouble?"

Dread coiled in the pit of my stomach. Did he really think I wanted to be with Jayce? Didn't he know no one ever could measure up to him? Didn't Lyle say anything to him about my tears after the young man advertised his father's love for me at the Thanksgiving table? Right at that moment, I decided to take my chances and risk my pride. "The trouble is Jayce was never who I wanted. Neither was Hal, but in some ways, Jayce fares worse than Hal."

"How so?" His voice sounded incredibly soft...and pleasant.

"Jayce is hot-headed, more controlling, and I have issues with people controlling me."

"Me too," he said. "Me too. But Aria, will you be all right in New York, I mean with Jayce the way he is, as you say?" A tone of concern had seeped into his voice.

"I guess. Jayce happened after quite some time, years after Hal and I had divorced and Clifford died in the plane crash. Jayce is the CFO in Kinney & Russell like my stepdad."

"Did you tell him anything earlier, maybe at least hint at your decision? I guess it all depends how involved you two are."

"That is the biggest problem. I was not involved at all. He was the one who wanted to get married. I didn't. Besides, Kenton can't stand him, and I don't like quite a few things about the relationship. When I left New York last week, he was still talking about marriage, no matter what I said."

At this time, we were called to board the plane, so we had to break off, but I didn't board before I added his cell to my contacts.

In New York, instead of going to my house, I checked into the Crown Plaza, and only because I didn't want to co-habit with Jayce for obvious reasons. From there, I called my house. Esperanza said Jayce went in the morning to the Island to visit his parents. He had told her he wouldn't be home for five days or so. So, I took a taxi and went home, to pack my most necessary items. The cats were excited to see me again. I asked Esperanza to take them home with her or come to the house once a day to tend to them and I'd pay for their upkeep, since I planned to be away for a while.

Then I packed into several boxes all of my memorabilia and addressed them to my mother's house. After I had taken care of most everything that was irreplaceable, I called FedEx for the pick-up.

By the time I came back to Crown Plaza, I was bushed. As soon as I threw myself on the bed, I sat up again. One more thing, I have to do one more thing. I called Liz and asked her to call for emergency board meeting for the next day. I told her to tell them my reasons were personal.

Five days later, Kinney and Russell would send this statement from its Board of Directors to the media.

}"It is with deep regret we tell you that the Kinney & Russell Board of Directors has accepted the resignation of Ariadne Kinney CEO of Kinney & Russell, effective immediately.

"The Board accepted her resignation with understanding, genuine regret, and great respect for her leadership of Kinney & Russell for the last twenty years.

"Ariadne Kinney brought knowledge, vision, and energy to this organization. She led Kinney & Russell through the enormous economic challenges of the previous several years. As her father, the original founder of our company, she has been passionately committed to Kinney & Russell's mission.

"According to a CEO succession plan adopted by the Board in 2011, our chairman Scott Schiller will assume Ms. Kinney's responsibilities as the Interim CEO.

"We recognize the magnitude of this news - and that it comes on top of what has been a traumatic period for our country and the financial world. The Board is committed to supporting Kinney & Russell through this interim period and has confidence in Kinney & Russell's leadership team."

In about a week, I would walk away from the building of Kinney &Russell with my so-called career as the CEO of this company stripped away by my own hands. The company I had given my life to. The company my father had founded. But I would never look back.

Coming back to a week before all that happened, before this statement and the gossip of my leaving the company were all over the place, Jayce called. Someone had to have snitched.

Jayce shouted non-stop and furiously, without listening to me. "Why? You have rocks in your head? What is that personal reason? Is it wanting to do your thing like the crazy feminists? Are you sick or something? You can't do this. We're a team. I was hoping for more, for much more. Kinney & Russell needs you. I called home. Esperanza said you came, took your things, and left. Why, Ariadne?"

"Calm down, Jayce. If you keep talking, I can't tell you anything, can I? I didn't give any reason to the board. I told them my reasons were personal, but I'm telling you now that I need to be home in Florida with my family. As simple as that."

"Why can't you do both? Just when we were getting serious..."

I cut him short. "You were getting serious, Jayce. I wasn't. I told you that over and over. As a matter of fact...Anyhow, there is something I need to tell you face to face, when you come back."

He paused. "You can't do this, Aria. You can't leave...me. I'll see if I can catch a flight."

"Flight? From Long Island?"

"Agh! I told that to Esperanza. I'm in Banff, Alberta, skiing." At that point he turned around and talked heatedly with someone. I thought I heard a female voice. So much the better.

"Don't bother," I said. "Enjoy your vacation. We'll discuss everything later."

A day later, when I went to get a few personal items from my office and tie up a few loose ends, my co-workers surprised me with an office party, to be followed by dinner at Scott's favorite restaurant, Al-Di-La on Fifth Ave. Luckily enough, Jayce wasn't there. But he showed up the next day when I went to Kinney & Russell again for what was left undone due to the partying of the day before.

"What are you up to Aria?" He jabbed a finger at my face as soon as we were somewhat alone. I pulled him to the conference room and closed the door behind us.

"Jayce, I came back to New York to talk to you first, but you weren't here. I'd have preferred to talk to you face to face before I did anything else."

"You damn well know you should, Aria. I give you an inch, you take a mile." His voice was unnaturally loud as if he had a faulty wiring somewhere.

"Hush! Who do you think you are to give me an inch, Jayce? Can we talk like two civilized people?"

"What you are doing is not civilized." He lifted his hand in the air, waving away some unseen specter.

"I'm within my rights. If it doesn't fit your idea of being civilized, well, that's too bad." I felt my pulse speeding, but I still managed to maintain my composure.

He squinted with contempt. "What's got into you? You never talk like this."

"I am now, and you'd better listen. I don't like you pushing me around for one thing or another but especially for marriage. And I had time to think about this, about you and me and..."

"That I gathered, but we can still have a great life together, even if you don't want to work here. We still can make it, Aria." He was pleading now, with head bent to one side.

"Jayce, stop it. I don't know how to put this mildly enough, so I'll just say it. We're done. Simply because I don't love you, and you deserve better."

His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "You can't do this. What's the matter with you? Are you sick? Did you hit your head?"

"No, I'm not sick, but for once in my life, I have decided to live the life I want. And not in the way you or anyone else wants me, too. You should understand that. You have to understand I am not the marrying kind, and I plan to sell my house."

He whimpered. "But Aria, we had so much together."

"No, we didn't. I'm sure you'll have no problems finding someone to replace me. Believe me, you'll be happier."

"I knew it. I knew it when you went to spend the holidays with your family, but I'm not letting you go, Aria."

"You'll have to."

"You have humiliated me in front of the entire company, but I'm not leaving you. I'm not moving out of the house."

"You must unless you wish to buy the house at my asking price."

"I'll sue you. I won't let you off easily." He ran his hands through his hair. I noticed him shaking all over.

"Don't be childish, Jayce. Look, you have until April to move out. It isn't like you can't afford a place or anything."

It went back and forth like this for some time, until I'd had it and stormed out of the room. I dallied just long enough to pick up my coat and umbrella, then rushed to the elevators. As I was making my way out of the building into the pouring rain, I heard Jayce yelling after me. "Aria, wait!"

I ran out into the street but he caught up to me, holding my arm and pulling me within an inch away from him. The nerve of him to cross over into my personal space.

"You can't run away from me like that." His words sounded like a whistle, above the noise of the pelting rain.

Just then, someone said, "Aria? Jayce, where's your coat?" I yanked my arm off Jayce's clutch and turned to face Scott Schiller who looked stricken. Like me, Scott hated to air our dirty laundry to the public, especially in front of the building.

"Scott, I came to sign the Hallorann papers, and I have to leave now. Please take Jayce inside and talk some sense into him," I said, as I took a couple of steps away from Jayce.

Grasping the situation immediately, Scott gripped Jayce, pushing him under his umbrella. "Come on in with me, buddy. You're soaked." Then to me, in a soft voice, he said, "I'll ring you, Aria. Keep in touch."

Inside the taxi, before I reached the hotel, I felt my nerves giving out. A nasty headache in the shape of a band was throbbing on my forehead. I searched for aspirin in my purse. I took two without water, feeling them go down with the edges of the pills scratching my throat.


I had the corner room on the 31st floor with the Hudson River view. I stood by the window and sipped water from the bottle I had picked up in the lobby. The rain had abated to a drizzle, and the tops of umbrellas moved on the sidewalk like tiny bugs. Further ahead the blue of the river was topped by a gray sky. I leaned back on the chair and closed my eyes.

I woke up to the ring of my cell phone. Reaching for it, I saw Marvin's name. I sat up straight, now at full alert.

"Aria, where are you?"

"In New York, like I told you."

"Where in New York? I'm in New York, too. In the Millennium. I thought maybe we could...but I don't know your address."

Where was my breath? I felt breathless for a second or two.

"Aria? Are you there?"

"Yes, yes, Marvin...I am. I mean I am at a hotel, too. Crown Plaza." I rose to my feet with a sudden adrenaline rush. "What are you doing in NY?"

"Trying to take care of some unfinished business. Can we meet? Maybe for dinner or something? I have to talk to you."

"Can you come here now? I'm on 31st floor. Come right up. We can have dinner downstairs."

Yessss! Marvin had come for me.



Chapter 19

"each of us going on
in our inexplicable ways
building the universe."
Mary Oliver

Belle


So her highness zipped to New York. I bet she couldn't stand our dull, backwards town and took off, after messing with my kid's head. Bitch!

As to our early evening, we picked up a couple sandwiches from a deli and a bottle of coke and ate it while we watched the sunset from right outside our bungalow. "It's gaudy awful," I said. "It's just the night coming, and look at all this drama over the sea."

"Mom? Are you joking? Look at all the colors and reflections...Aunt Aria would do wonders with this scene. So romantic...Too bad, it'll be over soon."

Now, why would she bring up that dipshit's name? I bit my lower lip in order not to say anything and start an argument that would bring Ariadne's name for further discussion. If there was one name I didn't want to hear anymore, it was
Aunt Aria.

I said, "We're looking at the sun, which is like a flashlight losing its battery power. What's so romantic about that?"

Truth be told, I was in a rotten mood because of the absurdity of Sher's situation with Kenton. I just don't like losing. Only because I know what losing is so very well. But at least I try; at least, I fight to the end. But not Sher. She gave up just like that.

"You must be mother and daughter." It was a shrill female voice. "You look alike."

I turned around. A woman with a red band holding her badly dyed hair, wearing a loose garish caftan with large flowers on it was walking toward us.

"I felt a few unhappy vibrations coming from around here and wanted to help. I am Sarina the Psychic, Sara Cavendish actually."

As if this day couldn't get any worse.

"How interesting!" Sher said. "I'm Sherrie, and yes, you're right. This is my mother Belle."

With a pasted smile on my face, I nodded as a greeting.

"Actually," Sarina said, "I don't give readings for free, but in your case, let me tell you something, Belle. Nothing is as bad as it seems, unless you make it bad. And all the darkness you see and feel directed at you stems from the darkness in the heart. Watch your step, or else--is all I'm going to say to you, actually.
"And Sherrie, your name is intoxicating actually, pun intended." She threw her head back with a hearty laugh. "Everything nice is waiting for you just around the corner, because you have a beautiful light like this sun. Don't let darkness cover your light. That's all I'll say, actually." She swirled like a fat bug in that huge caftan and with a wave of her hand, she walked away.

"Thank you!" Sher called after her, but Sarina didn't respond.

"What a quack!" I said, shaking my head.

"She can't be since she didn't ask for money," Sher said.

"She's just handing out a sample of her wares. Don't people have better things to do? I know one thing. I'll never use the word actually ever again."

"It is just her way of saying things. But Mom, I felt good when she said that about me. I'm going to think about it. And she could be right about you, too."

Well, at least Sher felt good about this. Probably she felt happy because of that impostor's flattery than she ever felt pleased with what I, her own mother, said or did. The thing with Kenton had put more distance between us. But then, how could I know he'd introduce his girlfriend to Sher?

Come to think of it, I should have discouraged her sitting alone with Ariadne for long periods of time on account of a stinky painting. Ariadne must have poisoned her mind in some way because, after we came back from Key Largo, Sher started to avoid me as if I had strapped a bomb to her back and pushed her into Kenton's bed. Who knows, maybe my idiot daughter really cared for Kenton. I'd say, she still had a chance with Kenton, but she wouldn't grab it. Didn't want to. She said she'd die if she were rejected. So what? Everyone gets rejected at some point. Most people get over rejections in a jiffy.

After the psychic left, I thought about her warning me to watch my step. I didn't need to watch anything "actually" because I had nothing to lose. There were no men in my life, and I was okay with the way things were. At least, I didn't continue getting rejected. Don't all men do that to women all the time? Both Marvin and Peter elbowed me out of their lives.

Well, with Marvin, I was never in his life in the first place, but that's for me to know.

That's for me to know as long as I'm the nightmare in Ariadne's nights because she still cares for him. I knew it when I saw her face when Lyle, the moron, talked about Marvin's feelings for his first girlfriend. I recall how Marvin and Ariadne used to be glued to each other way back when and how they turned down their noses at everyone around.

The thing that gives me such a delight is when I think how Ariadne must envision Marvin and me together. I bet she has been dying inside ever since Marvin married me. Glory be, that's my little payback prize. Isn't that something?

These thoughts were the consolation for me through the evening, at Key Largo. Otherwise, I would be brooding over Sher's break-dancing on the open-air dance floor near the bar with the thatched roof, with a strange man who was tattooed all over. I guess that's what young people did here nowadays with the music blaring all the way to the parking lot and strange lights swirling in red, purple, and blue spirals over them. My silly girl was spinning faster than my eyes could keep track of her.

Because of the noise, I was far from the bar and sitting in an Adirondack chair with too-thin cushions. I was bushed and felt the slats cutting into my tushie. I thought of leaving Sher and going to the room to lie down, but the air, however cool, felt heavy, and for a minute there, I had no strength to stand up. I turned my head away from the hullabaloo and watched the dark sea and sky with only a sliver of the moon and many tiny stars.

I must have dozed off. I opened my eyes when I felt a tap on my shoulder. "What's wrong, Mom? Why don't you come to the bar? There are lotsa nice people there, even several at your age."

Yeah, my age. Don't I know it! Don't I know about people my age!

Sher was holding on to the arm of the empty chair next to me because she couldn't stand. She wasn't just tipsy; she was drunk.

"Sher, you've overdone it. You look like you got kicked in the gut."

"I'm just high a little. Such a nice night, isn't it? And it's much warmer here than in Rocky Road." She was slurring her words.

"I'm going to bed," I said. "Are you coming?"

"Nah, you go ahead. I'll come in whenever. I have a key."

I felt like telling her to be cautious of the carnivorous wolves circling her, those wolves under the swirling lights, but didn't. Instead I ambled to the room and got in bed.

My sleep, however, came with a price. I dreamt of Aunt Greta, smiling proudly at me because I was her star child, and people sitting around the room were jealous of my skills with the knives that sliced into a huge cheese cake. All of a sudden, Aunt Greta's head bobbed slightly, with her eyes turning glossy. Then she twisted around and fell to her knees. In a sudden panic, I screamed, noticing the knife in her back.

I opened my eyes. What the fuck? The clock on the side table showed 3:00 AM and Sher wasn't in her bed yet. Her absence together with the stupid dream was so astounding that I couldn't breathe for a second or two. So, I sat up to use my inhaler and took a drink of water from the bottle on the side table. I had to be getting soft in the head for having nightmares instead of handing them out to that fucking bitch Ariadne.

Damn you, Sher! Why couldn't you at least try with Kenton? But I needed my sleep if we were to leave early in the morning. So I closed my eyes again.



Chapter 20

I am thinking now
of grief, and of getting past it;
I feel my boots
trying to leave the ground,
I feel my heart
pumping hard. I want
to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable, beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.

Mary Oliver

Aria



I opened the door at the first knock. He stood there, tapping out a rhythm against his chest. "I must be in the wrong place," he said. "You are too young a lady. Where is the woman my age I came to embrace?"

"The rain on your eyeglasses must be clouding your sight, Marv. Come in." I stepped aside to let him in, wondering if my loud heartbeats could be heard from where he stood.

"Yup, I'm four eyes now," he said, placing his umbrella near the door and walking inside.

He had changed some. His body was more filled in, the stoop of the shoulders gone, replaced with upright, self-confident posture. He wore thin-rimmed glasses. His forehead had opened wider toward the crown of his head, and the lines on his face had deepened with a few wrinkles on his forehead. But the square chin, the same vivacious blue eyes, and the playful grin were not lost.

He stopped in the middle of the room, placed his coat on the back of the chair at the desk, and turned around to me. "Aria," he said, opening his arms. I rushed into them, to the only place I had ever wanted to be.

"I wanted this. I wanted this so much, all my life. And especially after Lyle told me how you reacted at the Thanksgiving table," he murmured into my hair.

"Me too," I said. "When Lyle unknowingly said his father didn't forget..." I sobbed.

"Sssshh!" He held me stroking my back. When I looked up, I saw tears on his face, too. His strength closed around me, and it felt like I had come home after a long absence.

We sat down, me at the edge of the bed, he at the armchair. His warmth had filled the room. My face was burning. His was blushed, too. "When did you come?" I asked. "The last time we talked, you didn't say anything about coming to New York? Well, you did, but..." After our powerful embrace, my words were choppy.

"No, I didn't. Not really, but here I am. Could you accomplish what you wanted to do?"

"I don't have a job anymore. I resigned, but I am not at home because Jayce is there. I left him, too. He didn't take it well."

"He will. He'll have to," he said. "Look, we need to catch up and I need to tell you some things. Very important things that you have to know. But can we first go to dinner, to some place quiet? I know we can't go to Central Park in this weather and risk facing the Japanese TV crew, but..."

"The Japanese Crew. You remembered!"

"I never forgot a moment with you, Aria." He reached and held my hands. Was I dreaming? He rose to his feet and pulled me up with him. Then he let go of my hands. "Let's go," he said.

By the time we stepped out of the elevator, we had given up on the Brasserie inside the hotel. Neither of us had the appetite for a full meal. As the rain had stopped, we decided to chance the R Lounge. I took his arm. I'm not sure if he offered it, but I took it anyway. He looked at me and grinned.

The maitre'd led us to a table in a corner with the full view of the Times Square. I wondered if Marvin tipped the man. He had to have.

The more I was close to him the more self-conscious I felt. He seemed to be just as insecure. After all, it had been thirty years, and some things did feel awkward as we both had changed. I wondered what it was that he so urgently wanted to tell me.

We ordered mojitos, onion soup and lobster rolls. He wasn't saying much, and I was dying for him to spill out whatever was so important.

"What is your daughter's name, Marvin?" I asked, thinking what he had to say might have to do with his recent divorce.

"Diana," he said and paused to look at me. "Her name is Diana. She's my right hand in the company. She has her law degree, and we'll be making her a junior partner very soon. But Diana is not who I'd like to tell you about." Then he added quickly, impatient to get down to the meat of his point. "Diana not my biological daughter. Everybody thinks so. Everybody knows so. But then neither is Lyle my biological son. Same story. Everybody thinks so. Everybody knows so. That's the gist of what I wanted to tell you, Aria."

I stopped eating. So did he. My stare had to be an incredulous one because he looked away at first, but then he continued talking. "When they told me Belle was with child, I insisted on a paternity test against my grandmother's, Fiona's, and your mother's objections. Belle said we'd get one. We went for testing. Eventually a report was produced which showed me as the father. I don't know how Belle or anyone else managed that, but that report was false, which I found out, several years later."

I was staring at his face speechless. He slid back a little, concentrating as if to give the whole thing more thought. "I wanted to tell you when I first found out, but you were married then, with a three-year old."

"How did you know you weren't the father?"

"Diana's mother, Hannah, was a secretary in the firm I was interning. She was pregnant and didn't have the nerve to tell her family. At the time, I had no idea about Belle's scam, but I wanted to take Lyle away from her especially after Lyle was in an accident, due to lack of her caring. And also, I thought neither Fiona nor Belle would be a good mother to him in the long run. However, the only way I could do it legally would be by showing that I could provide a better family environment for the child than Belle did. So I married Hannah and gave Diana my name. Belle was trying to make a go of her bakery. She had little time or patience for Lyle. She gave him to me without much resistance."

"But how did you find out, Marvin?"

"After a while, Hannah wanted another child, and we weren't successful. We both went through tests. My count was not up to par. It never was. It has never been." He looked down at his plate, then looked at me again. "They suggested artificial insemination, but by that time, I had decided we had enough children between us. Truth is, Hannah and I weren't compatible at all. Also, I felt she paid more attention to Diana than to Lyle. I sensed she wanted a child that was ours so I would stop paying attention to Lyle. Our other problems, however, were possibly my fault. Anyhow, when this situation came up after the fertility testing, I had another paternity test done with Lyle."

"Oh, my God! That Belle...Who else knows?"

"No one. Not the children. Especially not the children. I didn't want to hurt Lyle or Diana. Hannah knows, and she won't tell. She won't hurt Diana, and by proxy, Lyle."

"I feel so bad...so stupid. We should never part ways, Marv. We should at least keep in touch."

"We've been had, Aria. Ever since that paternity test, the second one, I wanted to tell you but couldn't approach you. I even came to New York a few times. I called Kinney & Russell, once. They said you were away on a couples cruise with Jayce Walder. I didn't want to shake your world when I heard that." He shot a sideways smile at me. "Ten days ago, Lyle told me how you wept at the Thanksgiving table when he unknowingly mentioned me having a high-school sweetheart. At that moment, I knew immediately that I had a chance, and that I had to do something, although I didn't know what. But then, you called."

My heart was trying to tear itself out of my body. I stared at him again. Behind his glasses, his eyes seemed to grow bigger and rounder, filling with old, old pain. He held my gaze. "You gave up too soon," he said. "You gave up on us. I wanted to show you something important. You broke up with me without listening to what I had to say and what I had to show you. I needed you to stick with me, but you told me to marry Belle, for the child's sake, and you left."

His reproach was the last thing I had expected, but he was right...in a way. I averted my eyes to my half-eaten plate, and I looked up again. "Oh Marv, I knew if I stayed there and discuss things with you, I could never leave. I thought I didn't have a choice. Mom...Clifford."

He must have read my pain, too, and being the softie that he was, he nodded. "I know. They always had a hold on you." But his face was bleached, rigid.

I reached to him suddenly, stroking his cheek. "I am sorry. So, so sorry," I said, swallowing whatever pride I had in me. "Marvin, don't quit on me. Not now. You are not a quitter."

He held my hand and pressed down on his cheek. "No, I'm not, and we've just started again. Don't torture yourself, Aria," he said. "I didn't mean to accuse you. I don't hold you responsible not as much as I hold me responsible. I shouldn't marry Belle no matter what you or anyone else said."

"You have no guilt, Marvin, but I..." I pulled my hand back, noticing the waiter approach us. He asked if we needed another drink. Marvin said yes, and the waiter walked back toward the bar for the drinks.

Marvin started again, looking down, as if talking to himself. "That morning, after I married Belle, I opened my eyes slowly with pain, realizing where I was. I was lying alone on the cot I had brought to Fiona's from my grandma's. Belle was sleeping in her own bed. I lay there, thinking how much I wanted to flee, how much I never wanted to see her again. I was never disgusted with anyone in my life as much as I felt disgusted with myself and with Belle that morning. Believe me, Aria, that sleeping arrangement did not change until I moved out and asked for a divorce."

To think how I had tortured myself imagining them together...but I forced a smile, pulling my lips tight. "You didn't have to tell me that."

"But I did," he said. "Chances are I didn't sleep with her, at all. At any time. You have to know that. You have to believe me."

"I believe you," I said. "I believe you more than I ever believed my own self. Belle would do that to me."

He reached and rubbed my arm. "It's going to be all right," he said.


Chapter 21

"Polonius: Though this be madness, yet there is method in't."
Shakespeare

Belle


When I woke up in the bungalow, Sher was still asleep. She had to have come in really late.

Kids! Tracking down rhinos should be easier.

But Sher was too old for me to tell her what time to come in. Anyway, I couldn't even do it with Eve. If it weren't for my mother, both girls would be out on the streets every night. My mother had a special way of laying down the rule. But who was I to force a curfew on a girl twenty-five years old?

At least, Sher didn't make noise to mess with my sleep when she came in. I wanted her to be able to drive at least part of the way back, so I didn't wake her. I stayed in bed for a little while, but I didn't want to miss the free breakfast so I got up and dressed quietly without taking a shower.

I brought with me an extra coffee and a Danish because the breakfast room was about be closed at ten. When I walked into the room, I heard the shower running. Good, I thought, we'll make it home by the evening.

But before we left our bungalow, I received a call from Lyle. "Mom, would you check the room I slept in? I think I left a set of keys that belonged to the Math Lab. Now each time I have to go in, I have to ask the custodian to open the door for me."

"Lyle, Hon, it has to wait till tomorrow because Sher and I are at Key Largo. We'll start back momentarily. I'll check, the minute we step through the door."

"Key Largo, now that's an improvement. I'm glad you guys are taking the time to enjoy."

At that point, Sher yelled into the phone or rather more like into my ear. "No vacation, Bro. Mom had an ulterior motive."

I couldn't help myself. I slapped her. "Are you trying to rupture my eardrum?" I yelled. Sher only giggled.

"Mom, calm down," Lyle said. "How's Grandma and Eve? Is everyone okay?"

"We will be once your sister stops trying to make me deaf. How are you doing, and your sister there, she's okay?"

"Diana is fine, taking care of Dad's office since he left for New York."

"Marvin is in New York?"

There was a few seconds of silence at the other end. Then Lyle said, "I think I said it wrong. It is either Jersey or Philly he went to. You know how he goes after client affairs...all the time. Hard to keep track."

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever. I'll look for your keys, Lyle. Now we have to get going. I'll call you back if I find them."

Sher took the phone from my hand to talk to Lyle, but Lyle had hung up already. Before she could dial him again, I said, "Don't call him now. Let's go." And I picked up my bag.

Marvin in New York? Ariadne in New York, too, and suddenly? Coincidence? No way. No coincidence here. If it were, Lyle wouldn't change his words. He had a precise mind and never mixed up anything. Hadn't he said he'd talk to Marvin about Ariadne when he left right after Thanksgiving?

Damn! Now, all my work would be of little use. I certainly didn't want that bitch to have her cake and eat it, too. Unless of course, it was my homemade fancy cheesecake...

I threw the keys at Sher. "You drive," I said. "I have a headache."

That fancy cheesecake specially put together for Ariadne...I had to save it from burning. Just as soon as I could find a way...

Then it hit me. Yes, there was a way, and maybe I could even take care of it before we got home.

Jayce Walder, of course.

How convenient!


Chapter 22

"I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright.
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Has led me-who knows how?
To thy chamber-window, sweet"

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Ariadne


I asked Marvin to stay with me that night.

"I was beginning to worry you wouldn't ask, but I was going to stay anyway," he said, taking his jacket off. "Even if it would mean sleeping on the hallway at your door."

His boldness was working on me like an aphrodisiac. "That's nice to know," I said, drawing closer to him. "But that would be such a waste."

He reached for me, grabbing my chin, and tilted my head up toward his. After we kissed, he kept whispering my name as if making sure the moment was real. His voice felt like a soft feather stroking down my spine from the nape to the small of my back.

Then he pulled me to him, and said, "Isn't this moment much better than the entire thirty years of the past?"

I couldn't answer because I couldn't look away from his eyes. Instead, I undid the buttons of his shirt. He moaned when I pressed my lips on his bare chest. I dragged my lips up his neck. I couldn't think. I could only feel. And I was barely conscious when all our clothes came off.

Something had come over Marvin. He acted in haste but not with hesitation. Once he had nestled inside me, without preliminary buildup, and pressed deeper and deeper, the enormity of the sensation made me peak.

When he eased off, I muttered, "I must be dreaming."

He waited with his eyes widening. Then he started again, this time taking it real slow, and I seized him, my hands hungry and greedy for his shoulders, for his back, for the feel of him.

It was an epic night, like water turning to wine, like we were in our twenties again, regardless of our wrinkles and the sagging, but with our eyes aglow with emotion.

I don't know what time it was when I opened my eyes. Marvin was still clutching me to his chest. I peeked down trying not to move. His one leg was bent at the knee, the other stretched straight out. His chest slowly rose and fell. I smiled thinking some things had never changed. In sleep, his face looked relaxed and so sweet and soft, just like a baby. He opened his eyes blinking and saw me watching him.

"Wow!" he said drowsily, "I thought I was dreaming. For so long, dreams of you have haunted me. So many dreams, so many nights...I dreamt of holding you like this. Tell me this is no dream."

"I, too, dreamt of you all the time, but this is no dream, Marvin. We will no longer be trapped in nostalgic dreams, only to wake up to curse the world," I said. "We won't let go of the real thing again."

"No way," he said and pulled me up for a kiss and for other wonders.

When I woke up again, he wasn't near me. I heard the shower running. I got up and walked around, then perched at the edge of the bed, thinking of yesterday's evening at the R Lounge. Thinking of his words that shook me to my core, more so now than when I first heard them. As if I had just begun to realize what had been done to us.

I mean when someone tells you something shocking you don't know about, you think you grasped it mentally, at first. But only later the feelings around the words set in slowly, insidiously.

All my life, I had run from one thing to another at breakneck speed to make people happy --my mother, my stepdad, my dad, and anyone connected to the family. In return, what had they done? They had done everything that wasn't agreeable to me plus pushing me around, taking away what's important to me. And now I was furious...Yes, furious and more than furious. I was fuming.

Fuming inside...Although I did have an ounce or two of self-control, since I was brought up that way, I was furious and fuming. How furious was I? They would not want to know. Nobody would want to know or face my furor, especially Belle.

"Aria, what's the matter? Why that face?" Marvin came out of the shower with the towel around him and sat at the edge of the bed next to me.

"It is hitting me," I said. "Full force. The reality of it. All that you told me last night."

Rage was the first emotion, then wanting justice, call it revenge, if you must, but I felt like a mess, even with Marvin's arms around me and despite the spectacular night we spent together. He understood and held me through my diatribe.

"J tried to be nice to everybody in my life. I was a straight A student in school. I was a good girl. I didn't ask for more than what was given to me, not that I needed it. I've been an obedient daughter, a fairly good career girl, and I never backstabbed anyone. I put up with everyone's crap, and now, I'm old. And look, what've they done to me, to us."

"Aria, you're not old, and I know how you are feeling now because I've gone through that inside me, over and over again."

"They brainwashed me and I let them. They brainwashed me to be compliant to their world of fantasy. They brainwashed me about the importance of how one appeared to others. I'm angry because, despite my smarts, I could not escape the pretense of that idiotic world."

I was so tensed up, I couldn't even weep.

Marvin sighed. "You're angry, as you should be, but we need to focus on today, on how we can live the rest of our lives the way we want, don't you think?"

"Yes, but I can't help it. More than Belle, more than anything, I can't help this rage of being brainwashed. Yes, I was brainwashed to do the right thing, which wasn't right after all."

"Aria, calm down. Doing the right thing isn't all that bad. Bad things didn't happen to us because you did the right thing. They happened because a damaged woman wanted to take revenge for the damage in her character. Unfortunately, she chose you as her target."

I took a deep breath. "I should be so happy, and I am today, Marvin. Like you, I too dreamed of a night like last night, for the last three decades. Imagine, three decades of youth...lost to us."

"We still have a few decades left, and I want us to make every second of them a spectacular one. It isn't over in Sherwood forest, milady, as last night is the proof of it."

"Sorry, Robin Hood, right now, I am livid for having been lost inside another jungle."

"You're not lost, Lady Aria. You're here, rearranging our forest. Rearranging it to make it safe from ghosts and savage beasts. Now go take your shower and we can talk about how to proceed from here."

At breakfast, I said, "Before yesterday, I didn't want to stay here in New York any longer. Now I don't want to go back to Rocky Road. If I go there, I don't know if I could keep a cool head. I'm even mad at my own mother, can you believe?"

"Don't blame her. She did what she thought was right. So did my grandmother. As you must remember, my grandmother and Fiona were church buddies." He cupped a hand over his eyes and stifled a groan. Then he pulled his hand down and continued. "This I didn't mention. It was my grandmother who insisted the most that I marry Belle. To her Belle was angelic, and I had acted the demon. Go figure. Like you, I too, was mad at Grandma. Yet when she died, a few months after I left Rocky Road, I still went back to her funeral. After all, she had taken me in and cared for me from the time I was fourteen."

I smiled. "I remember you at fourteen. When Mrs. Jacobs first introduced you in homeroom, you looked so shy, all leggy and pale-faced, and I liked the way your hair fell on your forehead. I thought I've got to speak to this boy. I don't even know why I thought that."

"That hair is all gone now." He grinned, rubbing the top of his forehead. "Wasn't I the social retard? When you said hi to me and asked where I came from, I was so surprised that I stammered, self-conscious of my Texan twang. Here in this school, was the most popular, the most beautiful girl with dreamy blue eyes talking to me even though I stumbled over my words and sounded so weird. But when you took me under your wings, this is a great school, I thought. Come to think of it, I must have fallen for you right there, on that hallway."

"You were a bit timid then, and I loved your twang; still do, since you must have regained it back. You were, and are, knock-out handsome, Marvin. Maybe it was your looks for me at first, but afterwards, it was more than that. Soon we found out we liked similar stuff, and we hung out together. Remember the school dance, that year?"

"How can I forget? You asked me to go with you, when every guy in school asked you to go with him."

"Don't exaggerate, not every guy. You didn't. Until I asked you."

We both giggled at the memory of it.

Then he was serious, suddenly, abruptly. "If you hadn't talked to me, if I hadn't met you at that time in that school, I would probably turn into a bum," he said.

"No, you wouldn't. Why would you even say such a thing?"

"Because of who you were. Because I wanted to be worthy of you. Because of you, I studied hard. You were my spiritual cornerstone, like the first stone set in a new construction, the guidepost that orients all future pieces of the structure." He was looking at me with a sudden surge of affection and tears in his eyes, no matter that we were having breakfast in the middle of the breakfast room filled with hotel guests. "All because you were you. Without you, I was just a cast-aside, orphan boy who nobody would have talked to if you hadn't."

I put my hand over his. "No, Marvin," I said. "You would never have been a cast-aside person. That is not who you are. That is not who you were. People fit the society they are in, true, but who they are inside doesn't change."

We sat quietly for a few minutes, just sipping our coffees.

"Come with me to Millennium. I need a change of clothes." A playful grin tugged at his lips. "We can plan what to do, after that."

So under a drizzle, we walked a few blocks to the Millennium. A few hours and couple more showers later, Marvin said, "The way we are going, we won't leave a hotel in New York unvisited. I can't believe I've lost my head like this, totally."

We were sitting in Marv's room in two leather armchairs in front of the window with the full view of the street on Broadway.

I said, "We are making up for lost time. Who was it who said, to love is to lose control?"

"Paulo Coelho, I think. Let's lose control even more. Remember how you asked me the first time to go to the school dance with me? How come you are not asking me anymore?"

I laughed. "Marv, will you take me to the school dance?"

"At fifty-three, we'd be the pair. But I was thinking..." He changed his position in the chair and leaned toward me, his eyes twinkling.

"Oh, oh...I know when you start with, I was thinking..."

"I mean...we finally found each other again. Before Belle..." He twisted in his seat as if the very name gave him a burning itch. "Or someone else does something again..."

Like me, he was wary of the nasties. To give courage to us both, I said, "We won't let them, will we?"

"No, we won't, but I don't want to be away from you ever again, and humming and humming about the past won't get us anywhere. I mean...we need to be on a master calendar."

He had never been a man lost inside his own words, but why was he acting like an illiterate politician now? "Marvin? What are you trying to say? I think you are trying to say something and I'm not getting it."

"Aria, don't get mad. We won't do it if you don't want. It's just an idea." He fixed his gaze on me as if trying to read my mind.

"Out with it, Marv!"

"Let's hop on the next flight to Las Vegas and get married."

I gasped as my eyes searched his face. He wasn't joking, and I was probably more excited about the prospect than he did.

"Sure," I answered in wild joy, "why not!"



Chapter 23


"When one with honeyed words but evil mind
Persuades the mob, great woes befall the state."
Euripides

Belle


No wonder Lyle forgot his keys. He couldn't get away from me fast enough to snitch stuff to Marvin. My kids are backstabbers. All three of them.

One thing that got my attention, though. Lyle was acting rather strange through the whole time he was here. For one thing, he was always on the phone, several times a day for maybe hours. Sher said she overheard him address someone as "My Love." She's sure he's seriously involved with someone, and he wanted to get back to her. Sher said, him talking to his father was just a lame excuse. I now vaguely remember that it was last year sometime when he had told me he had a girlfriend. Big deal! Girl friends can come and go. They may not mean much. I just hope he doesn't get too involved with a loser.

I picked the keys from the top of the dresser where Lyle had laid them and put them in a small box. I handed the box to Sher for her to mail it the next day. I still didn't know exactly what to do concerning Ariadne, but I felt strongly that Jayce would be the key. As always, my intention was the driving force, although I didn't know how to go about it. I thought, Let me get in touch with Jayce first, and something will pop up in my head.

The next day, not knowing how to reach him, I called the bitch's home in New York. A woman with a Spanish accent, probably the maid, answered. I asked her if I could talk to either Miss Kinney or Mr. Jayce Walder. She said Mr. Walder was away, and Miss Kinney was staying somewhere else. I asked her where she was, but the maid said she didn't know or wouldn't tell me. Then I asked if she knew how to reach Mr. Walder. She said she didn't know that either, but I could call Kinney & Russell and ask for him.

Although this conversation had some tidbits of information, it was long distance money spent for little use. So I called Kinney & Russell. The computer voice asked for my account number and Information.

Damn fuck! Why do they make life so difficult by putting crazed computers in between people? That, too, was probably Ariadne's doing.

Everything nasty in this world is Ariadne's doing. Bitch!

I clicked off and was going to try again, but Kat rushed into my office without knocking. Before I could scold her, she said Raquel and Phil were at each other's throats about the ovens, and their voices were coming to the front room where customers were lined up.

That Ariadne had to have made a deal with the devil.

I rushed to the kitchen. Phil was standing in front of the counter with mounds of dough ready to be baked, and Raquel stood in front of the second oven with her hands on her hips as if guarding the thing.

"Stop it, both of you," I said in my most authoritative voice. "We have customers up front, and you are making a racket."

Phil said, "Raquel is hogging the second oven, and I have to get the breads in there before the dough falls. I can't work here like this, Belle."

I turned to Raquel. "Raquelita, what is in the second oven?" Raquel and I go a long way, as I knew her from the time we were both students in Le Cordon Bleu, but Phil was the better baker. I didn't want to alienate either one of them.

"Cheesecakes," she said. "If people are lining up, it is because of the cheesecakes. Morning's batch is all gone, so I made another batch."

I hadn't authorized Raquel to go ahead with the second batch, and it was clear she had trespassed her boundaries again. But I couldn't tell her that, and I couldn't offend Phil. How would Ariadne manage this kind of a mess? The bitch would know what to do. So, I decided to act like her, by putting the best smile I could muster on my face and talking in a soft voice.

"This does seem to be a problem," I said. "I wonder if we could squeeze in a third oven in here." Not that I would get a third oven. If I did, the electrical wiring would have to be reinstalled.

"You know that can't happen," Phil said. "The immediate problem is what do we do now?"

"Yes, of course, you're right about that, Phil," I said, still keeping my Ariadne face. "Raquelita, let me peek in just a sec, in there."

"But they will spoil," Raquel whimpered.

Still, I opened the oven's door, despite the thin smoke blowing in my face. I closed it again immediately, grabbing a clean cloth to my face, as any kind of smoke could trigger an asthma attack, and I had left my inhaler in the office.

When I was sure the attack wasn't coming, I spoke. "The cake pans are too far apart, since each one has a separate water-filled pan under it. Why don't we put one large container with water in it and put the pans closer together, even if just for today? That would clear at least three racks for Phil."

Phil grumbled. "Bread takes higher setting that her cheesy cakes."

"No, Aria. That would spoil my batch," Raquel whimpered.

"You know, we have tricks to cover up inconsistencies, Raquelita. Just for today, let's do that. And Phil, you can bring over the things in the first oven here and raise the first oven's temp for the breads. Okay?"

Damn, it was so difficult to act like Ariadne when, in truth, I wanted to whip both chefs. But they did as I told them, with me directing the process, and nothing spoiled. Why do I always end up with crazy, temperamental people!

Afterwards, I called Kinney & Russell again, but this time as the computerized voice talked, I kept clicking on the numbers. I guess, I confused the computer so much that some real human answered.

"Asset Management. Who did you wish to talk to, Ma'am?"

"Is there any way I can speak with Miss Kinney or Mr. Walder? It is personal, and I am Mrs. Cordero."

There was a pause. I thought of hanging up, but she came back and said, "Miss Kinney no longer works with us. She resigned a few days ago. Mr. Walder is not here either. Would you like to leave a message? I'll see to it that he gets it."

I couldn't think of anything right away, but my eye caught the address on a charity envelope on my desk that had come in with the day's mail. "All right, but please make sure Mr. Walder gets this message. Here it is: Aria needs more testing done before the cancer spreads to her brain. Please help her."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the voice said. "Who do I say is calling? I'm really sorry. No wonder she left suddenly. We love her very much."

"Yes, so do we, here at the office. Thank you," I said and clicked off before she could ask which office. But I was sure the grapevine would carry the news all over the company.

I could have been such a successful journalist or a CIA spy!



Chapter 24

"Long enough have you dream'd contemptible dreams,
Now I wash the gum from your eyes,
You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light
and of every moment of your life"
Walt Whitman

Ariadne



Marvin reached for his iPad on the top of the desk. "My entire office is here," he said.

I got up from my seat and perched on the arm of his chair. Indeed, he had apps for Jury Pad, Trial Pad, Westlaw, Lexis-Nexis and FastCase Libraries, Settled Cases, Lawyer Assist, Dictation, etc.

"Wow," I said. "And I thought I was good with mine."

"I was getting by before the iPad era, but this is much easier. Now, let's see what we can do."

The search gave us the name of a wedding chapel with good reviews. Marvin called and booked for two days later.

"If you want a big wedding or a church wedding, we can do it again with your family present," he said, in the same old way I never forgot, the way his mouth crooked when he thought he was being placatory.

"No, sir," I objected, while he was clicking hastily on his iPad. "I want that day to be special for the two of us. Nobody else is allowed in. I'm not even going to tell Kenton, until after. Maybe we can fly to Florida and tell everyone in person sometime around Christmas."

He clasped my forearm. "Good idea and I totally agree. Let me just pack up. Then we can go to your hotel and get your things. There's a direct Delta flight at 5:59. I'm sure we'll find seats either in that or some other one. We have a sky suite reserved in Aria's." He winked with mischief. "Since the hotel stole your name, I had to pick that one. They'll hold our reservation until we arrive."

Was it the universe backing us up or was it Marvin's skill with his iPad, I couldn't tell, but everything went according to plan and with incredible speed. In the plane, once the seatbelt sign was off, we lifted the armrest between us and cuddled all the way to Vegas. I think we also caused the flight personnel to walk around with wide grins on their faces.

The Sky Suite in Hotel Aria had a living room with a dining area and ceiling to floor glass windows covering the entire façade with the full view of the city lights. Still a crescent moon lazily rocked on the top of the brilliance below. Who would have guessed that a strange town like Vegas could hide such unknown, wild joy?

Marvin embraced me from behind. "Enjoying the stardust?"

"I could live here forever, away from it all, but with you," I said, closing my eyes to take in the warmth of him.

"Hmmm...but to live, we'll need to eat." He nibbled on my earlobe.

"You keep doing that to me, and we won't eat forever," I said.

"Let's go down, then, and find something."

I wanted to be alone with him, not in a tourist-filled dining room. Overwhelmed by the crowds downstairs, we found our way to Jean Philippe Patisserie and picked up couple of chocolate pastries and crème brûlée.

"Let's take these up and order room service," I suggested.

"You don't want to be seen with me, I gather," Marvin said with a mock frown.

"Exactly!" I said. "Not until after we have our marriage certificate. I'm sooo old-fashioned, you know."

"Chicken!" He said, and he was right. I was wary of being seen with Marvin by someone I knew from Manhattan, as several people from Jayce's circle hopped to Vegas at every chance, and while we were being driven to the hotel from the airport, I thought a group of men on the side of the road resembled Jayce's buddies.

So we went to our suite and ordered Rib-eye with veggies and Cabernet from the room service. It was the best meal I'd had in ages.

"Tomorrow, we have to get our rings," Marvin said.

"Let's get them after we're married."

"Why?" There was an edge in the tone of his voice, and I could feel his eyes skimming over me.

"I...I saw a couple of Jayce's friends on the street when we were in the taxi coming here. They come here quite often, the whole bunch of them."

"Oh, I see." His voice had softened somewhat. "And if they see us, so what?"

"They'll text Jayce. They are like that. I know I don't make sense to you. Heck, I don't make sense to me either, but I can't help this. I want to protect us this time."

He stared at me with a bewildered expression, but also with a hint of a smile, a charming smile.

"In that case," he said, reaching into his jacket, "Let's start the ball rolling. I had this with me since Houston, just in case. When we decided to marry, we were in your hotel, and this was in my room in Millennium. And I couldn't find a proper time after that." He brought out a small black velveteen box, and he snapped its lid open. Then he curled his finger around my hand and slid the ring on to my finger with his usual gentle touch.

I gasped, speechless, the solitaire taking my breath away. So much fire in that stone and in the hand that was holding my hand, with his thumb stroking gently across my knuckles.

"This isn't a wedding ring but it is the kind of ring I wanted to give you when we were both fourteen." His eyes glittered with amusement.

I was so hysterical with delight that I almost flung myself at him. Next thing I know, we were not sitting at the table anymore. We were both on our feet, embracing. He tightened his arm around me, tilting my head, making our kiss deeper.

When we stopped for breath, I said, "It is the most beautiful ring, and thank you. My most valued possession now, one only you could give. But how did you know my ring size?"

"Simple," he said. "I never forgot it. That's all."


When I opened my eyes the next morning, he wasn't in the suite, but there was breakfast on the table. I gathered he had ordered room service before I was awake.

I stood looking at the table when a sudden flush of emotion, a feeling of emptiness, surged from inside me, as if the furniture and any other thing in the room were derelict and didn't belong. Something like panic was setting in and my heart was racing so fast that I felt sick. He couldn't have left me. He wouldn't. But what if he did? What if he did to get back at me for what I did to him thirty years ago?

My sensible side comforted the irrational me that wherever Marvin went, he'd be back soon, and that I was probably suffering from some kind of a temporary PTSD after the highly charged couple of weeks I had lived through. I crouched on the floor and practiced some Yoga breathing.

Soon, I was close to my old self again. After showering and dressing, I sat down to breakfast but couldn't eat. So I just poured coffee in a cup and took the cup to the living area.

All my life, I had been self-sufficient. All my life I hadn't lost my cool or given in to anger or histrionics. I would be embarrassed to mention this sudden sweep of change in me to anyone, even to Marvin. As I sipped the coffee, I promised me no matter what could happen, I wouldn't let myself fall apart.

When I walked back to pour more coffee, I saw the note on side table leaning against the small floral arrangement. It said--I'll be back soon. Eat your breakfast. Love. Marvin

Why hadn't I seen that note before? And why had I let silly nerves get the better of me? Maybe because I had never let loose in a long time like I did with Marvin during the last few days. Maybe because I wasn't accustomed to sudden floods of emotions, and now they were happening haphazardly since I had unleashed them. Maybe because, what I felt with other people was loneliness and isolation even if I had been in the middle of the crowds.

Maybe it was all those things. I sat at the table and started eating.

When I finished, I realized I hadn't received any phone calls for a while. I remembered turning off my phone when we boarded the plane. I hadn't turned it back on. What if Marvin called from wherever he went or my mother?

I stepped into the sleeping area, picked my cell from the top of the dresser, and turned it on. An enormous amount of voice mail had accumulated.

I began checking them.

Scott's voice: "Aria, so sorry! Why didn't you tell us? Is there something I can do? Take care of yourself."

Liz's voice accompanied with sobs: "Aria, please be well. I wish this didn't happen to you. Love you bunches."

Most anyone from Kinney & Russell had called and left similar messages. What was this all about? Was this one of Jayce's devious schemes?

There were also few missed called from Rocky Road but no voice mail messages, and one from Kenton that said, "Mom, wherever you are, enjoy yourself. If you can, call me. Love ya!"

Just then, the door to the suite opened. Throwing the phone on the bed, I jumped to my feet and rushed to Marvin.

"I've missed you this morning more than I have ever missed anyone," I said as my arms went around him by instinct, but I restrained myself in order not to say more, not to tell him how I fell apart when I saw he wasn't in the room.

"That is the kind of welcome I have missed for so long," he said as he pressed into me and we kissed open-mouthed, the small package in his hand brushing against my back. When he let go, I felt certain we were joined more tightly than any two people could ever be.

Holding on to each other, we walked into the living area.

"I left early in the morning because I don't want to be married without a ring," he said, as he opened a red velvet rectangular box. "I have never wanted to wear a ring this badly," he added, keeping his eyes on the box, as he undid its clasp. We both sat down on the sofa our eyes glued to the box. Inside it, were the two-tone Gold Hammer and Cord matching wedding bands. "They are perfect," I said. "Absolutely, deliciously perfect. I can't wait to wear mine."

The rings were truly perfect in elegance and simplicity. Anyhow, even a brass curtain ring would have made me just as happy.

Just at that moment, Marvin's cell rang. He put the box in my hand and took out his cell from his pocket. He rose to his feet, quickly caught up in another matter, and started walking up and down as he argued with the caller, the vein on his forehead bulging and his face turning a shade of purple.

"You don't need me there. You could easily handle this, Rich...I know I said...Sometimes more important things take precedence..."

I gathered he had to be in court and our plans were getting in his way. I stood up and touched his arm. He looked at me raising his eyebrows in question. I made a gesture by putting my finger to my mouth and then pointing to him, to indicate I wanted to say something. He nodded, and said to the person calling him, "Someone is at the door, Rich. I'll call you right back."

"Are our plans getting in your way?"

He puffed his cheeks and blew out an exasperated breath. "I'll let nothing get in the way of our plans, Aria, even if it means I'll make my partners and a client crazy." He covered my hand that was touching his arm with his and squeezed it gently.

"I understood from what little I've heard, you have to be in court. When?"

"On the twentieth. It is just not possible." He shook his head.

"Why not? Tomorrow is the 18th."

"We said we'd go to your mother's together. I'm not going to leave you go there alone." He closed his lips together as if trying to hold in some nervous energy.

"I'm not going to leave you either. I'll come with you to Houston." He swiveled suddenly to hold me in a tight embrace. I continued. "I want to settle in Houston with you." And I reached for his lips.

When we came up for breath, he looked up at the ceiling, and said, "Early Christmas? I thought I was standing under the mistletoe."

I chuckled. "I'm so glad you still have your sense of humor."

He grinned at that. "You brought it back. Magic exists."

Twisting out of his arms, I said, "Call Houston, and say you'll be there to whoever it was you argued with."

"What about your mother?"

"We'll still go to Rocky Road afterwards. I'll call her and tell her something so she won't worry."

And I did while Marvin and I were sitting next to each other on the sofa. I said I was after some important business, and I'd try to be in Rocky Road on Christmas.

"I called New York, and Esperanza said Jayce had moved out, and you weren't in New York. Where are you?" Mom asked.

"In Nevada, but I'll leave here after tomorrow. Then I may go to Canada or somewhere else. It depends."

"Do you feel all right, Aria? A few people called here from New York asking me how you are. I got the distinct impression that they think you are seriously ill."

"Someone must have assumed that, Mom, since I suddenly resigned. You know how gossip starts."

"If you resigned, why are you after business?"

I tried to keep my voice mild and patient as a jumble of nerves ripped through me. "It has nothing to do with Kinney & Russell. It's something else. I'll tell you all about it when I get there. Too long to explain now, because I've got to go. Someone is here who needs my signature."

"As long as you are all right..."

After I clicked off, Marvin hooked his arm around me. "For a CEO, you are not a good liar," he said. "You spooked me there."

"Thank God, Mom didn't insist. But she was worried that I was sick. They called her from the company at home hinting I might be sick."

He looked at me with mock solemnness. I continued, picking up my phone again, "Listen to this." I dialed my voice mail.

"Who'd do a thing like that?" I wondered after the messages were over.

He scrunched his nose. "Could it be Jayce Waller?"

"He's moved out of the house. So...I gathered that was that. He wouldn't play games like that. I don't think...Jayce's more of a sharp shooter. I would call and ask, but I don't want him in my hair again. Marv, what would you do if you were me?"

"I would call someone at the office and try to clear the air. On the other hand, you don't work there anymore, and we have more important things to tend to." He ran his hand through my hair. I inched closer to him. "Do what your instinct tell you," he said.

So I called Scott. He was surprised because he did believe I was sick with cancer, and it was spreading to my brain.

"Actually someone called and somehow reached Nicole from the Asset Management," he said. "Nicole thought it was a doctor's office. But I'm so glad you're well, Aria," he said.

"I'm still thinking it may be Jayce," Marvin said afterwards.

"No, it can't be," I said. "Now I'm sure it wasn't him. Jayce is the kind of guy who can't take this. He is germaphobic. He is deadly afraid of disease. He wouldn't even stick around me when I had a cold. On the bright side, this rumor may be why he moved out of the house."

"Nice guy!" Marvin murmured, as his arm tightened around me.

"You know what? I'll call Nicole." So I dialed the company and asked for asset management. By the time Nicole picked up her phone, Marvin and I were into some deep smooching.

"Aria, I'm so glad you are fine," she said, after listening to my explanation. "It might be some sick joke someone could be playing on you."

"Nicole," I said, "Did he give you a name?"

"She. It was a she, Aria. She wanted to reach to Jayce, but somehow was connected to me. I told her I'd give her message to Jayce, and I did. As you know, our system recognizes the phone numbers, but it didn't this one. Probably that is why it connected her to me, if by chance, it might be a new investor. We could run a more serious check on this, Aria, if you wish."

"No, thanks, Nicole. It was probably a prank. Not worth the company's time."

As I clicked out, I said to Marvin, "Prank or no prank, someone wanted to get in my way, but instead helped the tedious job of getting rid of Jayce. Probably without wanting to." I threw my head back and laughed.

But he wasn't laughing. "Lyle," he said, and shook his head.

"Lyle would do no such thing. What would Lyle have to do with this?"

"He called me in the morning while I was choosing the rings. He apologized to me for a slip-up. He said my being in New York escaped from him while he was talking to his mother. Then he said he tried to undo it, and said I could be in New Jersey or somewhere else, which might have made it worse."

"So you think it is..."

We both uttered the same name at the same time. "Belle!" And I started laughing hysterically.

"Don't laugh, Aria. Belle has it in for you. I am now worrying about this," Marvin said. "This could escalate. She is perverted, abnormal. And she has been after you for ages. God knows what else she has done behind your back. I remember some things from High School, which I didn't tell you at the time. Maybe I should have."

"Oh, I knew that. She has been gross like that ever since we were in grade school. Maybe even before that. At times, she would be nice and act friendly to me. Then abruptly, when least expected, she'd do the most disturbing thing."

"That is so sick..."

"I learned something a couple of weeks ago from my mother. Her father became mentally ill."

"Your mother knows her father?"

"She only knows who he is. I don't know if I should get mad at Belle or be sorry for her. I'm really upset about what she did to us, though."

"So am I, Aria. So am I." Then he clutched me to him, and I felt my mouth trembling beneath his and as I opened to him, luring him deeper, as he tightened his fingers in my hair.


It was later in the afternoon. We were sitting at the table, eating. Since we had skipped lunch and slept through most of the day, we had ordered an early dinner from the room service. "I have a small apartment in Uptown. I'll take you there," Marvin said. "I'd like you to meet Diana and my partners. I want to show you around and puff my chest with pride."

As I stood up to get something from the top of the counter, there was a knock on the door. "I'll open it," I said and went to the door.

"Delivery, for Mr. Norris and Miss Kinney," the bellhop said, and handed me a couple of hangers of what looked like clothing and a large box.

"Must be a mistake..."

"No, no mistake," Marvin said from behind me, reaching out for the box. I took the hangers, still puzzled a bit, but also grinning with a delightful suspicion.

Marv tipped the bellhop. After I closed to door, I turned to him, still holding the hangers. "Since you wouldn't come with me, I took it upon myself to arrange our attire," he said. "We should dress like we would have, thirty years ago."

"No wonder you were late in the morning," I said.

"We're not that late" he said, lifting the plastic off one of the hangers. A bridal gown... "Besides, I wanted you to see me in a tux. If you don't like this, we can go together and choose another one."

"I love it! It is absolutely breathtaking, just what I'd have picked, but Marv, I'm not going out of this hotel, making a spectacle, dressed like... like..."

He chuckled. "You can wear it over there. They have a dressing room, and we'll have photo shoot, too."

I didn't tell him I had already married in white a long time ago. I didn't tell him, when I was marrying Hal, just before putting on the white gown, I had thrown up in the bathroom and cried ceaselessly until someone had knocked on the door. I didn't tell him I had blamed and cursed him, Marvin--the only love of my life, for bringing that disaster on us.

Amazing, how much pain and resentment my heart held, then...Going on with my life, looking as if I was holding it all together, even though I couldn't, and then marrying Hal abruptly...all those things I did that year had been my way of getting back at Marvin.

I recalled our last meeting before he married Belle and I left Rocky Road for good. After I had told him he should marry Belle for the child, for which he was responsible, I had added, "I'm out of here Marv. I'll be out of your lives for good. I promise we'll never see each other; we'll never meet. Because it would be awkward if we did."

"Our history has never been awkward, Aria. Please don't do this. Don't do this to us. At least let me show you something first," he had begged.

"That's enough. No more discussion. You should have thought twice before hopping into bed with your child's mother."

I was every woman then, every betrayed woman, every enraged woman. I had done what most women do with rage when betrayed. We do what needs to be done, then we bury it. We bury it regardless of the fact that what we bury turns into a zombie and comes back to devour us over and over again. And despite that zombie, we still keep up the appearances, fulfill our obligations, and take care of life around us, although not our own.

All this, I had succumbed to without positive truth, without any good insight, and without knowing who was innocent and on whom the real blame lay.

Bewildered, I shook off my thoughts, and "Photo shoot?" I answered Marvin. Hal had hired several photographers, too. Darn those memories... "Yes, that will be nice, Marv."

We made room for the hangers and the box in the closet. As we turned to finish our food, he held me by my wrists, squeezing them reflexively. "Is there something you are not telling me?"

"Yes," I said. "There is something." Of course, I wouldn't tell him in detail what had just passed through my mind. Not now. Maybe in the future, in the far future. "Everything's perfect, but I want champagne now. I want to start celebrating." Leaning over, I rubbed my cheek against his.

"Really?" His brow lifted, as his arms came around me. "I promise, I won't take over decisions we should be making together. Not again. I'm not a control freak. I just wanted this so much and for so long..."

"I didn't think that, Marv. Honest! It wasn't you. It's just that a bad memory surfaced. One I don't want to mess up this beautiful moment by putting it into words. I'll tell you about it someday, but not today, just not today."

He held me tight to him then. "I understand," he said. "If you don't want to, don't talk about it at all. Memories of terror come to me, too. It's like we're soldiers with PTSD who have just come home from an awful war."

"I love everything you do, believe me. Whatever you do suits me just fine. Don't ever think I didn't like something or other."

"Maybe I was just looking for extra attention."

"Then I'll give it to you with or without champagne." My lips parted as his thumb brushed over them.


Chapter 25

"You never run out of things that can go wrong."
Addendum to Murphy's Law

Belinda


"I don't know what you did, Belle, but you made her flee." My mother's accusation poured like acid into my ears.

As much as I was used to her accusations, they filled me with anger. I was infuriated at her, at Sher, at the whole world. But mostly at Ariadne. This, too, had to be her doing.

"You are always causing a ruckus, Belle. The way you treat your children repulse me."

"Too bad! Live with it, Mother." She wasn't aware she was getting my dander up.

"Dear God, why didn't I have a child like..."

Something in me snapped.

She couldn't finish her words because I smacked her without even thinking. "Shut up, you warped bitch!"

She stared at me, one side of her face bright red. I stared right back. "Shut up," I said again, as heat raced through my body.

She whimpered raising her hand to her cheek. "I am your mother!"

I gasped with rage. "No, you're not. Aunt Greta is more my mother than you ever were." And I marched out of the room. I wasn't going to take her whining now, while my distress over what Sher did to me was so much greater.

Sher told my mother, not me, that she had decided to move in with two nurses to a condo in the condo complex off Magnolia Drive, and then, had walked out the door for good.

Maybe I had clung to Sher too tightly. Maybe I had pushed her too hard. Still, why would she suddenly pack her things and move out? And with no notice, no consultation, and no thanks, she did that to me while I was in the bakery, busting my butt trying to talk sense to two chefs who could not get along with each other.

When the child you believed to be the most loving to you moves out on you, bitterness eats you up like a disease.

I wondered, at that moment, if anybody else felt this way; the way I did as if I were living in a zoo, and the wild animals were loose and lurking behind every bush, every tree, and every single thing around. Among all those beasts, Ariadne would be the deadliest one, with her wolf eyes directed at me and her fangs bared. Nothing could be worse than having an enemy like her who screwed me over and over again. I just knew she gave Sher the idea to move out on me, as if I were hearing her coyote-like screech telling my daughter to abandon me.

I was Ariadne's victim, now. But I refused to be her victim. I'd find a way to tear her apart, for I had this ravenous hunger to do everything vile to her, as vile and despicable as she had been to me in her sneaky fashion. I hated everything about her. I hated her name. I was so fucking angry, I didn't want to be reminded of her even inside my own head, but her shit was everywhere, and her shit kept hitting me in the face. That's when an awful pain with a rumbling noise hit inside my head, and I fled out of the room.

As I was rushing away from my mother up the stairs, the doorbell rang. When I opened the door, I saw two cops with Evelyn standing between them.

"What the..." She was drunk or stoned or something like it. Worse yet, I didn't like the nosy neighbors seeing my daughter brought home in a police car.

"We had a little trouble, Ma'am," one of the policemen said. "The kids were partying and a fight broke out."

"Who gave you permission to go out?" I said to Eve, feeling enraged even more than before. "You were supposed to be upstairs in your room. You will be so sorry, Eve. Just mark my words."

"She is not in any condition to hear you, Ma'am. Let her sleep it off. It's a good idea to talk to her when she feels better."

"Because she didn't make much trouble for us, we brought her home," the other cop said. "Otherwise, she might have to spend the night in jail. Considering her age, we'd rather the parents take care of this kind of a problem. It is the Christmas break, and the kids are going wild."

I know not to mess with cops. They take care of nothing. They are good for nothing. They just make more trouble. So I said, "I'm sorry, officer," with a concerned face, even though a tempest was swirling inside my head. "I'll talk to her in the morning. Thank you for bringing her home."

I held Eve's arm and pulled her inside. She moaned and said something, garbling her words. I must have clutched her too tightly.

I pushed her on her bed, clothes and all, although I wanted to beat her senseless instead. Then I went to my room and tried to sleep, but couldn't. My head was throbbing as if it would split into two. I got up looking for Aspirin, a sleeping pill, or anything, but couldn't find it. Shaking from head to toe, I went on a rampage, knocking everything off the dresser.

I felt violated. I felt desperate, and I needed Aunt Greta tonight. Not the old hag downstairs, parading as my mother.

I could taste the anger and the agony inside me like undiluted hard liquor. Some unrestrained force was taking over me. My arms suddenly whipped straight out in front of me, like a mummy. I felt my eyes roll back and my body stiffen. In sheer frustration, I gasped for air, then screamed as I stumbled into bed. The scream seemed to help the headache, so I screamed again at the mess on the floor. "I'll crack her skull, Ariadne's skull."

Next morning, I woke up as if nothing happened, as if I weren't the one who had just about crawled out of her skin. I checked on Eve. She was still sleeping. I went downstairs. Mother was making coffee. When she saw me, she frowned but didn't say anything.

"Since we are living in the same house, you'll have to talk to me," I said.

"What you did to me was inexcusable," she answered. "I am not forgiving you."

"I didn't ask for forgiveness," I said. "Just don't go to Aunt Greta, whining about me. She doesn't need to know."

"I'd be too embarrassed to tell her," she said.

"Cops brought Eve home, last night. She was drunk at a party."


"I heard that." She looked at me sternly, then poured coffee for herself, and sat down at the table.

I took another cup and approached the coffeemaker. "I have to go to work. Can you stay with her?"

She looked at me over her spectacles, crossing her eyebrows. "Yes," she said. "But I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for Eve."

As if all that happened the evening before hadn't been enough, less than an hour later, I walked into another drama inside the bakery.


Chapter 26

"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because
I do not know any other way of loving but this,
in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that, when I fall asleep, your eyes close."
Pablo Neruda

Ariadne


It is a weird feeling to wake up in your lover's arms in Vegas on your wedding day, and think, Isn't it great that no one will know about us until I tell them? My bet was on today, and today would be the most perfect day of my life. After all, it is Vegas, and gambling here takes many forms.

When we arrived at the chapel, they whisked us away to take our photos.

"No photos, until she gets dressed," Marvin said, although he probably took a thousand photos of me with his iPhone. We were both acting a little weird, and the people working there chuckled non-stop, but our weirdness was full of bliss.

"Wedding jitters are common," I told Marvin. "After all, we are entitled to some peculiar behavior."

"This will be my everyday behavior, from now on," he said. "I don't know about you, but my behavior is that of ecstasy, peculiar though it may be." Then he gave me a flirty smile, and I turned to mush for probably the hundredth time since I woke up in the morning.

It wasn't the wedding that made me jumpy deep down inside. It was facing the people in Rocky Road on Christmas and announcing that I had married Marvin. I was so not looking to that day.

My thoughts carried me to the June of the year when I had graduated from the university, the time when Marvin and I came back to Rocky Road. The time when we both were hit with the news of Belle's pregnancy...My mother had said to me, "Marvin Norris is taboo to you until the end of your life, Aria. Since he did make Belle pregnant. There is no getting around it."

And Clifford had agreed. "These have been tough days, but not only for you. Think of all other people involved, especially the unborn child. Your mother and I faced some unbelievable pain in our lives, too, and we came out all right. I assure you, Aria, you'll do better. You'll come out on top. And you'll meet someone who will have eyes only for you."

In hindsight, I have wondered ever since, if Clifford and Mom too, had seen this situation as an opportunity to rid me of Marvin. Had they seen him as being beneath me or rather beneath them? It was just a slight suspicion then, but still...

True, I was irritated with my mom and Clifford that day, but I was also crazy mad, deliriously mad at Marvin inside me, for his weakness.

How wrong I was! How wrong everyone was!


But now, I chased the negatives out of my mind and focused on the matter at hand by brushing my hair and pinning it into a bun, and making my face up again. Then I shot an objective look at the mirror. Although I wasn't the twenty-two year old I once was, this would do.

The lady who helped me into my dress commented. "This must be the first time for you both. You glow as if it is." She had the sprightly look of youth in her eyes as she helped me out of my dress with hands softer than a down pillow. She was a tall woman, probably more than six feet, as she towered over my five-feet-six height. She was top heavy with long arms and swift motions.

"You might say that. It certainly feels like it is," I said, admiring the fancy beadwork on the empire bodice of my Paloma Blanca gown.

"I love the pick-up skirt with the sweep train," she said, placing lace veil over my head. "They don't rent these out. Where did you get it? In New York? You're from New York, right?"

"Yes, but I don't know where the gown and whole other set up are from. My fiancé had them brought in last night."

Not only her but the entire wedding crew was unbelievably efficient and speedy. When I stood at the door of the small chapel at the beginning of the ceremony when I took my first step toward my place near Marvin, I smiled with delight. How smashing he looked in his sleek black tux!

We had opted for the international ceremony. Our witnesses were the people who worked in the chapel, professional witnesses in a way, probably on their umpteenth time of witnessing a marriage on the go.

As I walked the aisle to take my place next to Marvin, the Diana Ross and Lionel Richie's voice sang "My love...There's only you in my life...The only thing that's bright...My first love...You're every breath that I take...You're every step I make..."

"Endless love" I repeated the phrase inside my head. So beautiful, so delicate, yet so strong and so forceful.

Marvin's doing. He hadn't forgotten! Endless love was our song that we used to sing together, danced to it whenever or wherever...

Although there was a piano in the chapel and a lady sat there, he had made them play that song.

Such beauty in this song. Such beauty in my husband to be...I will not be alone. I was never alone. He was always with me, even when we were apart.

I wasn't just walking now; I was floating to our song.


The official, slash-minister, was a stocky man with a wig and he had a dimple on his chin. He wore a red tunic with glitzy gold braid as its collar, which reminded me of the dress-uniform of Jean Luc Picard from the Star Fleet. I pointed my attention to the dimple on his chin to stay serious enough for the ceremony to take place. If I'd taken even a sideways glance at Marvin, we'd both burst out laughing.

To duplicate the somber tone of deep-space exploration, the official uttered his speech in a husky voice:

"Let's all remember that, all through history, the way of truth and love have always won. Let's all remember that love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude; it is not self-seeking; it is not easily angered; it keeps no record of wrongs. Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres..."

These words shook me into realizing how important and meaningful this day was for us, despite its comic elements. I promised myself I would write those words down and read them at least once every day. By the time we kissed after taking our wows, tears were flowing from my eyes, and Marvin's cheeks were wet too.

And it was over.

"Now, can we go on the town, Mrs. Norris?" Marvin asked, as we packed my wedding gown.

"Surprise me, Mr. Norris," I answered. So he took me to a comedy club, and then to a strip show. We couldn't tell which one was funnier, the comedy club or the strip show, but food and entertainment were everywhere, and we danced until our legs couldn't move.

Next day, we put Fed-Ex to the task of transporting what Marvin considered the most meaningful memorabilia of our lives, our wedding attire, to his place in Houston.

"My pad is livable," he said. "But we should look for a house. I really want to live in a house with you, our house. Agreed?"

As long as I would be with him lifelong, I didn't care. I could live in an attic, in a basement or a cardboard box, but I didn't tell him that. Of course, a house would be nice because I could have a studio there. So I said, "Yes, better if the house were close to where you work, and with a room for my painting, a room with north light if possible. And Marv, I have two cats. Esperanza, the maid, is taking care of them now."

"No problem," he said. "Kipling will be nice to them, I promise."

"Kipling?" For a moment I couldn't catch my breath.

"Yes, Kipling. How could I forget? I told you I didn't forget a thing with you." His arms came around me, and he kissed me softly on the lips. "Kipling is my black lab. You'll love him and vice versa. Diana takes him when I go away."

I leaned against him, listening to his heartbeat. Steady, just a bit rapid than usual. "I didn't forget anything either. Especially Kipling," I said. We stayed like that for a few seconds, maybe a minute or two, before launching back to reality. "About the house," I said, "not too big, okay? I don't want anything like my mother's."

"Sure. I'll set my favorite team on it, but it has to be in a nice neighborhood, and in running distance from my office, in case my car breaks down, and I have to get to you real fast," he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes accompanying his wide grin.

"All right, Captain Crusader, forget the house for now. Do we have a flight for tomorrow?"

"All taken care of," he said. "But the house I can't forget. I'll have to set my special forces on it. So okay, show time!" And he reached for his iPad.

Early next morning, we flew to Houston.


Chapter 27

" Among the jackals, bitches, panthers,
monkeys, scorpions, serpents, vultures,
that screech, howl, grunt, and crawl, ogres,
in the vile menagerie of our errors,
there's one of uglier, nastier, fouler birth!
Without one wild gesture, one savage yell,
it would willingly send this world to hell..."
Baudelaire

Belinda

I would send the world to hell if I could. I truly would.

Even in winter, the sun rises earlier in Florida than anywhere else in the country, and I was up before the sun, because I felt some kind of a violent light flashing inside my head. I scrambled out of the bed and opened a window. It was cool and wet outside.

I hurried in leaving the house because I didn't want to face either my mother or Eve. Mother, being the drama queen, probably did not sleep at all, and she had to be avoiding me as much as I wanted to avoid her. I tried not to think of her or Eve or Sher for I was trying not to be annoyed, because something had been happening inside my head; something was rumbling and flashing at the same time.

As soon as I stepped in to the bakery, I saw the smoke coming from the back. Raquel ran toward me, complaining. "The second oven conked out," she said. "I've been here since four in the morning." Her eyes were red and her hair was sticking up in strange places like suddenly sprouting bamboo shoots. "And Phil won't let me share the first oven. The cheesecakes are spoiling."

"Put the batter in the fridge," I suggested.

She griped. "It won't be the same."

Chefs and their idiosyncrasies. Surely, cheesecake batter can be refrigerated or frozen at least for a few days.

I turned to Phil who was standing by his work table, up to his elbows in whole wheat flour, kneading dough. Pellets of dough had stuck to the board like wood putty. He eyed me and murmured something unintelligible. Usually Phil's kneading has a methodical, meditative quality about it, but today his hands were working like manic and the look in his eyes was haunted.

"Phil, please let Raquel use the oven. They can be done while your dough rises. I'll order a new oven right away."

"I have rolls in there baking. You said, this oven would be for me alone," he grumbled.

"You didn't have to do too many of those, Phil," I said. "We need the cheesecakes, too, as well as the rolls."

"I'm filling in the quota set by you," he said.

The rumbling inside my head was getting fiercer. "So, now, I'm cutting it in half. You're to let Raquel use the oven. Just take the morning off, Phil."

He squinted at me, his face turning crimson. "You want me to take off, boss lady? Okay, I'll take off. I'll take off for good. I can't take this anymore, this hellhole of broken-down knickknack of a place you call your bakery. More so, I can't take her, and I can't take you taking her side all the time. I quit."

He took off his gloves and threw them in the trash bin, and gathering his stuff, he left in a huff. The rumbling inside my head was unbearable now.

"Cover the dough, and see if the rolls are done," I said to Raquel. "Then adjust the temp for the cheesecakes. I'll call for a new oven. Then, I'll be here to help you."

Those cheesecakes were ruining me. No wonder, Ariadne had found them delectable. Didn't anything connected to her in some way ruined me all the time?

Now, it wasn't just the new oven, but I also had to find a new chef. Not to mention, Phil's severance pay. Without Phil and with faulty equipment, I'd have to open the bakery half a day. As it was the holiday season, I could get away with it, but then the income from the sales would go down immensely.

All these things plus the noises inside my head kept weighing on me, I walked to the office and took a couple of pills. Then I called for a new oven. I'd be in debt up to my ears, but I had no other choice other than closing the store. But where would that leave me? I couldn't now hire another chef with the funds being tight and so much to pay. Moreover, since I didn't know I'd have such bad luck earlier, I had ordered a Hobart mixer, a much more expensive appliance than the ordinary commercial mixers we used.

While I was brooding, someone screamed from the back. Marge and Kat had just checked in, and we hadn't opened the front doors yet. I rushed to see what had happened.

I found Raquel sitting on the floor, crying and holding her left arm in great pain. While taking out Phil's rolls, she had burned herself. Damn! She was always the careless fuck-up. I took out the Aloe Vera gel from the emergency kit and applied it as much as I could, but the burn seemed to be a hospital job. The entire forearm and the hand was getting swollen with a charred patch around the wrist area.

"I'll call an ambulance," Kat said.

An ambulance at the door? This would scare customers away.

"No," I said. "I'll take her. Ambulance will be too late in arriving. Kat, you come with us and calm Raquel down on the way. Marge, you stay inside but don't open the front door, and keep the closed sign on."

The rumbling inside my head started again on the way to the hospital. All those noises...they were driving me crazy. Kat called Raquel's sister Damiana on the phone and told her what happened.

"It's mostly second degree burn," the emergency room doctor said. "There's a spot that worries me, but the rest should heal eventually. For future reference, you really should not put any ointment on serious burns, as they could result in infections."

This had to be my fucking luck. I had tried to ease her pain, and the doctor thought I did the wrong thing. Why is it no one ever credits me for doing the right thing? If Ariadne had been in my place, she would be praised to high heaven for doing the very thing I did.

Damiana said she would stay with Raquel and take her home afterwards. So Kat and I came back to the bakery alone.

Great! Now I was out of two chefs, one oven conked out, a closed business, nervous workers, and the noises inside my head weren't quieting down. Could things get any worse?



Marge had cleaned up the kitchen area and placed the rolls and the first batches of Danish and croissants on trays. But the dough that Phil had left undone had already risen. We carried the trays to the store and placed them inside the display cases.

Then Marge and I separated the bread dough into forms and put them in the oven. After another forty minutes or so, we had filled the bread bin.

During all this, I realized what a great help Marge was, and she did have some practical knowledge about baking. Why hadn't I seen that earlier?

"Marge, would you like to work in the kitchen as my assistant?" I asked.

"I would love to, but I am no chef," she said.

"Phil has quit and Raquel will be out for a good while. Maybe you and I can handle things until I come up with a permanent solution," I said.

"I'd love to help," she said. "As long as you monitor what I am doing."

The only other person who could help me in this situation could be my mother as she had worked with Maryanne from time to time, but there was no way I would ask her now. She'd start again with how great Ariadne was, and I would probably kill her.

I turned the sign at the door from 'closed' to 'open,' wrote on a paper, "Le Nouveau Bakery will be open part-time due to the holidays," and pasted it on the door. I decided we could open up in the afternoons until after the New Year's.

Nothing was going right. Nothing was working.

And I wouldn't be baking any cheesecakes for a while. They could wait in the fridge until a new oven could be installed.

Still, the noises inside my head rumbled with menace.


Chapter 28

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite."
Shakespeare

Ariadne


After we exited the plane, we made our way toward the front of the terminal pulling our carry-ons behind us.

"Let's get coffee first," Marvin said. "I didn't wake up yet. I feel like I'm in a cloud."

Not far from the arrival gate was a small kiosk where we bought two cups of coffee, and proceeded to the street-level baggage claim area. While waiting for the bags, we sat on a bench and sipped our coffees.

"Overpriced and overbrewed," Marvin said. "I'll make us a coffee as soon as we get home."

"I'm perfectly fine with this," I said. "Best coffee I ever had. Best coffee in thirty years, anyway." The way he looked at me then made the people walking to and from the gates and those around us disappear, and I wanted to pull him close to me, but didn't.

He leaned to me and whispered, "Me, too."

No matter how old we got, we were still capable of surprising ourselves. It was as if those thirty years had evaporated, and we had regained that special intimacy only the two of us could have.

Marvin suddenly swung his arm and pointed ahead. "There! Our pickup."

I watched in silence and unease as Lyle walked toward us from far ahead on the street, waving his hand. "Marvin, you didn't tell him, did you?"

"No, he'll be pleasantly surprised. See the smile on his face?"

"But he'll tell."

"No, he won't. Lyle understands, and he likes you very much. Besides, he too has something he's hiding."

Before I could ask what he was hiding, Lyle had reached us.

"Aunt Aria!" Lyle hugged me. "This is such a great surprise. I'm just so...so happy you came with Dad."

"Wait till you see this," Marvin said and pointed to his wedding ring.

"Dad, why didn't you tell me? I'd be in New York in a flash."

"We were married in Vegas," I said. "No one knows."

"You eloped! Wow! That's so great. Dad, you always do things in a big way."

"I learned it from you," Marvin said.

It was obvious Lyle was genuinely happy for Marvin. I could hardly recognize the shy young man, who only said a rare word or two during the few times I met him. Now he was constantly talking, without the curve of a smile leaving his face.

He hugged us both again and again and then took hold of both bags and led us to a navy blue Mercedes at the short-term parking.

"Dad's car," he said. "I only babysit this one when Dad goes away."

"Nice car," I said. "It is a babe for sure."

While Marvin was opening the door for me, Lyle asked him, "Does Aunt Aria know about me and Monique?"

"I didn't go into detail, son. I had to prioritize because of our situation."

Our situation. Yes, our situation was unique. The things Marv and I went through in our lives had created room for a great deal of love and happiness. So much that there wasn't room for distrust at all.

And, there were delightful additions to our situation. Marvin wasn't the young boy who let me make all the decisions anymore, and I respected him for that. He had gained confidence and self-esteem without being cocky. What had caused this improvement in him? His career success or his struggle with being a father to two children who weren't his flesh and blood? Life had many ways of adding to people, whittling and polishing non-stop.

Inside the car, Marvin took my hand and pressed it between his warm palms. "You don't have to be nervous," he whispered. "You'll see, everything will be great. Everything is great."

"Yes, it is, but I'm not nervous," I said. "I trust you completely."

He squeezed my hand again, "You have no idea for how long I wanted your trust."

"Marvin," I gasped, "I'll never doubt you again."

From the way he stared at me then, I thought for a split second we'd kiss or something, but we didn't because I noticed Lyle's eyes watching us from the rearview mirror. So with a wide grin I changed the subject. "Who's Monique?"

"My wife," said Lyle. "And we're expecting."

"Wow! How wonderful!" So this was what Lyle had hidden from his mother. "Congratulations, Lyle. I had no idea."

"Thank you, Aunt Aria. But no one knows. I didn't talk about Monique in Rocky Road. Not even to Sher. I was worried about any negative input."

"They were married in September," said Marvin. "Lyle wanted to go to Thanksgiving with Monique, but they chickened out. Monique wasn't feeling well anyway, so she insisted that Lyle go alone to see his mother and grandmother. We are going to double-shock everybody on Christmas."

I stiffened imagining of the reaction from those in Rocky Road. Marvin must have sensed that because he said, "I used to think you were tougher than me."

"Maybe I was once," I said. "I think I am worn out and mentally tired from all the pandemonium."

He chuckled. "I was joking. You're still tough. Actually tougher. You've managed to hide us from your mother, even though you do talk to her every day."


"I don't like lying to her, but I feel justified at this point," I said.

"Aunt Aria, do you know how I met Monique? She was hired as the English teacher in the high school, two years ago," Lyle said. "Everything happened so quickly, even though Dad here kept warning me about not losing my head."

"Both parents are teachers. Lucky baby," I said. "I'm looking forward to meeting your wife, Lyle, and your sister, too."

"They're both great girls," Marvin said. "You'll see."

"Christmas is going to be a big surprise in Rocky Road," Lyle said. "I'm planning to wear an armor."

"Deck the halls and off the walls," said Marvin. "It is going to be crazy."

Marvin's apartment was on the third floor of a five-story modern building. The elevator was too small for the three of us plus the bags, so Marvin sent Lyle up with the bags, first. On our turn to ride the elevator, once the door was closed, his arms slid around me. "I missed you since the morning," he said, his mouth brushing over my face.

"I'll take you up on that, once we're alone," I said.

"Take me as far as you wish," he answered as the door opened, and I heard Lyle carrying another suitcase in.

The apartment was small but efficient, decorated in a subdued minimalist style, in teak wood, muted greys, beiges with a stark brown or black here and there. "Very Scandinavian. Nice," I commented, looking at the two-tier book shelves situated under and along the large picture window that covered the entire wall. A beige arm-chair with brown animal print stood across from it.

The highlight of the living area was a large black leather sofa that stretched from one end of the wall to the other. In front of it was a glass table over a large grey and white area rug. Then I recognized the two paintings side by side behind the sofa on the wall.

Just to make sure, I walked close to them and checked the signature on their lower left corners. They were my paintings that Jayce's friend David Bromberg had placed in his gallery. Confused, I squinted at Marvin. "Where did you get them from?"

"New York," he said. "Bromberg's. The guy didn't want to sell them, telling me they were on loan from a friend, but I did manage to convince him."

"Which means he bribed the guy, Aunt Aria," Lyle said, coming from behind. "I put your bags in the bedroom. Why don't you guys come to our place for dinner, Dad? Monique can whip up something, I'm sure."

"No, not tonight, son," Marvin said. "I'm a bit tired. Can we do this tomorrow evening, instead?"

"Sure Dad, I'll ask Diana, too."

After Lyle left, I came back and stood in the middle of the living room. Only then, I noticed the design on the small throw pillows on the black leather sofa to be the same as the covering on the arm chair. I had been so taken by my paintings' being on the wall.

Now, it had all began to make sense. Jayce hadn't wanted me to paint. That was why he had taken over my studio. That was why he was lying to me that the paintings were not sold. What a control freak! If I could, I would crush him under my shoes like a cockroach.

But I wasn't going to dwell on the negative and ruin my moments with Marvin. Jayce was out of my hair, and I was grateful for that. But Marv? What a guy? How did he even know the paintings were mine? Was he going around in New York, checking if I had paintings in any gallery?

From behind me, I felt Marvin's arms around my waist as he yanked me close to him. "That Bromberg guy had them showcased in the window and wasn't selling them, can you believe? I was passing by, and I stopped to look. When I saw your signature, I had to have them. They were something of you."

"I guess coincidences can happen," I said.

"Rather it was synchronicity, wouldn't you say? Come, I'll show you the bedroom."


During breakfast the next morning, he said, "My court date is in the afternoon, but I left a note for Ronny, the real estate guy. He's also a friend. He'll be lining up some houses for us. Is there a specific area or type of a house you'd like?"

I shook my head. "You know this city, Marv. I don't. As long as the house is close to your work, the rest I can handle."

As full of bliss as I was, too much change and too much excitement had drained me. So, when Marvin went to court, I slipped inside the bed and slept what seemed to be hours.

When I opened my eyes, I saw him lying next to me, watching me sleep. "Hey," he said, tilting toward me and reaching to sweep my hair off my face, "Have I been tiring you out?"

"Nope, I slept to dream of you," I said opening my eyes wider. "How was the court?"

He leaned and pecked me on my forehead. "As usual. The other side relented, and we settled. Boring. "

I moved toward him. He cupped a hand at the back of my neck and rubbed his lips over mine. "I don't want us to get up now, but..." With a sigh, he brought me closer to him. "The kids are expecting us for dinner, but I'm getting so used to this."

I put my head against his chest to feel his warmth and listen to his heartbeat, solid and steady. The best kind of music ever. I knew we had to go and I had overslept, but then, some passions are too great not to act upon.


Later on, while I was searching for something to wear that wasn't too wrinkled, he said, "Tomorrow afternoon Ronny will show us a few houses. I can't wait till we pick something."

"What's going to happen to this place? It is nice, I think."

"This place has the ghosts of my unhappy days without you." He was silent for a moment, then continued. "Even though you managed to chase those ghosts away...But I need to have a place for both of us." He seemed to choke, but quickly found his voice. "A happy place, starting from scratch."

"No kidding, you're serious...Oh, Marv, if you want it this much, I want it, too. I'll be so looking forward to tomorrow."


Lyle and Monique lived in a small house that used to belong to Monique's parents. Monique, a petite, dark-haired woman with dark brown eyes, held her hand for me to shake. When she turned to Lyle, I noticed that one side of her pretty face bore faint scars. I extended my hand and shook hers with a not-too-tight grip.

Diana had arrived earlier than us. I noticed the traditional navy suit, her blouse a pale ecru accentuating the color of her hazel eyes. She was about the same height as Monique with wavy light-brown hair and delicate freckles sprinkled across her nose. Her eyes raked me up and down, measuring me, which I could understand. She had to be assessing the woman who was taking her mother's place. But at least, she kept a friendly smile on her face.

Both Diana and Lyle kissed me on the cheeks.

Diana then turned to Marv. "Dad, I'm keeping Kipling, until you're a bit more settled, but if you want him in your hair, I can bring him over."

"Maybe, we'll peek in your place, and have Kipling meet Aria, after hours tomorrow. How's that?"

"Anytime, Dad."

After a few minutes of polite talk about our flight and the weather, we were led to the dining room. As we were sipping our wines, Monique started rather uneasily, "There's something I want to say to get it out of the way." She sat straighter in her chair, her eyes directed at me. "I worry about this because it has given me some trouble with people who don't know it. I gather from Lyle that you are not like those people, but because there's the chance that we may go to see Lyle's mother and grandmother in a few days, and I am hesitant..."

"Oh, Moni! You're beating around bush," Lyle interrupted, as he reached over and lifted her chin. Then he looked at me. "Aunt Aria, what she's trying to say is that she is Jewish, and she is hesitant about the atmosphere in Rocky Road."

"Monique, dear, I have many Jewish friends in New York," I said, keeping my voice even and pleasant. "And frankly, I think people make too much of the differences in belief systems. Don't worry about that. I can't talk for others, but for me you are just as my child as Kenton and now also as Lyle and Diana."

"Not you," she said. "I am thinking about the others. Lyle wants to take me there during Christmas, and they don't know about me at all. And I have these scars, from long ago. It was an accident."

"Don't worry about scars. They are not noticeable, and you know what? They don't know of my whereabouts during the last several days either," I said.

Marvin said, "We could land upon them altogether and shock them, so nobody will pick on any one of us. They'll have to deal with two marriages and a baby. For this time, though, let's skip the belief systems biz. I doubt anyone will ask."

"And when you come back, Dad, I want your minute-by-minute story." Diana said as she lifted her glass in a toast. "To surprises!"

I clicked my glass to Monique's. "L'chaim!"

"To life!" Monique agreed, clinking her glass of apple juice with mine before taking a long pull.

"The quesadillas, they're very good. Won't you have another piece?" Diana asked, holding the plate to me. I picked a small piece and smiled at her, trying to radiate warmth and goodwill. She smiled back, as she put the plate down. Then she picked up her glass and raised it. "Welcome to Houston, Aunt Aria! You wouldn't mind me call you aunt, would you?"

"I'd be honored, Diana."

"Aunt Aria, it is, for all of us then," Monique said, and we all drank to that.


"Now that your christening is out of the way," Marvin said in the car as we were returning. "How do you like Houston?"

"I fell in love, no joke. Wonderful young people, all of them."

"I think it is more like they fell in love with you," Marvin chuckled. "You're a big hit. I almost laughed out loud when Monique came out with her big announcement. Although she seemed to be informing you, her request was for your help."

"I got that, but how can I help her when I'll probably be the bigger target. The thing is, she is pregnant and shouldn't be too upset."

"The simplest way would be if we all went together and checked into a hotel in Orlando. So there'll be a place to take refuge. What do you think?"

"Good idea. My mother, however, will want us with her."

"What if we go there on the last day, say Christmas Eve?"

"Or the Christmas day. We could do that. I've done that before on a few Christmases, when I didn't want to...you know."

"Done. I'll talk to Lyle about it."

"Marv, I want to tell Kenton about us. He has a right to know, more than my mother, a lot more than my mother. I'll tell him not to say anything to his grandmother yet."

"Good idea. I never met him, and I would like to be on his good side. I don't want him to resent me."

"He won't, once he gets to know you. Besides, since the Thanksgiving dinner, he knows about us. I mean our past, after what Lyle said and my mother declared what the elephant in the room was. "

"That must have been so difficult for you." He reached and squeezed my forearm, still keeping his eyes on the road.

I put my other hand over his. "It was the best news I had; heaven's surprise I should say. I'd take that kind of difficulty any day."

He pulled his hand to make a left turn at the traffic light. "For me, too. When Lyle told me about it, I almost broke down in front of him. Who would say the kid who broke us apart would be the reason for us to come together?"

"I don't think of Lyle that way. He has no hand in what happened. He's a wonderful young man, and you did a wonderful job of raising him. His biological father is missing a lot, whoever he is."

"Didn't I tell you...who?"

I gasped. "You know who? How?"

"Hector," he said. "I told him of Belle's deception when I found out I wasn't the father, after the test. He then told me of his suspicions. That he had been with her, but he didn't want Becca in on it, as he had had other flings, too, and Becca had forgiven him for those. You know Hector; he can never pass up a skirt. Anyway, keeping it between me and Hector, we had Lyle and Hector tested again, and for sure Hector is the father."

"Who else knows about this?"

"No one. Not even Hannah. Just Hector and I. Probably Belle, too. And now, you."

"Geez!"

"Geez is right. But they are my children, both Diana and Lyle, even if I am not related to them by blood."

"Of course! You raised them. Biology doesn't make a father, a father. They are very lucky kids. You are the most wonderful father anyone can ever have."

"Remember the Japanese TV crew? I had told them we had three children already, then, and they took it for real?"

"How can I forget?" I chuckled.

"We do now. We have Kenton, Lyle, and Diana. If Kenton..."

"He will. He'll love you, believe me, even if Hal is a good father, too."

"I hope so," he said, as he parked the car in front of the building.

I reached and pecked him on the cheek. "No more worries," I said. "And I'm looking forward to seeing all the houses tomorrow."

"First, I'm looking forward to tonight," he said, grinning, and impatiently snapped his seat belt off.


Ronny Draker, the real estate broker, greeted us at the door of his office. He was a man of medium height in his late fifties, with greyed hair and dark eyes. His first action was to slap Marvin on the back several times in jest. "Congratulations, you nut," he cheered. "You marry and you let me know just last night. What kinda pal are you?"

"We didn't let anyone know," I said. "My mother will learn about it on Christmas. A surprise," I said.

"I like that," he laughed. "You got a nice lady. Look how she defends you. Let me tell you something, Mrs. Norris, he has no defense."

"Aria," I said, laughing. "Please call me Aria."

"When did you get hitched, Marvin? Has it been a month or so?"

"Four and a half days ago," he said. "In Vegas."

"Holy Cow! How do you like that! Well, congratulations again to both. But all this rush? When you just met? Must be love at first sight."

"It was, but we were both fourteen when we met," Marvin said. "We went to school together."

"Old flame, ha. You are full of surprises my man. Best one this time. Now, as to the houses, you want..." He turned to me. "Your man here said West University. Okay?"

"Yes," I said. "He knows better."

He grinned and winked at Marvin.


The weather was in the sixties and a bit cloudy, but there was a break in the clouds, which made my New York raincoat just right for house hunting. The first two houses were actual mansions with ten or more bedrooms for ten million dollars or more. I told Ronny I would be more comfortable in a smaller house, although not too small, as we might have our children visiting us.

So he showed us our house, a traditional with a brick façade. It was on sale for two and a half million, with six bedrooms six bathrooms upstairs and two half-baths downstairs, a huge living area, and a fantastic kitchen, which I would probably not be able to use, given the lack of my cooking talents. It had marble tiles and oak floors with its front facing north. The living space was fabulous. I thought an upstairs bedroom above the door would make a great studio, since it looked to north and I could see Marvin arrive. The garage and a shed were separate from the main building, and the entire property was surrounded by a high iron wrought fence.

"This is a new one," Ronny said. "A couple, Mr. and Mrs. Puglisi, had it built and furnished, but their company relocated them to the west coast. No one has lived in it, yet. It comes with the furniture, French Provential, mostly. If you don't want those, I can have them removed."

"That's exactly what I want," Marvin said. "A brand new house."

"The furniture is fine," I said. "I just didn't take to the four poster bed in the master bedroom."

"I'll have that removed, then."

"We are here a couple more days," Marvin said. "But we're flying to Florida for Christmas. How soon can the house be ready?"

"Move in as soon as we sign the contract. I have the couple's power of attorney. We can sign the preliminary papers today. Then it'll depend if you get a mortgage or what."

"If we pay the entire thing cash?" I asked.

"Then, it'll take a day or so. You have cash, got it made here in Texas."

"I need to talk to Aria about this, Ronny," Marvin said, frowning.

Oh, God, don't let us fight over money, please!

"Why don't you guys talk it over and get back to me in the afternoon?" Ronny said, possibly sensing a friction in the horizon. "But hurry up, so we can get this thing rolling. I'll hold on to your binder, in the meantime."

"Let's have lunch someplace, and we can talk about this," Marvin said, as we left the real estate office.

We stopped by an Italian place and ordered antipasto and salad.

"About the house," Marvin started. "I would like to buy it for you. For that, I'll need to get a mortgage."

"I would like to buy it for you, too, Marv, but it is our house, and all the money is ours. Yours and mine together."

He stood still, seriously still. I put my fork down and reached for his hand, putting my hand over his. "I love the house, don't you?"

He smiled finally and laced his fingers through mine. "Of course I do. It is brand new with everything already in it. But Aria..." He sighed.

"But?"

"Look, I don't know how to say this..."

"Say it, Marv."

"I don't want any part of the money coming from your family. Please, don't feel hurt."

I saw it immediately. As ghosts exist in every love story, here was one of ours. He was hurt in the past at my mother and Clifford, and suddenly I realized that was why he wanted to stay in a hotel during Christmas.

"That part is in the company stocks mostly, and in the house in New York. The rest is mine. I earned it, Marv," I said, squeezing his fingers. "Through very hard work. How about this? I can put the money from family in a trust. The part I earned and what you have we can put in joint accounts. This way, we can close on the house and move right in, but if you still want to get a mortgage, that is fine by me, too."

He stared at me poker-faced. My heart started beating as what is withheld can be as potent as what is disclosed. I had read once in a baby book, when I was pregnant with Kenton, that a face with a direct gaze is said to be one of the first images a baby recognizes. It's a primary pattern. A gaze, when dreamy and unhurried, is much celebrated in love poetry, but a blank stare can be intimidating. That deep hurt in Marvin I had to address sooner or later, but not right now, not at the beginning of a relationship so wonderful. Suddenly, the oddity of this situation seemed comical, although I didn't laugh. Most couples fought over lack of money. We were walking on eggshells around each other over too much money, although our hands were knit together on the table.

"Whatever you wish, Marv," I said finally. "I can give away everything I have to charity or to the children, including my earnings, if that is what is bothering you."

The frozen expression on his face thawed. His eyes began twinkling and his mouth relaxed. Then, suddenly, he laughed. "Aren't we ridiculous? More so, I am."

I nodded, giggling.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Aria. Sorry, love." He pulled my hand to his lips.

"Call Ronny and tell him what you wish, Marv. I want this house now even more than you do. And we don't have to go to Rocky Road for Christmas either."

"We should go to Rocky Road for Christmas. You promised your mother," he murmured, meeting my eyes. At this point, the waiter had approached to refill our coffees, so I pulled my hand back with a smile. After the waiter left, he said, "About the house, this shouldn't be my decision alone. It's our house. You're right in that. Sorry, love, if I came on too strong. I can be a jackass once in a while. What you said makes sense to me. We can put everything in joint accounts and investments. You do with that part whatever you like, and we can pay for the house in full."

I noticed the way he said "that part" as if it were something icky. Had my mother and Clifford done something to him I wasn't aware of, something more than making him marry Belle? I made a mental note of talking to him afterwards. He shouldn't have any unhealed wounds left inside him. Neither of us should. But this wasn't a good time. I would attempt to take a scalpel to those wounds much later.

"Okay, but don't call yourself jackass again. It upsets me," I said.

He chuckled. "If you say so, milady. Your knight in shining armor is not a jackass."

"No other knight can ever sparkle like him," I said, grinning.

Phew!

Right after lunch, we returned to the real estate office. Ronny had the papers and even an escrow account ready. While we were there, Marvin received a call from Diana. After talking to her, he turned to me. "We have to stop by the office."

"You can leave me home if it isn't..."

"No, no, Aria. The guys want to meet my famous wife. Diana and her big mouth. She must have spilled the beans. She says if we don't stop by, they're planning an invasion to the apartment."

"It is fine," I laughed. "Since the Vegas bit is over and done with, I don't care who finds out about us."

Mullins, Norris & Sullivan, Associates was the huge sign at the top of a three story building. The architectural style of the building was Spanish-Modern. At least, that's what Marvin said it was.

"You didn't tell me you were a partner," I said.

"An inconsequential detail, that's what it is. The good thing is, they can't fire me."

"But you can fire...who?"

"We have eleven lawyers in the firm. Diana is one of the juniors, but she has been doing investigative work so far. I had her accompany me to court a few times, though."

I laughed. "She's such a beautiful person. Don't you dare fire her!"

"Heck, no." Marvin chuckled as he parked the car in his spot. "She's priceless in many ways. You'll see. She helps me with everything."

I didn't know we would have such a welcoming party. Neither did I know Marvin had become the grand kahuna.

Diana met us at the bottom floor. "I told them all about you, Aunt Aria," she said. "So you won't have to go through their drilling, and Dad, they are so excited for you. Nobody went home, even the secretaries, although it is 5:30. After the hands of the clock hit five, we can't keep them here, Aunt Aria. So Dad made a rotation system for the people for after-hours work."

There was a big to-do, upstairs. Diana introduced me to each person one by one.

Ian Mullins, a tall, thin man with sallow skin, probably in his seventies, was the senior partner and the founder of the firm. He waved his hands like a cop, directing everyone to a huge conference room, where someone had brought in three bottles of champagne. He held me by the arm and pointed to Marvin. "You see, my dear, this guy can rock a courtroom. I was once a public prosecutor, but I had no sense of theater. I knew Marvin would do something even more dramatic than his courtroom antics, someday. I guess this is the day. Looks like we're gonna lose some partner hours to you, Mrs. Norris." Then he winked at Marvin. "You son of a gun, she's so easy on the eyes."

After the drinks and the chitchat, Diana touched my arm, then she brought her hands together in the first-communion position. "Aunt Aria, someone is waiting to meet you in my room. He's not part of the firm but is a very important client. Dad represented him many times. He says he knows of you. Will you talk to him?"

"Diana, what are you up to?" Marvin said. "Who's that?"

"Dad, please don't get mad. It is Ruben Grossman. You know his situation. You come, too, please."

From the way Marvin wrinkled his nose, I sensed he was put in a tight spot.

Grant Sullivan, the other partner, with a well-sized body and a fringe of white hair around his otherwise bare head said, "Yes, please, do see him."

"Sure," I said. "Why not?"

"Diana, take him to my room," Marvin said, frowning. "We'll meet him there." Then he turned to me, as he Diana left. "Ruben is the owner of Ergo99. The company had too many drilling-rig accidents, and his CEO was fired. You can guess the rest."

"Oh, oh!" I said. "I am not familiar with this type of business. Kinney & Russell is a finance company."

"Please, just see him," Sullivan pleaded. "I'm sure, you can do something."


Ruben Grossman, the client, was in his late sixties with a full head of gray hair, a stocky body, and large square shoulders.

"Please, Miss Kinney," he said, "My company needs someone like you. Our circumstances are extremely serious, and with all the bad publicity, I cannot, in good conscience, promote someone to a high position from inside the company."

"She is Mrs. Norris, now, Ruben," Marvin said with a pasted polite smile.

"Aria," I said, "Please call me Aria. The trouble is I'm not at all familiar with your type of business."

"Oh, please," Ruben said, "There's nothing to learn. It is organization we're after. Something seems to be amiss, and the higher-ups are after us."

I looked at Marvin's face for a sign or a hint of what was involved and what he would have liked me to do. He had that blank expression again. It was obvious he would be of no help.

After the news of my resignation from Kinney & Russell hit the corporate world, I had received several offers from a few other companies, but I wasn't expecting anything like this to turn up in Houston. And what would happen with my decision to paint again?

On the other hand, this man was Marvin's client, and should he pull his account, several others could follow. For certain, the partners would not like it. In addition, Ergo 99 was in a precarious position, and to try to fix it seemed a welcome career challenge. Also, who could tell if I would be able to make it in the art world at my age?

Truth is, I felt totally stumped. So I copied Marvin's poker face. It would be a good idea to buy time, get more information, and see what Marv had to say.

Grossman took out his pad and scratched something on it, then showed it to me and Marvin. "This is what I am offering. What do you say?"

His offer was one and a half times more than what I was making in Kinney & Russell, plus a good amount of stocks in the company and a high severance pay at the end, should the end come soon. Still I kept my blank face. Marvin raised his eyebrows and murmured, "Very generous, Ruben, but I'm not the one to make that decision."

I looked at Diana. She mouthed, "Please!"

"Mr. Grossman," I said. "When do you want an answer?"

"Today, tomorrow, as soon as possible. Each day counts, but I understand that you would want to think this over."

"Would you please excuse me and Marvin for a few minutes? We'll be right back."

"Take my room, Dad," Diana said. Then she turned to Grossman. "Ruben, would you like some coffee? Or Champagne, that is, if any left?"

I don't know what he answered, for I had already walked out of the door.

"What do you think?" I asked him as he directed me into another room next to his.

"Your decision," he said without changing the expression on his face.

"Marv, help me here, please. What do you know about this company and this man?"

"I can show you the file on this, but I can't help you with your decision."

"If I accept this, would this hurt us, our relationship, or vice versa?"

"Nothing shall hurt our relationship," he said. "You say the word, and I'll quit this firm in a minute."

"Silly. Why would I say that? And why would you listen to me if I did?"

He shrugged. Then leaning forward, he pressed his lips against mine. "That's why," he said.

"Marv, if that's why, then help me, because I don't know what to do about this. My worst fear is getting into something contractual and having to stay away from you."

"That would only happen, if Ruben fires me and asks for another lawyer. Our clients have the right to request for another lawyer, if they are not happy with the one they have. If you accept this, however, we'll work together, at least some of the time. But that's not my concern. My concern is, you were so looking forward to painting again."

"I could do both. This seems like a challenge with all the problems Ergo 99 has faced. Imagine me working in a company on my own that didn't belong to family. If I accept, will you help me?"

"I sure will. Because I won't leave you alone in their place with those hot Texans after you."

"You are the hottest Texan," I said. "They'll sizzle and wither at the sight of you." I tipped my face to his and kissed him. "I'm going to accept this, if you think it is okay."

"I want what you want," he said.

Strange, how every choice, every turn affected my decisions. Maybe I was jumping into fire again, but after this, Marvin would be at my side.

Ruben Grossman eyed us with concern as we walked into the room. Smiling politely, I sat across from him.

"Ruben," I said, "I think your offer is generous, and I appreciate it. I would like to accept it, but with a condition."

"All right," he nodded. "I'd like to hear your condition."

"That Marvin works with me. I mean as your company's lawyer. If he's not there, I won't be either, only because, given your company's problems, he's the one person whose wisdom I can count on. I'd like this stated clearly in the contract."

"No problem, I'll see to it. But why would we want any other lawyer? Marvin is who we want, who our board wants."

"It may not be you. It could be something else. Life changes in a company minute by minute. Truth is, I wasn't looking forward to working again so soon, but a company in trouble is a good challenge." I lifted my forefinger and pointed at him. "And another thing," I added with a polite smile. "I am not used to punching a time-clock. Within reasonable parameters, I'd like to come and go on my own time, or staying late hours when needed."

"Done. Is that all?"

"Yes," I said, simply. "The rest is negotiable."

"If I may," Marvin interjected. "I would like Aria to be free to do consultation work, and not be bound only to Ergo 99 by too strict a contract. For our firm here, because we run into problems where sometimes an expert advice is needed."

"Marvin," Ruben stiffened in his chair. "I can't do an open allowance for her to do consultation, as this may include our rivals. But I can name your firm as the only company she can consult, provided it is not a rival account."

"That works fine with us," Marvin said. "I asked for that because a while ago, Grant Sullivan told me, back in there, that we would have another eye on the works with Aria around."


By the time we walked out of the firm, it was getting dark. Diana said, "You're coming over to my place, right? I can hardly wait to see Kipling's reaction."

"I would so like to meet him," I said. "I love dogs. The only thing I worry about is how he and my two cats will get along."

"No problem," Diana said. "I have a little kitten, and he's so protective of her, you wouldn't believe."

"Good to hear that," I said. "Of course, I'll have to go to New York and bring my tabbies here."

"We'll have to go to New York for the tabbies," Marvin corrected. "You're not ever again leaving me to go to New York." His voice was deep and heavy, but when he stopped, I felt as if he had more to say, but didn't.

I turned slowly to him feeling the depth of his pain, the pain from the old wound that hadn't fully healed yet, and I realized that the worst thing I had ever done in my life had to be the way I had broken his heart when he was a young man. I held his forearm and said, "I'm not leaving you to go anywhere ever again." I noticed Diana's stricken stare at both of us. For her sake, I wanted to say something light. "And if I die, my ghost will haunt you always."

Bad move.

"Don't ever say, anything like that again," he said, in between his teeth. "I can't stand it." Then recognizing his own voice, he struggled to minimize his irritation. "But one thing we'll both have to stand is going to be Kipling's saliva all over our faces," he said in a much lighter tone.

"You won't believe how affectionate Kipling can be, Aunt Aria," Diana said, her face now a bit more relaxed than a few seconds ago. "Say, why don't I go ahead in my car and you guys follow me?"

"All right, you lead the way," Marvin said, bracing his arm around my shoulder.

After I saw Diana's car leave the parking lot, I slid toward Marvin and pecked him on the cheek just before he turned on the ignition. He stopped, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me to him. I put my arm around his neck and we kissed.

When he let me go, he said, "I'm a cantankerous old man with a sock-puppet face. You'll just have to put up with me."

"You're not old, just seasoned right," I said. "Delicious."

"Keep saying things like that, and we'll never make it to Diana's." He laid his hand on my leg and squeezed. Then he turned on the ignition.

Indulging in a deep sigh, I tilted my head and watched the street lights try to heal the darkening sky. Marvin and I needed healing, too. Our bruises were internal, but his were more intense than mine.


As we went up a flight of stairs to Diana's apartment, I could hear the barking and whimpering. "He knows it is you," I said. "How sweet!"

"You won't think that once he falls for you, too," Marvin snickered. "He has his ways."

"Labs are playful and very cute," I said.

"Did you have a lab before?"

Hal and I had Shadow, but she was more like Hal's and Kenton's dog. "I've been around Labs, but I never owned one personally," I said, fearing to touch another possibly sore area.

Diana opened the door, hanging on to Kipling's collar. We could barely step inside with the dog jumping all over Marvin, but with a hand gesture, Marv made Kipling sit. "Good boy, Kip!" he said calmly.

But Kipling was too excited to sit still. He rose and started running around the hallway in circles. "He behaves much better usually," Diana said, looking at me. "He missed Dad. That why he's the way he is."

"Do you think you can hold on to him for a few more days?" Marvin asked Diana once we settled in her living room. "I'd like to take him back once we move to the house."

"Love to, Dad. Do what you guys have to do," Diana said, looking at Kipling who was still running around like a crazy racer. "He is acting so wild now, Aunt Aria, but he is really a well-behaved dog."

"That I am sure," I said, grinning at the dog's antics.

Diana turned around and picked something from a jar behind her on the bookshelf, and she put it inside my hand. "Doggy treat," she said. "Once he calms down, he'll be curious about you."

"Thank you," I said. "This will ease things with Kipling."

The dog, at that instant, ran into the room, and went directly to Marvin, slobbering his face. "Hey, Fella, I love you, too, but not my face," Marvin said, pulling the dog down.

"He's so cute, and he missed you," I said, totally taken in by the pooch's human eyes. It was then that Kipling stared at me. "Hello, Kipling," I said. "I'm Aria." He bent his broad head to the side and gave me an inquisitive look. "I bet, you like fetching things, right?" The dog answered with a short whimper. I opened my palm, offering him the treat. He took it gently, politely, and chewed it looking into my eyes. Then he licked my hand, swiping his paws against my legs. I reached and scratched his neck behind his ears, as he rose and began licking my face, while I kept stroking his head.

"Hey, I'm getting jealous," Marvin said. "Kipling, sit. You're bothering her."

"No way, I just fell in love with Kipling," I said.

"Now I am really jealous," Marv laughed. Then he mocked a serious tone. "I think I am going to send you to China, Kip. You know what they do with dogs there."

"Ooh, no, you don't," I said, hugging the dog. Then I turned to Diana, "Doesn't he need to go out?"

"I came after lunch and walked him. He should be okay until bedtime," she said.

"Now I really want to move into that house," I said. "I can see me playing with Kipling in the yard."

"There goes Ruben's company and the painting idea," Marvin chuckled. "Aria will be playing with the dog instead. Lucky dog!"

"Dad, you're a riot!" Diana laughed. "Don't worry, Aunt Aria will take care of everything, you leading the list."

"In which case, Diana," Marvin said. "Help us some more, because we'll need staff."

"Not too many people," I said. "It isn't too large a house. A cleaning company that might come once a week. Maybe a maid who knows how to cook. Or a cook and a part-time maid..."

"Aunt Aria, you'll need a live-in maid, trust me," Diana said, picking up a small multi-colored kitten that had just walked into the room. "This is Pebbles, although sometimes Dad calls her Chessie, God knows why," She stopped and stroked the kitten, cooing to her.

Chessie... was my cat, and she did look like Pebbles, somewhat. And Marvin still remembered her. I noticed him looking at me. When our gazes met, tears sprung to my eyes, but I held them back from spilling. No need to crowd the conversation with past events.

Diana continued. "She is very shy. So I'll just hold her while she takes in what's going on." Then she jumped back into the maid idea. "Live-in people because Dad leaves on trips a lot. You shouldn't be alone."

"I'm not going anywhere without Aria," Marvin said. "Trips are out as of today, but a live-in maid and a gardener would be nice. Maybe you can look into a husband and wife team. Sometimes, that happens. Grant has a husband and wife team. The house should be ours right after Christmas, Diana. Ronny is putting his A-team on it."

"Thank you, Diana," I said. "So nice that you're helping. I wouldn't know what to do, being so new here."

"Aunt Aria, I would do anything to see Dad happy. And I've never seen him this happy, in all my life. Honest!"

Such a nice young woman, I thought. Just the kind of daughter Marvin and I would have, if... But we had her right here. She was mine, too. When the idea hit me, tears sprung to my eyes. I went and hugged her, making Pebbles run out of the room and causing Kipling to get excited all over again.

"All right, you guys," Diana said after I took my seat again, "I think I deserve an answer to this, Aunt Aria. When Dad named this dog Kipling when he first adopted him four years ago, I didn't know why he did that, as he is not into literature all that much. When I asked him, he said for an old memory, but my charming Dad here wouldn't tell me anything anymore. I have a hunch now that you have something to do with it."

I shifted in my seat with my eyes set on Marvin. He was silent, looking down with a smirk on his face.

"He could have named him Bagheera or Mowgli or Baloo, then we'd have one heck of a time to pronounce his name," I said with a giggle, trying to figure out how to tell the real story without actually telling it. "All characters from The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling." I took a deep breath, then added. "It was a reading assignment. We read it together when we were fifteen or so."

Phew! What I said was the truth, but not in its entirety. While attempting to read The Jungle Book, we had made love for the first time; the very first time for us both. After that, we could never finish reading anything together. Later during that week, I had read the book and had supplied Marvin with the information in it.

"I knew it," Diana chirped. "I knew it had something to do with you as soon as Lyle told me what happened at the Thanksgiving Dinner."

"He told you that?"

"Yeah, my brother and I are very close. He tells me just about everything. That's when I googled you, Aunt Aria, and wow! They made such a big fuss over your resignation. I gather you received a few solid offers, after that. I was so impressed, but I am even more impressed after seeing you in person. With what I found out about you, if you and Dad hadn't found each other, Lyle and I would do something to fix you up. You can be certain about that."

"Thank you, Diana," I said, with a smile, though somewhat dumbfounded. "Now that my ego has a big boost, I'll have to watch the size of my head."

"Oh, no, Aunt Aria. Your head size is perfect. It won't change. Now, about Dad, I'm not too sure. He's already floating on top of the world."

Marvin finally spoke. "I should have warned you earlier, Aria, how these two are used to scheming behind my back to make my pulse race. They've always done things like bringing Ruben into the office this afternoon."

Diana winked at me. "Now it wasn't so bad, Dad, was it? You'll be working with your wife, and you'll save Ruben's skin at the same time."

"We'll see," said Marvin, simply.

"We'll give it a good try, Diana," I said, stroking Kipling's head, which he had now laid on my lap. "But you never know with company business. I haven't even looked at the files yet."

I wanted to take Kipling with us so badly, but we would be flying to Orlando the day after, and it would be another separation for the dog. He whimpered as we left, and my heart stayed with him. I bet Marvin felt the same way, but he said, "He's used to waking me up in the mornings. He jumps on the bed, and without any doors in the apartment, he would be in the way and getting on my nerves big time."

"Oh!"

"Is that all you're going to say? Oh?"

"What should I say?" This was getting weird.

"I don't know. How about something like you wouldn't want a third party in our bed?"

"There never was, is, or will be a third party in our bed, Marvin."

"I told you I was a cantankerous old man," he laughed, but I sensed the relief in his voice. Was he wondering about my past? Didn't I tell him everything? Silly, silly man!


Chapter 29

"Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire. But if I had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great..."
From the movie Eclipse

Belinda

Although the noises inside my head drove me crazy, Marge and I managed to produce quite a bit of goods, but as soon as we opened the doors the next day, people rushed in and we were cleaned out within a couple of hours.

"Let's close the doors," I said to Marge. "It is better they see us closed than they come in and find nothing."

"We could stay late and make the dough for tomorrow, if you wish," said Marge.

The rumbling inside my head had decreased to a degree, and I thought maybe the intense work had helped a bit. So I agreed. Also, I didn't want to go home to a sulking teen and a mother with a serpent's tongue. Not to mention another daughter who had abandoned me. I missed Sher something terrible, but at the same time I was furious at her backstabbing.

On top of all that had happened, within twenty-four hours, I had lost two chefs, one oven, and a nervous worker, Kat, who was so upset over Raquel's accident that she wanted to go home and lick her wounds. Our production capacity was seriously hurt, and we had to open the bakery half time. If I didn't do something for it to pick up, I wouldn't be able to pay the year-end taxes on the place.

On the plus side, her ladyship hadn't returned yet. Probably she made up with Jayce, since the guy must have thought she was dying. When I talked to Lyle last on the cell, he mentioned his father was back in Houston. So I assume they never met. I knew it. I knew it! Jayce is younger than her, and most likely, he has more dough than the loser Marvin. The bitch knows her business.


But something's wrong inside my head. Just when we were taking the first batch of loaves out of the oven, the rumbling began again as groans and loud horns. I left the kitchen to Marge and went into the office to get a couple of pills. I had just downed my pills when I heard a knock on the front door.

Sher was standing at the door, waiting. When I unlocked it, she pushed it open and came in.

"Mom, they told me in the hospital you brought Raquel in. Is everything all right?"

"What do you care?"

"I do. You need something?"

"Not from you. Now if you please leave, I have work to do."

"Sher, you have no idea how shorthanded we are." Marge stood at the door between the kitchen and the store part of the bakery, lifting up her doughy hands in front of her. "Phil quit; Raquel's hurt; Kat's upset, and your poor mother has been trying to hold it together. We had to close the store way too early, today."

"I'll help," Sher said. "I can come every day after my shift's done until you find help, Mom."

I really wanted to smack her, but maybe I could gain her back through this. "Up to you," I said and went inside the kitchen.

She trailed after me. "Mom, sorry," she said. "I know you're mad at me, but if I had stayed to discuss my moving out, you would get all worked up. I grew up now. I do need my own space."

"Enjoy your space then," I said, my tone still icy.

"Why don't you call grandma? I know she used to work here when I was little." I shook my head in negation. "Okay, okay, maybe she's too critical. I'll ask around to see if someone needs a job," she said.

"I don't want anyone needing a job, Sher," I said. "I am not running a learn-on-the-job bakery. I need two chefs and a new oven."

"You need to advertise," she said. "If you write down the specifics, I can put an order in the local paper tomorrow."

"Okay, thanks," I said. "I already put an order for a new oven. It will be shipped tomorrow, they said. In the meantime, we'll have to manage."

The noises were still bothering me. When a strong rumble hit again, I pushed my hands against my ears, wondering if this was because of the Menopause or something was wrong with my ears, but with all the rush we were having, I couldn't go see Dr. Kleinsasser.

"Mom? Are you okay?"

"Headache," I said. "I took two pills. It'll go away."

"She's been under too much pressure," Marge said. "Belle, why don't you rest a little, while Sher and I take care of the kitchen?"

I went to the office, wondering if Sher had changed her mind again about Kenton. At this stage I didn't care whether she liked him or not. All I cared was about how to get through life with the rumbling inside my head and how to fix the bakery without having to pay an arm and a leg.


Chapter 30

"You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams."
Dr. Seuss

Ariadne


Hector and Rebecca called us the next day on the phone from Fort Worth to congratulate, as did Diana's mother, Hannah from Arizona. Hannah sounded especially nice when she offered her congratulations. "Marvin is a good man," she said. "I knew he needed a lot more than I could give him, and vice versa. So glad you're in his life, and I have James, my husband, in mine. Maybe someday we can enjoy each other's company face to face."

"Hannah is nice," I said after putting the receiver down. "It was gracious of her to call me."

"Hmm, just a slight misconception on your part, but I can live with that, if you can live with mine," Marvin said, approaching me. I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. Would this be a good time to clear the air, to tell him what I was dying to say, before we left for Rocky Road?

"Marv, I need to say something to you, but I don't know how to say it."

"Milady is full of mysteries, I fear." He pulled me to the couch to sit. We sat touching each other, his one arm around me.

"I don't even know how to put it in words effectively enough," I sighed.

"Love, just say it. I'm a big boy. I can take anything, especially if it came from you."

At this point, I started to weep. He pulled me to himself and held me tight.

"I did something very bad, you see..."

"Hey, calm down, will you? What'd you do? Rob a bank?"

"No, not that." I laughed through my tears. "I left you, and I shouldn't have, whether there was a baby or not. I left you when you most needed me, when I most needed you, and I beat myself up every single day after that. When I heard you had left Belle, I wanted to leave Hal and come to you, but couldn't because I found out I was pregnant with Kent. Then everything went haywire."

"Hey, it's over now. You're my wife. Hush, love, please don't cry."

"No, Marv, I'm not done, yet. I need to apologize. Really apologize. For my own peace of mind. I said sorry before, but a mere sorry does not even touch the surface of my remorse. I'm really, truly sorry, Marv, especially the way I did things, the way I broke up with you, the way I didn't let you speak."

"If I tell you it didn't matter and I wasn't hurt then, it would be a lie," he said in a whisper. The sadness in his voice made me draw in my breath so suddenly that I almost choked. "But I understood you, although I couldn't show you what I had to show you," he continued. "Twenty-two was such a young age for both of us. And you were bound tight to your family. I could appreciate that. If mine had been alive, I would be bound to them, too."

"But will you forgive me? Please, forgive me."

"Yes, of course. Nothing to forgive, though. I was angry at myself for letting you slip out of my grasp for one hellish night. We both fell short a bit at that time, but it didn't mean we didn't care for each other, Love. Or else, would we be where we are?"

"Then, say, I forgive you Aria, and mean it."

He lifted my chin with one hand and looked into my eyes. "I forgive you, Aria," he said. Then he added with a cheeky grin. "As long as you didn't rob a bank. But for penance, you're going to take off your panties right now, or else, I'll do that for you."

"Marv, what was it you wanted to show me then?"

"Not important now. Don't you see I'm in a hurry?"


The next day, together with Monique and Lyle, we boarded the plane to Orlando.


Inside the plane, as we settled in our seats in a row, with Monique and I near the aisle and the guys by the windows, I thought, In retrospect, I'll remember this trip from the sounds the plane makes, what the four of us won't say to each other about our personal fears, each with a tease of expectations-positive or negative-vibrating on a different chord, and nervous laughter that is more like cramps with color.

"You must know Lyle's mother well," Monique said to me at one point. "What is she like?"

"Belle is an excellent baker and a cook. I think you met Sher when she came here, last year. Belle looks very much like her," I said.

"Yes, I've seen her photos, and I know about the bakery, but what is she like as a person? I'm asking because she's going to find out about us and all..." I caught a hint of desperation in her voice.

"Who knows what's in a person?" I said. "My opinions would probably be a lot more different than most people. Better you find out for yourself, Monique."

"Like I told you earlier, Darling, she already knows I have a girlfriend, but Mom's hot-headed and impulsive. If you can live with that, the rest will be much easier," Lyle interjected. "Isn't that so, Aunt Aria?"

"Yes, I have to agree with that. Truth is, during the last three decades I saw very little of her, catching only a glimpse at the very few times I could go home during the holidays."

"What you don't know won't hurt you," Marvin muttered from my other side, getting a tiny shove from my elbow.

Within the next minute, the stewardess brought us drinks and some nut concoction in a tiny bag, and the conversation's pendulum swung away.

In Orlando, Monique was slightly disoriented by the mild temperatures, but happy to shed her coat. Lyle looked more tired than her as if he had run a marathon. And due to my jittery nerves, right after I picked my bags from the carrousel in baggage claim, I rummaged through them to see if the Christmas presents we had purchased in Houston were still there, making Marvin snicker.

By the time we arrived at the hotel in Marv's rental car, I had sunk into a near silence, but the other three weren't too noisy either. "We should go and get some rest," Lyle said. "Monique is tired, and we need our strength for tomorrow. We'll probably order room service for dinner, but Dad, you and Aunt Aria feel free to roam about."

The next day would be stressful and exciting. Doubts raced through my head as to the possibilities of something nasty that might happen. I couldn't shake the nervousness as we entered our room. Marvin, too, was talking in single words and in short phrases. For sure, we were both antsy, but in spite of it all, I felt more alive than in years. After tomorrow, my life would be by own.

"You called Kenton, right?" Marvin asked while I was hanging our jackets inside the wardrobe.

"Yes, he sent his best to you. He was happy for us, I think." I turned around and saw him looking out of the window. At the back of his head, his hair had streaks of white blending perfectly with the light yellow like a halo of sunlight. In a few long strides, I went near him, and leaning into him, stroked his back.

He put his arm around my shoulders. "Your mother?"

"I told her I was with friends, and we'd all stop by on Christmas day."

"She bought it?"

"She didn't argue to the contrary. She said all my friends are welcome."

"Except I am your husband, Love. She won't like that."

"She'll have to. Does she have a choice?"

"I guess not."

"Why don't you lie down and rest some, Marv? You look all strung up."

"If you are not too tired, let's go outside and take a walk. I need the fresh air."

Outside, we held hands, leaned against each other, even smiled and joked as we strolled around the parking lot and on the street in front of the hotel. Then we sat in the lobby and watched families with small children come and go.

"Let's go to the bar," Marvin said. "It's a bit late, but we might be able to get something to eat."

It was cold inside the bar in contrast to the weather outside. I rubbed my hands and pulled my sweater tight about me as Marv motioned the waitress. A three-person orchestra was playing Christmas songs in a corner. I suddenly realized this was the first Christmas Eve I was spending with Marvin after thirty years and not with my mother.

"I like Christmas," I said, "This year's extra special because of you."

"But you miss your mother..." He smiled at me, the way he always did, but there was something uneasy about him. "We should have been there tonight."

"We're going tomorrow, Marv. That's good enough. I didn't always go home during all my Christmases, you know."

"Okay then," he said softly. "I don't ever want to be the cause of any discontent." His voice was so low at the end of his sentence that I had to strain to hear him over the music and people cheering around tables. Discontent? He has to be kidding! I reached and traced his lips with my forefinger.

"You keep doing that and I'll carry you upstairs like a caveman." Amusement curved his mouth, and he began to laugh with a smug, taunting sound. "I can't believe I'm so lovesick," he said, kissing my finger.

I pulled my hand back to take the last sip from my mojito. "Pheromones," I said. "Good for the blues."

"I wasn't blue," he said. "How can I be blue with you around? Just faking it though. It is a male art form."

"Let's go up, you artiste," I said. "Show me your technique."


At midmorning next day, as Lyle drove us to my mother's house, he said, "My mother thought it odd that I would stop by at Aunt Greta's first. I told her I had very little time, so she agreed to be there today."

"I told Mom I'd have friends with me," I said. "I hope Kent doesn't let on."

"Better if four of us make an entrance altogether," Monique said. "I'm a little nervous about this."

"Who isn't!" I said.

"You have nothing be nervous about, Aunt Aria," Lyle said. "Aunt Greta is very understanding."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Marvin stiffened his shoulders with a frown.

There it is again! Something must have happened between Marvin and Mom.


While Lyle parked the Land Rover slightly to the side, as if to block the view of its huge body from the living room, he said, "Aunt Aria, you go first and ring the door. We'll follow you."

I walked up to the door, listening to the Christmas music wafting outside the house. I think it was The Little Drummer Boy transformed into elevator music.

A chocolate-skinned woman with hair pulled up into a tiny bun, not taller than five feet, opened the door. I noticed the chain around her neck and the gaudy midi dress in green with reindeer print on it.

"Welcome," she said, "Mrs. Wieland said you'd be coming. I am Natasha." Either she was subbing for a member of the staff or she was Mom's new employee.

"Merry Christmas," I said and waved at the others to follow me.

Christmas tree lights were still on in the hallway with the scent of pine filling the air. I held my head up and led our procession holding Monique's hand, with Lyle and Marvin in the back of us carrying the bags of presents. We entered the living room.

Aunt Fi and Mom were sitting in the sofa facing each other. Kenton rose from his seat and rushed to me. "Mom," he whispered in my ear. "I didn't let on." I hugged him. "Thank you, and Merry Christmas, son."

"Aunt Fi, Mom, Kenton, Merry Christmas," I said hoping my voice wouldn't croak. "Here we are, the entire Norris clan, minus one member, Diana."

Mom's eyes took in Marvin behind me and her eyes opened up in surprise. "Aria, what did you do?" she rasped.

"I married Marvin last week," I said. "Just like Lyle married Monique, here."

"As it should have been long ago," Aunt Fi said, and rose to hug me. "I'm so happy for you, Aria dear." Then she went to Monique.

"Monique," I turned to Monique who was still in Aunt Fi's embrace. I attempted to introduce them. "Lyle's grandmother, my Mom, my son Kenton."

Aunt Fi kept hugging Monique and then Lyle over and over again, and Kenton was shaking hands with Marvin, but Mom just sat there, without a word, her face solemn.

"Mom?" I went to her and put my arms around her. "Aren't you happy for us?"

She shook herself as if she was awakening from deep sleep. "Of course, dear," she said, "Best wishes and congratulations to all of you. I froze because I was just so...so surprised. Also, I can't get up very well. Arthritis, you know."

At this point, she looked at Marvin, and he stared at her back without a smile, so unlike him. Before I could speculate what went on between the two of them, Natasha led Belle and the girls into the room.

"I knew something was up when I saw a huge strange car on the side of the driveway," Belle said, staring at the four of us and trying to take in the view, as Sher rushed to hug me.

"Belle, meet your daughter-in-law," Aunt Fi said, beaming. "Don't just stand there. Give them a hug, will ya?"

Belle pointed to Marvin. "Is that why you're here?"

"I'm here with my wife, Belle," Marvin said. "Aria and I were married last week."

"And nobody told me? Sher, why didn't you, you backstabber?"

"Belle, dear," Mom said, her voice very gentle. "None of us knew. They all did it on their own. I certainly would have liked to be in on it, too."

"Sher, Eve," I said, "Merry Christmas! How are you?"

Belle forced a smile. "Congratulations, everybody," she said, "I'll take some things to the kitchen, now." And she left the room.

I noticed Monique's chin tremble as if she were about to cry. I took her by the hand. "I'll show you where the bathroom is. Come Monique."

Outside on the hallway, she said, "Lyle's mother doesn't like me."

"It is me she has trouble with," I said. "Not you. Don't take her actions personally."

"Mom is not feeling well lately, Monique," Sher said from behind my back. I hadn't noticed she had followed us. "Never mind her. Also, lots of nasty stuff happened with the bakery. One of the ovens conked out. One chef quit, and the other chef was in an accident. Even I am helping to keep the place up."

"Sorry to hear that, Sher," I said. "If you can think of a way I can be of help..."

"Aunt Aria, thanks, but you know Mom. She's have my head if..."

She stopped in the middle of a sentence as she had to have seen Belle come out of the kitchen.

"Sher, dear," I changed the subject. "Could you find a frame you liked? If you didn't have time, I can send you..."

"We don't need anything from you." Belle swiftly brushed past me. "But for now, I'll be nice for Aunt Greta's sake." And she entered the living room.

"Mom!" Sher whined after her. Monique stood speechless.

"It is all right, girls," I said. "We'll manage. Sher, please show Monique where the bathroom is. If I don't go in the living room soon, Marv will come up after me."

Inside the living room, Belle, Kenton, and Lyle were discussing something about Christmas lights on the pine outside of the house, and Marvin was seated in an armchair across from Aunt Fi and Mom, making small talk. I took the armchair next to him.

"Marvin says you got married in Las Vegas. I didn't know you had a gambling streak in you," Mom said. Was this a thorn or a dagger in the form of a joke?

"I didn't go there to gamble, Mom," I said with a serious face. "We went there because we wanted to get married as soon as possible, before something nasty happened again."

"If you're happy, Aria, I'm happy, then. Come, let me kiss you both," she said.

Marvin and I sat on both sides of her, and started telling her about the house in Houston. While we talked, Lyle took everyone's photos. I purposely didn't look toward Belle then, but in those photos, later, I noticed the way she looked at us –more so at me, her hate oozing out of that image like a bull about to gore a toreador.

But Marvin did look in her direction and saw it, too, and later, much later, and told me he had worried for all three of us, including Mom. That's why he said he had accepted we stay with her the next two nights, just to make sure. He said it was the same look he had seen in a killer's eyes at court, who, during a court session about financial arrangement after the divorce, had shot his wife after grabbing his attorney's gun.

Regardless of Belle's hostile stares, we had some fun moments, too. Monique had asked me to help them make the baby announcement, since both she and Lyle were still hesitant to do it. I thought maybe I should start with my mother.

"Mom," I started, "We came here from Texas as four people, but we're actually five."

"You mean Lyle's sister, Dear. Of course," she said.

"No, I didn't mean Diana. I meant when we entered this room, we were, still are, five people," and I nodded toward Lyle, to pick up after me, but he stayed silent.

"Aria, my heavens, at your age?"

At first, what she exactly meant didn't hit me, but when I saw Marv smirk and try to hold his laughter in, I caught on to it. "Oh, no," I giggled. "I'm talking about Lyle and Monique. They are expecting."

It was only then Lyle took over and holding Monique's hand and said, "He's very little, if he's a he. Only two and half months old, but he is here, all right."

"You've been married that long?" Aunt Fi's eyes opened wide, "And you didn't say anything?"

"Sorry Grandma, but I didn't have the nerve. Moni and I have been together two years, and I had mentioned about a girlfriend to you and Mom, but Mom said..."

"Never mind what I said," Belle rose in anger. "You should have told us. I wonder why you people want to extricate me from your lives, but I can guess who is behind all this." And she threw me another dagger of a stare.

"I'm afraid Lyle and I are to blame. I met Aunt Aria, only three days ago," Monique said, suddenly finding her voice. She had to have caught on to Belle's animosity toward me. "And Pa Marvin never interferes in our lives. I'm sorry if we made you upset, but we didn't have a big wedding, or any wedding."

"It's not just you, Mom. Her parents weren't there, either," Lyle said. "We're both high school teachers, and our time and means are limited. And we didn't want to burden the parents on either side. As simple as that."

Aunt Fi rose to her feet and embraced Monique. "Well, you did just fine. And I'm for one very happy for you, and I can hardly wait to hold my great grandchild when he or she comes."

Kenton rushed to Lyle's side and patted him on the back. "Way to go, man! Congratulations!"

The room was now full of cheer, Christmas cheer mixed with baby announcement, and opening of the gifts. Natasha brought drinks for extra cheer, and for once, we had a wonderful lunch all of us together. Although Belle went along with most of it, she avoided me and Marvin as if we weren't there or we were an inconvenience one must ignore. It was evident she put me in the middle of things she considered nasty. As always.

Mom asked everyone to stay in the Kinney House that night as Aunt Fi was already there, anyway. Lyle and Monique accepted like Marv and me, but Belle said, "I'd better go home, Aunt Greta. I talked them into delivering the new oven to the bakery right after Christmas. I'll take Sher and Eve with me. The girls are helping me as we are short-handed."

So that was that.

In the evening, I asked Mom where Wendie was when she and I and Marvin were alone in the room for a little while. "She is spending time with her family. The good news is she and her ex-husband are thinking of getting together again. That's why Natasha is here," she said.

"Mom, if you see her, tell her I didn't forget what I promised her, and please get her address, so I can send him the portrait when I'm done with it."

"If she comes back, I will," she said. "Also, the boxes you sent from New York, I didn't open them. Dan stacked them in your old room."

"Let them stay there just for a little while," I said. "After we get the house in Houston, I'd like them there."

"This is your house, too, Aria. Don't forget that." What did she think? Did she think I'd leave Marvin in two days?

Marvin said, "Let's send those boxes tomorrow, to the apartment, so nobody would need to bother, later on. When we move, we can just take them with us. I'll let Diana take care of it. She'll love to do anything for you, Aria."

Lyle and Monique had already said goodnight as well as Aunt Fi. And as it had been an emotional day for me, my eyes were closing. "I think we should go to bed," I said. "It's getting late."

"I'll stay up a bit and read my book," Mom said. "In old age, sleep escapes me."

When we entered the bedroom Natasha had prepared for us, Marvin said, "We graduated to one of the bigger rooms, but I'll always miss your old one."

I gave him a peck on the cheek and said, "My boxes are in it, and the bed's too small there."

"We fit on it once," he said pulling me to himself and kissing me. "You go wash up first, and I'll see what I can pull out of our bags."

When I came out of the bathroom, Marvin wasn't there. I wondered if he had gone to the car to get the second bag, which I had Dan bring to the room once we accepted Mom's offer to stay here. As this room didn't have any view of the driveway, I stepped out into the hall, to see from the window there, if Marv was still searching for the bag. While I walked to the window, I heard voices from the upstairs living room. One of them Mom's, the other Marvin's.

I tiptoed to eavesdrop. Yes, despite my so-called "perfect" upbringing, I had been curious about the untold goings on between my mother and my husband.

"As you see, I didn't cash it," Marvin was saying. "I kept it to show to Aria for her to see things from all angles."

"But you took it, didn't you? Just what does that make you?"

"I told you, Greta, I took it to show it to Aria. To show her you considered me so under her that you thought you could buy me."

"Then why didn't you? If you had shown it to her, she wouldn't leave you, and you knew it."

"I couldn't. She had her mind made up, and she didn't even listen to a word I said."

"You could send it to her, couldn't you?"

"She had already broken up with me, and Belle was pregnant. I felt hurt. She felt hurt, too, and I didn't want her to be disappointed in you, as well."

I couldn't help it. I entered the room. "I want to know exactly what's going on. Mom, what did you do to Marv?" Marvin's face went ashen. Then I noticed the piece of rectangular paper he had in his hand.

I looked at my mother. She averted her eyes from me. "You'd better tell it to her exactly as it happened, Marvin," she said.

"Come, Love, sit down," he said. "When all the crap was going on with Belle's pregnancy, Clifford came to see me with this check. It was the payment for me to leave you."

I snatched the check from his hand. It was for a hundred thousand dollars, made to Marv with Clifford's signature. It wasn't cashed. "So this is how much I was worth, Mom." I glared at her. "For your information, Marvin never broke up with me. I broke up with him. He even begged me to listen to him, but I didn't, because if I had stayed long enough, I would have lost my nerve. I should have lost my nerve." I looked down at the check. "I'll keep this, to remind myself of what I was worth."

"Aria, you have to understand. Belle was with child by this man." Mom pointed her finger to Marvin. "He had betrayed you. Don't you see?"

"No, Mom, I don't. He never betrayed me."

"Love, keep your voice down. Lyle and Monique are a few rooms down," Marvin said and went to close the door.

"Mom," I addressed her. "Mom, there is a huge gulf between what you know and reality. For your information, Marvin is not Lyle's father. Hector is. No one knows about it. It was discovered after a routine medical test."

"I might as well tell you the entire thing, Greta," Marvin said, his voice in an almost whisper. "Diana is not my child either, but neither Diana nor Lyle know it. No one does. You see, I can't have children, at least, not very easily. It is a medical thing."

"If he could, Mom, don't you think I would get pregnant at fifteen? Or later. Sometime until I was twenty-two?"

"Aria! You were a good girl."

"Yes, I was a very good girl, and unfortunately, a too obedient one. But I was in love, and I wasn't good that way. Truth is, I was worse than Marvin."

"Oh, Aria, that's enough," Mom said, grimacing. "Don't go into those kinds of details."

I caught Marv's smirk from the corner of my eye, but he pulled himself together to say, "Greta, I discovered the fact that Lyle is not my son, when Hannah-Diana's mother-wanted us to have children together. Since then, I had been looking forward to clear the air with Aria, without messing up her life, but the chance only appeared after this past Thanksgiving."

"But there was a paternity test at the time," Mom said.

"And who brought you the paternity test, Greta? It was Belle, wasn't it? And wasn't I the one who had insisted on it after Aria left me, against your objections?"

"That paternity test was falsified, Mom," I said. "We don't know exactly how Belle did it, but she did it. My guess is Pamela, the florist. Her mother was working at the hospital at the time and Belle and Pamela were very good friends. Maybe they still are."

Mom brought her hands to her cheeks and shook her head. "Too much. This is too much. I can't wrap my mind around why Belle would do such a thing."

"She is insanely jealous of Aria. It was easy to see," Marvin said.

"But you refused to see it," I told her, completing Marvin's words. "And you and Clifford wanted to sell me. And Marvin here, after we met the second time in New York, didn't tell me about this because he didn't want me to be upset with you."

"I only brought the check with me with the idea to give it back to you and explain why I didn't cash it. I wasn't sure I was going to do it when we left Houston, but downstairs earlier, I sensed your discontent with our marriage," Marvin said.

"I am sorry, very sorry," Mom began to cry. "I had no idea. Why would Belle do a thing like that?"

"She may be sick, Mom," I said. "Like her father. She is so delusional that she thinks I masterminded everything bad in her life."

"She shouldn't think that." Mom wiped her eyes with a tissue she extracted from her pocket. "Belle should be grateful to you, after you paid for half of her bakery."

"You paid for her bakery?" Marvin asked me.

I turned to him. "Marv, no one knows about it. No one else needs to. Except, Mom, me, and Maryanne, the woman who owned Kett's, if you remember her."

"We kept it a secret from everybody. I didn't want her feel indebted to us more than necessary," Mom said. "Aria especially insisted on keeping it hush-hush."

"I did because had she known about it, she would not take it, and probably, would even resent me more. Then she'd be without a job. This way, she had something to fall back upon."

Marvin moved next me and took the check from my hand. "If you wish, take another look at it. You'll see that it was never cashed." He stretched his hand holding the check to Mom.

"Clifford balanced the checkbooks. I wonder if he knew..." She frowned, pushing away Marvin's hand. "I believe you, Marvin," she said. "And do forgive me, both of you." She started weeping again.

"Look!" Marvin held her arm. "Don't get so upset. Let's consider this conversation and this evening never happened. There was no check ever, and Lyle, Diana, and Kenton are our children, and you Greta, are their grandmother." Then he pulled his hand back to tear the check to pieces.

At that point, I felt such a huge love for him, if loving him more than I already did were even possible.


Chapter 31

This was the land's end: the last fingers, knuckled and rheumatic,
Cramped on nothing. Black
Admonitory cliffs, and the sea exploding
With no bottom, or anything on the other side of it,
Whitened by the faces of the drowned.
Sylvia Plath

Belle



Ariadne is the heartworm inside me, and I am drowning in rage. Why is it no matter what I do, the bitch comes up on top? I can't get me off this treadmill. Whatever I do, whatever I plan to do, she is one step ahead of me.

All four of them are leaving tomorrow: the bitch, Marvin, Lyle, Monique. I guess I should be happy about the baby, but I am not, because of who the mother is. I bet the bitch hand-picked her for Lyle, even though they said she and Monique supposedly met a few days ago. They can't fool me. Nobody can fool me anymore. The bitch has everyone at her side, and I have nobody. But I will fight alone.

Even Sher...She told me she doesn't want me to hear anything nasty from my mouth about her "Aunt Aria." "I don't care what happened between the two of you, Mom. You may well have a point, but I like her, and I don't want to hear you talk negatively about her to me. Please..." God, how I wanted to smack her! But I didn't because both girls are helping up in the bakery, and I need every hand I can get. It is also possible that Sher has lost her head. It could be over someone she's working with. I wonder who the loser is. She is so out of it lately that she forgot her cellphone on my desk when she left in a hurry not to be late for her shift at the Meadows. Idiot girl! She doesn't know whether she's coming or going.

That bitch Ariadne managed to alienate all my three children from me, but I'll get her somehow...Before she leaves Rocky Road tomorrow, which means I have to get her today, if it is the last thing I do. As soon as I close shop and Marge and Kat leave.

I knew she would be coming home for Christmas, but for a little while there, I thought she may be coming with Jayce. I had no idea she had hooked Marvin again...Although, at one point, I suspected them when I heard Marvin was in New York. But I called Marvin to ask if Lyle was coming here for Christmas. Not that I ever call him, but asking about Lyle was my front. He talked in a whisper and said he was in a conference with several clients and he'd ask Lyle to call me. When I asked him where he was, he said, "Out west." Liar! He was out west all right, in Vegas, marrying the bitch.

My each nerve twisted in agony when I entered Aunt Greta's with Sher and Eve yesterday, the Christmas day. Something like a lightning bolt shook my brain inside, and the shock stunned me. I could not believe what I was seeing. Even at first sight, in the living room, people's poses and their manners announced wretchedness that hit me with surprising force.

Then I saw my joke of a mother eyeing me with contempt and hugging and petting the backstabbers with triumph. Hallelujah! Marvin and Ariadne had eloped and were buying a house in Houston. Worse yet, the bitch had snatched from me my only son and daughter-in-law. As soon as I caught on to the magnitude of the situation, I escaped to the kitchen. My mother found me lurking around pots and pans without doing anything. She said, "Your attitude is spilling like toxic off-shore oil, Belle. If you want Greta on your side, fix yourself once and for all." But could I? Aunt Greta was too busy cuddling the bitch and everyone else in the room. They all were ready to put me on the scaffold and pull the rope. They all were against me.

Even the wall-length mirror in the hallway was against me. Ariadne was saying something to Marvin, the idiot, and the mirror shone back her image as thinner than she was, but when I stood in front of it, it magnified all my marks, freckles, cellulite, veins, hips, belly. Moreover the dim Christmas lights kept accentuating the hook at the end of my nose. When I saw myself like that my face turned deep red, so much so that, Sher came over and asked me if I was having another hot flash.

I was feeling the heat of hell, true, because I couldn't stand the bitch and Marvin together. Even the idea of them. Not that I cared for Marvin. He could go to the very depths of hell with a whole harem and I wouldn't care, but because that ogre is with that shrew, I saw blood. Each time I had to be in the same place with those two, I averted my eyes from them because I couldn't take it. I couldn't take the way Marvin looked at her in an orgasmic rush. I couldn't take it when the simplest word they said to each other sounded like a smooch. I saw all my work of thirty years ago evaporate. Was it for this I gave up Lyle? There it was. She had eliminated me again.

All through the Christmas day, I fumed inside. Not only because Ariadne was with Marvin, but that hellcat had also put under her spell my Lyle and her slutty wife who kept hiding behind her Aunt Aria's skirt. A horrible feeling of being ignored crept over me. What was I for them? Their dupe, their horrid joke, their laughing stock...

Then there was that Christmas music that was driving me mad, mixing up with the noises and amplifying the tinnitus and the rumble inside my head. It had to be the saddest music in the world, enough to make me weep tears of blood.

Why the fuck do people play such music? It makes me gag. All those tunes sing as if they are tunes of panic, heralding doom.

So doom it will be. Although I have exhausted my ideas that were so bright, I am not done in yet. Everything will fall back into place. I'll make it fall. I'll bash their heads, yes, the heads of that hag Ariadne and her pooch Marvin, whom she leads by the snout. I'll splatter their blood on the walls like the raspberry sauce on my cheesecake.

These feelings were carrying no false threat. I thought of my Ruger LCP 380, in the drawer of my desk, and it was time to use it on those who most deserved its lead bullets in their obscene bodies.

If only I can get her for the last time, to sink my nails into her flesh...I have to lure her here. I have to lure her in some way so I could get rid of her for good. That has to be tonight, for they are leaving for Houston tomorrow. Maybe I'll bake a few cheesecakes now, in her honor, for the last time.

As my eyes search the top of my desk, I suddenly see it, and I know what will make Ariadne rush to the bakery alone tonight.


Chapter 32

This is the hour of pride and power,
Talon and tush and claw.
Oh, hear the call!--Good hunting all
That keep the Jungle Law!
Rudyard Kipling

Ariadne


When Marv and I retired to the bedroom, after leaving my mother, I was too restless to sleep, so I began packing my bag. "We are here another day, Love," Marvin said, "What's your hurry?"

"I guess I want to go back to our new house as soon as possible," I said.

"We can't just leave, you know, but if you wish..."

"You're right, and it wasn't my intention. I'm just...I don't know..."

"This whole trip was difficult on everyone's nerves," he said, fiddling with the buttons of his pajama top.

"Let me..." I said and dumped the clothes in the bag and went to him, but he held my hand.

"No, you are only allowed to undress me," he said with a grin. "Even when we both gain trembling hands."

"I don't want to think that far into the future, Marv," I said, pulling away. "We are nervous because of talking to Mom tonight. But the day went well, I think. Even Belle. She was, at least, cold and guarded, instead of...you know."

"I don't trust that woman," Marv said, as I walked to the window to close the blinds. "She really hates you. I caught her eyeing you several times today. Her hatred was evident in the way she looked at you."

"At least, she didn't cause a storm," I said, gazing out of the window at the last quarter of the moon. Christmas lights drowned its scant brilliance, reducing it to a sliver in the sky and making the town of Rocky Road glow from the ground up. "She just needs an attitude adjustment. She wasn't too bad with Monique and Lyle, too, once she overcame her initial shock."

"This is serious stuff, Aria. Let's just be careful with her. She's not all there."

"We'll take care," I said, reaching for the rope to pull the blind but stopped because, from behind me, he wrapped his arms around my waist. I leaned back and rested my head against his. "Hard to believe," he added. "This is the town we grew up in...with all that..."

"Yeah, with all that...I don't know if I'll ever feel the same affection for it again. But I'm so looking forward to Houston. Maybe we can celebrate the New Year's in the new house."

"I'm not so sure the kids and those at the firm will let us off the hook. They always make a big thing of New Year's."

"Okay, we'll celebrate it with them first and then celebrate it again in our house. I must remember to go easy on the champagne."

"Hmmm..." Marvin said, kissing my neck. "Did I tell you, after that thing with Lyle's birth, I didn't drink at all for ten years?"

"Oh, Marv! I'm so sorry!"

"Why are you sorry? I am the one who got drunk."

And I am the one who let you down, I thought, pecking on his chin from the side.

He turned me around and rubbed my nose with his nose. "This was Eskimo kissing," he said. "And this is Marvin kissing." He brought his mouth down gently on my lips. A sigh escaped me involuntarily, which made his kiss become more intimate, more demanding. I opened my lips more to tempt him.


We woke up late in the morning. Downstairs, in the living room, Kenton was talking to someone on his cell in a soft muffled voice. His girlfriend for sure. Marv winked at me, and we both grinned at the honeyed tone of Kent's voice.

In the breakfast nook, Aunt Fi was reading the paper. When she saw us, she folded it and started talking to us. She said Mom had made Lyle and Monique go to visit Belle. Poor kids! Marv was frowning. I didn't like it either. Even after what we told her the night before, Mom was still looking out for Belle. Another mother would denounce the person who would be so nasty to her own daughter. She doesn't feel like I'm her daughter, I thought, and something felt broken inside me.

Marvin must have caught on to my inner thoughts that he reached for my hand under the table and squeezed it in sympathy. This little gesture set off such a huge surge of affection for him that, at that moment, all else except Marvin became unimportant. Mom could go live with Belle if she wanted to, and I wouldn't care.

Marvin pulled his hand back and sipped his coffee with a smirk on his face. He had to have read my face again.

At that moment, my mother made her appearance, limping and complaining about, in a whisper, Natasha's ineptitude in the kitchen. Since Pauline took the week of to be with her family, Natasha had acquired the cooking duties as well.

"I can commiserate with Natasha," I said. "I am just as useless to you, Mom."

Before Mom could answer my implied rebuke, Marvin suddenly rose to his feet. "You know what? I'm going in the garden. Aria says your begonias are booming, Greta. I wouldn't want to miss that sight." Then he touched my shoulder. "Come with me, Aria."

"It is going to rain," Aunt Fi said. "Don't get wet."

"We'll come in before then, Aunt Fi," I said. "It'll be nice to get some clean, fresh air."

Outside, Marv pulled me toward the other side of the house. "Let's go where we won't be seen or heard," he whispered as soon as we came down the porch stairs. I hooked my arm through his, and we strolled to where the redwood picnic tables and benches were. When I thought we were out of sight, I grabbed his shirt, yanked him to me, and kissed him long and hard. The surprise and the amusement of the moment tugged at the corners of his mouth as he grinned. "Wow, milady, Sherwood Forest denizens may wonder why the sudden heat?"

"My Lord, just a kiss of thanks, to herald a million more thanks for later."

He laughed rubbing his cheek against mine. "I can live with that. In truth, I can live only on that."

"Thanks for saving my skin in there. If you hadn't hold my hand under the table..."

"I'm always holding your hand, even when I am not with you. Look Aria," he said, a serious tone creeping into his voice. "I know you feel hurt at your mother, and I can see why, but cut her some slack, Love. After all, she did the right thing. Sending a son to his mother is not so bad. Besides, she's an old lady and she's used to protecting Belle. An old habit of hers. Hard to let it go."

"After what we told her last night?" I narrowed my eyes. "She is my mother. I expected her to wash her hands off her."

"Still, please don't go nose to nose with your mother. You've been holding up so well...I'm not telling you what to do, Aria, far from it. I'm only requesting it." He waited until I lifted my head to smile at him. He smiled back. "I feel your pain with this, but we're leaving tomorrow, to be away from here. Let's not cause any nasty incident to cast a shadow on the rest of our lives."

I looked at him and reminded myself of one thing. The only thing. Marvin was here. He was mine. I'd never let go of him again. A sigh came out of my lips. "Oh, God!" I held him tight, my fingers digging into his shoulders, and let my lips crush his mouth. His breath merged with mine, and he let a moan escape as he kissed me back.

"Mom! Where are you?" Kenton's voice made us step away from each other. By the time, he turned around to the side of the house where we were, from the front, Marvin was sitting on the bench and I was standing by a rose bush. "There you are! Where did you guys disappear to? Grandma said you'd be by the begonias."

"We were there. Then we walked here and sat for some more fresh air. I heard you talking to Laura on the phone when we came down. We didn't want to disturb you."

"You should have, Mom. She wanted to talk to you to say congratulations." Kenton shifted her gaze to Marvin. "Laura Nelson is an internist where I work. She's also my girlfriend."

"That's great, Kenton," Marvin said. "Good to have somebody in your life. Serious?"

Kenton blushed. "Very," he murmured.

"Don't let her get away then. Not to butt in your business but things have a way of happening out of nowhere."

"Thanks," Kenton said. "We have been talking about making it more official, but I discussed it with Grandma, I think, during Easter. She said not to hurry things. So I thought maybe Mom thought the same way as her."

"Never mind her," I hissed, taking a few steps toward the picnic table. "You do what you feel like, Kent. I'd say, if you love her, don't hesitate." I perched at the other end of the bench and laid my hands on my cheeks. They were hot as if ablaze.

"Aria, are you feeling all right?" Marvin reached for my arm and his hand brushed lightly over mine. I glanced up and tried to smile at both of them. "I guess, I am getting temperamental in my old age," I said. "But I meant what I said, Kent. Your grandmother and I are oceans apart in our thinking."

"Okay, Mom." Kenton cocked a brow. "But you'd better see a doctor as soon as you guys settle down. There are prescriptions to regulate the stuff in the body after fifty."

"By all means, I'll see to it that she sees someone, Kenton," Marv said, but his serious tone didn't back the glint in his eyes as he turned his gaze to me.

"Well, I really came looking for you because I told Marvin I'd help with the boxes," Kenton said. "I don't know if the post office is open today, but I think UPS is. We can fill up Grandma's Lincoln. It is the biggest car."

"Take the Audi," I said. "Let's not mess with the Lincoln."

"Because it is such a nice car," Marvin said quickly. "You know the boxes might mess up the interior. If Lyle hadn't taken the Land Rover to his mother's, it would be a better choice, but we don't know when they'll be back."

"They are back already," Kenton said. "They just pulled in while I was looking for you."

"All right, then. It's settled." Marvin rose to his feet. "Let's go now. Aria, will you be all right? Or would you like to come with us?"

"I'll just go up to the studio, and see if I can pack up my stuff there," I said. "You guys go ahead." Truth was, I felt so disappointed that I didn't want to leave anything of me in this house.

"We can get everything in Houston. Leave the studio as it is, Love."

"Yeah, Mom," Kenton interjected. "That way you'll have a studio in both houses."

Seeing the worry in Marvin's eyes, I reconsidered. He didn't want my mother's feelings hurt. Not at his first visit as my husband. "Yes, of course, Kent," I said and added jokingly, "Don't worry, I'll behave myself while you guys are away. And Kent, get Dan to help you to carry the boxes down."



It was getting dark when Marvin and Kenton finally finished sending the boxes. They came back with two flower bouquets, one for Aunt Fi the other for Mom, obviously Marvin's doing. And it hadn't rained at all.

Just when we had finished dinner, the phone on the landline rang. Natasha went to answer it. When she came back, she seemed upset and confused.

"Mrs. Norris, please..."

"Is it for me?" I stood up and walked to the hallway toward the credenza where the phone was, but the person at the other end had hung up.

"It was Miss Sherrie," Natasha said. "She asked for you. She said she was in the bakery. She was crying. She said there was an emergency. When I said, I'd call you, she said never mind. Don't tell the others. She said she'd text you."

"Are you sure it was Sherrie?" Marvin asked from behind me. He had to have followed me.

Without hearing Natasha's reply, I sprinted to the living room since I had left my cell on the table there.

~Aunt A. I'm in t bakery closing up. Sorry to bother u, but I'm bleeding. Miscarriage, I tnk. Plz, don't tell anyone. YTB.~

In haste, I left my cell on the credenza and ran upstairs to grab my purse and keys. When I rushed down, Marvin stopped me at the door, holding my cell. "Aria, where are you going?"

"I gotta go to Sher, Marv. Please, let me pass, Honey."

"I'm coming with you!"

"No, you don't. She doesn't want anyone else."

But he came anyway, not letting go of his firm grip on my arm. "We'll take the Land Rover. It is a better vehicle if we have to take her to the hospital," he said, as he made me sit on the passenger seat up front.

"She'll be upset if she sees you," I said.

"I'll wait outside, if that is the case," he said, turning the key in the ignition. "By the way, what does YTB stand for?"

"YTB means you're the best, I think, but Marv, you really shouldn't come."

"I am not leaving you out there in the middle of the night, especially if..."

"Just because it's the bakery, you certainly don't think...I mean Sher was helping out there after her shift at the hospital."

"Aria, something's odd about this. She's in the medical field, yet she calls you?"

"We'll see," I said, but he did have a point. "Sher told me some things, rather asked me some things about relationships and stuff while I was painting her portrait. There's a connection I think between her questions and what's happening now."

Marvin didn't answer, but his face was very serious. Yet, how could I blame him for not trusting anything or anyone around Belle?

We didn't talk the rest of the way, but I texted Sher back, as I'll be there in a few minutes, Sher. Hang on.

As soon as Marvin parked the car, I jumped out and ran to the bakery. The door was open, although there was a closed sign on it. The light was on inside, but I saw no one. I pushed the door and went in.

"Sher, Sher! Where are you?"

Belle rose from behind the display counter. "Well, well, well! Look who's here?" she mocked. There was an irrational gleam in her eyes, and her right hand was behind her. "Sorry, dear Ariadne, Sher's not here. Was never here. She had the late night shift at the hospital. See, it was me who called you for the cheesecakes." She pointed to the top of the counter.

Sure enough, there were five cheesecakes in a row, and I had no doubts now that Belle had lost it totally. I picked a cheesecake and held it in front of me. "Thank you, Belle, but you shouldn't have," I said, taking a step backwards. At this point, a hasty retreat had to be my best option.

"Hey, don't move back, Bitch. I want to see you near the cheesecakes," she said, as her right hand came up pointing at me. Only, it wasn't just her hand. She was holding a gun.

"You know, Ariadne, I decided your life's over. Your life for my three children."

"Belle, your children are yours. They'll always be yours."

"No, you took them," she hissed, and aimed the gun at my face.

From behind me I heard Marvin enter the bakery.

"My, my, look who's here sniffing after you, Bitch. This is even better. Move over this way, Marvin, and don't try anything, or else, she'll get it."

"Why are you doing this, Belle?" Marvin asked.

"Shut up, Marvin! She took everything from me. She took all my children."

"She'll give them back," Marvin said. I twisted my body slightly to see where he was. His face had turned ashen, although his voice was steady. He stood about five feet from me. In front of him was the taller counter with the display glass case that was over the level of his chest. If he ducked, a bullet could miss him. I felt better thinking that.

"On second thought," Belle cackled. "It'll be more fun to see your face, Bitch, when he's shot. Yeah, a good change in plans." She was now aiming the gun at Marvin. I looked around for something to use as a weapon, but didn't see anything, except for the cheesecake in my hands. "Don't move an inch, Ariadne, or he'll get it."

"Belle, did you know Aria paid for half of this place?" Marvin said.

"Nah, you can't fool me. Maryanne gave me a cut."

"Ask Maryanne. Ask Greta. You'll find out. They'll show you the papers Maryanne signed."

"Marvin, shut up. I don't believe you, anyway. But here's a little tidbit for you. Remember that famous night when you think you fathered Lyle?"

"Oh, that...Yes, Belle. I need all the details," Marvin said. "You must tell me all about it. As I said earlier, I don't remember. I don't remember anything, and since you started..."

I realized Marvin wanted to keep her talking.

"Yeah, why not a farewell present to you, Marvin? Why not? After all, I owe you for Lyle. That night, you weren't drunk, You Idiot! I spiked your drink with crushed Valium. See Bitch, this one I got on you."

She drugged him...I mustn't cry...She drugged him...I mustn't cry... Strange, but this was the thought that hopped to my mind first.

"I forgot my cell here... Mom! What are you doing?" Sher had come in through the door.

"Sher, stay to the side and shut up, or I'll fire. These two will get it."

"Mom, don't!"

"I said shut up!" I heard Sher whimper behind me. "And there's more..." Belle continued. "Lyle is not your son, Marvin."

"Hector's," I said. "Even Hector knows that."

"How did you find out? You knew it all the time, didn't you, bitch? You use everything to your advantage. You are the one to shit on me all the time. You go first then. That's it."

Her finger on the trigger seemed to move. With all my might, I hurled the cheesecake at her face. Sher screamed. The gun went off at the same time the cheesecake splat on Belle's face, clouding her eyes. I threw myself on the floor. Marvin ducked and then rushed to the back of the counter together with Sher. I heard several gunshots. God, please don't let Marvin get hit.

"No one move!"

Someone, a policeman, held me by the arm and lifted me up. "Where's Mr. Norris?"

"He's here," Sher yelled from behind the counter. "We're holding my mother down. She's not well. Please, don't shoot."

Marvin's voice. "Aria, I'm all right." I must have fainted at that point.

When I came to, I found myself sitting on a chair. Someone was holding something to my nose and wiping my face with a wet cloth. Marvin and Sher were next to me. They were talking to two policemen. I saw the top lights of the police cars, outside. The bakery was in shambles inside.

"Are you hurt, Ma'am?" the person wiping my face, possibly a paramedic, asked. I guessed she was a paramedic.

"I don't think so," I said. "Nothing hurts."

Then I saw Belle on a stretcher, tied up. Her face still had the remnants of the cheesecake. She seemed to be out cold. Another paramedic was bent over her. There was something horribly miserable about her, even in that stretcher. Something stubborn, forceful, and threatening.

"Is she all right?" I asked.

"She should be," said the paramedic, tending her. "We injected her with a tranquilizer."

"I hit her with an empty tray," Marvin said, putting his arm around me. "To make her let go of the gun."

"She is not well," I told the policeman. "She needs psychiatric care."

"Still, she lured you here and pulled a gun on you, didn't she?"

I nodded.

Saying "Premeditation," the policeman wrote on his pad. "Can you tell us what happened, Ma'am, if you feel up to it?"

"After dinner tonight, there was a call to the house asking for me. My mother's maid Natasha took the call. Then I received a text message from Sher's phone, asking me to come over to the bakery to help her..." And I told them, skipping the part of the conversation involving Lyle.

While I was talking to the policeman Kenton entered the bakery and rushed to me, his face showing the strain he felt. Then I saw Lyle kneel near the stretcher that held Belle.

"Mom, are you all right?" Kenton said, hugging me.

"Yes, Kent," I said. "We're all alive. Son, don't leave Lyle alone. Sher and Marv are with me."

God, please, don't let Lyle catch on to what was said earlier. Sher, I must warn Sher.

The paramedics were taking the stretcher out of the bakery. Kenton ran back to say, "We're following the ambulance, Mom. Me and Lyle. So we know where they are taking Aunt Belle and that she is all right."

"Very good, Kent. Thanks son," I said.

"You'll all have to come to the headquarters for further statements," One of the policeman said.

"We told you everything," I said.

"Can we do this early tomorrow, Sir?" Marvin asked. "My wife had a scare. She needs her rest."

"All right," said the policeman. "But I want everyone involved to be there, including the maid who took the call, before 10 A.M. And we are taking both cell phones as evidence."

"We'll be there," Marvin said.

"Sher, you come with us to the house," I said, as we walked to the cars on the parking lot. A few late-night loiters were standing around, watching all the commotion.

"I can't," Sher said. "Eve is alone at the house. She is probably waiting for my mom."

"Marv, let's go pick Eve up and bring her to my mother's," I said. "On the way over, we can talk to Sher. If the news media finds out about this, they'll harass her."

"But I have my car, here," Sher said.

"Okay, then Marv, can you follow us to their house? I can go with Sher and talk to her about Lyle?"

"All right," he said curtly. "But I'm not going in there. In that house. You two bring Eve out." I gave a peck to his cheek and followed Sher.

"Aunt Aria, I'm so sorry. I can't believe tonight," she said as she stuck her key in the ignition. "I'm still nervous, but I can drive; don't worry about that."

"No, not at all, but I'm worried about something else."

"You mean Lyle. I heard you say you wanted to talk to me about it."

"Yes, dear. That's what I am going to request from you. Don't tell the part about Lyle's paternity. Lyle doesn't know it. No one knows. The police especially need not know it."

"It would kill Lyle if he found out," Sher said. "Who's Hector?"

"He's Buzbee's oldest son from his first wife. Hector now lives in Fort Worth with his wife Rebecca and their four children. If his wife found out, she would leave him."

"For how long did you know about this, Aunt Aria?"

"I didn't know anything about it until the last ten days or so. Marvin, too, found out by accident, when Lyle was little and had to be tested for blood." I took a long satisfied breath. I hadn't brought Diana into the mess.

"This must be very difficult on you."

"It is, but it will be more difficult for everyone if Lyle found out."

"He won't. I promise. I'll say I entered the bakery when my mother was about to shoot. That'll keep me from lying too much. And Aunt Aria, thank you."

"For what?"

"For rushing to help me, even though it was a false alarm."

In the house, I washed my face while Eve and Sher pack a few things. The cold water on my skin was refreshing and I felt better. In a few minutes, the girls got in the back of the Land Rover, and I took the passenger seat. Marvin was still looking distraught, but he managed a hint of a smile at Eve.

"Is my mom really too sick?" Eve whimpered once we were on our way.

"She'll probably need long-term care, Eve," I said. "Otherwise she's all right from what little I saw."

"Please tell me what happened? This morning, she seemed to be her normal self, a bit more cranky than usual maybe, but that happens sometimes."

"She had a nervous breakdown," I said. "Sher will explain it to you better, but tomorrow, okay? Now, she must be all shook up, too. We all are."

"Okay," Eve said meekly. When I looked back, I saw both girls weeping quietly. I stretched my hand and touched them gently. Sher took my hand and squeezed it. "Thank you, Aunt Aria."

I learned it later that Marvin had stood outside of the bakery and called Kenton and Lyle, thinking they could help, if there were a medical emergency. Then, he looked inside through the glass window and saw Belle pointing the gun at me, and he called the police before entering the bakery himself.

When we finally made it to bed at night, Marvin said, "You know what the worst part was aside from the fear of her shooting you or us?"

"Tell me."

"Driving to that house. It haunted me. In all the months I was there, it felt like the grey paint on the walls slammed from all angles, choking me. Every single night, I slept fully clothed on that cot, in dread of Belle and the walls and the low ceiling, as if I lived in a casket like a vampire. That house still gives me the creeps. Its images still come back to me in nightmares, and in fragments."

I cradled him in my arms, and kissed the top of his head. "It's all gone, my love, finished. I'm now so close to you. And I can hardly wait for this thing to be over, so we can head back to Houston to a much better, brighter house with high ceilings. I promise I won't ask you to come here again."

"When you went down," Marvin said, "I thought she hit you. I went crazy. If Sher hadn't rushed to the back of the display cases, I would have killed her with that metal tray. Then I saw you move, and I dropped the tray. I didn't know I had it in me to kill a person."

"I wasn't hurt. I threw myself on the floor. The gun had nothing to do with it. But when I heard the gunshots I really feared for you."

"Just to think that we overcame her with a cheesecake and a bakery tray..."

"I must have been so tensed up....When I realized you were okay, then I let go and I fainted."

He twisted around and pulled himself up, facing me. "Yeah, just don't faint on me again. It scares the crap out of me." He brushed his lips over my cheeks.

"I think you sound like you love me, Mr. Norris."

"Loving you, Mrs. Norris, is my only asset."

Then we fell asleep in each other's arms, dreaming about Houston.

************************