Glamour Page 6

  When I knock on Fran’s door this time, she actually opens it. “Oh, it’s you again.” She yawns sleepily. “I just woke up.”

  “I—uh—I got you some groceries,” I say as I come in. “I hope you don’t mind. It looked like you needed some things.”

  She blinks. “You got me groceries?”

  “Is that okay?”

  She looks like she’s on the verge of tears. “Yes, of course. I’ll get my purse and pay you — ”

  “Just let me get these into the fridge,” I say as I go into the kitchen, setting the bags on the counter. “We can settle up later. Are you feeling better?”

  “The nap helped,” she says. “I was about to take a shower. I think I finally have enough energy.”

  “Go ahead and do that,” I urge her. “I’ll let myself out after I put these away.”

  “Thanks, Erin.”

  As I hurry to put things away, I realize that she didn’t even notice that I’d done some cleaning. I guess that just shows how rotten she’s feeling. It’s like she’s oblivious to her surroundings. Besides, I remind myself, I didn’t clean to get her appreciation. I cleaned because it needed doing.

  I can hear the shower running, so I decide to do a couple more things. I put the wet sheets in the dryer then quickly straighten her living room. And I write her a note, saying that I want her to call me if she needs anything and that the groceries are a gift. Then I leave.

  I feel good as I get back in my Jeep. It’s a cool thing to help someone like that. But as I drive home, another part of me is worried. I’m thinking maybe I should’ve offered to stay with her in case she needs more help. At the same time I know Fran is a private person and it’s possible I’ve invaded her space enough already. In fact, by the time I get home, I’m hoping I haven’t offended her by cleaning her apartment. What if she thinks that was my way of saying she’s a slob?

  Finally I decide that instead of obsessing, I should simply pray for her. And that’s what I do. I am still praying for God to do a miracle in her, but I’m also praying that God will bring more people into her life. It’s ironic, because there I was feeling sorry for myself because I was lonely. But poor Fran is not only facing a life-and-death challenge, she seems to be very much alone. In comparison, my life is absolutely full.

  Chapter

  7

  Fran calls me at noon on Tuesday and she’s very appreciative of my help last Sunday, which makes me feel good.

  “You sound so much better,” I tell her as I take leftovers from the fridge. “Maybe the chemo is really working.”

  “I feel pretty good today.” She explains how her oncologist is using a “three days on, four days off” plan. “I get treatments on Friday, Saturday, and the last one on Sunday morning. So I only end up crashing on the weekends. Plus, my doctor thinks it’s the best way to treat the cancer—three days of aggression and four days to recover and rest.”

  “So that’s what you’re doing today?” I ask. “Recovering and resting while you’re at work?”

  “Well … I’m taking it easy.”

  “You sure were wiped out on Sunday,” I remind her.

  “It was a rough day. But, really, I almost feel like myself today.”

  She does sound better, and I’m hoping her treatments are working. I want to ask her if Helen is getting suspicious yet, but I just hate rocking her boat. It seems so fragile and tippy already.

  “Anyway, I’m on my lunch break and I’m going to take a quick nap. We’ve been putting together the tapes from Saturday.”

  “The fashion fiasco show.”

  “The footage is really hilarious. I think it’ll be a good episode.”

  “Cool.”

  “In fact, that’s why I’m calling. We scheduled a preview on Friday at ten. Can you let Paige know?”

  “Will do.”

  I’m encouraged to hear Fran’s feeling better, but I’m still concerned. Seeing her like that on Sunday was a little disturbing. Obviously, it was unsettling on a personal level because I really care about Fran. It was also disturbing on a professional level because I just do not see how she can maintain her job and her cancer treatment without derailing both. And when I think about the Bahamas trip coming up, I get seriously worried.

  “Hey, you,” Mom comes into the kitchen with her arms full of bags.

  “Hi, Mom. What are you doing home this time of day?”

  “I took a long lunch break to do some last-minute shopping. I’ll make up for it this evening.” She peers at me curiously. “You seemed like you were in a bit of a funk when I came in just now. Everything okay?”

  I take in a deep breath, wondering how much I should say.

  “Erin?” She cocks her head to one side. “Is something going on with Paige?”

  It’s ironic how she immediately goes to Paige when she suspects trouble. And, in a way, she’s not too far off the mark. “Not exactly.”

  Mom sets her bags and purse on the table then goes to the fridge to retrieve a yogurt and an apple. “What is it then, exactly?” She gets a spoon and a paring knife then sits down at the breakfast bar with an expectant look.

  “I promised to keep it a secret,” I confess.

  Mom’s brows arch as she opens the yogurt carton. “A secret about your sister? From your mother?”

  “No, it’s not a secret about Paige.”

  Mom looks evenly at me as she dips her spoon.

  “Can I trust you, Mom?”

  She smiles. “I am your mom, Erin. If you can’t trust me, who can you trust?”

  As she eats her yogurt and apple, I quickly pour out Fran’s sad story, even the part about finding her in such bad shape on Sunday.

  “Oh, poor Fran.” Mom shakes her head. “That’s devastating.”

  “I know. And I can’t believe she’s trying to work and do her treatments.”

  Mom gets a thoughtful look. “Sometimes work can be therapeutic, Erin. When your dad died, it was going to work every day that helped me get through some of the hardest times.”

  “I can understand that.” I nod. “But I’m not sure Fran has the physical strength to keep up. The Bahamas trip is less than two weeks away.”

  “And Helen doesn’t know?”

  “No. Fran made me promise not to tell anyone. In fact, I feel guilty for telling you.”

  “Well, Fran should understand that. I’m your mom, after all—I have a right to know what’s going on in your life.”

  “But you won’t tell Paige?”

  Mom frowns. “Actually, she has a right to know too. But, no, I won’t tell her if you don’t want me to.”

  “No, please don’t say anything. And I don’t want you to worry about this,” I tell her. “I mean, you’ve got your wedding to focus on.”

  “Fran has put a lot on you with this, Erin. It’s a heavy load to carry.”

  I give her a confident smile. “Because she trusts me with it. It’s okay. I’ll figure out how to handle it. I think it’s a one-step-at-a-time thing.”

  “Maybe Fran will come to her senses and tell Helen what’s going on soon.”

  “Or maybe, like she hopes, the chemo will work and she’ll get better.”

  “Yes.” Mom doesn’t look convinced. “Hopefully that will happen.”

  “And, believe me,” I say, “if I think Helen needs to know, I will tell her. It wouldn’t be fair to ruin the show or Fran’s health just to keep a secret.”

  “Good.” Mom smiles. “I’m glad you can see that.”

  “I know you won’t be back from your honeymoon when we’re heading to the Bahamas, but I’ll let you know what’s going on.”

  “Yes, we will be like ships in the night. You girls leave in the morning and we get home that evening. But I’d appreciate being kept in the loop. You can always call me in France if you need to.”

  I laugh. “Seriously, Mom, what kind of daughter calls her mother while she’s on her honeymoon?”

  Fortunately, the week progresses without any comp
lications or new developments with Fran. On Friday morning, when we’re all in the screening room to preview the BBB episode, Fran seems almost like her old self and I’m thinking maybe she’s right. Maybe she is going to beat this thing.

  “Well, you girls really knocked that one out of the ballpark.” Helen is beaming at us as the lights come on. “The viewers are going to love this.”

  “I didn’t realize I looked so awful.” Paige grimaces. “I’m not sure I want that image going public.”

  Helen laughs. “It’s a little late for that. Didn’t you see that shot of you on E! last weekend?”

  “Don’t remind me.” Paige shakes her head.

  “Hey, it’s publicity,” I tease.

  “And you handled it extremely well,” Helen assures Paige. “You both did. I’m proud of you girls.”

  “Do you think we’ll take any heat for dissing BBB?” I ask Helen as we head to the conference room to continue this discussion.

  She chuckles. “Well, I doubt they’ll be lining up to be a sponsor, but I suspect we were a little rich for their blood anyway.”

  Once we’re resettled in the conference room, Fran opens her notebook. “We still need to get some more monologue critiques from you,” Fran tells Paige. “To go with the actual fashion show.”

  “And I can be totally candid and honest?” Paige asks Helen.

  “In a dignified, ladylike way,” Helen tells her. “We want to keep Paige Forrester on the high road.”

  Paige nods. “This is going to be fun.”

  “Maybe you should help,” Fran tells me. “Can you come up with some good comments?”

  I grin at her. “Oh, yeah, I had some opinions.”

  She turns to Leah. “Why don’t you get them scheduled for next week?”

  “I’m on it.” Leah gathers her things and leaves.

  “So are you girls excited about your mom’s big day tomorrow?” Helen asks as the four of us linger in the conference room. Paige gives her a blow-by-blow of everything we have to get done by then. Hearing the to-do list, I’m actually feeling overwhelmed.

  “Maybe we should let them get on their way,” Fran says to Helen.

  “Sounds good.” Helen nods. “I think we’re done here.”

  “Are we still okay with JJ getting some footage after the wedding?” Fran asks us. “During the reception?”

  “Absolutely,” Paige assures her. “In fact, I’ve hired JJ to tape the wedding ceremony as well.”

  “We’ll combine it with the wedding dress shopping as well as the wedding dress fashion show,” Fran explains to Helen. “For a wedding special that will play in late June.”

  “Wonderful!” Helen claps her hands.

  “You’re both still coming to the wedding, right?” Paige asks them.

  “You bet.” Helen smiles. “I’m a sucker for a good wedding.”

  Fran nods. “I’ll be there.”

  We all head our various ways, but as Paige and I are about to split up in the parking lot (she insisted we come separately because there’s so much to do today), she hands me a list.

  “What’s this?”

  “Your to-do list for the day.”

  “Okay … “ I glance over the list, which isn’t too overwhelming and is mostly what I thought I was going to be doing anyway. And then I see it ends with Acapella’s. I know Acapella’s is a swanky salon, but I’m not sure why I’m going there at four thirty. “Am I supposed to pick up something at Acapella’s?” I ask.

  “I scheduled appointments for all three of us several months ago.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes! Won’t it be fun?”

  “Sure. But will we be late for the rehearsal?”

  “My plan is that we’ll go directly from Acapella’s to the rehearsal. So make sure you take what you want to wear with you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Maybe you should tell Blake to pick you up at Acapella’s. I’ll just take Mom with me.”

  We reach her car, and I just don’t want to go into the recent events with Blake and why he won’t be with me tonight. So I nod and smile instead. I can explain later. Besides, Paige will be going stag, or whatever girls call it, tonight too. Maybe she and I can get in some sister time together.

  I run around town, doing last-minute things that should’ve been done last week. When it’s nearly four, I’m thinking a couple hours of pampering at Acapella’s is sounding pretty sweet. So I swing by the condo, grab my dress and shoes for tonight, and just as I’m going down the stairs, Grandma Hebo is coming up.

  “Grandma!” I shriek happily.

  We hug, and she explains that she’s on her way to the hotel where some of our other relatives are staying and where tonight’s rehearsal will happen. I tell her I’m on my way to the salon and that Mom and Paige are there too.

  “Well, come on down and meet someone before you go,” Grandma tells me. She leads me to a car where an older man gets out, and my grandma introduces me to Howard Stack — her boyfriend!

  I try not to act shocked, but I cannot believe my grandma has a boyfriend. This is so out of the blue. “Nice to meet you,” I say as he shakes my hand.

  “I’m looking forward to meeting the rest of your family,” he says politely. “I’ve heard such good things about you.”

  “And he watches your TV show,” Grandma tells me. “In fact, I’ve actually seen it a few times myself.”

  “But you don’t have a TV,” I point out.

  Howard chuckles. “That’s how we got connected. She wanted to come over and use my TV.”

  “So we could say that you and Paige brought Howard and me together.”

  “Interesting.” Then I apologize and tell them I have to run. “But I’ll see you tonight at the rehearsal dinner.”

  They wave and I hop into my Jeep, where I simply shake my head. My grandma has a boyfriend. That is just crazy.

  Mom and Paige are already at Acapella’s when I arrive, and before long we’re all being manicured and pedicured and coiffed and pampered. As the stylists work, I tell Mom and Paige about Grandma Hebo’s boyfriend. Naturally, this brings on speculation and humor, and it feels like we’re three old girlfriends just out having a good time.

  “I could do this every other day,” Paige says as we’re all relaxing in the big leather recliners at the pedicure station.

  “I feel so spoiled,” Mom admits. “But I like it.”

  By six thirty we are finished with our appointments and in the dressing room getting ready for the rehearsal. Paige’s phone rings, and suddenly she is jumping up and down in her underwear, squealing like she’s won the lottery.

  “What is it?” Mom asks as Paige hangs up.

  “Dylan!”

  “Yeah?” I peer curiously at her. She doesn’t normally do the Snoopy happy dance when Dylan calls.

  “He’s here.”

  “In LA?” Mom blinks.

  “He made it after all. He’s on his way here to pick me up. So I won’t be the only one without a date at dinner tonight after all.” She frowns at Mom. “I was going to give you a ride to the—”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you, my date is picking me up.” Mom looks at her watch. “I’d better hurry. Jon said he’d be here by six forty-five.”

  “And Erin’s going with Blake, so I guess we’re all set.”

  As we scramble to get dressed and do our final primping, I just can’t bring myself to tell them that Blake won’t be at the dinner tonight. For one thing, they’ll want to know why. And then they’ll probably feel sorry for me. I just don’t think I can deal with all that in seven minutes or less, so I say nothing.

  But I am determined not to feel sorry for myself tonight. This is about my mom and Jon, and I don’t want anything to put a damper on it. At the rehearsal, when I’m asked where Blake is, I simply say that something came up and he couldn’t make it tonight, but that he will definitely be at the wedding tomorrow. No one seems to question it. And, as far as I know, since he was invited, he wi
ll be at the wedding tomorrow. He just won’t be with me.

  The rehearsal goes fairly smoothly. We all realize it will be a bit different at the rose garden in the park tomorrow, but this was the best we could do for an evening rehearsal. For the dinner afterward, also in the hotel, I sit with Grandma and Howard, who fortunately don’t know anything about Blake, so there are no sticky questions for me to answer.

  Instead we talk about cameras and photography. It turns out that Howard has been taking photos for decades and has just recently decided to step into the digital world. I’m thankful for the distraction of explaining all the latest, greatest technology to him. Because, frankly, I’m practically the only one here without a date tonight, and it feels a little lame.

  Chapter

  8

  On the morning of Mom’s wedding, I call Blake. “I need a really huge favor,” I tell him.

  “What?” He sounds like I woke him up.

  “I know we’re not together, but last night at the rehearsal dinner, my mom seemed concerned about me being alone. Dylan arrived yesterday for Paige, and even my grandma has a date. I don’t want mom getting worried if it looks like you and I aren’t speaking to each other. I just don’t want to be that one gray cloud on her otherwise sunny day. You know? So, I’m begging you, Blake, could you please just act like you’re with me today?”

  “Okay.”

  I’m surprised but relieved. “Okay then. Well, thanks. I appreciate it. I just don’t want Mom heading off to her honeymoon all worried that I’m back home dying of a broken heart.” I instantly regret that last bit.

  “Not that there’s any chance of that,” he says wryly.

  I let that comment pass. “So do you want to just meet there then?”

  “Works for me.”

  As I thank him again, I can’t help feeling like I just hired an escort. Really, how dumb is this? Maybe I should’ve just told my family the truth. What difference does it make? Or maybe it’s my pride … maybe I’m embarrassed to be dateless at my mom’s wedding. But if that were the case, why didn’t I just call someone else? There are plenty of guys in our college fellowship group who would willingly escort me to a wedding.