Chapter 7
7
G reer recalled last night’s conversation with Violet, that she absolutely deserved some fun after what Conrad had done. And if she went back to him, she was a fool.
But if she didn’t go back to him, she still faced the mess of finding somewhere else to live, moving her stuff, changing her address everywhere. She shouldn’t have changed in the first place, should have waited. She let out a sigh. Maybe she should never have moved in with him. At her age, it made more sense to keep your own place.
Dean took her hand again, stroked his thumb over her knuckles. “Everything okay?”
She pasted a smile on her lips. She needed to stop thinking and just enjoy the moment. “It’s marvelous. Thank you for inviting me. I’m enjoying the day immensely.”
He gave her such a heartfelt smile. “And the day has barely begun.”
His words warmed her deep inside, so much that she had to look away, gazing at the pole as the flyers began to climb. She glanced down the line of Dean’s family seated on the tiles surrounding the planter until she met Bernice’s gaze. Her new friend moved her hand slightly, giving Greer a thumbs up that hopefully no one else saw. Especially not Dean.
Luckily, he was watching the flyers climb the pole using metal footholds.
Greer lost herself in the spectacle. The men wore colorful headdresses, white, long-sleeve tops, and red pants with braided bottoms. Multicolored scarves crossed their chests and wrapped around their waists. Higher and higher they went, climbing like squirrels running up the bark of a tree, faster than she could have imagined. Finally at the top, three sat around a square of metal rods, facing each other, their feet dangling inside, while the fourth perched on top of the pole, beating a small hand drum with a flick of his wrist while he played a flute, like the recorder she’d used as a child.
“I’d get dizzy and fall off,” she admitted. “I’m dizzy just watching them.”
“Are you afraid of heights?” Dean still held her hand.
And she liked his touch. “Not really. But that’s awfully high.”
With the pole now rotating, the men quickly pulled their legs outside the metal rods they’d been sitting on. Then they fell backwards, suspended by ropes attached to their ankles, the pole turning faster and the tune’s pace increasing along with it. The men flung out their arms, twisting in the wind, one leg bent over the other. Down, down they flew, their tethers stretching out, streamers on their headdresses blowing out around them. Amid the crash of waves against the beach, their shadows swirled across the sand beneath them.
“That’s amazing.” Greer’s wonder came out in a gasp.
“It’s a must-see exhibition.”
Round and round they went, falling closer and closer to the ground. Until finally, they twisted and landed on their feet to rousing applause.
Another of the men, wearing the same costume as his compatriots, walked through the crowd with a hat. Greer grabbed what she could find at the bottom of her purse, some of it American rather than Mexican, and added it to the kitty. Dean threw in some bills.
“That was awesome,” Nana said in a loud, appreciative voice, and the man holding the hat bowed low to her.
Greer leaned into Dean to say, “Your mother uses all the modern words.”
Dean laughed, standing up, pulling her with him. “She has a lot of grandchildren. They never fail to tell her the latest jargon. Although I think awesome is out-of-date. Don’t they all use sweet or dope now?”
“ Dope ?” she scoffed. “I’ve never heard of it. Unless we’re talking about marijuana.” She laughed. “But then I don’t know any teenagers.”
“I can’t say I’ve ever heard Lisa or Cynthia use it.” He shrugged. “But I look these things up on the internet just in case.”
How sweet, looking up teenage slang so he’d understand his daughters.
Dean didn’t let go of her hand as he began strolling, the rest of the group falling behind. A seawall fronted the boardwalk, souvenir shops and restaurants lining the opposite side. Vibrant flowers filling the built-in planters perfumed the air, and bronze statues towered over them.
Behind her, Nana cried out, “Oh my, oh my. I absolutely need to have you take a picture of me in that chair.”
Ahead of them, a circle of statues surrounded a palm tree. As they drew closer, Greer realized they were all a little odd. The chair Nana had her eye on was topped by the head of a deep-sea diver, tentacles rising out of it. Obviously a woman, its two round breasts were now a shiny gold where people had rubbed them for luck. All the bronze chairs were topped by fanciful sea creatures, their seats shiny gold where millions of bottoms had sat as their owners had their pictures taken.
Nana propelled them toward the bronze chair and sat like she was on a throne, her feet not even touching the ground. “Photo op,” she called out. “I need a phone.”
As everyone got out their camera phones, Dean said, “You look like Lily Tomlin playing Edith Ann on that old show Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In .”
“That’s what I’m aiming for, dear,” his mother called, making another funny face as fanciful as the creatures on each of the chairs.
Greer caught the expression on her phone, laughing. “I know Edith Ann. I saw reruns.” She hadn’t been old enough to watch the original show, but her parents had loved the reruns just as much.
Nana dangled her feet, smiling like a wizened Edith Ann, and in that moment she looked infectiously young, just like the child Lily Tomlin was supposed to be.
Leaning close to Dean, Greer murmured, “Your mother is the definition of young at heart.”
Busy snapping pictures, he didn’t look over, but she knew his smile was for her. “She’s younger than all of us. Always has been. She was the one who always got the most laughter in our family.”
“She’s incredible.” Greer felt herself falling in love with Nana. Falling for the whole family, in fact.
They strolled on, the eighty-degree weather perfect, warm but not blistering, the sea breeze keeping her cool. Though the boardwalk wasn’t terribly crowded, she veered to the seawall to gaze at the crashing waves. Moss in all shades of green covered the rocks, and she snapped a picture, hoping the colors were as brilliant on the camera as they were to her eye.
Stopping before another statue, Nana tipped her head, then looked at Dean. “What the heck is that?”
He studied the sculpture. “I think,” he paused. “They’re mutant monks climbing a celestial ladder.”
His mother mimicked his angle. “I think they’re aliens climbing up to their spaceship.” A ripple of laughter spread through their group.
“You could be right,” Dean agreed, both of them still staring at the bronze ladder with squat, robed figures climbing to the top. A third robed figure stood in front, arms spread as if in exultation.
Youngsters, and even some older people, climbed the ladder to have their pictures taken. A family spaced themselves out, Mom down to the three youngsters, while Dad got the shot.
Once they’d climbed down, Dean nudged her. “Go on up there. Let’s get you on camera.” Then he added, “As long as you’re not afraid of heights.” It was almost a challenge. Until he said, “If you don’t do it, I guarantee my mother will try. And we can’t have that.”
It was probably the only reason Greer would have done it. Several rungs up the ladder, hoping her dress didn’t blow up in the breeze, she hung on with one hand, stretching out her other arm as if reaching for the heavens. Or her spaceship.
Below her, the family snapped photos while Nana clapped.
When she climbed down, Dean took her hand, leaned close, and whispered, “Thank you.”
Just for the whisper of his breath across her hair, she was glad she’d met his challenge.
While the women browsed the souvenir shops, the men gathered outside.
Ralph held up a hand. “You can’t rush ’em. Here’s what I’ve discovered,” he went on dispensing advice. “If you try to rush ’em, they just take longer.”
Ian laughed. “Don’t I know it. I’m not sure Sylvia even does it on purpose. But if I try to move her along, I’m guaranteed at least another fifteen minutes in the shop.” He put his hand to his forehead. “And God forbid I should go to the grocery store with her. She has to read every damn label.”
As both men were older than Dean and they’d been married far longer, their experience was vastly superior. Dean hadn’t done a lot of shopping with Jessica. As a financial advisor, Ralph was used to dealing with couples. He’d always said it was the women who asked more questions and called him more often when the market took a downturn. At seventy, he was completely bald on top with a light beard of peach fuzz around his head that he shaved religiously. Thank God he’d never tried to do a comb-over.
In contrast, Ian had a full head of gray hair, even at sixty-eight, and a paunch that liked to hang over his belt. An open, gregarious guy, his personality suited the owner of five Bay Area car dealerships. Starting on the proverbial bottom rung, he’d climbed up tooth and nail, and Ian could sell you a top-of-the-line luxury car when you went in for the cheapest model. But he stood behind his cars, and his reviews on all the business sites were glowing.
“I’m not sure, but it looks like they’re dragging Greer along with them,” Dean said.
Ralph guffawed. “She’s a woman. No one has to drag her along to shop.”
Yet Dean felt she was hanging in the background, oohing and aahing over something the others picked out, but buying nothing herself.
He and his brothers-in-law stood outside a shop selling beaded pottery, a specialty of the area, the entire store devoted to the figurines, from tiny to large. Just on the other side of the front window, a woman set beads into a clay tortoise’s shell. Dean had been watching even as he talked with Ian and Ralph. It was a meticulous task, the palm-sized tortoiseshell having upwards of a thousand beads, each set by hand. He looked up then and met Greer’s eyes. She’d been watching, too.
Her return smile lit him up on the inside. She was as interested in the beadwork as he was, versus perusing the store to buy.
He still felt the heat of her body as she’d sat next to him watching the pole flyers. And walking, he’d held her hand most of the time. He liked the feel of her fingers laced with his.
He just plain liked her.
Fifteen minutes later, the ladies exited the shop weighed down with purchases. His mother reached deep into her reusable cloth bag. “Look what I bought.” She tore into the paper-wrapped bundle, revealing a delicately rendered hummingbird in green, blue, and red iridescent beads. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“You got the best item in the shop,” Greer said.
His mother nodded vigorously.
Ralph, holding up a hand, said, “I hate to even ask what you bought, sweetheart.”
Bernice just laughed at him. “It’s not so heavy that you can’t carry it for me.” She handed over the shopping bag. Sylvia did the same to Ian.
His mother, with Bernice’s help, carefully rewrapped her hummingbird, returning it to her bag, which Dean took from her.
Then he pointed to the small plastic bag slung over Greer’s wrist. “What did you buy?” He was sure her choice would say a lot about her.
She shrugged. “It’s just a small thing.”
As they all began walking, he pulled her close. “I’d love to see.”
She drew one handle of the bag over her hand and reached inside. As she carefully tore the tape, the paper unfolded like the petals of a flower. On her palm sat a dragon, its open mouth shooting red and orange flames, its wings an iridescent profusion of color from blue to green to purple, its blue body spotted with orange.
“It’s small,” she said. “But after watching the woman in the window, I couldn’t walk away with nothing. Did you see how long it took her to do just one line of beads?”
“It must be tedious work,” he said.
“Oh no.” She shook her head. “She said she loved every new creature she creates.” Surrounded by a multitude of small pots filled with tiny beads, the woman had picked them up with tweezers and placed each one precisely. “She told me no two were alike and though each figurine came out of a mold, the beadwork made every single one different.”
“I’m glad you bought one then.”
She nodded, her hair falling across her shoulders, bronzing in the sun. “I bought it for my friend Violet. But I’m not sure I can give it up.”
“We can stop on the way back and get another.”
She pursed her lips, then said, “You know how sometimes you buy something for someone thinking they’ll love it, but the truth is you’re the one who loves it and they have different tastes.” She wrapped up the delicate dragon. “I’ll find something she’ll like better.”
He knew what she meant. He never could buy exactly what Jessica wanted, even jewelry. It was the wrong gemstone or the wrong style. Most of the time, she returned the gift, choosing something else. Eventually, he’d bought her gift certificates and let her pick out what she wanted. He thought about telling Greer that, but he realized it was admitting he hadn’t paid enough attention to his wife to figure out what she would love.
As they followed the rest of the group, he purposely allowed them to lag by several steps, past curio shops with magnets and keychains and T-shirts, nothing unique enough for any of the ladies to stop. His mother had latched on to Ralph’s arm. She always picked men if she could. Maybe their strength made her feel more secure.
“I’m surprised your mother doesn’t need a walker or even a cane.”
“We’ve all tried to get her to at least use a cane. Luckily, she’s never had a fall.” He chuckled. “Which is her excuse not to use them. ‘I haven’t had a fall yet,’” he said in a high falsetto that approximated his mother’s. “My sisters insisted on removing all the area rugs from her home. I had to tell her that if she wanted carpet, we’d do wall-to-wall because rugs on the floor are the number one cause of falls for older adults.” He leaned close to Greer to say, “God forbid I should use the word elderly .”
“Did she agree?”
“Of course not. She said wall-to-wall gets too dirty. And she argued her feet would get cold on the bathroom floor. At which point, we got her heated flooring.”
Greer smiled at him. “You’re a good son.”
He laughed. “It’s my sisters who rule the roost. They just get me to agree to everything.”
“They suggested the heated bathroom floor?”
He had to admit, “That was my suggestion.”
She shook their clasped hands. “And you’re the one who gets it done too.” It was as if she could see right into him. “You don’t have to say yes. You don’t even need to nod,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “I already know it.”
He liked that she knew. And it was true.
They stopped for other photo ops. The sculpture of Triton and Siren looked to Dean like a merman imploring a mermaid. But the three-year-old girl whose mother had seated her with the mermaid made the picture special. “Adorable,” he whispered to Greer. She was dark-haired with a winsome smile, just like his girls at that age.
Massive colorful tiles spelling out Puerto Vallarta surrounded the famed statue of The Boy on the Seahorse . Across from the arches of the Los Arcos amphitheater, wooden rocking horses filled the square—pink ones, blue ones, black ones, some of them painted with flowers.
Nana would have rushed forward if Ralph hadn’t been holding on to her. “I want to get on a rocking horse.” Small as she was, she actually pulled Ralph.
His brother-in-law helped her onto a rocking horse, making sure she was stable. Her feet barely touched the footrests. Then all his sisters joined their mother on the rocking horses surrounding her.
“You don’t want to be left out.” He pushed Greer toward a pink one with a lime green seat. They all took pictures of the ladies, then a blond woman with a stroller held out her hand to him. “Why don’t all of you men take a horse too? And I’ll get a picture of everyone.”
He handed her the phone. “Thank you. We’ll return the favor.”
Climbing on the flowered black horse next to Greer, he felt like a kid again. If the smile on her face meant anything, miles wide like a child, Greer felt it too.
The kind woman taking their photos went overboard, making everyone laugh and smile and wave, taking several pictures from all angles. When she handed his phone back, he made good on his promise. “Let us take a picture of you.”
She happily climbed on the black horse, her baby cradled in her arms.
“Let me see.” Greer leaned against his arm to view the screen. “That’s so beautiful. Something she’ll want to frame.”
After he returned the woman’s phone and thanked her, Greer said softly, “That was sweet of you. And such a good photo too.”
“She did it for us first.”
Then he pulled his phone out to view the photos. The lady had centered each couple in a photo, as well as taking three of the entire group. He showed Greer the one of Nana and Fabiola. “She looks like a big kid.”
With a smile, Greer said, “Edith Ann again?”
“Absolutely.” Then he scrolled to the one of the two of them. “That’s nice.” She tipped her chin up to look at him. “Would you send it to me?”
“Phone number?” he asked.
For a moment, she hesitated. He wondered if she’d suddenly thought of the boyfriend she’d just broken up with. But then she rattled off the numbers, and he heard the phone whoosh as the text went out.
Her phone pinged a moment later, and she quickly tapped into the app. “Oh, that really is good.” They leaned close as he looked again.
Suddenly, he felt like part of a couple. And it felt good. Fantastic, in fact.
Nana was already leaving them behind. Around the square, artisans had set up stalls, selling everything from earrings to pendants to rings to artwork to baskets to wooden kids’ toys. Greer stopped by a man surrounded by small bowls of colored wood. As she watched, he plucked tiny cylindrical bits of wood and placed them on a canvas laid out on the table. The picture grew, forming a cockatoo in bright plumage. The work was an intricate as the beadwork performed by the woman in the shop. This artist surrounded himself with his completed works for sale—giraffe, zebra, tortoise, hummingbird, peacock, amazing beach scenes, a street of brightly colored houses like the ones visible on the hills.
“How long does it take you to do the whole scene?” Greer wanted to know.
He waved his hand in the air. “I complete in a day,” he said in few words.
Without asking how much they were, she said, “I need one for my friend and one for myself. I’d like the hummingbird and the peacock.”
She turned to Dean. “Now this—” She pointed at a hummingbird, its feathers so deeply red on its head that it changed to purple in the sunlight. “Violet will love it.” Then she smiled. “And I want the peacock for myself.”
The man wrapped them up in paper, bagged them, and took her credit card.
The moment she took the bag, he put another hummingbird on the empty easel and a colorful parrot on the other.
As they moved on, Greer picked up her pace, leaving him a few steps behind, until she reached Nana. Leaning down, a hand on his mother’s shoulder, she asked, “Did you see those wood hummingbird pictures back there? I thought you might like them.”
His mother smiled like a child flying high on a swing and put her hand on Greer’s arm. “Oh my dear, you’re so thoughtful. But I really like these metal paintings here.”
Greer stood with her to look at the colorful scenes painted on shimmering metal. Nana pointed. “I know we’re not in Santorini, but I’ve always wanted to go there. And I love that one there with the blue domes and all the bougainvillea trailing down the white walls. Have you been to Santorini?” she asked the artist.
Grinning widely, the woman’s teeth were white against her darker skin. “Oh, yes. Once you have seen it, you never forget it. It is always in your mind’s eye.” She tapped her temple, her voice lyrically accented. She waved a hand over the pictures surrounding her. “That is Capri. And that is Positano. And this one, with all the water and those cypress trees, is Lake Como.” She smiled, telling them, “I took a year after art school and toured Europe.” Laughing, she added, “It was long ago. But you never forget.”
There were other scenes, a great cathedral, the Teotihuacán Pyramids near Mexico City. But his mother wanted Santorini. She pulled on Bernice’s arm, asking for her wallet, because none of them had wanted his mother to carry a purse.
Greer stopped her. “I’ll get it for you. A birthday present.”
His mother gasped loudly. “Oh my dear, you don’t have to do that.”
But Greer shook her head. “I want to.”
Nana put her hand on Greer’s arm. “Thank you so much. It’s a wonderful present.”
“Happy ninetieth birthday.” Greer gave the artist her credit card. “Your work is amazing.”
“Thank you.” When the transaction was done, the woman handed over the wrapped painting for Bernice to stow in Nana’s cloth bag.
As the others headed out to the Dancing Dolphins Fountain by the seawall, Dean held back, pulling Greer to a stop. “You really didn’t need to do that.”
“It’s rare I meet a woman celebrating her ninetieth birthday. She reminds me of my mother. I wanted to do it.”
He said without thinking, “Did Bernice invite you to Nana’s birthday bash?” The moment the words were out, he knew he wanted her to come.
“You don’t need to invite me just because I bought her a present.”
When she would have walked on, he refused to let her go. “I don’t have to. I want to. I really want you there. Will you come?”
After only a moment’s hesitation, a flash of something in her eyes—he hoped it was joy—she said, “Yes. Thank you. I’d love to.”
He couldn’t remember wanting anything so much in years.