Death Takes a Holiday Page 5

  The homes in the area haven’t fared any better. The one-floor, ranch-style homes made of adobe or concrete all have bars on the windows and dying or overgrown grass. Nana held out on the bars as long as she could, but she relented after the second break-in. At least she hasn’t gotten the latest neighborhood accessory: chickens. Clucking and crowing can be heard in about a third of the back yards.

  Compared to the other homes on the block ours is, well, a mansion in Kansas. The lawn is a lush green and surrounded by bushes to camouflage the chain-link fence. She specifically chose the black bars to match the red clay color of the walls. The only thing we’ve ever been able to leave outside without it getting stolen is the turquoise dream-catcher hanging from the awning.

  Nana pulls into the driveway, and I get out. As I turn to the right, the Holy Cross Cemetery fills my vision. Yes, a large, multi-acre cemetery was my playground growing up. April and I would run around in there hiding behind the gravestones or stone crypts. Sadly, it was also the setting of my first kiss with Tommy Millet. When I first moved here I was convinced that ghosts and ghouls would climb out of those graves and attack me in the middle of the night. Strange how right I was. It seems my life has always been surrounded by death. But in the daylight it’s rather pretty, especially during the holiday season. Families bring poinsettias, garland, and even Christmas trees to leave for their loved ones. Even the hearse parked there now has tinsel around the back.

  “Hola, bonita!” a woman calls to me. Mrs. Ramirez, my next-door neighbor of almost twenty years, waves to me. She barely breaks five feet and is as round as an apple. She’s also as sweet as apple pie and was like a second grandmother to me.

  “Hola, Mrs. Ramirez,” I say. “Como estas?”

  “Muy bien. Come home to visit su abuela?”

  “Si. Por dos semanas.”

  “Well, don’t you forget to visit me, no?”

  “Never.” With a smile her way, I pull out the handles of my suitcases and walk up to the front door, where Nana is on lock three of five. When she opens the door the smell of baked cheese wafts from inside. Yummy.

  Nana grew up in New Mexico on a cattle ranch, and when she and my grandfather finally settled down after he retired from the Navy, she decorated her final home like her first. The walls are a bright peach and Native American artifacts, more dream-catchers, paintings of sunsets in the desert, and cacti are scattered around the living room. Even the tablecloth in the dining room is turquoise with red zig-zags.

  The only items out of place are the three urns on the mantle above the TV. My grandfather, Aunt Casey, and Mom all sit in a row. Grandpop Ed’s is the dark mahogany. He died of cirrhosis the same year Brian was born. The little I’ve heard about him was not the greatest. He had a temper when drunk, was a stickler for rules, and rarely laughed. Mom left when she was seventeen and never looked back. Apparently life going from man to man, job to job with two small children in tow beat living at home. Nana never brings him up, and I know better than to ask.

  Next to him in the pretty pink urn is my Aunt Casey. She was born three years after my mom and three years after that she was dead. Leukemia. I’ve seen a few pictures but she’s another no-no topic. I resemble her a little—the Alexander light brown eyes with gold flecks, wavy hair, and a slightly up-turned nose. I have wondered on occasion how different things would have been had she lived. Would Mom have gone wild child and run away? Would Nana have smiled more? Who knows.

  Last but not least, next to her sister, is my mother in the dark green urn, her favorite color. At the clubs she danced at, meaning stripped at, her stage name was Emerald. When the other dancers came over they’d call her that, and I’d get confused. Brian took me aside and explained that when you don’t want people to know the real you, you lie, even about your name. Smart guy, my brother. Always knew what to say. Later he’d use this skill to wound me so deeply I’d almost kill him.

  Which brings me to my last memory of this house.

  My eyes dart to the dining room wall. Nana must have hired someone to spackle the two edges together after I cut through it like a piece of bread. Nana notices me staring at the wall. “I cleaned. Did you notice?”

  I look away. “Yeah. The place looks great.”

  “Your bedroom’s all ready for you.”

  “Thanks,” I say with a small smile. I walk quickly past the dining room and into the hallway with the three bedrooms. Mine is the corner one with the green and purple “Beatrice’s Room” plaque on the door.

  When I open the door I’m transported back in time. I lived in here, dreamed in here, and did my homework in here until I was twenty-four and saved enough for my own apartment in Chula Vista, ten minutes away. Not a lot has changed over the years. A Brad Pitt poster from Legends of the Fall that April gave me for my birthday a million years ago hangs over my white plastic desk. A white TV stand with small TV sits across from my double bed. The only other decorations are pictures and paintings of mermaids I bought when I was in the throes of a mermaid obsession fifteen years ago. The carpet is dull beige, but a pink and yellow daisy rug covers most of it. The sheets and quilt on the bed match the rug. This room was obviously decorated by an eight-year-old who never grew up.

  I have a lot of happy memories in this room. Nana reading me stories as I fell asleep. April and me lip syncing to Cyndi Lauper with our hairbrushes. Dressing for my high school graduation. This was my sanctuary. This is also where one of my lowest points played out. The last time I was in here, I tried to kill myself. I flip on the light and fan above and look at the rug. No signs of that night remain. No puke and no pills. Nana must have cleaned it up.

  “Are you okay?” April asks behind me.

  “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.” I step in. “Just jet lagged.” I toss my suitcases on the bed as April closes the door. “You’d think I’d be immune by now.”

  “You always did want to travel.”

  “Yeah, but I meant to New Orleans and Washington, D.C., not Stone Bridge, Colorado, and Venus, Texas.”

  “But I thought you saw all those places when you drove cross country,” April says as she sits at the desk.

  Crud. Forgot that lie. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to go back.” I start unpacking as April watches.

  “But you like your job, right?”

  “It’s a job. Don’t want to do it for the rest of my life or anything.” She doesn’t respond, which is unprecedented. I turn from the closet and she’s biting her lower lip. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Say it.”

  She shifts in the chair. “If you don’t love the job, then why do you stay? I mean, Will’s still giving you crap right?”

  “It’s getting better. He drove me to the airport, and we had a good talk.” And we didn’t stop holding hands until we reached the airport.

  “On a semi-related note, I have something to tell you. But you have to double-dog pinkie swear not to get mad and that you’re still coming to your party tomorrow.”

  “I triple-dog swear.”

  She takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Javi invited Steven to the party.”

  Oh joy and bliss. And I came here to escape men.

  “Is he bringing Allison?” I ask.

  “Nope. Remember? I told you they broke up a month ago!”

  “Right. Forgot.” Didn’t really care.

  “With how hot you are now, he’s going to totally regret never fighting for you.”

  “It wouldn’t have done any good.”

  “He should have at least pulled a Lloyd Dobler with Peter Gabriel underneath your window,” she says.

  “Grand romantic gestures were never his thing. Remember what he got me for Valentine’s?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Yes, nothing. Not even stale candy. Not even a ‘Happy Valentine’s Day,’ even after I said it to him. And what did he get me for my birthday the same year? A Padres throw rug.”

  “So he sucked at gifts.”

&nb
sp; “And cleaning up after himself, and listening to me, and taking into consideration what I wanted. How many days did I spend at the Del Mar tracks? The gun range? A million? And how many times did we go see a play or movie without an explosion in it? About two?”

  “Okay, so he wasn’t the best boyfriend. At least he never played games with you.”

  “That’s because it requires creative thought.”

  “I just meant he was uncomplicated. Normal. I thought that’s what you wanted!”

  I open my mouth to defend my decisions but have no idea what to say next because once again, she’s right. That is what I want. It’s what I always wanted. I was never greedy. I don’t want a million dollars or fame. All I want is a loving husband, a house, and happy children. That’s it. I had that chance with Steven, but it didn’t felt right. He wasn’t right.

  “You’re still coming, right? I already invited everyone. For me and the kids?”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine.”

  “Girls,” Nana calls. “Dinner’s ready!” Thank God.

  Nana’s big on family meals, no eating separately in our rooms or on the couch. It drove Brian nuts, but I kind of liked it. At the mansion I try to take my meals with Carl and Andrew at least a few times a week. Maybe now that a semblance of peace has been achieved, Will and Nancy can join us too. One big weird, dysfunctional family.

  “Smells great, Nana Liz,” April says, sitting down. “It’s wonderful to have a dinner that I didn’t cook.”

  I sit across from April in my old spot. As Nana dishes out the ziti I scan the room. The table is the same, which means I didn’t break it and there isn’t even a hint of a crack on the wall. Nana sits at the head of the table and smiles at us.

  “It’s nice to have someone to cook for,” she says.

  “Doesn’t Brian drive down sometimes?” I ask before taking a bite. Yum.

  “Every Saturday with Renata and the baby,” Nana says, sideways glancing at me to gauge my reaction.

  “Oh. They had the baby?” April asks, also glancing at me. What, are they afraid I’m going to burst into tears or something?

  “Three weeks ago. A boy. Mark.”

  “Awesome! They must be so happy,” April says.

  “He’s adorable. Looks exactly like Brian. They’ll be here Saturday.” Another two glances my way.

  “Does he know I’m here?” I ask nonchalantly.

  “Yes.”

  “And he’s still coming?”

  “Of course. They’ll be here for Christmas.”

  “I thought she was Jewish,” I say.

  “Which is why they’ll be here.”

  “Well Nana Liz, you must be so excited to have everyone under one roof again! Especially the new baby!” Her cell phone starts playing “Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend.” “Oh crap,” she says, opening it. “Hello? Javi?” She listens. “I can’t hear you over the screaming! What?” She listens, rolling her eyes. “Carlos did what? He smashed Manny’s diorama! We spent two days on that stupid thing! How could you let him do that? No, fine, I’m on my way home. Okay!” She flips the phone closed. “I am so sorry. Javi must have let them have caffeine or something!”

  “It’s okay,” I say.

  April stands up. “Dinner looked great, Nana Liz. I’m sorry.”

  “I can wrap you up some.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m sure Javi didn’t make them anything, so I’ll have to cook anyways. Lucky me.” She walks over to me, leaning down and kissing my cheek. “Call me tomorrow morning, okay? And don’t make plans for tomorrow evening. Either of you. Barbecue, my place. Everyone’s coming.”

  “We’ll be there,” I say.

  “Bye!” she says, rushing out of the house.

  “She’s such a sweet girl,” Nana says after the door shuts. “She comes by once a week and we have coffee.”

  “Yeah, I really missed her.”

  “And we really missed you,” Nana says, squeezing my hand.

  I smile as she pulls her hand away. “It’s weird being back.”

  “Do you want to talk about last night? You really scared me.”

  “I was just stressed,” I say before taking another bite. “I had this huge fight with my boss and then Oliver.”

  “Well, you just have to work with them. Just be glad you don’t have to live with them too.”

  If only. “It’s just that the team spends so much time together. We’re so close knit and we have to rely on each other, so when everyone hates each other, things get pretty unbearable.” I take another bite. “But Will and I spoke this morning, and things should be better when I get back.”

  “It’s unfair of them to put you in that position. I’m surprised they didn’t fire him.”

  “He’s just … been through a lot. His wife died, and he has this incurable disease that he’s had to get used to.”

  “Still. That’s not your fault.”

  We eat in silence for a little bit. “So,” I finally say, “how are Brian and Renata adapting to parental life?”

  “Very well. They have a nanny, which helps, but I’ve never seen him so happy.”

  “He’s okay with me being here? If you want I can spend Saturday at April’s.”

  “Nonsense. You should meet your new sister-in-law and nephew.”

  “I’m just not sure they want to meet me.”

  She sets her fork down. “That was an accident,” Nana says.

  “I almost killed him, accident or not. I wouldn’t want to spend Christmas with me.”

  “That was a horrible night, but it’s time to move on. It’s over. It’ll never happen again.”

  She looks down at her plate and starts eating again, ready to put the topic to bed. But I’m not. “I know I said it before but … I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lost control like that. I’m sorry I left the way I did. I know I scared you. I’m just … sorry.”

  She keeps her eyes on her plate for a few moments, then lifts them up to mine. “I know you are, Honey Bea.”

  “You’re not still scared of me, are you?”

  “Of course not. I love you. No matter what.”

  “I love you too,” I say, near tears. They just snuck up on me. I shake my head to clear them.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m just tired. It’s been a long couple of days.”

  “Go rest, baby.”

  I rise and take my plate to the dishwasher before slinking back to my bedroom. I fall face first onto the bed. With all the travel I do one would think I’d have mastered jet lag, but it always gets me. I inhale and exhale slowly. It has been a day. I’ll just unpack stuff for the night and save the rest for tomorrow.

  When I pull out my cell phone charger I suddenly realize it’s been off since I got to the airport. I find it at the bottom of my purse and switch it on. I have four voice messages.

  “Hello, Bea, this is George. It seems in your haste you neglected to fill out your incident report. If you could type it up and e-mail it ASAP, I’d greatly appreciate it. Have a safe flight.”

  Crud. Not even being a government secret saves me from bureaucracy. I wonder if the guys at Area 51 have as much paperwork as we do.

  “Um, hi,” Will says. My heart skips a beat. “I just, um, wanted to say, good talk this morning. It was … good. Enjoy your family. I’ll, uh, miss you.”

  Darned if my smile isn’t from cheek to cheek.

  “Hey,” April says. “Where are you? Call me.”

  Must have been at the airport.

  Last one. “So, Trixie dear,” Oliver begins, “I arose this evening ready to eat an entire murder of crows to regain your good graces, only to find you have fled the state. I do hope it had nothing to do with me.” He pauses. “Please call me,” he says seriously.

  Great. A vampire with bruised feelings is a disaster waiting to happen. He’s either terrorizing Will or moping around like Hamlet. I do have terrible taste in men, even when it comes to office husbands. I should divorce him and take up with Andrew
. Less blood, more laughing at Carole Lombard movies.

  I settle into bed before calling. If I’m lucky he’ll be out and I can just leave a message. But alas, he answers at the third ring. “Hello, Trixie,” he says so I can practically hear the grin on his face. “How was your flight?”

  “Uneventful. How are you?”

  “Perplexed. Concerned. Despondent.”

  “And why is that?”

  “You departed without saying goodbye.”

  “You were asleep.”

  “You could have left a note.”

  “You are not my keeper, Oliver. I don’t have to get your permission to fly home for Christmas.”

  “This is your home.”

  Neither of us utters a sound for a few seconds. He always does this. He always says things that I have no response to. So I do what I always do: humorous deflection. “What? Are the others there picking on you now that I’m not there to defend you?”

  “I am being avoided, per usual.”

  “Then go hunting. I’m sure the bar girls are waiting with bated breath to succumb to your charms.”

  He doesn’t answer right away. “So I take it you have no desire to discuss what transpired last night? Because the last time I saw you, you were screaming as if under attack and now are fifteen hundred miles away without warning.”

  “You were worried?”

  “Of course. So tell me, Trixie darling, should I serve up William’s head on a platter or would you prefer it in a hat box?”

  “Neither,” I warn.

  “You were in his arms bellowing last night,” he says harshly. “He is lucky I did not rip his throat out there and then. I—”

  “Stop it,” I say. “This! This is why I came home, okay? I’m sick of you two threatening each other. Did you not listen to a word I said last night?”

  “I did.”

  “Well, apparently not because we’re right back where we started. Have you apologized to Will yet?”