Tuesday she had set aside for car shopping after work, a prospect that intimidated her. She told Alejo she knew nothing about cars built after 1980. All she knew was, she must find something safe, practical, and a cheap as possible.
But when she finished the breakfast dishes, Alejo said, “Surprise! Your wedding present is arriving early. Rigo and Godiva picked out a new car, which will be delivered tomorrow. Drive it up to Hollywood—if you don’t like it, we’ll swap it for another.”
Wendy called at once to thank them, then realized she had a free afternoon. Maybe she ought to get a haircut? She’d been cutting her own hair ever since Bill began complaining about how much she spent, with nothing to show for it. But when she tried calling her mother’s favorite beauty shop (the fact that it was still called a beauty shop showed how old it was), it was to discover the number was no longer in use.
When she arrived at the bakery, Linette said, “I hate to be Nosy Parker, and tell me to butt out, but were you thinking of doing something…” She waved her hand at her own hair.
“I was,” Wendy admitted. “But Donna’s Beauty Shoppe’s number was disconnected.”
“Oh, Donna retired five years ago,” Linette said. “My cousin knows every hairdresser in town. And Donna was years out of date. Nice woman, but you would have come out of there looking like 1976 called and wants its polyester pants suits back. My cousin has a magic touch, and she’s waiting for you right now.”
“But—” Wendy waved at the bakery.
“I’m trying out your replacement,” Linette said briskly, and grinned. “If you’re going to become a famous screenwriter, and I hope you will not only for your sake, but I am longing to see Bill’s face, you won’t have time to be slinging donuts. Go on over. My wedding gift to you—a little early, because you must go up to Hollywood looking, like my mom always said, like somebody.”
Wendy came out of the hairdresser’s smiling. She liked the haircut, and her fingers and toes tingled after their expert manicure and pedicure, but what she really appreciated was Linette’s gift. Linette was turning out to be a real friend.
She was still thinking about that when she got home, and there was her new car. At first she was afraid to touch it, it was so clean and new and shiny. But at Alejo’s encouragement she slid in, staring in amazement at a dashboard that was not held together with overlapping duct tape, most of the instruments long since broken. It looked to her like the cockpit of a jet.
The car drove effortlessly, no bucking, grinding or ominous clanks. It had one of those ridiculous names that she would never remember after an hour; to her, it was so small and sporty that she felt like she was in the car version of a frisky young horse, trained and ready to gallop.
Wednesday morning, she saw the kids off for their usual school day, then got ready to drive up the coast into Los Angeles proper. As she slipped on her new sandals and sat back to wiggle her pretty toes, she felt like a cross between Cinderella and a Viking woman girding her loins for battle.
Of course the reality was not nearly as dramatic.
She arrived in plenty of time, and as arranged, met her agent at an artisanal coffee place adjacent to the parking deck. She’d gulped at the steep price of parking, reminded herself that she no longer had to stretch every penny, and entered the shop, breathing in the heavenly scent of fresh-ground coffee.
Her agent, Reese, was a rail thin woman who had always reminded Wendy of a nervous chihuahua. Reese blinked rapidly at Wendy, and smiled. “Great look, Wendy. Been a long time, huh? Ready for this?”
Wendy had forgotten how fast Reese talked, like a verbal machine-gun, except her voice was high and chirpy. Definitely chihuahua. “I think so,” Wendy hedged. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve been in town.”
“Judging by your excellent work, you needed that time away.”
Wendy smothered a laugh.
“As for this gang, I can give you the low-down on who’s who—who’s likely to be for us and who against us—or I can just do my job, and you sit and smile like a blond Mona Lisa. Which are you up for?”
“Definitely the latter.”
Reese clapped her hands and rubbed them. “Good. I like a free hand. You just smile the way you’re smiling now, and I swear they’ll jack up the offer, because they’ll think you’ve got someone else on the line. Which you will if they weasel.” She rubbed her hands again, and Wendy remembered that chihuahuas were quite fierce.
She was smiling at the image as she walked into the meeting room. Several people were already there, everyone dressed in hip casual. From the angle of shoulders and the cant of heads, she recognized who the most important person in the room was. All her old experience rushed back, and she discovered a sense of anticipation—of fun. Unlike her young days, it didn’t feel like a life-or-death situation.
Reese introduced her, everyone said hi, and the meeting began with a shower of compliments about Wendy’s pilot script. She knew this was preliminary talk. The important stuff was coming—notes about what they wanted changed. They are just people, came a stray thought; I will soon marry a winged lion-serpent.
And her Mona Lisa smile widened.
TWENTY-SEVEN
ALEJO
Through the day Alejo checked on Wendy. She was driving. She was talking. They did not exchange words. It was too difficult for her to form sentences mentally when others were speaking, but he didn’t need words. He could tell that she was enjoying herself, and that was all that mattered.
Between these checks, he supervised the electricians he had hired. They were busy wiring the house so that he could get the drywall in. After that, it would only be a matter of finishing touches—crown molding, doors, retiling the floors, and then installing the built-in bookcases and shelving that he had been working on while the roofers and electricians were busy.
Wendy’s house. It made him so happy to be building it with his own hands. He imagined her in each room, how she would notice each added touch. How she would smile. How she would look stretched out on their bed…
He kept one eye on the clock, as he was, for the first time, the home parent, responsible for the kids’ arrival from school. Sam arrived first, skipping in, swinging his backpack, his new glasses fitting much better than his old ones had.
