rang. Another memory. Maybe she’d take the bells with her.
Amy closed the huge door and locked it. Now she could relax. First, though, she walked about, turning off lights. The buffet table had been cleared and carried away. There was still noise in the kitchen, but she ignored it. She kicked off her heels and made her way to the sofa. She sat down, leaned back, and closed her eyes. It took a full minute to realize her headache was finally gone.
The multicolored lights on the artificial tree winked at her. How pretty it looked in the dim light of the great room. In broad daylight it looked like just what it was—a fake tree with a bunch of junk hanging off it.
As a child, back home in Pennsylvania, there had always been a floor-to-ceiling live tree that scented the entire house. Until that fateful Christmas when she was fourteen and allowed to go to the mall alone. Three days before Christmas, she’d gone to the mall with two of her friends. An hour into her shopping the police had come for her to tell her a gas explosion had rocked their house and killed her parents.
The days afterward were still a blur. She knew she’d gone to her parents’ funeral, knew she stayed at her friend Katie’s house until her aunt Flo, a writer of travelogues, could be found. A week later she’d been located in Madrid, Spain. She’d rushed home, swooped Amy into her arms, then swooped her out to California, where Amy had lived ever since.
There had been money, lots and lots of money that her aunt Flo invested for her. Huge insurance policies added to her robust nest egg. And the house was hers, too. The town had pitched in to repair the damage from the explosion, then closed up the house. Flo paid the taxes every year and said from time to time that they would go back, but they never did. Neighbors mowed the lawn in the summer and shoveled the snow in the winter. Kind people, caring people who had loved her parents. Flo said people in small towns looked out for one another. Amy believed it.
She’d cried a lot back then because she missed her parents. Not that Flo wasn’t a wonderful substitute. She was, but it wasn’t the same as having a real mom. Flo had enrolled her in everything there was to enroll in—gymnastics, soccer, choir, art classes, music classes, the drama club—everything to keep her hours full. But at night, when she was alone in her pretty bedroom, which Flo had decorated herself, she would cry.
Her world changed in her senior year when she had the lead in the school play. She’d given a rousing performance or so said the critics. A movie producer had shown up at the door five days later and asked her if she’d be interested in an audition with a photo op. Flo had raised her eyebrows and hovered like a mother hen in case it was some kind of scam. It wasn’t. Flo continued to hover, saying college was a must. Amy had agreed, and the studio worked around her studies. Back then she did two movies a year, not little parts, not big parts, but big enough for her to get noticed. And then the plum of all plums, the lead in a Disney movie. Her career took off like a rocket. Flo still hovered until she convinced herself that Amy could take care of herself. The only thing Flo had objected to was the name change from Amanda Leigh to Amy Lee. But in the end, when her niece said she was okay with it, Flo stepped aside and continued on with her own career, which she had put on hold to take care of Amy.
Thanks to modern technology, aunt and niece stayed in touch daily. Time and scheduling permitting, they always managed at least one vacation a year together.
Amy closed her eyes again as she ran the last phone call with Flo through her mind. Flo had called just as she was getting out of bed. She’d flopped back onto the pillows, and they talked for almost an hour. The last thing she’d said to her aunt before breaking the connection was, “I don’t want to do this anymore, Flo. I want to go home. I am going home. Tomorrow as a matter of fact. I bought my ticket two weeks ago.”
“Just like that, you’re throwing it all away?” Flo had said.
“Well, not exactly. I have two more pictures on my contract, and I don’t have to report to the studio till April of next year. I don’t know if I’m burned out, or I just need to get out of the business. Come April, I might be more than ready to go back. I will honor the contract, so that’s not a problem. Before you can ask, I am financially secure. You know I never touched my inheritance. I’ve got fifty times that amount from my earnings, and it’s all invested wisely. I’m okay, so don’t worry about me.”
“Mandy, I just want you to be happy,” Flo said. She’d never once called her by her Hollywood name. “I want you to find a nice man, get married, have kids, get a couple of dogs, and be happy. It’s all I ever wanted for you. I’m just not sure you’re going to find happiness back in Pennsylvania.”
“We should have gone back, Flo.”
“Woulda, coulda, shoulda. I did what I thought was best. For you. So, you’re going to open up the house and…what…put down some roots?”
“I don’t know, Flo. Maybe I’m looking for something that doesn’t exist, and you’re right, if I had wanted to go back earlier, I would have made your life miserable until you took me. The best I can come up with is, I wasn’t ready to go back. I’m ready now, and I’m going. It would be nice if you could find a way to join me. Hint, hint.”
“Darling girl, I met a man! He has the soul of an angel, and don’t ask me how I know this. I just know it. He loves me, warts and all. He’s a simple man, never been out of Madrid. He lives on a farm. Owns the farm, actually. Never been on an airplane. I’ll ask him if he wants to spend Christmas with my movie star niece. He’s seen all your movies, by the way. He thinks you’re a nice-looking lass.”
Amy laughed. “You getting married?”
“The minute he asks me, I am, but he has to ask first. I have to run, Mandy, I have an appointment I can’t break. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Love you, Flo.”
“And I love you, too.”
Amy sighed. Flo had a boyfriend. At sixty-five, Flo had a boyfriend. Here she was, at thirty-three, without a prospect in sight. How weird was that?
Amy gathered up the sequined shoes that matched her gown. She walked out to the kitchen to see if the caterers had cleaned up thoroughly. The kitchen was spotless. She locked the back door and turned out the light. The great room had a master switch that turned off all the tree lights as well as the overhead lights. The outside lights were set on a timer that would turn everything off a little before dawn.
As she walked up the stairs to the second floor she found herself wondering if Hank Anders still lived back home. Her first boyfriend. The first boy who had ever given her a gift. Hank had been the first boy to kiss her. On the lips. She hadn’t had a chance to tell him good-bye. Where was he right now? What was he doing? If he still lived in Apple Valley, would he remember her? Not likely, thanks to Flo and her transformation from small-town girl to glamorous Hollywood star. She’d had her nose done, gotten braces, wore contacts, and her hair was a different color. Flo had seen to it that her past stayed in the past. She’d never been able to figure that out. As far as her bio went, she was born and raised in California. Went to UCLA. End of story.
Or was it the beginning?
Chapter Two
Henry Anders, also known as Cranky Hank Anders, hefted his oversize suitcase off the carousel and looked around for his sister-in-law, who had said she’d meet him in the baggage area. When he didn’t see her, he made his way to the closest EXIT sign. And then he saw her pushing a double stroller with the year-old twins, who were howling at the top of their lungs. He wondered if their high-pitched screams had anything to do with the way they
