Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, Nicole called Annie on her way to San Diego to visit Nana.
“Well, hello Mrs. Robinson,” Annie sang, when she answered the phone.
“Ha ha, very funny,” Nicole said. “Just making sure everyone got home.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“What about Wanda?”
“Safe and sound in her little married bed.” She let out a big yawn.
“Did you just wake up?”
“A little while ago.”
Nicole checked the time. Annie never slept late. Ever. She was up at six even if she had the flu.
“Annie?”
“Mmmm?” she said dreamily.
“Did you go home alone last night?” A pregnant pause let Nicole know that she hadn’t. “Tell me you did not take Ricky Z home with you!” she screeched.
“And what if I did?”
Nicole gasped. “No!”
“What if I told you he’s here in my bed spooning me right this very moment?”
She gasped again. “No!”
Nicole heard rustling, and then a voice came on the phone. “Good morning, Nicole. It’s me, Ricky.”
Her mouth fell open. “Hi,” she managed to choke out.
“I just wanted you to know that I think Annie is spectacular. See you soon.” He handed the phone back to Annie.
“Well, what do you have to say now?”
“Spectacular, huh? That’s quite a review. Did the earth move for you last night?”
Annie chuckled. “You tell me.”
Indeed it had. It had been so long since Nicole had slept with an adult in her bed she was worried she might have developed bad habits like snoring, drooling, or grinding. Her teeth, that is. She didn’t have to worry about a thing. Spending the night with Wil was like rolling around in 400 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets—luxurious, indulgent pleasure.
“We’ll have to compare notes,” Nicole said. “Hey, don’t forget about Wil’s show for his new line on Friday. Remind the girls.”
“Can I bring Ricky?”
“Of course,” Nicole said. If he lasts that long. “You two have fun now.”
****
Nicole loved going to visit her nana. She lived in one of the more expensive retirement communities, which meant there wasn’t a blade of grass out of place. The grounds were always lush and perfectly manicured. You never saw a speck of litter or an oil stain on the pavement.
The complex was fashioned to resemble a Greek village. All the homes were white stucco, and the streets had Greek names like Mykonos Drive and Crete Way. It was situated up on a hill, away from the noise and hustle of the city below. Nicole called it the “bubble on the hill.” That’s how she felt whenever she was there: as if she was in a safe, pristine, womblike bubble.
Nicole showed her permanent pass to the guard at the gate and drove on through, making sure to drive the designated speed limit. Unlike her neighborhood, everyone here walked. She didn’t need the dirty looks that came whenever she drove over fifteen miles per hour.
Nana was outside in her front garden pruning her roses. Nicole got out of the car and gave her a big hug, noticing how every time she saw her she shrank just a little bit more. Nana was now officially below her chin.
“Your roses look good, Nana. Everything does.” Nicole looked around at all the vibrant colors of the flowers, wishing she were able to grow things half as successfully.
“Let’s clip some camellias and bring them inside,” Nana said, “and then you can give me all the news.”
Nicole got her overnight bag from the car, along with the few items she purchased at the supermarket in the event lunch was a complete disaster. Something was indeed cooking, because she smelled it as soon as she walked in the house. There was an overpowering predominance of a certain spice that Nicole couldn’t put her finger on.
Oh boy, Nana and her new recipes.
The dining room table was neatly set for two with Nana’s good china. There was a plate full of baby carrots, sliced celery, and large black olives, which Nicole immediately attacked. Since Wil had to catch an early flight for New York that morning, she ended up leaving the house when he did, with nothing but a travel mug filled with coffee in her hand. She sat down at the table, crunching on a piece of celery, wondering what she was going to do without him for an entire week.
“You’re glowing,” Nana said, placing a shallow dish filled with water on the table.
“Am I?”
She nodded and set a pale pink camellia blossom in the dish.
“I met a nice boy,” Nicole said. She always told her Nana everything; her parents, not so much.
“Good. I always said you were too young to live like a widow.”
Nicole followed Nana into the kitchen to help. “Speaking of young, he’s twenty-five.”
Nana looked up at her, squinting. “What does he do for a living?”
“He designs clothes.”
“He’s not a poof, is he?”
Nicole smiled one of those goofy grins one smiles when one is infatuated. “Definitely not. He’s the head of his own company.”
This perked Nana right up. “Head of the company, huh? Does that mean he has money?”
“Yes, but that’s beside the point.”
Nana pointed a crooked finger at her. “I always say, It’s just as easy to marry a rich man—”
“—as it is a poor man. I know, I know. You started telling me that when I was two years old.” Nicole lifted the lid to whatever was bubbling on the stove.
“Why don’t you taste that and tell me if it needs anything. It’s Wisconsin chili. My neighbor copied down the recipe for me.”
Nicole took a deep breath knowing she was about to take her life into her hands. She and her brother had been guinea pigs their whole lives. Their parents had insisted on it. They weren’t fools. They knew Nana was prone to making illogical substitutions when she was out of a certain ingredient. Like using chocolate cake mix instead of flour to dredge beef for stew. Or using sun-dried chili peppers instead of sun-dried tomatoes for spaghetti bolognaise.
Then there were the times when Nana genuinely made mistakes. Like greasing a baking dish with furniture polish, instead of cooking spray, simply because the two cans had been sitting next to each other. Or covering an apple pie with salt, instead of sugar because that’s what was in the bowl in front of her.
Nicole grabbed a spoon from a drawer. She sniffed at the pungent concoction and tentatively touched her tongue to the chili and nearly gagged on contact.
“Nana, what did you put in this?”
“I added cumin. It said to add cumin.”
Cumin was one of those spices Nicole had no experience with, and judging from the taste of that chili, it would be a long time until she had something with cumin in it again.
“Can I see the recipe?”
“Oh dear. Is something wrong?”
Nicole read the piece of paper Nana handed to her. “It says to add one-quarter cup of cumin, Nana. That’s a lot of cumin. Your neighbor meant a quarter teaspoon. She made a mistake.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she said, looking over the recipe and shaking her head. “It did seem like a lot at the time. Now what are we going to do?”
Nicole opened the fridge and took out the bag from the supermarket. “It just so happens I’ve brought some food with me…”
****
Over a meal of rotisserie chicken and twice-baked potatoes Nana asked her, “So how serious is it between you and this boy?”
“Not very. We’re just having fun. Besides, once Josh comes home I won’t see him anymore.”
“Why is that?”
“Because Josh will be home.”
You would think Nicole had just recited an algebra equation judging by the look on Nana’s face.
“What?” Nicole said. “I can’t let a relationship interfere with my life with Josh.”
“Isn’t it supposed to help it, not hinder it?”
“Josh is still young,” Nicole explained.
“Oh, nonsense,” Nana said. “You baby the boy.”
“I do not. Okay, so what if I do?”
“You’ll turn him into a poof, that’s what.”
Nicole popped the remaining three olives on the plate into her mouth. “My son will become gay because I love him and want to protect him?”
“There’s a difference between mother love and smother love. Where is he going to learn how relationships are supposed to work? From your ex-husband? Hah!”
Nicole shuddered at the thought. What he would learn from her ex would be how to have a roving eye for actresses.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for Josh to see me dating.”
“I think you’re making a mistake,” Nana said, standing to clear the table.
Nicole sat there, chewing on her bottom lip and thinking about what Nana had said. “You know, Nana, I can’t help but feel like I had my chance. I got married. It was supposed to be for life. It didn’t work out and that was it—my one-shot deal.” She reached up and brushed a few unexpected tears away.
Nana patted her shoulder. “Acting like a nun is not the answer, my dear.”
“At least I won’t get hurt again.”
“Doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“I agree,” Nicole said, now feeling thoroughly depressed.
“Come now, Family Feud’s almost on,” Nana said.
This cheered Nicole up a bit, because she loved game shows, yet only watched them while she was visiting Nana.
They curled up in Nana’s double bed and shouted out answers to Family Feud and Wheel of Fortune. Nicole felt like a kid again, back when relationships and marriage were things she’d read about in books, and life was less complex than it was now. In the middle of Jeopardy!, Nana fell asleep and began to snore. Nicole went out into the living room and checked her cell phone. No calls from Wil. Not that she had expected him to call. Not really…
She got ready for bed though it was barely nine. All of the seniors in the complex were in for the night. There were no cars on the road, no backyard barbeques going on, no car alarms going off. Only total silence. Nicole felt like she was nestled inside a jar of marshmallow fluff. She took a deep calming breath. Any worries she had could always be dealt with tomorrow. That was the beauty of going to visit Nana.
****
Wil said a quick prayer and dialed Nicole’s number. It had been ages since he’d looked forward to hearing someone’s voice on the other end, and he was surprisingly nervous. It had only been one day. Already he missed her.
“Hey, dude,” he said, trying to sound cooler than he felt.
“Hey, yourself,” she said.
“I was gonna wait to call you, you know, so I wouldn’t seem…”
“So you wouldn’t seem…?”
“I don’t know…pathetic.”
Nicole laughed, instantly putting him at ease. “I’m glad you called,” she assured him. “I wish you were here with me right now.”
Wil’s groin immediately tightened. “Yeah? What would you do with me? Can you describe it in detail?”
“Oh no,” she said, “you are not getting me to have phone sex with you while I’m driving on the freeway.”
“It was worth a shot,” he said. “It’s going to be a very long and lonely week.”
“I still can’t believe you won’t be here for our photo shoot. What happened to your hands-on approach and all that?”
“I got my hands on, didn’t I?”
And what he wouldn’t do to have his hands on her right now.
“You’re hilarious, but don’t quit your day job just yet. I’m a little concerned about you not being there.”
He tried to put her mind at ease about the shoot. “Babe, I hired you because I know whatever you decide will be the right thing. We’re on the same wavelength.”
“Okay then, I’ll let you know how it goes. ’Bye.” Her tone had become suddenly abrupt.
“What’s wrong?” Wil asked.
“Nothing.”
“Nicole, I know that tone. I grew up with three sisters, remember?”
She let out a big sigh. “Like it or not, I have to keep in mind that I work for you. I mean, what happened to my so-called work ethic, my professional values? My never mixing business with pleasure?”
He laughed. “It all went out the window as soon as you got me naked.”
“You are that sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
Wil didn’t say anything right away. Then, in a low voice he told her, “I am actually less sure of myself with you than I have ever been about anything.”
“Why is that?”
“I’ve been asking myself the same question.”
He hadn’t meant to be so honest with her. Even if he had the answer, he probably wasn’t ready to let himself hear it anyway. All he knew was that the revelation made him feel as if he had been punched in the gut.
****
It was 4:00 p.m. on Monday. Nicole had spent the whole day frantically making sure everything was ready for Wil’s shoot the next day. In between, she also had to reason with one of her accounts, a stubborn mattress company, as to why their budget wouldn’t allow a talking parrot in their commercial.
Her line rang and she barked out a stressed-out hello.
“I know this is last minute,” Annie said, “but Paulina has gift certificates for a massage at—”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you want to hear the rest?”
“If it involves getting a massage, I don’t care if it takes place in the middle of a Chinese restaurant kitchen.”
“How about Bacchanalia?”
Bacchanalia was a very exclusive spa tucked away in the outskirts of Pasadena. Apparently one had to be a member to get in, so how Paulina scored an entry was beyond her.
“Just say when.”
“Leave your office now,” Annie said, chuckling. “We’ll meet you in the parking lot.”