his tears of excitement when he first saw their daughter in her arms, squalling and hungry. She could hear him singing the songs he had written to her, and for her. She heard the first thing he ever said to her—and the last: Just one more night on the road, babe. I’ll be home tomorrow.
Her sister set her glass down. “Lord, that tastes good. Maybe a few drinks will wash away the bitterness of Julia’s tongue.”
“Do you think what she said was true?”
“I doubt it,” Evie answered. “But which tidbit of your mother-in-law’s viperlike wisdom are we talking about?”
“That society treats women without men as nonentities.”
“Oh.” Evie laughed bitterly. “The idea that widows should be strong because it makes people uncomfortable to see someone’s grief.”
“Well, she is a widow. She should know.”
“She’s a black widow. They eat their mates. She deals with her grief by denying yours. She also said single, independent women have their life preferences questioned.” Evie raised her chin and mimicked Julia’s husky voice: “‘You are a divorcée, Evie dear, and marrying a divorced woman is like going to the track and betting all your money on a lame horse. Divorcées are only fair game for men who want to get them into the bedroom but would never consider marrying them.’”
“You shouldn’t let her get to you.”
“You’ve had more practice dealing with her than I have, Kay.”
“I might be getting a lot more practice.” Kathryn rested her glass on her knee and stared into it. “Julia wants me to give up this place and move in with her.”
Evie turned sideways on the couch, facing her. “You cannot live in the same house with that judgmental woman who will suck every bit of life from you. Half the time I want to muzzle her. Even now, when I should feel terribly sorry for her, she can say something that makes me just want to pop her.”
“Underneath, Julia is as fragile as I feel. You saw her in the car. She needs Laurel, and with Mom and Pop gone, Laurel needs to know her only grandparent.”
“The woman is an emotional vacuum.”
“She’s never that way with Laurel. It’s sad, really, the way she was talking today about her son the star, as if all she had left of him would be those few minutes when some radio station played one of his songs. I have Laurel. Maybe Jimmy’s mother should, too.”
“You’re Jimmy’s wife. She should treat you better.”
“He used to say it wasn’t me. She couldn’t let go of him. I look at Laurel and I’m so scared about what kind of parent I’ll be. What if I cling to her? How do I do this alone? How do I know what’s right and wrong, and how do I protect her?”
“The same way you did when Jimmy was alive. You can’t completely protect her from everything.”
“Laurel doesn’t have Jimmy anymore, but if we move in with Julia, at least she would have his mother. This apartment isn’t the same. All the colors look so faded. Nothing is sharp or clear. It feels empty. I don’t know if I can stay.”
“You can stay with me, Kay. It’s wonderful on Catalina. The island is small and safe. The house is small, too, but we all can fit. There’s room in back to build a small studio for your kiln and wheel.”
“You said you were going to plant a garden there.”
“Who needs a garden? My faculty meetings are always in the mornings. I could watch Laurel in the afternoons and evenings while you work. Please. Think about it.”
“I love you for offering, but it would be a disaster. Besides the fact that you just bought the place, you have one bathroom. You know we’d be on top of each other.”
Evie took her hand. “I wish you would.”
“I know you do.” Kathryn looked around. “Maybe I’m being silly and I should stay here.”
“Oh, hell, Kay, I don’t know. I can’t tell you what to do. I worry about you both living with that woman.”
The doorbell rang.
“Ignore it. They’ll go away.” Kathryn took a drink.
The bell kept ringing and ringing.
Evie shifted. “I can’t stand it. I’ll get it.”
“No. No.” Kathryn stood. “I’ll do it.” When she opened the front door, a flashbulb went off and everything was suddenly white.
“Star magazine, here. We’d like an interview, now that you’re Jimmy Peyton’s widow.”
“Leave her alone!” Evie was suddenly standing behind her, a hand on Kathryn’s shoulder. “Go away!” Evie reached around her and slammed the door, swearing.
Kathryn buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Mama?” Laurel was standing in the dark recesses of the hallway, a stuffed duck Jimmy had given her tucked under one arm.
Kathryn rushed to pick her up. “Are you okay, angel?”
Laurel nodded, hugging the duck, but she kept staring curiously at the front door.
“That kind of thing wouldn’t happen at Julia’s.” Kathryn looked pointedly at her sister. “She has the front gates and hired help.”
Evie nodded.
First and foremost, Kathryn knew she had to protect her daughter. Today people had said the stupidest things: It’ll get better with time. God needed Jimmy more. You’re young, dear, you’ll marry again. She could only imagine how Laurel might interpret any one of those comments. And how long would it be before the newspaper people finally left them alone?
“Mama?” Laurel framed Kathryn’s cheeks with her small hands and brought her face very close, the way she did whenever she wanted someone’s sole attention. “Those people at the door want to view you because you’re Daddy’s window.”
The words took a moment to register. Kathryn turned to Evie. “I’m a window.”
Her sister looked as if she were trying not to laugh.
“I’m a window,” Kathryn repeated—it was all so ludicrous—then laughter poured out of her, uncontrolled, like water running over. She couldn’t stop. It was just laughter, she told herself, a silly emotion, really, and panic edged it—a sound that was closer to shattering glass—and she knew then her laughter was anything but natural.
Orange County, California
On that long stretch of land between LA and San Diego, towns grew quickly and sprawled all over one another. Amusement
