“What?”
“Nothing.”
“When someone says ‘nothing’ in that tone of voice, it’s never nothing,” I say sourly.
“All right.” Her eyes flash with challenge. “You’ve been asking a lot about our parents lately, trying to get me to say that they did everything right. Especially Dad. You want to hear that the sun shone out of his behind, so that you can use his life as a guiding principle for yours. You are your own man. Don’t be like Dad. Please. It’ll ruin any chance you have of a happy relationship. Our father’s workaholic ways weren’t good for the family. It wasn’t good for any of us.”
I’m stunned to hear her say that. She never badmouths our parents. “He was a product of his time!” I splutter indignantly. “And he was a little busy running a retail empire. Mom understood! It didn’t hurt their relationship at all. They were as thick as thieves. They were always together when he wasn’t working.”
“Yeah, sure.” She shrugs and looks away.
“You guys! What are we waiting for?” Tamara calls from the living room. “We’re burning daylight here!” Her dad’s favorite expression.
“Be right there, sweetie!” Alice yells back.
“Why are you telling me this?” I demand.
She heaves a sisterly sigh of pity. “Because if you don’t want to ruin it with Winona, you need to get a freaking life and make room for her to be in that life. And don’t tell me that you’ll find another Winona when you have more free time.”
“I wasn’t going to.” Pain bubbles up inside me at the thought. “There’s only one Winona. Believe me, I know that.”
There’s only one Winona, who thrills me and infuriates me and sets my senses on fire. There’s only one Winona, who I miss every minute when she’s not there, with whom I carry on imaginary conversations when she’s not with me.
Alice softens. “Is she speaking to you?”
“Not sure.”
I tried to kiss her yesterday evening, after we settled Xena into the carriage house with the housekeeper. She turned her face away and left with a murmured good night.
“I mean, she hasn’t emptied a garbage can on my head lately, so there’s that.”
“She emptied a garbage can on your head?” Alice grins so wide that her face almost splits. “When, and what was in the garbage can?”
I look at her reproachfully. “Wow. Just wow. Look at that smile. I don’t think you were this thrilled on the day you gave birth to Tamara. And you were the one who raised me during my formative years. Is it any wonder that I grew up a lost, broken man who’s incapable of love?”
“What else has she done to you? Let’s see, she perfumed you, she garbaged you…” She starts ticking it off on her fingers.
I give her a sour look. “I’d tell you, but it would make you happy, and that’s not an outcome I want.”
The front door flies open, and Henry rushes into the foyer, uncharacteristically out of breath and rumpled. He’s holding a gift-wrapped box. “Made it!” he cries. So the deal went down after all. He’s returned with the goods.
“What have you done?” Alice asks me in a low voice.
“Ensured my niece’s happiness. Well, Henry contributed, of course. As always. Have I ever told you that you’re a treasure, Henry?”
“I do not believe you’ve used that particular combination of words in reference to me before, no, sir.” He hands me the box. The gift-wrap is white with big colored polka dots, tied with a red bow.
Tamara comes bolting towards me, reaching for the box, with her father hot on her heels.
“That’s my doll! I know it!” she shrieks. “Gimme, gimme, gimme!” Alice snatches the box and holds it up high over her head.
“Tamara.” Steve ruffles her hair with his hand. “Did we talk about this?”
“Did we?” Tamara scrunches up her face and squints her eyes as if trying to remember.
Steve looks at Alice. “Your daughter,” he says with mild reproof. “And her highly convenient situational amnesia.”
“Oh, now she’s my daughter,” she scoffs. “When she got all As she was your daughter.”
“Did you forget our wedding vows? To love, honor, and only claim our offspring when she’s being cute or giving us bragging rights?” He blows her kiss.
Tamara rolls her eyes and sighs hugely. “I’m sorry, Mom and Dad. Thank you very much for whatever is in that box, Uncle Blake.”
“That was very nicely said, sweetheart.” Alice gives me back the box.
Tamara narrows her eyes at her mother. “I’d have said just about anything to get you guys to stop with your comedy routine.”
“Hey! Hey! Wait up, guys!” A familiar voice sends my heart singing. Winona comes barreling through the door into the foyer.
“You’re back!” I blurt.
I don’t care how or why, but she’s here, at my house. I could swear the sun just slid out from behind a cloud, beaming its rays through the foyer window and chasing away the shadows.
Winona’s hair is wild, curls in her face, a lock sticking to her lip gloss. Her pink blouse, adorned with dozens of sewn-on tiara-wearing mice, is halfway tucked into her jeans, half hanging out. She’s got a package in her hands, and she’s breathing hard.
She brushes the hair from her mouth. “I made it!” she cries out. She looks at me. “I made it,” she adds, with extra emphasis.
“I can see that.” I lean in and murmur in her ear, “The hell with the contract. I would have found a way to make sure my uncle couldn’t fire you. I’m not above blackmail. I’ve got security footage of him and his secretary.”
Winona gives me a sidelong glance. “A girl can’t be too careful,” she whispers back.
“Let’s take this into the living room,” Steve says. “Come on, peanut!”
We hurry into the living room and set down our packages on the carpet.
Tamara looks back and forth between the packages. “Which one should I open first?”
“Mine,” Winona and I chorus.
“Okay. I am going to open them up both sim-all-taneously. That means at the same time.” Tamara kneels down on the floor. “Watch the pro at work.” She pulls the wrapping paper off both of them, exposing… “Two Sunni Sunni Singer dolls!” she screams delightedly.
She jumps up and down. “Two! Two! Two!” she shrieks. “That means I get to keep one!”
“What do you mean?” Alice asks, puzzled. “Why only one?”
“Oh, I told Melody she could have the doll. That’s why I needed it so bad. Remember her dad left and her mom cried all the time and she was really sad about it? I thought it would cheer her up.”
Suddenly, we all have something in our eyes and I’m blinking really hard.
“I’m not crying,” I say severely to Winona. “You’re crying.” I glance over at the vase of flowers resting on a fluted column. “Henry! Why did you put peonies in the vase when you know I’m allergic?”
I’m not allergic. I’m not even sure those are peonies.