Seems Like Old Times Read online

  Falling in love was dangerous, all right. When had she first learned that lesson? Watching her mother's years of regret or, later, with Tony?

  Although she'd forgotten, over the years, how she used to feel around Tony, she did know she'd never been in love like that again with anyone. Maybe that’s what people meant when they said there was nothing quite so wonderful, or so miserable, as first love. That summed it up for her. She tried to stop thinking about him. Dwelling on the past caused nothing but misery. She had to think about the future.

  At least she'd found a realtor she liked and could work with. After talking with her on the phone, Lee had checked her references. Earlier that evening, Janet Lettice had come by, and after interviewing her for almost an hour, Lee signed a contract. Now all she had to do was take care of her mother’s personal items, pick out paint, new drapes and carpets, and turn everything to the waiting, capable hands of Ms. Lettice. God bless her.

  When Bonanza ended, Lee called Bruce and chatted a while. He had a lot to say about company intrigue.

  She then phoned Melanie James, a good friend who was also the arts director for the station where Evening Newscene was broadcast. Melanie worked until nine at night, so Lee knew she’d be wide awake. She filled Melanie in on life in Miwok and Melanie gave her the latest gossip from the newsroom.

  Forty-year-old Melanie knew how to live the swinging career-girl dream to the hilt. She was currently living with a man named Jim--Lee never did find out his last name--and they split everything equally, even to the point where they divided shelves on the refrigerator between "his" and "hers." When Melanie cooked dinner, it was a meal for one. If Jim got hungry, she'd point to the oven.

  Lee enjoyed Melanie's biting sense of humor--New York, arty and streetwise. At the same time, Melanie threw herself into everything that interested her, men included. There were times Lee wished she were a lot more like Melanie. But the only thing she ever seemed to have time for was her work.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning Lee tore through the kitchen and pantry, ruthlessly sorting dishes, food and appliances that should be given away, thrown out, or kept.

  Last night, she couldn't sleep. Whenever she'd shut her eyes, strange visions would spring into her head. She didn't know what they were, nor did she want to know. Monsters--a child's nightmare world of snakes, dragons and gargoyles. She was too old to be having such dreams. But, too old or not, they scared her. She'd wake up, turn over to go back to sleep and the dream would start up again. At six, she gave up on sleep and got out of bed.

  Being back in this house had stirred up too many bad memories of Judith. Between her mother and her old high school, no wonder she dreamt about monsters and gargoyles.

  She needed to finish the job here and go home. If Miriam wanted to stay on by herself--since she, at least, was enjoying the town--that was fine with Lee. But she'd had enough. She could hardly wait to see Bruce and her friends in New York. New York was home now, and she loved it.

  Miriam stepped into the kitchen, long-nosed shears in one hand and gardening gloves in the other. "I'm pruning the rose bushes in the garden. Why don’t you come outside? Relax a while, enjoy being here, enjoy the sunshine."

  Lee, dressed in chinos, her hair pulled back in a French braid, was in the pantry filling Hefty bags with old food. "An uneven tan might make my skin look blotchy or dirty on TV. I’d better not chance it."

  "The world doesn't begin and end with Evening Newscene."

  "Mine does."

  "Life happens, Lisa. Despite television."

  Lee spun around, a box of stale Wheat Chex in her hand. "Miriam, my life is television."

  "Well, I hear the roses calling. I made some sun tea, so when you want a break, come sit in the shade and have some." Miriam went back to her gardening.

  Lee glared after her aunt. She stuffed boxes and sacks of dry foodstuffs into the black plastic bags. Miriam's constant, obvious attempts to suck her into this Miwok fantasy was nothing short of perverse.

  When Miriam had moved away from Miwok years ago, Lee had always assumed that she’d gone because of sad memories of her dead husband and older brother. Time, she guessed, had healed those old wounds.

  After a while, she heard Miriam's high, thin voice singing "Dream a Little Dream Of Me" while she worked in the garden. Although Lee shook her head at the corny old tune, she heard the happiness in her aunt's voice. Once this visit was over, Miriam would have little reason to return again.

  The finality of it struck Lee. Even though she, herself, didn't like Miwok, and never had, she needed to be respectful of Miriam's feelings about the town.

  "I’ll go find a sun hat then come out to help you," she called, suddenly wanting to join Miriam and share her happy mood.

  "Find some gardening gloves, too. There are a lot of weeds out here...in the shade."

  "Ah ha! Now the truth comes out." Lee smiled as she headed for her old bedroom on the second floor of the house but stopped as she faced the photographs of her childhood that lined the wall along the staircase, from her toothless baby smile at the bottom landing, to her high school graduation smile at the top.

  Her stomach clenched, and the ulcer began to burn. How she hated that wall. Somehow, up to now, she'd avoided a careful look at it. Now, old, ugly memories rushed back. She averted her eyes and climbed the stairs.

  In the photos, her clothes were starched, unwrinkled and spotless, her light blond hair curled and adorned with ribbons or barrettes, her big, pale blue eyes clear and sparkling, and her Shirley Temple round cheeks dimpled in an angelic smile. The pretty little girl in the photos touched nothing, said nothing and troubled no one. This was the perfect daughter Judith wanted. Far different was the flesh and blood, fault-filled and disappointing child she got.

  Lee's breath was coming fast as she rushed to her room and flung open the bedroom door. She stopped, stunned, as her mind again flashed to the past and all the times she'd run in here after school to change her clothes before going right back out again.

  She pressed her fingertips against her temples. The effects of too much country fresh air and sunshine after years of exhaust fumes and soot in Manhattan must have been bothering her. That, and seeing old friends...seeing Tony, and his son.

  She clasped her hands together, trying to stop the way they shook from stress and tension. But then, they often shook when she wasn't on television. Somehow, on TV, her public persona took over. On TV, Lee Reynolds had poise, sophistication, and nerves of iron. Lee was all the things little Lisa Marie Reynolds, from Hicktown, USA, had worked long and hard to become. In Miwok, though, it seemed more of Lisa Marie still existed than she had expected. That was another reason to hurry up and leave.

  The bedroom was still decorated in the feminine style Judith had chosen for her when she was fourteen. The walls were covered with pale rose and white floral wallpaper and oval shaped pictures from Godey's Ladies' Book. A white eyelet comforter on the bed was piled high with pastel pillows trimmed with lace, ribbons and flounces. Madame Alexander dolls wearing early American costumes lined a shelf. School souvenirs filled a white wicker trunk, and on the top of it was her collection of stuffed animals.

  How upset she’d been when Judith redecorated without asking her opinion. She was into Star Wars and heavy metal, not dolls and frills. Now, with an adult's eye, she could see that the room was pretty. The sad part was that it represented how completely her mother had misunderstood her and had tried to make her into Judith's own image. And when that failed, had tried to strip her down to nothing.

  She failed in that as well. Lee had made sure of it.

  The realtor had advised that, although the house was in great need of fresh paint, wall-to-wall carpets and new drapery, it should be marketed while still furnished rather than empty, and she had particularly liked this room. Lee did, however, need to get rid of the clutter.

  She decided to leave in the house only those belongings that would be donated to charity once the house sold.
That way, she wouldn’t have to return here again. Knowing the realtor would handle everything else was quite a load off her shoulders.

  She walked over to the window seat, put her palms on it and leaned toward the glass pane, looking out at the familiar view. The window faced a cherry plum tree on the front lawn. She used to spend hour upon hour sitting here thinking about school, her friends, her future. Particularly about one friend. She glanced down at the street, and remembered him standing there, waiting for her.

  She spun around. She used to have a couple of straw hats not that she ever wore them when she was young. But she could use them in the garden now. Where were they? She opened her closet door and looked on the top shelf. Not there. Stuffed in the back? On the floor?

  She pushed aside her clothes and peered inside. There was a box in the way and she grabbed it and pulled it toward the door. Curious about it, she lifted the flaps and rifled through the contents.

  School papers, yearbooks, pictures, an old diary...

  Don't look, she warned herself. The diary was dated twenty years ago. She was fifteen at the time. Flipping through the pages quickly, a lot were blank. A most unmemorable year. She was ready to toss it back in the box when the pages fell open to a date in late October. Despite herself, she began to read.

  Dear Diary,

  I can't believe what happened today! After lunch Cheryl and Suzanne went to comb their hair and I was alone when that new Mexican boy came up to me. The only other time I was around him was when I saw him on his bike and we just stared at each other.

  But he walked up to me as if we were friends or something. He said, "You're Lisa Reynolds," like he was telling me something I didn't know.

  I said, "Such news."

  He said, "I'm Tony Santos."

  I said, "I don't talk to strangers." But he hung around. His clothes are bitchin'. Nobody in Miwok dresses so cool, I started to walk away, but I went kind of slow. He walked with me, I thought he'd have an accent, but he doesn't. He said he's from a place in Texas called Armadillo or something.

  His father trains horses out at the Circle Z, which is better than what some kids were saying. I asked him about his mother. He said his mother was dead.

  It made me think about when Daddy died, and I felt bad for him.

  I asked if she died long ago. He said it was the day he was born. I can't imagine dying because of having a baby. That's so terrible.

  I think I must have looked strange because he tried to joke about it. He said, "When I was a little kid I never got to sing happy birthday," and he laughed. But I saw a funny look in his eye when he said it. He stopped laughing, then offered me some Twizzlers. I didn't know what to answer, so I took a piece and gave him back the rest. He has a nice smile. I think I like him.

  After school, Cheryl and Suzanne wanted to know every word we said. They said they were appalled that I'd actually talk to somebody like him. It made me feel bad for him. I told them what he said and what I said, but I didn't tell them about his mother. I think he said that just for me to know. I hope he talks to me again sometime.

  Lee shut the diary, and held it in her hand a long moment. Finally, she dropped it back in the box, and shoved the box to a spot beside the bedroom door. She'd carry it out to the trash when she went downstairs to help Miriam.

  o0o

  That evening, Cheryl got a group of "the girls" together for dinner with Lee.

  At that meal, she discovered just how much Miwok had changed for her, and vice versa. As much fun as the dinner had been, it brought home to her how much her life had diverged from that of her friends. At varying times each of them acted stand offish and shy, at times each seemed to envy her for her success and independence, and at other times, each acted as if she were still Lisa Marie Reynolds, high school classmate. But at no time did any of them, including Cheryl, have any grasp of what it meant to leave Miwok.

  The life she lived was a mystery to them, and as a result, so was she. She tried to explain, but her words did no good, and eventually, she gave up trying. When they said good bye, they hugged each other and promised to get together again soon. They all meant it, Lee felt, as did she, but deep in her heart she suspected that as the euphoria of being with old friends wore off, they'd probably change their minds. There was too much distance--culturally, socially, in life experience--between her and these people from her childhood.

  She'd still see Cheryl, but as for the others, they'd probably run out of things to say far too quickly if they tried to get together again. After all, how often can one rehash old times? Once, usually. Twice, rarely.

  Strangely, throughout the evening, no one mentioned Tony Santos. Lee wondered if Cheryl had said something to them, because it was so awkward to not mention him, that his presence pervaded the dinner.

  Late that evening, at her mother's house, feeling lonely and forsaken by her old friends, Lee telephoned Bruce. He didn't answer. She remembered he’d had a dinner engagement planned. It was past midnight in New York and she’d expected him to be home by this time. She left a message on the answering machine that she'd called, then hung up feeling out of sorts, hurt and abandoned. "Where are you, Bruce?" she cried. "For once in my life, I need you!"

  Chapter 8

  Miriam dawdled over breakfast.

  "Is anything wrong?" Lee asked.

  "Oh, I was just thinking how much I used to enjoy going to San Francisco with Patrick when he was alive. I guess I’ll never see it again that way. I don’t suppose you’d like to go?"

  Lee nearly laughed aloud. She was glad Miriam never wanted to be an actress the way her mother did. Miriam couldn’t have made it past melodrama. "This is my last day here. My plane leaves early tomorrow, and I’m not finished yet."

  "One day might not be enough time. Why don’t you call and change your ticket?"

  Lee frowned. "All I have left is to buy the carpeting and drapes. Then I’m done and free to go home. That won’t leave time for much else today, though."

  "But that means we can’t spend the day together in San Francisco. How could you miss seeing the city again?" Miriam was a mixture of hurt relative and a Chamber of Commerce commercial. Lee nearly laughed.

  "It would be such fun for the two of us to spend the day in the city," Miriam continued. "We could play tourist and hit all the hot spots. Of course, I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble at work just because of me..."

  Although Lee had told the news director that she wasn’t sure how long she’d have to be away, she had fully expected to be finished with Miwok in a few days, and go back to work soon after that. She had a two-week vacation coming, and had planned to save the remainder of her vacation time for a later date.

  She was quite sure Miriam had understood that her job was not a problem. "I don’t know why I didn’t simply agree to stay a few extra days when you first suggested it," she said.

  "You would have save me a lot of whining," Miriam agreed with a big smile.

  "I knew it!"

  "Stay through the weekend. You’ll enjoy yourself, I promise."

  o0o

  "Hey, paisan, what are you doing?"

  Tony, crouching over a disassembled tractor mower engine, looked up to see Gene Cantelli strolling into his workshop. "I'm giving this son of a bitch an overhaul." He reattached the socket wrench and went back to work. "It conked out on us again this morning."

  Cantelli put his hands in his pockets and gave a low whistle at the parts scattered over the floor. "I think you should give it last rites."

  "It'll be humming soon. Like a babe in arms."

  "Or a woman."

  Tony frowned then gave a hard yank on a lug that had refused to loosen. "Got it."

  "Speaking of women..." Cantelli picked up a rag and rubbing some grease off the exhaust.

  "Were we?" Tony bent lower and started working on another lug.

  "Your friend Lee's quite the dish. Cheryl Stanton brought her into my shop a couple days ago. Too bad you didn’t show up. On TV she looks like
a cold bitch, but not in person. I was afraid my teeth would fall out the way my mouth hung open around her."

  Wearily, Tony stood, straightened his back, then bent backwards to work the kinks out. He ran his arm over his forehead to wipe away the perspiration. His hands and arms were smudged with grease, and he now had a streak of grease on his forehead. "Yeah, when Vic brought home the new saddle he told me you got the royal visit. I didn't know you had a red carpet to roll out."

  "I know Vic doesn’t care for her, but I’ll tell you, she wasn't that way."

  "Well, I wouldn't know. I knew her in high school, that's all." He began putting the sockets he’d used back into their case in the proper order.

  "That's not the way Vic or Cheryl tell it."

  "Then they’re both wrong. I’m sure as hell glad I give you guys something to talk about behind my back!"

  "Why are you biting my head off?"

  Tony faced him. "What's your problem, Cantelli?"

  "My problem?" The older man chortled, and folded his arms across his broad chest as he regarded Tony, a wide, provocative smile spread under his thick mustache. "I'm not the one with something gnawing at my gut. Go see her, talk to her. Here's your chance to get whatever's bothering you out in the open."

  "Hell, Gene, it's nothing like that." Tony offered him a bottle of warm Gatorade. When Gene shook it off, he opened it for himself and took a long draught. It took him a moment before he was willing to talk, to try to explain. "Sometimes when you hear about someone, old memories pop into your head. They don't mean anything anymore, but you can't help it. The past's long gone. I don't even know this Lisa, or 'Lee,' Reynolds. The girl I knew died years ago."

  "What do you mean?" Gene's smile faded.

  He relaxed against a tall workbench filled with tools and parts. "She changed, almost over night. She left town and never came back. Before I knew what happened, Lisa was gone and this Lee character was in her place. Lisa's as good as dead for me. Either way, she doesn't exist."