Day By Day

Barbara nodded and studied the man she had loved all her life. His golden-brown eyes no longer sparkled with the joy of life and his ash-brown hair was flecked with more gray highlights now than blond. She had not seen the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes for months now, and his shoulders drooped beneath the weight of the cross he was carrying, too.

She moistened her lips, searching in vain for the words to have him turn to her instead of his work for comfort. “Will you stay here with me? What if the reporters come?” she asked. Even though the telephones were still disconnected, she was surprised their pizza party had not been interrupted by knocks at the door, and she did not relish being home alone if and when the media barrage began.

“Carl Landon has taken care of the reporters. As soon as I hung up from you, I called him. He scheduled a press conference at his office for five o’clock which should have kept them satisfied. Besides, if any of the reporters decide to come to the door, I don’t think they’ll get past Rob and Stuart.”

She managed half a smile. Carl was a good friend as well as their lawyer, and he had taken on the role of being their spokesperson within hours of John’s call after Steve’s murder. Their neighbors, Rob and Stuart, bless their hearts, had proven to be as tough and protective as Secret Service agents guarding the president. When they were called to duty, no one got past them to get to the front door.

He kissed her cheek. “Keep the telephones unplugged and use your cell phone if you need to call me. I’ll be at the office. I had two appointments for tonight that I couldn’t cancel. I’ll leave through the back door, too. The walk will do me good.”

“Do you have to leave? Tonight?”

“Judy said she was going to do your hair for you, so you won’t be alone. It’ll do you good to have some time for lady talk. I won’t be late. I should be home by nine-thirty,” he promised before leaving her.

Nine-thirty. After the girls had been tucked into bed.

She tried, but found it hard to swallow the lump in her throat. Bedtime rituals, from reading stories, saying nighttime prayers and getting that last drink of water, had always been John’s alone time with their boys when they were little. He had resumed the ritual with Jessie and Melanie when Steve used to bring them for an overnight visit, whether it was the night before opening remarks or closing arguments in a big case or an occasional weekend when he had to go out of town.

John had avoided the ritual ever since Steve’s death when the girls had come to live with them. Instead, he had wrapped himself deep inside his grief, protected by evening business appointments at his office in Whitman Commons—evening appointments he had abandoned years ago. She did not know how long he would continue to grieve alone and avoid bedtime with the twins, and she yearned to see him kneeling at the side of the bed with the girls once again.

She toyed with the edge of the lace tablecloth and watched him lead the parade of guests past the door and through the kitchen to the back door. When the door finally closed, filling the house with suffocating silence, she flinched and dropped her gaze, feeling so very, very alone.

“I’ve got everything with me. Are you in the mood to be pampered a little?”

Startled, she looked up and saw Judy standing in the doorway holding a large, canvas bag.

Judy smiled and held up her bag. “Tools of the trade. Everything I need to cut and color your hair. I brought them with me when I left the Towers. Madge had called there and left a message with Penny so I’d know to come here instead of Mario’s. I stopped at the salon and got the hair dye. I looked up your color. Just in case,” she added. “Madge thought it was a good idea.”

Barbara ran her fingers through her hair and cringed. “I must look a sight to have everyone so concerned about my appearance. To be honest, I meant to call for an appointment. I just haven’t had the time or the…interest. I hate to be such a bother,” she insisted, although she would have liked nothing better than to have her hair done. “You’ve already had a long day.”

“It seems like every day is a long day.” Judy sighed. “I’m also getting used to sitting down to watch a little television at night and falling asleep before the second commercial. I can’t remember the last time I saw a show from beginning to end or had enough energy to stay awake long enough to dry the clothes I’d tossed into the washer.” She laughed and shook her head. “I’d forgotten how many clothes a young child can go through in a few days. Look, I completely understand. If you’re too tired right now, or you’d rather have Ann do your hair, just say so, and I’ll pack up.”

“No. Not at all. I just don’t want to impose. You’ve been on your feet all day.”

“And I’d better stay on my feet if I want to stay awake until Brian gets back from the puppet show,” Judy teased.

“Shall I set up in the kitchen? I’d rather not risk it here.”

Barbara laughed. “I could tell you stories about the havoc two little six-year-olds have managed to unleash in the past two months, but you probably have a good idea now that Brian is with you. You couldn’t possibly do any worse damage, but the kitchen would be better, I suppose.”

Barbara led Judy into the kitchen and pointed to the granite countertop where Judy set her canvas bag. She laid out a piece of heavy plastic and lined up several pairs of scissors next to familiar bottles of hair dye and conditioner. “We’ll color first and cut second, if that’s all right?”

“Sure.” Barbara pulled a low-backed chair away from the seventeenth-century farmer’s table she had found in an antique barn in Connecticut several years back and sat down.

Judy motioned her back up, laid another piece of plastic the size of a shower curtain on the tiled floor, carried the chair to the middle, and smiled. “That’s better. Now if any dye drops on the floor, it won’t matter. As you can see, I’ve been known to drop a little dye in the past.”

Barbara looked at the splotches that covered the drop cloth, cringed and sat down. While Judy fit a plastic cape around her shoulders, Barbara folded her hands on her lap and toyed with her wedding ring. “You seem to have this down to a real science.”

Judy laughed. “I’d better. I’ve been making house calls for twenty years or more. Most of the time they’re at the Towers. Ann and I both still have a few customers who live at home, but don’t go out much so we go to them. As a matter of fact, Ann was just at Alice Conner’s home.”

“How is Ann doing? The last time I was in the shop in the spring, she was just back from being home sick for a few weeks. Gout, wasn’t it?”

Judy nodded. “She’s been having a rough time of it for the last year or so.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever known a woman, other than Ann, who had gout. I thought that was something men got.”

“I think it is, but to hear Ann tell it, gout is just another surprise reserved for some very special postmenopausal women.” Judy chuckled. “And Ann is definitely a special woman, even though she isn’t very faithful about following the diet the doctor ordered or taking her medication. Once she feels better, she’s right back to her old habits, I’m afraid,” she admitted, and ran her fingers through Barbara’s shoulder-length hair.

Barbara closed her eyes and took gentle breaths so she could concentrate on the soothing sensations Judy created with her fingertips.

“Your cut has really grown out, and there’s a bit of a problem with split ends. Nothing I can’t fix. I assume you want the same cut?”

Barbara shrugged. “I’ve worn my hair the same way for so long, I wouldn’t know how to manage anything beyond having a center part and just turning the ends under.”

Judy played with her hair again for a while before she stopped and walked around her full circle. “You might want to try something new. Sometimes change is good for your hair and it can lift your spirits, too.”

Barbara opened her eyes and met Judy’s gaze. “Change can be hard, too.”

Judy’s gaze softened and she nodded. “I guess we both know some changes are harder than others, don’t we?”

Barbara swallowed hard and accepted the invitation of friendship and understanding in Judy’s eyes. “Losing Steve was the worst nightmare in my life. Everything has changed. Nothing, absolutely nothing is the same as it used to be.”

“I know. Or I think I know,” Judy admitted. She clenched and unclenched her fists, and her gaze grew distant. “Sometimes, when I wake up in the middle of the night, I wonder where Candy is or if I’ll ever see her again.” She paused. “I’m so sorry. About Steve. I—”

“In my heart, I know Steve is safe now and happy. He’s Home,” Barbara whispered. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you. Madge told me Candy is in a hospital somewhere in California, but her husband couldn’t tell you where or how soon she’ll be released.”

Judy took a deep breath. “She’s in rehab. She’s been in and out of rehab for years. I couldn’t tell you how many times. I’d lost count long before Frank died and she showed up for his viewing stoned and out of control. She left in the middle of the night and didn’t even bother showing up for the funeral. I haven’t heard a word from her since. She’s somewhere in California. I don’t know where. Her husband couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me. That’s my nightmare…not knowing…being half afraid I’ll never see her again and being half afraid she’ll show up on my doorstep, stoned or high, demanding to take Brian back into that life again. That’s another nightmare.”

She sighed. “It’s hard being a mother again, but I won’t ever let him go back with her unless I’m absolutely certain he’ll be safe.”

“I’m sorry. Truly sorry,” Barbara whispered. “Have you given any thought to hiring a detective to find her, just to make sure she’s all right?”

Judy picked up the bottle of hair dye and turned it round and round in her hand. “Detectives cost money—money better spent, if I had it, for Brian. As it is, putting him into day care for most of the summer used up whatever I had saved. It’s better now that school has started. I had to hire a sitter for Saturdays, even though it’s usually pretty slow and I lose money because the Saturday crowd has switched to the new salon that does both hair and nails. The after-school program is less expensive, but it’s still a strain on my budget. I’m not complaining, though. Brian is all I’ve got left of Candy. He’s my flesh and blood, and I’ll care for him and protect him any way I have to.”

Barbara clenched her own hands. “Sometimes my imagination runs wild, and I have these dreams about Steve’s ex-wife suddenly appearing and taking the children away, even though she hasn’t tried to contact them since she walked out on them three years ago. They’re all I have left of Steve. I don’t want to lose them, too.”

She swallowed hard, all too aware of the similar challenges she and Judy seemed to be facing. Barbara’s loss, with Steve’s death, might be very public, splashed in the newspapers for all to read about, while Judy’s was more private and perhaps more painful to bear because she was all alone in her grief and struggles. But they both shared the common bond of dealing with the loss of a child, one to death, the other to drugs; their fears about losing their grandchildren; and the ongoing problems of keeping them and adjusting to being mothers again instead of grandmothers. Alone, they struggled in their new roles. Perhaps together, as friends, they might share the struggle and find the path of rediscovered motherhood easier to travel.

Judy held up the bottle of hair dye and read the label. “Summer Sunrise. That’s your color, right?” she asked, changing the subject back to the task at hand.

Barbara nodded.

“Just checking. I’d rather find out now instead of later.”

“Good idea. Maybe while you’re coloring my hair, you could give me some idea of a new style that would be easier to manage?”

When Judy cocked a brow, Barbara smiled. “A little change might be good,” she murmured. “Maybe it’s time for some good change. For both of us.”

Judy cocked the other brow. “For both of us?”

Barbara smiled, but only time would tell if her hopes for a stronger friendship between them would be fulfilled.

Chapter Six

A week after her near-disastrous visit to Grandmother’s Kitchen, Judy was on her way to the Towers, and her life was back on schedule. Again. The trouble was that her schedule today seemed to get a little more unsettled and much more complicated with each passing hour.

First, she had overslept this morning, always a bad start to the day. Brian had been late to school by a whopping fifteen minutes, which meant he had to enter the first grade classroom with all of the children already working at their desks.

In between a rush of unscheduled appointments, she had left another message for Mrs. Worth, the school principal, the third in as many days, but the woman did not seem in any hurry to call her back. Judy had met with the school guidance counselor last week and had the first appointment for Brian with a private counselor set for five o’clock this afternoon. Apparently Judy’s efforts to report all she was doing to arrange for counseling for Brian ranked low on the principal’s list of priorities.

She arrived at the Towers just before one o’clock, right on time, and got buzzed into the office. She took one step inside, looked around at the lavish display of Mickey Mouse decorations that adorned the office: A clock, computer screensaver, coffee mug and even planters holding foliage worthy of blue ribbons at the annual Philadelphia Flower Show. Mickey was on everything!

She grinned. A touch of Disney was just what she needed today. “What a happy place! I always love coming here, Penny, especially after a rough day.”

The office manager for the past fourteen years, Penny looked up from her seat behind the shoulder-high counter and laughed. “It’s only one o’clock in the afternoon. The day is still young,” she cautioned. She got up, retrieved Judy’s canvas bag with the tools of her trade she kept stored in the office, and lifted the bag to the counter. She looked at Judy and frowned. “What? No baked goods from McAllister’s today? Or are you bringing them later?”

Judy rolled her eyes. “No. Unfortunately, that’s only one small part of my day so far. I had a rough morning. Mrs. Sweeney came in for her weekly touch-up, with three elderly cousins visiting from Florida. Then they all wanted a cut, wash and dry. They even brought their husbands along. Ann’s been sidelined with gout again for the past two days, so I had to handle Mrs. Sweeney and company, who proceeded to eat their way through almost the entire box of baked goods.”

“Ann’s laid up with gout? Again?”

“Again.”

“Poor Ann. I’ll try to give her a call later.”

Judy let out a deep breath. “I was afraid I’d be forced to cancel some of my appointments here today, but somehow I managed to finish Mrs. Sweeney and her cousins all up, scoot them all on their way and still get here on time. I shoved the last two doughnuts down for my lunch.”

“The residents on the second floor who were scheduled for the treats today will be disappointed, but they’ll survive,” Penny quipped. “I’ll put a note out in the Gossip Garden for you, but I won’t mention why they have to wait for another time. It’s safer that way.”

Judy chuckled. “Is there ever a topic safe from residents’ gossip in the social room?”

“Not really, but they’re pretty preoccupied, now that plans are in full swing for next month’s Book Fair. Closing down the avenue to promote reading is as worthy a venture as you can get. Authors appear with their books, crafters sell book-related specialties, schoolchildren perform in little plays and food vendors sell everything that tastes good. It’s a win-win for everyone, but you’d think the Commissioners had approved the entire event again this year just to inconvenience the seniors.”

“I suppose a lot of them aren’t able to read much anymore.”

Penny pointed to the small stack of newspapers at the far end of the counter. “There are fifty-seven apartments here. Every day we get fifty-seven newspapers delivered, courtesy of the Commissioners. See? There are only half a dozen left, which is about par. I won’t even venture a guess at how many dozens and dozens of tabloids and magazines come into the building every week. What does that tell you?”

Judy shrugged. “I guess they’re still reading.”

“They can’t all be lining birdcages or litter boxes,” Penny teased. “I think many of them are reading, if only to get a good discussion going in the Gossip Garden. To be honest, I think there are a lot of seniors who like the Book Fair, but they get nervous around crowds. We’re not an assisted living facility, but many of our residents use canes or walkers. The Book Fair drew what? Four thousand people last year? Even with the avenue closed to traffic and opened up for pedestrians, between all the booths and the stage set up for the children, it’s still a bit of a mob scene. That’s why some of the residents just stay put for the day.”

When Penny smiled again, her eyes twinkled. “A lot of the residents are excited about the Book Fair, and they’ve volunteered to help, but the event gives the grumblers the perfect excuse to sit around and complain. So I got the building manager to agree to add a new element to the day. I’m hoping they’ll all be so busy, they’ll forget to grumble and my daughter’s Girl Scout troop will get credit for a community service project at the same time.”

Judy checked her watch. Penny loved to talk and normally, Judy loved to listen, but not today. Still, she would rather be a little late, than rude. “What do you have in mind for them?”

“Adopt-a-Grandparent Day. Each of the girls will come and spend the day with one of the residents who doesn’t volunteer or who doesn’t plan to attend the Book Fair.”

Judy drew her brows together. “You’d know who they were?”

Penny turned, punched a few keys on her computer and pointed to the monitor. “This is a list of volunteers so far. Joan Smith is on the Book Fair committee, and she e-mails updates to me once a week or so. As for the folks just planning to attend, that’s even easier for me to find out.” She pointed to the pink plastic clipboard halfway down the counter. “Sign-up sheet,” she explained.

“They actually sign up, just to attend?”

Penny laughed. “For ten dollars? You bet they do. Actually, we just issue Book Fair Dollars. I make them up on my computer, and we redeem them with some grant money after the fact. Otherwise, someone might take the ten dollars and keep it.”

When the telephone rang, she held up one finger to keep Judy from leaving and answered the call. “Yes, Mrs. Edwards. No, she didn’t forget. She’s just on her way up now. No problem.” She hung up and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. Guess I held you up.”

Judy hoisted her bag from the counter and realized she had forgotten to bring more free samples of hair care products to replace the ones she had given away. Just another part of a bad day. She handed Penny a list of her three appointments today, a minor accommodation she had in her workday after Brian had come to live with her. “Just in case someone’s looking for me. I’ve been playing telephone tag with Mrs. Worth, the principal at Park Elementary. If she calls, tell her I’ll call her back and then let me know.”

Penny nodded and pinned the list to a bulletin board on her side of the counter and answered another telephone call while Judy left by the side door that allowed residents and workers to enter the office without using the foyer and waiting to be buzzed inside.

She passed the sixty-gallon, freshwater aquarium, a new addition to the inner foyer and whispered a quick prayer for Dan O’Leary whose family had donated the aquarium in his name. Ninety-seven when he died last year, he had been the last of the original residents who had moved into Welles Towers when it had opened years ago. The aquarium seemed a fitting memorial to the avid fisherman and quickly became a favorite with the residents.

She nodded to several women sitting together nearby waiting for the county bus to take them to the grocery store and took a quick glance inside the aquarium while she waited for the elevator. Dozens of fish were swimming in and out of the plants and ceramic decorations. Either the residents had finally stopped raiding the fish food, over-feeding and killing the fish, or Penny had solved the problem after losing a second tank of fish by moving the fish food into her office.

When the elevator arrived, she rode to the third floor where she found Mrs. Edwards sitting in the alcove by the window. Scarcely five feet tall and thin to the point of emaciation, she was a powerhouse of energy. Her mind was still sharp, and she was one of the nicest seniors in the Towers, if not the most talkative. “I saw you walk in a bit ago. Penny bending your ear again?”

Judy laughed and followed her down the hallway. “Just a little. I’m sorry I’m late. She was telling me about the Book Fair.”

The elderly woman stopped in front of her apartment door and used the key hanging from a lanyard around her neck to unlock the door. “Handy little thing,” she commented as she let the key drop and tugged on the lanyard. “Somebody donated a whole case of them to the residents so we wouldn’t lose our keys. I checked it good, though, and made sure it had that safety clip so if I fall when the key is in the door, the strap will snap apart and I won’t hang myself like that poor soul out West. Hung there for days before anyone found him. Imagine living eighty-some years, fighting in the war and dying like that. Not an ounce of dignity.”

She shook her head. “Awful tabloids. Had a picture of him, too. Looked like they tried to block out his face, but they did a terrible job. Not that it would have mattered much. The poor man’s body was all twisted up, plain as day.”

Judy shivered. She had gone from a touch of magic to a dose of gruesome reality within minutes, but that was par for the course here at the Towers. She followed her customer into the kitchen and set everything up. She had the woman seated, with a plastic cape around her shoulders within minutes. “When you called, you said you wanted a trim, right?”

“Just an inch or so. Keeps the hair healthy to have it trimmed regularly.”

Judy undid the braid of gray-and-white hair wrapped into a crown and slid her fingers through the thinning hair to work out any snags or tangles before brushing the hair that fell just below her customer’s shoulder blades. “Your hair feels beautiful, like silk. You must be using that conditioner I gave you.”

“It’s almost gone. Do you have any more in that bag of yours?”

Judy shook her head. “No, but I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. I’ll drop off a few samples for you.”

“That would be sweet of you.”

Judy misted Mrs. Edwards’s hair, separated it into sections, and began to cut while she got filled in on the latest tabloid headlines and Mrs. Edwards’s plans to volunteer at the Book Fair.

“I learned my lesson and made sure I signed up early. Last year I waited until the last minute and wound up at a booth selling cotton candy. What a mess! I came home, looked in the mirror and cried until you got here, remember?”

Judy held back a giggle. “I remember. Before I washed your hair, I thought the pink-and-blue cotton candy added a bit of whimsy to your braid.”

“And my eyebrows and my ears? Oh, I was one sticky mess. I was so worried you’d laugh at me, like certain other unnamed people who live in my building.”

“I would never laugh at you,” Judy promised.

When the telephone rang, Mrs. Edwards lifted the cape and pointed to the wall phone. “Be a dear and answer for me, would you? Hannah Damm was supposed to call me this morning, but she never did. That woman is getting more forgetful by the day. Tell her I’ll call her back.”

Scissors in hand, Judy answered the telephone.

“Judy? Penny. Mrs. Worth called from the school, like you thought she would. I told her you’d call her back, but she was a little huffy. She wants you to call her back right away. ‘Immediately,’ as she put it.”