Moon over Madeline Island (10 page)

“You're a gem.”

“I know; I know.”

 

I'm walking through the park and along the river that flows quietly underneath the Water Street bridge. Thinking back, I can remember as a child how I used to try to keep up with my mom and dad as they went from one shop to another up and down Barstow Street. Now it's a ghost street. The old J.C. Penney building is office space and Kresge's Department Store, where I bought my first box of tampons, stands empty. Some changes I don't get.

I
will
miss all the beautiful homes in what we locals call Third Ward, the neighborhood across the river. It's an area where the lumber barons built their enormous, lavish mansions. They stand three and four stories high, with turrets and dormers galore. The woodwork, stained-glass windows and crystal chandeliers can all be spied by simply “happening to be out for a stroll” when it's dark. I figure, if the drapes are open and the lights are on, I'm peeking.

It's like a favorite rock, like the one on my windowsill upstairs. It's from out of this very river and I know exactly where I'll put it in the cottage. It's funny how something as simple as a rock can connect you to a place. I'll still be me; I'll still have all this with me and that makes me happy, complete. Taking a deep breath, I turn and walk back to my shop, up the back stairs to my apartment. Reaching into my pocket, I put a new rock beside the old one, right there on my windowsill.

“F
ound some
gorgeous
red-leaf lettuce I thought we could use with whatever we find in your fridge,” Ruby says, unloading her grocery bags. “That Kerm's Market across the street has everything. Whose garden did you nick these lovely daisies from?”

“For once, I didn't pinch them; they're from Avalon's flower shop and aren't they huge?” I arrange them in a favorite old milk bottle. “What
is
it about a vase full of daisies? 'Course, I would have gotten more, but they cost a fortune.”

“You must have done some
getting rid of
already,” Ruby remarks. “Feels more roomy in the living room here. Oh, I know what it is: no more books piled on the floor!”

“They're gone from the floor, the tables, and most of the stacks I had in corners have been sorted through, too. I gathered them up and unloaded them into the very happy hands of the guy at the Wax Paper bookstore.” I'm pulling a volume of poetry out from under my sofa. No wonder it felt hard there. “The ones I couldn't part with are packed up in boxes and piled along the wall in my bedroom.”

“I'll get some water to boil and start some wild rice. When are the girls due?” Ruby asks while opening cupboards and slamming down a big pot onto the stove. She is the noisiest cook.

“Dorothy is finishing up a perm, in case you hadn't smelled it, and Watts ran home to get something.”

“When I had the House of China all those years ago, I should have had the crew over to the house more. I simply didn't have the energy or the time, I suppose.” Ruby fills the pot with water.

“I forget about your shop. You sold china and what else?” I ask, watching her make a mess in no time flat.

“China, stoneware, giftware, glassware and silverware, too. We had an enormous bridal registry. It was wonderful fun for a time, then the highway in front was moved, the malls came and…” Ruby sighs. “Ed and I decided to finally shut it down. So I have far too many sets of dishes and glasses
and
silverware, not to mention an entire closet full of crystal bowls. Never can tell when you may need a last-minute gift,” she says in defense.

“How can one have too many sets of anything like that? I have such a mixture of mismatched everything, I bet I don't even have a matching table setting for one!”

“You don't, darling.”

“Knock knock, is this a good time?” Dorothy asks, standing in the stairway leading up from the salon.

She's wearing peach-frost lipstick and is dressed in slacks and a long beige top bulging slightly around her middle, but all you notice is the hair. Glow-in-the-dark carrot red, piled high and swirled, like it's about to leap off into the air. I am not a big fan of backcombing, not the entire
head
at least; Dorothy does it all day long. She grins over her bifocals.

“Get in here, girl,” I command while absently shoving the poetry book back under the cushion and letting it plop down. “Let's pour you some wine. Pull up a sofa and take a load off.”

I offer a glass and she sits down next to a sleeping Rocky, putting her feet up on my newly cleared coffee table. I love it when people feel so cozy they do that.

“Oh this is so nice of you, Eve. Hello Ruby—my goodness you're the sight. Is that a new color or have I not seen this one yet?” Dorothy asks, adjusting her glasses.

“Lovely to see you, Dorothy. No…this is—well, it could be new. We brightened it up a bit, too,” Ruby replies. She wipes her hands on her apron, then slips a wooden spoon into one of the front pockets and pats her hair.

“My goodness…had such a busy day, what with fitting in Eve's clients
and
my own. All the gossip about what's going on and all…well, I'm so grateful to sit.” Dorothy blathers on and on. I shoot an eye-rolling face to Ruby. “'Course it's nice to be here and not at
home,
where if it's not a kid pulling on my leg, it's that man of mine; oh he's such a—”

“I am
sure
your family can handle one night of you being away, at least for a little while.” Ruby gives the rice a stir and pushes me out of the kitchen area. “Besides, maybe you'll be appreciated more when you
are
home.”

“Oh Eve”—Dorothy pats my arm as I sit next to her—“I'm so proud of you…jealous too. I mean, picking up and moving like this.” She takes my hand in hers, holding it for a moment.

She reaches up to push her shellacked bangs around, pulling this and moving that. Her hair doesn't move one iota, but this is what she does when she doesn't know what to do with her nervous hands. I'm wondering what stupid habit I have that must drive people nuts!

“Boy, would I love to retire,” Dorothy laments. “But with three kids, college looming in the future, lordy. Just to put food on the table and beer in the fridge, well I don't have to tell
you
how much it costs to live.” She sighs, fiddling with her charm bracelet.

“No, but then you do have a family and for heaven's sake Dorothy, loosen up and tell that husband of yours to get a better job or something.” He irritates the hell out of me. “Besides, we have no intention of
retiring
.”

“I wish I had the guts. He is such a lazybones, can't seem to find the
right
job. His back gives him grief, too, and now he has to watch his blood pressure, not to mention his terrible allergies.”

“Listen to you. For pity's sake, Dorothy…” I can feel myself getting testy. Why is it we all consider ourselves victims? As if on cue, Watts appears at the balcony door.

“Right on time.” I slide open the screen door. “Come in and join us; we're busy solving Dorothy's problems. I was telling her to get a small handgun, something with a silencer, and say to the cops she was cleaning it when all by itself it went
BANG!”

“Hey everyone!” Watts breezes in. “I've been here a full minute; drink please.” Ruby smiles and waves her into the kitchen.

Watts is dressed in torn-to-shreds jeans and some of the highest-heeled chunk sandals I've seen on her yet. She tosses her “road warrior” leather coat on the floor and pushes up the sleeves of her skin-tight mint green top.

“You're such a kidder, Eve—really.” Dorothy chuckles. “You wouldn't have a gun I could borrow though, would you?”

“What would you like to sip, darling? Wine? I bet I could find a beer in the fridge if I look hard enough. What the
hell
is this?” Ruby holds up a mold-covered something she found in my crisper drawer. I take it and dump the whole works into the garbage. It thuds to the bottom and we giggle.

“Wine of course!” Watts sits down on a chair in the kitchen, then pops up again. “Make it a double. Whatever you have brewing on that stove sure smells amazing,” she says, lifting lids and taking big sniffs.

Ruby is all about her cooking. Garlic bread browns in the oven, a huge salad is being tossed into bowls—mixing bowls, mind you—and the nutty-smelling wild rice with raisins and vegetables is cooling in the sink. A Ruby original. Nothing can drive a hungry person crazier than yummy food smells.

We end up sitting around my coffee table, eating on our laps. I've lumped a bunch of throw pillows together and am sitting on those.

“I don't know really
where
to start,” I say around a mouthful of crispy bread. “I mostly want you two to know how much I've appreciated working with you. I
refuse
to make this a good-bye, but I wanted to spend some time together and—”

“Eve…I think it's
us
that should be thanking
you
,” Watts interrupts. “All the times you've spent trying to put my life on track. Giving out all that wisdom and advice…and bullshit too, of course. Then there's me repeating the same stupid things with the same stupid men.”

“That's so darn true. Why, all those times you slipped me extra cash to cover the rent!” Dorothy slugs back a big gulp of wine. “Lordy…I'll never forget when you grabbed me and we went rushing over to Luther Hospital, nearly running into some old woman on a bike, then you parked on the lawn and
hurried
me into the emergency room.

“That was the time my little Billy had swallowed a bottle of allergy pills and had to have his stomach pumped. He's always been far too clever at opening things. I remember I was putting in a perm and…Whatever happened to her?”

“I've never had the heart to tell you,” Watts says, “but Irma's hair got fried all to hell! We had to cut most of it off.” Everyone looks at Dorothy. She bursts out laughing, practically throwing her wine in the air.

“Her hair was fuzz to begin with! Oh my, all this time and I could never figure why she'd always bring her own timer out when I put her under the heat!” A tear runs down Dorothy's red face. We all laugh some more.

“What a team you three have been,” Ruby states. We look at each other. All four of us raise our glasses to meet in the middle of the now dish-laden coffee table.

“To the best group of hair-miracle-workers Eau Claire has ever seen
and
to three very dear friends,” I cheer. “To the future!”

“To four really fucking fantastic babes.” We all look at Dorothy, who never says the F-word, then laugh and laugh. Cackle is more like it.

Ruby pours more wine around. Later, everyone gets up to help tidy. Ruby is the washer, handing off clean, piping-hot, dripping dishes to Watts and Dorothy, who in turn give them to me to put away. We're done in no time at all. The group reassembles in the living room, where all feet are up on the now spotless coffee table.

“What a wonderful time I've had. I'm stuffed clear to my brain and am
I
going to have a whopper of a headache in the morning.” Dorothy straightens her straight bangs. “Hey, hold on—Madeline Island! I have a cousin who lives in Bayfield. We talk all the time. The gossip is thick up there, seeing as it's rather isolated, especially in the winters.”

“What
kind
of gossip?” I ask. “I mean Eau Claire's pretty darn chatty, if you ask me.”

“Well, Lilly, that's my cousin's name, has been telling me about some creep—Al, I think is his name—who owns the Liquor Lounge on the island. It's a bar,” she spits out “bar” like it's a dirty word. “
Apparently
he's his own best customer
and
Bonnie, the poor wife, has been in and out of the hospital with suspicious injuries. Word has it”—Dorothy leans way in and half-whispers—“he's been in jail a few times, even.” She leans back with a “Top that one” look.

I'm thinking what gossips we are, but—that being said—I pull closer and ask, “Just how do you know all this?”

“Lilly has a lady friend that works in the gift shop at the medical center.”

“God, what is it with some women?” Watts offers. “I would never let a guy hit me; he'd be on his butt in seconds flat
and
I guarantee he'd never have children either!”

“Oh shoot, let's get back to my up-and-coming headache,” Dorothy says. “Maybe one more little sip.”

“Leave it to Ruby,” I reply. “I don't think there's anything left. Hey! What the
hell
was
that?”
I say, hearing a loud pinging sound.

“Sounds like someone threw a rock at your balcony door,” Watts says.

“What the…?” I open the glass door so I can look down and yell at the jerk for pinging something at my door, but I'm met by a resounding…

“SURPRISE!!!”

There must be close to a hundred people crammed into my back alley, all looking up at me. I about pee my panties. The other three girls gather around me, and we all look down. Watts lifts her glass and leads the whole group in a “Hip-hip-hooray!” Over and over. Then there's a huge wave of voices as everyone starts talking and yelling for me to come down. Music from somewhere blends into the fray.

Ruby puts her arm around me and yells into my ear, “I'm so proud of you, Eve Moss. Now get down there and enjoy yourself!” She gives me a squeeze.

Watts grabs my hand and down into the crazy crowd we go. I look up to see Ruby and Dorothy looking back with tears in their eyes, as are in mine, too. In this moment, I feel so darn lucky.

 

It was way into the early dawn before the bash-of-my-life broke up. I think I talked to every client I ever had in my chair. Had a bottomless glass of wine and
far
too many smokes. But the hugs, well wishes, promise of visits and all that love was amazing.

This morning, wrapped up tight in my furry yellow robe with several pairs of warm socks on my feet, I'm nursing my second mug of coffee. The sunshine is
way
too bright today. But any second now I'm going to fly into high-packing gear, as it's time to box up my life and get things going.

“Did you have a nice time, Rocky?” I have him all snuggled in my lap. He's purring like crazy. Looking around me, I realize how I'm not going to miss it as much as I thought after all. I slug down the rest of my java, root around for the phone and start down my list.

 

It's almost three in the afternoon and Ruby and I have been at it here in my apartment for hours. We delivered tons of stuff to Goodwill, but I'm shocked by all the stuff I
still
have. We decided to hire a group of college kids to come over to Ruby's place and haul away the heavy things. We want to have her house ready to put on the market by the end of the week.

“It's hilarious—all the treasures we collect.” I shake my head. “We keep this crap, identify ourselves by it and on top of it, pay
more
money to have it insured—yikes!” I fold over the top of yet another box of stuff I could live without, maybe. “It seems a
little
lighter. Yet there's still this mountain of boxes of all the stuff I
can't
part with.” I follow the cord back to the phone and call Sammy's. I order a large pizza with shrimp, pineapple and tons of cheese; it's a favorite of ours—we've earned the fat grams.