Blind Acorn Page 10

  “That must have made it even harder for you,” I recalled how shaken she’d been.

  “Yes,” she said, “and, no. I mean, right at that moment I was in a fog of fear and lack of information and aloneness. That little girl didn’t know where to turn. And you,” she reached for my hand and squeezed it, “you were so kind. You were exactly what I needed at that moment and I will be forever grateful to you for that. But I learned quickly that none of it amounted to the devastating death sentence that I’d imagined. Not at all. I learned that I am stronger and more positive than I’d ever known I could be. In a strange way, I came to feel powerful because of it.”

  “I think I get it,” I said. “You’ve faced, and overcome, one of your biggest fears. That has to be tremendously empowering.”

  She nodded. “It is,” she agreed. “It certainly is for me. But it also shows me the stark contrast between myself and some of my friends. And that is what I wanted to explain to you.”

  She went on to explain to me that those women hovering about her that night are all damaged in their own ways. Because Lila-the-leader gets so much done, being in her circle gives them a sense of importance that they are unable to give themselves. Without disclosing details, she made me understand that, for them, helping and supporting her is a mission that they feel uniquely capable of fulfilling. My involvement would have been threatening to them. And she didn’t want me to cause them more anxiety than they already shared.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” she cautioned. “This isn’t charity work. I’m not simply tolerating them. They are my friends and they would do anything for me. As I would for them. And taking care of me is something they need to do. So, I am letting them do it —for them.”

  The earnestness in her face was real and I knew she meant every word. I smiled slowly. “Lila,” I said, “you are capable of everything I ever thought you were —and so much more. You are compassionate and generous, and I am proud to know you.”

  She hugged me quickly and walked to the door. Over her shoulder, she called, “I hope we’ll see you at the animal shelter fundraiser on Saturday. If you have any old towels and blankets, they could sure use them.”

  Some things never change.

  Thirty-Four

  Toward the end of Dylan’s school year, he asked me about bringing a friend home for dinner. He said that she was someone he’d been dating, and she wanted to meet us. He did not say he wanted us to meet her. But that was Dylan for you.

  We agreed on a night the following week and he reached for the door to leave. “Before you go,” I asked casually, “can you tell me a little bit about her?”

  A heavy sigh and a head shake preceded his turning back toward me. “Come on, Mom,” he said plaintively, “it’s just dinner. You don’t really need a resume, do you?”

  “Of course not,” I added my own head shake to his. “I just want to know what I need to know in order to plan dinner. Is she a vegetarian? Does she hate fish? What should I know?”

  He studied his shoes before looking at me and saying, “No. Nothing special. She eats everything I do.”

  “Okay, that helps. Can I know her name, so we don’t have to refer to her as ‘she’? That’s the last question, at least for now.”

  “Sandrine.” That was it. No last name.

  “Oh,” I said. “That’s a pretty name. French, I think, right? Do you call her Sandy?” Okay, I guess there was another question or two, after all.

  “NO! No. Please don’t call her that. She might not hate fish, but she does hate being called Sandy. Don’t do it, even as a joke. She’ll be upset, and then I—” He stopped and looked at me pleadingly.

  “Okay,” I said, hands up in surrender. “Okay, no name jokes. Got it. Let me know if there are any other rules.” I smiled hoping he’d do the same. Oddly, he didn’t. Maybe she really means something to him, I thought. I held the door for him to make his escape.

  A couple of days later, Dylan asked if he could use my car to collect Sandrine for dinner on the night we’d chosen. I cheerily agreed. “In fact,” I told him, “you can also borrow it to bring her home afterward.” I thought I was funny, but the look on his face said that he disagreed.

  I’ll admit that I wanted to make a good impression. If Sandrine was important to Dylan, then she was important to me. So, I made the extra effort to spiralize the zucchini, make homemade salad dressing, freshly grate the cheese. I knew I could cook, so I wasn’t worried about the food. And I was plenty curious about her and Dylan. I set the table, and everything was ready early; we’d have time to sit and get to know each other a bit before dinner.

  Lucy had begged off the meet-and-greet, saying that she had homework and that she had already met Sandrine. She drew the name out, with emphasis on the second syllable. I pretended not to notice and told her we’d call her when dinner was ready.

  Mitch was tired and distracted, as usual these days, but he was home by the time I’d asked him to be. He’d changed and was relaxing in the living room when Dylan pulled into the driveway with Sandrine. We both met them at the door and Dylan made the introductions. He seemed nervous, but I guess that was to be expected. But I knew his parents and knew that he had nothing to worry about, smiling to myself at my own joke.

  It turned out that Mitch had done some work for Sandrine’s father when he built his new corporate headquarters downtown. As they talked about that project, I sat back and observed her. She was a very poised young woman, fully able to hold her own in, I suspected, most any conversation. Throughout our talk, she would occasionally look to Dylan and, as if on cue, he’d provide some insight about her. She’d sung a solo in last year’s school musical production. She volunteered at her church’s Sunday school. She thought she might want to be a veterinarian. I couldn’t decide which of them was more impressed with the information, Dylan or Sandrine. I was feeling increasingly uncomfortable for my son when Lucy entered the room. “Are we ever going to eat tonight?” she asked.

  Horrified, I gave her The Look. She smiled slightly and turned woodenly toward the couch. “Hi, Sandrine. How are you?” Halfway through the response, she again turned toward me, raising her eyebrows in expectation.

  “However inelegant Lucy’s entrance, now that she’s here we should go in for dinner.” We all filed into the dining room and enjoyed a pleasant meal together. Lucy didn’t say much. I wasn’t surprised, nor did I mind. Much.

  When we’d finished, I asked Lucy to help me get dessert. She dragged herself from her chair and followed me into the kitchen. “Why are you being so rude to her?” I whispered furiously when we were out of earshot.

  “I’m rude? Ha!” she chuckled.

  “Well, you could at least be cordial for Dylan’s sake. Obviously, she means something to him.”

  “Sometimes you are so clueless, Mom. He doesn’t care about her any more than she cares about him. And Sandrine is all about Sandrine.”

  “Then why did he bring her home to meet us?”

  “Because,” she could barely control her laughter, “because she told him to! Don’t worry, though. She’ll be gone in two weeks.”

  Lucy was right. We never saw Sandrine again.

  Thirty-Five

  On the Thursday before Memorial Day, I was on my way to the airport and wishing I could think of a good reason to turn around and go home. But, I couldn’t. My cousin, Bonnie, was the mother of the bride and she definitely would not understand. So, I went to the airport.

  Bonnie’s daughter, Cara, was getting married and it was the first wedding of her generation in the family. It was a big deal, especially to Bonnie. She had called us with the save-the-date months earlier and was excited to see so many family members attending. In truth, that was an attraction in itself; we cousins seldom saw much of each other anymore. The original plan was for me to travel with my cousin Jess. Our husbands were only too happy to stay home with their kids and pets. T
ogether, Jess and I would represent the New England branch of the extended family at the Texas wedding.

  We thought we’d fly in together on Thursday, attend the wedding on Friday night, and be back in the air and on the way home Saturday. The groom’s parents were hosting the event on their ranch, about a three-hour drive from the airport. Many guests were traveling long distances and we’d all been graciously invited to stay at the ranch. A pasture had been designated strictly for our use and we were welcome to pitch tents —or park —in any part of it that we liked. Despite this generous offer, Jess and I decided that we’d book a hotel near the airport. Since our flight on Saturday was in the early part of the day, we weren’t sure we’d have sufficient time to unpitch a tent and get back to the airport. Bonnie said she understood. She was sorry we couldn’t stay longer, though. Jess and I were less sorry about that than she was.

  We had agreed on one carry-on each, no checked bags, and a rental car would be waiting at the airport. We even coordinated our wedding attire on Sunday and the plan was in motion. Until Wednesday. That’s when Jess tripped on a loose floorboard on her deck, fell off of said deck, and broke her left leg in three places. Not just one. Three. I tried to be completely sympathetic, I really did. But a little voice in the back of my head kept asking, how are you going to walk through the airport —and the pasture —like that, Jess? The answer, of course, was that she couldn’t. Trying not to make it all about me, I realized that I’d be traveling alone and that it was about to be much less fun than I’d hoped. But I was committed, right?

  As I waited to board, I noticed a woman reading on a tablet. She chuckled softly several times, once covering her mouth to avoid laughing aloud. When she looked up to check the clock, I caught her eye. “If you don’t mind me asking, what,” I asked with a smile, “are you reading? I ask because it looks like you are thoroughly enjoying it.”

  She told me what she was reading and highly recommended it. “I’ll look for that before my return flight,” I smiled.

  “Have you read Busy Bodies?” she asked. “I really liked that one, too”

  “Yes,” I nodded enthusiastically. What are you doing? I asked myself. I hadn’t read it, and now I’d have to do so. “Thanks for sharing.” I hurried toward the restroom and made a mental note to be sure not to sit near her on the plane.

  My flight was uneventful and only a little late. I trudged through the airport toward my rental car, grumbling to myself the whole way. At the counter, they told me which car matched my reservation and I headed for the numbered space. The car was in the subcompact category and was truly subcompact. It was about the size of a golf cart but was fully enclosed. Irritated that it was less than I’d expected, I circled it looking for damage. There were a couple scratches on the rear bumper, and I waved someone in an official-looking uniform over to see it. I pointed it out to him, and he said, “Yeah. Okay.” And he started to walk away.

  “Wait,” I called after him. “Aren’t you going to document it or something?” I’d declined all the extra insurance coverage they’d offered, and I didn’t want to be charged later for damage that wasn’t my fault.

  “I saw it,” was all he answered with a wave.

  “Just a minute,” my voice a little louder, “I’d like to see your manager please.” Apparently, that wasn’t much of a threat. He shrugged and kept walking. A minute later a young woman wearing a similar uniform walked rapidly toward me.

  “Can I help you?” she smiled.

  “Yes, you can,” I said. “I’d like you to document the scratches on the body of this car before I take it off the lot.” I pointed accusingly toward the back of the car.

  She walked around the entire car and again smiled at me. “Okay,” she said. That was it.

  “Aren’t you going to make a note or something? How will you remember this when I return the car?”

  “Honestly?” she continued smiling, “that wouldn’t be considered ‘damage’ for an insurance claim. It’s too small. So even if you had done it, it wouldn’t matter. You’re fine.”

  Still not content, I rolled my eyes and exhaled loudly, “Alright then. I guess I’ll go.” But I was already preparing for a fight when I came back in two days.

  I checked into my hotel a short time later and went out to sit by the pool with a cold drink and a good book. I was feeling better about the whole trip in no time and was glad I was here. I texted Bonnie to let her know I’d made it this far and would see her the next day. Room service brought dinner and I turned in early.

  Friday morning, after a leisurely breakfast (maybe I could get used to this), I went out to explore on foot. It was a beautiful day for a wedding, and I was looking forward to it, if not to the drive. By early afternoon I was dressed and ready, allowing myself more than enough time to get to the ranch. Better hours early then a little late, I thought. I called down to the bell station to ask the valet to retrieve my car for me, then I went to the lobby to wait for it. It seemed to be taking longer than I thought it should, and I approached the stand thinking they’d forgotten me. As soon as the attendant looked up and saw me, he picked up a phone and hurriedly made a brief call. A manager appeared almost immediately. Thinking he was coming to apologize for the delay, I was feeling magnanimous and I flashed him a brilliant no-apology-necessary smile. I was a bit premature.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Barrett,” he said as he offered his hand. “My name is Adam Newell and I wonder if we can talk for a moment?” He looked like he was trying to take charge of something but had an uncertain grip.

  “Sure,” I said a little hesitantly, “but I am on a schedule, so I hope it won’t take long.”

  He began to shake his head rapidly, saying, “No, no. Not long at all. But, um, I need to show you something and offer an explanation. Um, the valet—” As he began his explanation, my tiny car was pulling into view. I pointed to the car and nodded to him to continue.

  “The valet unfortunately miscalculated the size of the car and of the parking space and there’s been an accident.”

  “Oh no!” I exclaimed. “I hope he’s okay!” As I expressed my concern for him, I was looking at the car, and a driver, both of which looked perfectly fine. My confusion was probably showing while Adam hastened to assure me that the valet was fine.

  “However, your car, it, um, it’s less fine. If you walk with me—” he gestured toward the far side of the car. For some reason, the driver crawled across the console and exited from the passenger side. I thought he must have been making room for me to get in, but in a peculiar manner. I walked with Adam as he continued, “Now we’ve already notified the rental company and our insurance company, and you can be assured that everything will be handled between the two companies.”

  As I stepped around the rear bumper, those scratches again caught my eye, but only for a moment. Because the entire driver’s side of the car looked like a wrecking ball had been fully engaged on it. My mouth hung open as I walked slowly toward the hood and back. Wide-eyed, I turned to Adam and asked, “How? How did this happen?”

  “Well,” he was nodding rapidly as he spoke, “Well, as I said, the valet misjudged the space in which he was working. But the rental company will have another car here for you by morning and we’ll take care of everything.”

  “Misjudged? Misjudged? Do you see the size of this vehicle, Adam? This car is not nearly the size of a normal vehicle. What would have happened if I’d brought in a full-size car? And —tomorrow? I can’t wait until tomorrow, I need a car today, right now, in fact.” I glanced at my watch for emphasis.

  Now he seemed more nervous than ever. “I’m, we’re, so very sorry, Mrs. Barrett. I did try to get them to do something sooner, but it’s a holiday weekend and they just don’t have any cars. Tomorrow morning is the best they could do. Can we arrange transportation for you? We have a shuttle bus right here.” He gestured to the front of the hotel. “It’s available to take you wh
enever you’d like.”

  “Is it available to me and only me? Because I doubt that anyone else in this hotel is trying to get to the same wedding as me. Which is three hours away. Which is why I need to be leaving.” Again, I looked at my watch. “Is it drivable? It must be drivable, he brought it out here without carrying it.”

  Adam looked chagrined. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, it’s drivable, but the doors on that side won’t open. Neither will the trunk. And the driver’s side headlight is, well, it’s hanging off and doesn’t seem to be operating. And the mirror, um, the mirror is on the back seat. But it’s drivable.” More head nodding.

  “Adam,” I said, “I am going to drive this car to the wedding. But you are going to give me cell phone numbers for every person on duty in this hotel from now until tomorrow morning. If I get stuck somewhere out there,” waving my arms into the distance, “I will keep calling until someone comes to get me. Are we agreed?”

  He swallowed hard, but he was already reaching into his breast pocket for a pen.

  Ten minutes later, I was armed with a lengthy list of phone numbers. Holding my head high, I opened the passenger side door and got into the car. I was as graceful as possible (which was not at all) climbing across to the driver’s seat, where I unsuccessfully attempted to adjust the seat before driving away. For the next three hours, I listened to rattling noises and questioned my decision to take this thing on this drive. There was nothing, nothing, in the part of Texas through which I was driving. If I got stuck, I’d really be stranded. For some reason, Lucy’s face kept appearing in my mind’s eye —and she was laughing. But both the car and I made it to the ranch, and in plenty of time for the wedding.