Instead of heading straight to the office she decided to visit her mother at the salon. They’d been round and round about Smith for over a week, and Jo doubted she’d ever get a straight answer from her mother, who rewrote history at will. Despite that, Jo wanted to tell her mother about her choice to have her DNA tested. Candace would be angry. She’d accuse Jo of disloyalty. But the time for pretending was over.
Jo parked in front of the salon. Out of her car and across the lot she could see that the shop buzzed with chaos. The front lobby had seven or eight women sitting, some standing and all looking impatient.
The one time in her life she remembered the shop being in turmoil had been when the pipes had burst and flooded the place. It had taken two days to clean up the mess, but her mother had maintained a cool head, even setting up a tent in front of the store and cutting hair for her regular clients.
The bells above the door jingled when Jo entered. Her mother’s station was vacant. Frowning, Jo made her way to her sister’s chair.
Ellie rolled a strand of her client’s hair onto a roller before she stepped away and said in a low voice, “And what the hell was that message about last night?”
“That guy you were out with is trouble. Stay away from him.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, yeah. You told me.” Impatience nipped at her. “Where’s Mom?”
Ellie frowned. “She called in sick this morning. We’re on our own all day.”
“Sick?” Jo rattled her keys in her hand. “Mom is never sick.”
“Hey, I know it better than anyone. We’ve been scrambling all morning to cancel her appointments and to take the ones we couldn’t reach.”
Worry tightened Jo’s nerves. “Did you talk to her? Did you check to see how she is doing?”
“I took her call this morning. She said she was under the weather. Said she needed a day.”
“Did she say specifically what was wrong?”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “I didn’t play twenty questions with her. She’s entitled to a day off every twenty years.”
Jo was not amused by Ellie’s attempt at humor. “I’m going by her place.”
Ellie whispered something in her client’s ear before nodding for Jo to follow her into the back. When they were alone, Ellie said, “Why don’t you butt out? I’m sick of you thinking you have all the answers. Christ, Jo, I can go on a date and Mom can take a day without you sounding a damn alarm bell.”
Frustration scraped against Jo’s nerves. “Ellie, I don’t have time to get into a game of who is right and who is wrong.”
As Jo turned to leave, Ellie hurried to block her path. “What’s going on with you and Mom?”
“That’s between us.”
“Not when you upset her so much that she doesn’t come into work. Then it’s my problem.” She dropped her voice a notch. “The truth is she’s likely hung over this morning and not sick. I went by last night, and she’d had a few bourbons.”
Jo frowned. “I thought her drinking was under control.”
“What did you say to upset her?”
“My intent was not to upset her. I had some questions.”
Ellie shook her head. “Shit, Jo, you been stirring the pot in this family since as long as I can remember.”
“Excuse me?”
“You could never go along. You were always rocking the boat. The pageants weren’t good enough for you. High school wasn’t enough. Shit, you even messed it up so I couldn’t compete in the Miss Texas pageant.”
“How did I mess that up?”
“The year you got knocked up and miscarried. Mom and Dad covered your hospital bill. Ever wonder where the money came from?”
She’d been upset and so confused she’d never asked. “No.”
“My pageant fund. I missed out that year.”
Jo’s bitterness rose up, choking off her breath. “Yeah, I screwed up. Big-time. But you make it sound like I went on a shopping spree. My life was in shambles, and I needed help.”
Ellie’s jaw set. “If you’d had more sense, we’d have all been better off.”
Jo held up her hand. “I’m stopping this before we say something that can’t be taken back.”
Ellie’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Maybe it’s time you and I have it out.”
“Over what?”
Ellie pulled a cigarette from her smock pocket and lit it up. “Over the fact that you’ve always looked down on this family. We were never good enough for you. Shit, it’s like you were never one of us.”
A hard lump settled in Jo’s throat as unshed tears burned behind her eyes. For a moment, she stared at her sister, too afraid to speak.
Ellie’s gaze widened as if understanding dawned. “Jo. Does this have to do with Dad?”
Before Ellie could voice Jo’s worst fears, she turned. “I need to go, Ellie.”
Ellie hurried after Jo. “Look, I know I can be a bitch, but what I said. I didn’t mean—”
“Of course you meant it. You’ve been thinking it for years. I have. And I know Dad did.”
“Mom has her faults. But she wouldn’t lie about that.”
“Lie about what? My paternity?”
“Shit. Jo.”
“This is between Mom and me.”
“Do you really have to open that can of worms? It’s not like you are a kid. And Dad is gone. What difference does it make?”
Jo moved toward the shop’s back door and let it slam hard behind her as she strode out toward the alleyway and her car. She barely remembered the drive to her mother’s house, a one-level rancher. Her parents had bought the place when she was six. When she’d been twelve and her dad had been hurt on the job and forced to take leave without pay, her mother had worked two jobs so they could hold on to the house. She remembered lying in bed at night while her sister slept, listening to her parents talking about their tight budget. Her mother had been a rock and told her dad that they’d find a way “together” just as they always did.
Jo knocked on the front door and when there was no answer, she used her key and let herself inside. “Mom!”
The house was as neat and organized as the salon. The couch was covered in plastic and doilies covered polished tabletops. On the wall were pictures of Jo and Ellie. When Jo had been six and Ellie two her mother had splurged on a professional portrait featuring all four Grangers. She and Ellie had worn matching blue sailor dresses, her mother sported a green dress, and her dad donned a suit he’d borrowed from the neighbor. Ellie sat in their mother’s lap and Jo in her father’s.
Ellie looked like a true blend of their folks whereas Jo’s red hair and pale skin set her apart. She remembered when the picture had been taken. Her sister had loved preening and posing, whereas she could barely sit still. In fact, Jo could see now the way her right black patent leather shoe was angled up as if she were ready to jump out of her seat. Her mother had said many times that right after that picture was taken Jo had gotten up and said she wanted to leave. Only the promise of two extra stories at bedtime had lured her back.
She turned from the picture and headed to her mother’s room. She pushed open the bedroom door and found her mother lying in her bed, curled on her side.
Jo moved to the bed and touched her mother’s cheek. Cold to the touch. “Mom.”
At first her mother didn’t open her eyes, but when Jo called out “Mom!” she opened one droopy lid.
“Jo?” She sounded groggy and tired.
“Mom!”
Jo’s alarm grew as she knelt by the bed. “Mom, what is wrong with you?”
Her mother looked at her through hazy, dazed eyes. “Jo?”
“Yes, Mom, it’s me. What is wrong with you?”
Her mother scrunched up her face. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for, Mom?”
Her mother’s eyes drifted closed. Jo rose and scanned the nightstand and floor for pill and booze bottles. She had dealt with enough suicide at
tempts to recognize one when she saw it. As she reached for the phone she spotted the white envelope that had fallen between the side table and bed. She picked it up and immediately recognized Smith’s handwriting. The letter began, “Dearest Candy, It won’t be long now before all your lies are exposed. May you rot in hell with me.” Harvey Smith
Hands trembling, she looked at the envelope. It had been sent from the attorney’s office.
She reached for the phone on the bedside table and picked it up. No dial tone. A quick search and she saw that the line had been pulled from the wall. “Damn it, Mom.”
She fished her cell out of her purse and dialed emergency services. As soon as she told the 9-1-1 operator what was happening and gave her mother’s address, she hung up, kicked off her high heels and shrugged off her jacket. She tossed off her mother’s comforter and pulled her mother’s limp body into a sitting position. “Mom, what did you take?” Another visual search around the bedside revealed nothing, but her mother would have been the kind to toss away a bottle before its effects kicked into action. “Mom!”
She hefted her mother up on her feet. She dragged and pulled her toward the bathroom. “Mom, I need for you to wake up!”