Miss Fortune (14 page)

This is hurting my fence, he said for the umpteenth time. Ill have to pay to have my fence repaired!

No you wont, Mr. Valicielo, she brightly assured him, because I have a job! I mean, its only a temporary one, but still, I should earn enough to move, the tree before long, and if the fence needs to be repaired, Ill do that, too.

Mr. Valicielo gripped his rake so tightly that his knuckles went white and he looked back to the fallen tree. Reluctantly, he nodded. Okay, he said. Okay.

Rachel patted him on the back before bouncing up the porch stairs to her kitchen door.

Once inside, she dropped her bag and made a beeline for the answering machine, certain there would be a bunking light but there was no blinking light!

No blinking light.

Rachel gaped at the answering machine. How could that be? Shed been so certain . They had really hit it off, hadnt they? Shed given him her number; hed said he would call her. And that kiss ! Her toes had curled, goddammit! A small kernel of fearnot the scary kind of fear, but the kind of fear that comes with realizing that you are an absolutely clueless moronsprouted in her belly.

Rachel glared at the phone. Okay. All right. This was ridiculous. She was just being her usual insecure self. Flynn hadnt called because she was working; shed told him shed be working. So hed call tonight! Crisis averted!

An hour later, when the phone rang, Rachel almost killed herself getting to it. Hello? she asked breathlessly, grimacing at how teenaged-anxious she sounded.

Hey! Dagne said.

Hey, Dagne, Rachel sighed, the teenager gone right out of her. Whats up?

I have to come over, Dagne said. Weve got to do another spell.

We do?

Yes! The mistake I made with Glenn is waaaay out of control. He wont leave me alone! Ill be over later, okay?

Fine. Whatever, Rachel said, but Dagne had already hung up. She put the phone back in the cradle and glared at it.. Not. Funny, she told it, and went back to her dissertation work at the dining room table.

A couple of hours later, when her eyes were beginning to blur, she searched her pantry for something diety to eat, and finding nothing, gave in and made herself some pancakes. But with each flip of the cake, she glanced at the clock, noted he still hadnt called. And then, to make herself as miserable as she possibly knew how, she made a game of trying to remember every single word hed said last night.

This was stupid.

Pancakes and schoolwork were not working, so Rachel stacked the dirty dishes in the sink and went upstairs to take a hot bath.

As usual, she placed candles around her old clawfoot tub, found her current romance novel, and placed it next to the tub. Just as she was dipping her toe in the steaming water, the phone rang.

Dammit ! she shouted, and fumbled with a bathsheet that she managed to get partially around her as she dashed into the bedroom to pick up the phone on the fourth ring. Yes, hello ? she all but shouted into the phone.

Rachel, its your father.

Oh. God . She closed her eyes, drew a long, fortifying breath. Hi, Dad.

How are you?

Im fine, she said, instantly suspicious. Why?

What do you mean, why ? Im your father and I am calling to see how my baby girl is doing.

Since when? And he didnt have to be so gruff about it, did he? Okay. Im doing fine, she said, tightening her towel around her. How are you?

Good.

Feeling better?

I dont know if you can feel better with chemo, to tell you the truth. So listen, kiddo, he said, before she could comment on the chemo, your mom and I were talking, and Ive been thinking I dont like the way we left things when you left New York.

Jesus, this was about her leaving in a huff. Why now? Why why why why now ? I shouldnt have left like that, she said, knowing it was better to give in than to argue.

Well I guess I had it coming, he admitted, surprising the holy hell out of her. But Ive been thinking Id really like to come to Providence and see you.

Her blood stopped pumping there for a minute. W-what? she stammered, but her mind was screaming No! NO, NO ! Dad! she said, laughing nervously. You dont need to do that! I mean, youve got chemo, right?

Not for much longer. I could come in a couple of weeks or so.

That sprung her right off the bed and into a full pace around her room. But but you said you were going back to the ranch to recuperate after it was over. You dont want to come to Providence! Its cold and wet

But I do want to come to Providence, baby girl. We need to talk about what you are going to do. I want to help you plan it out. Im starting to realize that your reluctance to enter the real world has a lot to do with your insecurities and perhaps your inexperience, and I think if we plan this together

I am not reluctant! she cried, feeling desperate now, as she had never heard her dad talk so so therapeuti-cally. I just need to finish my dissertation!

I need to see that bungalow anyway, he said, talking over her, because when you do move on, which youll have to do if you want a real job, then Ill need to sell that house.

Sell my house? she repeated weakly.

Well, sure! Youre not going to stay at Brown forever, Rachel. In fact, youre going to get your butt out of Brown and get on with your life, he said, his voice taking on a familiar and overbearing tone.

I know, but

Speaking of jobs, what have you done?

Actually Dad, she said, feeling her heart start to pump again, I got a job! Not a big one, but enough to pay the bills.

Really ? he asked, sounding extremely skeptical.

Really! she lied. You dont have to worry about me, Dad! I understood what you said and I took it to heart!

Thats great, Rachel. Thats really great . And what about your degree? Did you land on a dissertation topic?

Im working on it! she said, trying to sound upbeat and optimistic.

Dad didnt say anything for a moment. Why didnt you call to tell me about the job? What sort of job did you get? he asked, his voice full of suspicion now.

Ah well, its just a temporary one.

Not that weaving gig! Thats not a job, Rachel! And by the way, are you still paying for all the materials out of your own pocket?

Christ. Not the weaving class, Dad! she exclaimed, as if that was the most ridiculous thing hed ever said. Data entry!

Data entry? What sort of data entry?

Data entry! You know entering data. Facts and figures, that sort of thing.

I hope youre not talking about a cash register somewhere, he said sternly. I meant for you to get a job, but I didnt mean for you to take all the money I have spent on your education and go to McDonalds with it!

Dad, please! she scoffed. So anyway, hows Mom?

He sighed, recognizing her dodge for what it was. All right. All right for now, Rachel. Now listen, Ill be through with this chemo in a few weeks. Ill come out then, and we can discuss your situation like two adults.

Right. Sure they could. Just like they always had. And while they were having this adult conversation, perhaps aliens would land and take over Washington.

Rachel?

Lets just wait and see how you are feeling, okay, Dad? Listen, is Mom there?

Dad muttered something, but called Mom to the phone and said a terse good-bye.

Hi, honey! Mom sang brightly.

Mom, was this your idea?

What?

What? To send Dad to Providence, thats what! Because if it was, Id like to ask you not to help me! I dont want him to come to Providence! All hell do is find fault with the way Ive done everything !

Not this time, honey. Dad is in therapy and he is working to make amends for past wrongs, Mom said patiently.

Oh jeez! Cant he make amends to Robbie and Bee?

He is. And hes making some remarkable progress

A door opened downstairs; Rachel tightened the towel around her and padded out of her room to the top of the stairs, squatted down, saw the tail of Myrons car through the dining room window as Mom droned on about Dads remarkable progress toward being an actual human being.

Thats great, it really is, and Im so glad he is attending sessions with you, Rachel said, waving at Myron as he passed by the stairs on the first floor. But does he have to come here ?

Hes your father, Rachel. You and he need to talk about what happened in New York.

Nothing happened! He was his usual, hypercritical self, and I just got fed up! We dont need to talk about it! Dad was being Dad, and theres nothing left to say

Rachel, Mom said in the voice she generally used when she was asserting her maternal authority, Aaron is making a yeomans effort to change the way he behaves toward his daughters. I would think the least you could do is allow him to come to see you, the daughter he sired with his sperm, in the house he bought so that youd have a place to live while you pursued an education he financed. Is that really asking so much?

Oh, for Gods sake! Rachel groaned; below her, she could hear Myron banging around the kitchen. All right. Just give me plenty of notice, okay?

We will.

In the meantime, Mom I need to ask you a favor, Rachel said gingerly. I got a joba temporary job

Really? she said, obviously and inordinately pleased. Doing what?

Rachel swallowed down a groan. Actually, its a temp agency. Right now I am typing autopsy reports. Theres a bit of a backlog.

Eewee

I know, I know, Rachel said, cutting her off. But I dont get paid for two weeks, and I have this really hu-mongous utility bill

Now it was Moms turn to sigh. What about the money Myron owes you?

Well, Rachel said, jumping a little as the sound of something glass shattering on the kitchen floor reached her, he doesnt really have it, either.

Why not? Doesnt he have two jobs?

Mom, please? I asked him, but Myron said he was in a bind, and hes really going through some bad stuff at work right now. Could you just loan me the money this time?

All right, Rachel. But I really wish youd get serious about finding a real job, and preferably something that hasnt anything to do with dead people. Why dont you start looking in a big metropolitan area, like New York or Boston or Chicago? Maybe you could get a job in a museum. And you could live someplace nice and fashionable where there are good jobs for girls with your background and lots of nice young men who have good professions.

Right, Rachel said as Myron appeared on the bottom step, sandwich in hand, her T-Mobile phone in the other, which he waved at her before tossing onto a chair. Ill think about it, I really will. But will you help me out?

How much? Mom asked.

One seventy-five.

Oh dear. All right, Ill put it in the mail. By the way, why dont you ever answer the T-Mobile I gave you? she asked. Ive called it a half-dozen times and you never answer.

Really? I guess I havent heard it. No phones allowed in the morgue, she said as Myron ascended the stairs, munching determinedly on his sandwich and practically stepping on top of her as he passed. Ill adjust the ringer.

Please do. All right, honey, well talk to you soon.

Rachel hung up the phone just as Myron disappeared into the guest room. She got up, adjusted her towel, and followed him, watched him open the closet door.

Myron?

Myron paused, looked at her in the door, sort of squinting.

You almost stepped on me coming up the stairs.

He blinked. Hey! I brought your phone. Its really cool , man!

Rachels eyes narrowed. Are you stoned? she demanded.

Maybe a little, he said, and looked in the closet.

Was there really such thing as a little stoned? Seemed to her that when Myron was a little stoned, he was wasted. Period. What are you looking for? she demanded as he took a huge bite of sandwich.

Ah dummoh, he said through the mouthful of bologna and closed the closet door, walked to the opposite end of the room, and looked at the nightstand. Di ah eve iss ooo-ooo?

What? she snapped irritably. I cant understand a word youre saying! Didnt anyone ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full?

That made Myron laugh uproariously. But then he stopped abruptly when he almost choked on his sandwich, and swallowed it in one huge gulp. Did I give this to you?

What?

The nightstand thingy, he said, motioning at the table with the last half of his sandwich.

No.

Oh. He stared at the nightstand some more. Rachel sighed irritably and turned away. If he was going to do a lot of staring at furniture, she was going to go take her bath. See you later, Myron. Dont let the door hit you on the butt when you leave!

Wow, Myron said, nodding. Thats harsh.

Whatever. Rachel left Myron standing in the guest room.

Her bath .water was tepid now, so she drained the tub while she messed with her hairtrying new knots, because God knew she hadnt tried every hair knot known to womanand finally resorted to winding two big lumps on top of her head, Mickey Mouse style, as per usual.

She started her bath again, and when she was content with the temperature, she plugged it, stood, and started to shut the doorbut jumped a good foot in the air because Myron was standing in the door, his hands in his pockets, his eyes bloodshot from the pot.

Jesus, Myron! Cant you knock ? ..

I did! he protested. But you were upstairs on the phone and didnt hear me.

I meant now never mind. If youll excuse me, Im going to take a bath.

Sure, he said, nodding. But he didnt move.

Okay! If youll just back up and let me shut the

So listen, Rachel. Ive been doing some painting again.

It was all Rachel could do to keep from groaning. Myron went through periods during which he fancied himself a painter.

Is it okay if I put some of them here? I dont have room in my apartment.

Sure, Myron. Just put them in the basement, will you? Nothing on the walls.

The basement ? You want me to put my paintings in the basement?

Yes, she said, resolutely. The last time shed let him bring paintings over, he had taken it upon himself to hang a few. She wasnt a great decorator, but they had been too awful even for her.