exactly how does your mother help you if she’s confined to a wheelchair?”
Anita laughed, a pleasant musical sound. “She has nothing to do all day but read, watch TV, and love the dogs, and not necessarily in that order. All the dogs love her because they know instinctively that she genuinely loves them. My mother is a jewel.”
Olivia heard the whir of the electric wheelchair and turned. “Is my daughter singing my praises again?” Anna Pellecone laughed. Tears pricked at Olivia’s eyelids when she saw Anita bend over to kiss her mother’s cheek.
“This lady,” Anita said proudly, “is the reason you are seeing all these dogs in my house. She simply cannot stand to see an animal not being loved. She was that way with us kids growing up. She was the mother of the entire neighborhood. Our house was where all the kids came when there was a problem. Mom would soothe them, feed them, and love them. It’s what motherhood is all about, you know.”
No, she didn’t know what motherhood was all about, but she wasn’t going to say anything.
An hour later, Olivia made her choice. The Yorkie named Loopy, according to his collar, looked so much like Cecil he could have been his brother, and his color as well as his markings were identical. For Loopy’s playmate she chose a female Yorkie-Poo named Bea.
It was another hour before Olivia completed the paperwork, signing her name in a dozen different places. She was reminded that Loopy had been neutered and Bea had been spayed, and both dogs had received all their shots. Anita and her mother told Olivia what the dogs’ likes and dislikes were. Olivia cuddled them to her and at the last minute before leaving walked over to the wheelchair so that Mrs. Pellecone could give the animals one last hug.
“You be good little dogs for Ms. Olivia, you hear?” said the older lady. The dogs barked happily. Anna reached for Olivia’s hand and gave it a hard squeeze.
So that’s what it feels like to have a mother touch you, Olivia thought. Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed the woman’s dry, powdered cheek. She smelled wonderful, like fresh flowers on a warm spring day. Something caught in Olivia’s throat when she tried to smile. She had to get out of there. Immediately!
“Remember, now—call if there are any problems. We’re here to help.”
“I will,” Olivia gulped as she practically ran to the car.
On the drive back to the house, with the dogs cuddled in her lap, Olivia thought about motherhood and mothers in general. Obviously, she had missed a great deal by not having a mother. She knew in her gut, though—and there were her father’s words to back it up—that Allison Matthews, Adrian Ames, or whoever, was no Mrs. Pellecone.
As Olivia swerved into the driveway, she saw her father and the two dogs waiting for her. All of them crowded around the car as she climbed out with the two new guests. Alice and Cecil sniffed, stared, barked—then barked some more. Inside, they raced around chasing each other, snapping and snarling. Finally, Olivia blew her whistle and was rewarded with instant silence. “Okay, here’s the drill, so listen up….”
Dennis laughed until his sides hurt. “This is just an observation on my part, honey, but I don’t think you’re going to be able to give those dogs to Jeff. Now, would you like ham and turkey or turkey and ham on your sandwich? I just made fresh coffee. Your ducts are clean, and your studio is toasty warm. Don’t thank me”—he twinkled—“that’s what fathers are for.”
Olivia sat down at the kitchen table. That’s when she saw the white envelope. If she closed her eyes, she wouldn’t have to look at it. “I met the rescue lady’s mother, Dad. She was in a wheelchair. She had the sweetest disposition, and she smelled so nice. It…it was easy to see how much she and her daughter loved each other. They both love the dogs, too.”
Dennis turned toward her, his face sad. “And your point is…”
“Didn’t your wife show any…you know…loving qualities? How can you be so sure she wouldn’t have made a good mother? Maybe in time—”
“Stop right there, Ollie. Allison never wanted children. We didn’t love each other the way most couples do. I’m not even sure we liked each other, which doesn’t say much or explain why we got married. I always thought she considered me a safety net, and I’m not sure why that was. Just a feeling. She didn’t want to see you when you were born. She didn’t want you, period. Based on that, no, I don’t think she would have made a good mother. Allison did love herself. She thought she was smarter than everyone else. She graduated summa cum laude. Her main goal was to be rich and famous. She constantly reminded me of that when we were married. She said she couldn’t depend on me to make her rich, so she would have to do it herself. Now, why don’t you read the damn letter and get it over with. Maybe all the answers to your questions are right there.”
“I’m sorry, Dad, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Well, you did. You are. We can’t change anything. I say, read the letter, make decisions, and move on. Refusing to acknowledge things isn’t going to help. Deal with it, Ollie,” Dennis said, slapping the plate down in front of her. “I’m going to take the dogs out back. Do what you want.” Dennis stuck his head back in the door for one last parting shot. “And make a damn decision where that guy Clarence is concerned. For once in your life, stop waffling and take the bull by the horns. I know that’s a cliché, but you damn well know what I mean.”
Shit. Now my father is angry with me. The last time he used that tone of voice with me I was twelve years old.
Olivia bit into the ham-and-turkey sandwich. It tasted dry. She lifted off the top slice of bread. Her father had forgotten the lettuce and mayo. He must really be upset with her. Dutifully, she ate the sandwich anyway and washed it down with coffee. All the while her gaze stayed on the white envelope.
Clarence.
Cecil.
Adrian Ames.
She was getting a headache.
Olivia picked up the letter by the corner, as if touching it would somehow contaminate her. She walked through the house till she came to a small room that at one time had been a guest room and was now her in-home office. She had a desk, a computer, two colorful, small canvas chairs, a fax machine, and a state-of-the-art color copier. The first thing she did was drop the envelope on the desk. Then she settled herself in her ergonomic chair, turned on the computer, and headed for the Net. She typed in the name Adrian’s Treasures, figuring there was a Web site. She remembered ordering from the catalog before but had never been to the Web site. It was impressive, definitely a high-end one. She reared back in her chair when the screen in front of her flashed her mother’s picture. It was a close-up, airbrushed, to be sure. Olivia leaned closer to see if she could see any resemblance to herself. She couldn’t. The woman didn’t look anything like her or the woman in the picture she’d removed from the mantel. Thank God she took after her father. Adrian Ames didn’t look the least bit like a mother—not even coming close to looking like Mrs. Pellecone. Adrian Ames was hard-looking, with bleached hair and too much makeup. She had small eyes and thin lips and a real honker for a nose. Not any kind of pretty.
Olivia scanned the categories on the side of the screen. She checked them all. Her mother’s history, presented in an interview format, was a short summary of how she had gotten started in the business and the trials and tribulations of a woman trying to make it in a very tough market. She catered to housewives. Women who had to watch their pennies. She herself, she declared, liked fine things and had found a way to sell cheap imitations the
