The Red Hat Society's Acting Their Age (12 page)

Smiling, Mia shook her head. “I told you we wouldn’t.” Last night’s incident had shaken the girl’s trust in them. It wasn’t the first time today Rachel had expressed fear about the caseworker. And, twice, she had required assurance that they wouldn’t confide in Cade.

“We just have a couple of things to take care of here before we head back to Muddy Creek,” Aggie explained, reaching into her purse when her cell phone rang. She pulled the phone out and answered it. “No, Roy,” she said. “We’re still in Amarillo. You’ll have to fix your own lunch. I’ll be home around six.”

Mia and Leanne exchanged smiles before Mia checked her watch. “Aggie and I will meet you two at Reynaldo’s in an hour.” She narrowed her eyes at Leanne. “Don’t go
too
crazy, okay?”

Leanne feigned offense. “Hey, don’t worry about it. We’re splitting this bill. Besides, I can bargain shop if I have to.”

“Right.” Mia nodded at the boxes on the floor beside Leanne’s chair. “I saw what you spent on those shoes.”

Aggie turned away from the table, the phone still pressed to her ear. “No, Roy,” she said with quiet exasperation. “We can’t come home earlier. We still have shopping to do . . . no, I’m not spending all your money. Go tinker around in the barn or something. I’ll be home before you know it.” Ending the call, she faced them again and returned the phone to her purse. “I swear . . .” She shook her head. “That man is something else.”

During the short drive to the furniture store, Mia and Aggie rehashed last night’s conversation. Before starting the movie, they had managed to coax more information from Rachel about her foster mother. She’d told them the name of the furniture store where Pam worked. That the woman was tall and thin, with short, dark, curly hair and glasses. That she liked to talk and tell “her whole, stupid, boring life story” to anyone willing to listen.

After finding a parking spot, they entered the store and wove a pathway through bedroom suites and dining room tables.

Aggie nudged Mia with an elbow and whispered, “I bet that’s her. See? Over by the couches?”

A woman fitting the description Rachel had provided paced in front of a leather love seat, hands clasped behind her back.

“Remember our plan,” Mia said to Aggie as they started toward the woman. “Let me do most of the talking.”

The sales clerk smiled as they approached. “Afternoon, ladies. Are you looking for something in particular today?”

Mia’s heartbeat kicked up as she read Pam Underhill’s nametag. “I’m helping my mom shop for a living room couch.”

She studied Rachel’s foster mother. Late thirties, piercing blue eyes behind a pair of oval glasses, a scatter of freckles across her nose. Her voice sounded like a scratchy record album, but friendly enough. She looked benign, like anyone’s middle class next door neighbor. Hard to imagine that someone like her would hit a child hard enough to leave bruises. But Mia wasn’t naïve. Human monsters didn’t have horns and a tail. As often as not, they looked like teachers and preachers . . . or sales clerks in furniture stores.

Pam turned to Aggie. “I’m sure I can help you find something. Tell me about your living room. Is it formal? Informal?”

“Informal,” Aggie blurted at the same time Mia said, “Formal.”

Pam eyed them curiously.

“Mother, it’s—”

“You really think it’s formal, sugar?” Aggie’s eyes fluttered as she shifted from Mia to Pam. “Maybe it is. I do like fancy things.”

Pam’s gaze flicked over Aggie, from her polyester pants, to the sweatshirt the twins gave her, years back, with “Grandma” embroidered across the chest. “I’m a little surprised. You look so down to earth.”

“Do I?” Aggie chirped, dipping her head, shooting a sharp look at Pam over the top of her new reading glasses. “Well, people aren’t always what they seem, now are they?”

Pam flinched. “I meant that as a compliment, ma’am. I like down-to-earth people. I consider myself one.”

A spark of fury flashed in Aggie’s eyes. Mia doubted Pam noticed it, but
she
did. She was almost relieved when Aggie’s cell phone rang. Maybe a call would give her time to calm down.

Aggie looked at the caller I.D. then answered the phone. “What now, Roy?”

The sharpness in her voice startled Mia. She had never heard Aggie use that tone with her husband.

“I can’t talk now. The scissors are in the kitchen junk drawer.” She sighed. “Well, keep looking.” Aggie punched the phone’s off button.

“Everything okay?” Mia linked arms with her friend.

Aggie’s smile appeared forced. “Just fine. Now where were we?”

Returning her attention to Pam, Mia said, “Mother just had the room redone. It’s all very Mediterranean. Dark reds and greens and golds. The couch should be classy.”

“But comfortable,” Aggie added.

Mia chuckled. “Like Mother.”

“I have just the thing.” Pam started across the aisle. “Follow me.”

Snagging Aggie’s attention, Mia frowned, jerked her head toward Pam and mouthed,
be nice
. Their goal was to make the woman comfortable with them so she would open up, not to make her wary by spouting innuendoes. While they walked, Mia pointed out couches that Aggie rejected. They bantered back and forth like a mother and daughter. “Excuse us,” Mia said to Pam. “We’re both out of sorts today.” When Pam glanced back at her, Mia shrugged and said, “My teenaged daughter is driving us crazy.”

Pam’s fake smile turned into a sympathetic one. “I hear
that
.”

“We’ve been staying with Mom since my divorce but, thanks to my daughter, I think we’ve about worn out our welcome.”

“She’s a handful, that’s for sure,” Aggie agreed, arching a brow. “The girl didn’t come in until two o’clock this morning.” She turned to Mia and said, “You’re too easy on her. If she were
my
child, I’d—”

“What, Mom? Spank her like a three-year-old? She’d only laugh at me. Ground her? I’ve tried that. She sneaks out the window.”

Playing the part of the opinionated grandmother, Aggie lifted her chin. “I was about to say I’d take away her car privileges.”

“I’ve tried that, too. She has plenty of friends who drive.” Mia sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with her. I’m about ready to lock her out of the house and throw away the key.” She held her breath, waiting for Pam’s reaction to that idea.

Pam slowed her step until Mia and Aggie caught up to her. She laughed. “Maybe you should.”

“Lock her out?” Mia laughed, too, though it wasn’t easy. She found nothing remotely funny about what Rachel had endured. It took every ounce of composure she could summon to be cordial to Pam Underhill. “You have kids?” she asked.

“I had a foster daughter. Fourteen. Talk about a pain.” Pam stopped in front of a couch covered in muted stripes of cranberry and gold. She looked at Aggie. “Here we go. What do you think of this? The colors are right and you won’t find one of better quality.”

“
Ohhh
.” Aggie tilted her head and winced. “All those stripes . . . it looks a bit like a circus tent awning to me.” She sent Pam an apologetic smile. “No offense, dear. You know what they say . . . one woman’s treasure is another’s trash. Or something to that effect.”

Pam’s face turned the same shade of cranberry as the dominant stripe in the fabric.

“
Mother.
” Biting back a smile, Mia nudged Aggie with an elbow. “It’s a lovely couch. Maybe you should be more specific about what you want. The woman can’t read your mind.”

Aggie cut her eyes at Pam then turned away. “We
were
specific,” she said, barely lowering her voice. “You said classy, and I said comfortable.”

Pam flinched again. “I have some others to show you.”

Mia moved closer to Pam as she led them further into the store. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, glancing back at Aggie. “Mother isn’t herself today.”
That
was a gross understatement. Mia had never seen Aggie on such a roll, never known her to try so hard to get under another person’s skin . . . like a rash.

Adjusting her glasses, Pam cleared her throat. “I understand.” She blinked and offered a taut smile. “I know how trying kids can be. Sometimes they bring out the worst in a person.”

“So the foster parent thing was a bad experience?”

“The worst. I thought it’d be an easy way to make a little money.” Pam eyed Mia cautiously, as if realizing she might’ve revealed too much. “And we had an extra room, so, you know? Why not help the kid out? But you couldn’t pay me a million bucks to do it again.” She laughed. “Well, maybe a
million
.”

“It’s hard enough dealing with a child that’s your own flesh and blood.” Mia coated her words in sympathy. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to raise someone else’s.”

Pam nodded. “My husband and I tried to set the girl on the right path. In return we got a few measly bucks and a whole lot of backtalk.”

When the store manager started casually making his way toward them, Pam quickly added, “But y’all aren’t here to talk about that.” She stopped alongside an olive-green suede couch.

“So what happened to her?” Mia asked.

“The girl?” Pam cut a wary look at the manager, who had paused across the aisle to watch them. “She stole money and my husband’s coat and took off.” She kept her voice low. “This time, when they catch her, she’ll get what’s coming to her. I kept warning her about what happens to kids if they don’t act right.” Turning, Pam showed Aggie the couch and asked, “What do you think?”

Aggie crossed her arms, her face tight, her body trembling. “I’ve changed my mind.” Her words sliced the air with rebuke. “I don’t want a new couch.”

“But—” Blinking bewilderment, Pam stepped toward her. “I have others.”

“You didn’t care one wit about that girl, did you?”

“Excuse me?”

“All you wanted was the money.”

Mia reached for Aggie’s arm. “Don’t, Ag. Let’s go.”

As they started for the door, the manager rushed toward them. “Is there a problem?”

“No, everything’s fine.” Mia gestured toward Pam. “She was very helpful.” Which was true.

The woman had answered all their questions.

Leanne pulled a short, fitted, denim safari jacket from a clothes rack and held it up for Rachel to see. It was dark green, trendy and definitely on her color chart. “What do you think about this?”

“That’s so cute! I
love
it!” Rachel took it from her, slipped it off the hanger and put it on.

Maneuvering around other shoppers and tables stacked with jeans, they walked to a nearby full-length wall mirror. Leanne stood behind Rachel, studying her image in the mirror. “It’ll look great with the jeans you picked out. You could wear it with skirts, too.”

Rachel tugged the jacket together in front, turned left then right. “I look older in this, don’t I?”

“Don’t be in such a rush to grow up, Packrat. You look fantastic in it.”

“Would
you
wear it?” She glanced at Leanne.

“If it were my size, I’d definitely want to borrow it from you.”

Grinning, Rachel looked back into the mirror and, at once, her smile fell away. She stepped aside, shrugging out of the jacket. “You don’t need to get me anything else. You’ve already bought me hiking boots and a coat.”

Confused by her sudden change of demeanor, Leanne took the jacket from Rachel and said, “I don’t mind buying you things. This is fun for me. You’re the only person I know who enjoys shopping as much as I do.”

Rachel nibbled the cuticle on her index finger and glanced over her shoulder toward the cash register where a security guard spoke with the sales clerk.

So that was it. Leanne draped the jacket over the hanger and said quietly, “He’s not looking for you.”

Lowering her hand from her mouth, Rachel tilted her head to one side and squinted at Leanne. “How do you know? He was watching us a second ago.”

“It’s his job to watch customers. Besides, don’t you think that would be too much of a coincidence? A guard staking out the juniors department of the store we just happened to wander into, hoping to find you?”

“Maybe Mia and Aggie told him I’d be here.”

“They wouldn’t do that to you. Neither would I.”

She blinked back tears. “But, last night you said—”

Leanne placed a hand on Rachel’s shoulder, silencing her. “We said we wouldn’t do anything.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know, Rachel. We’re trying to work all that out.”

Still obviously worried, Rachel crossed her arms and looked down at the floor.

Leanne glanced at her watch. “It’s almost time for my haircut appointment.” She nodded at the register. The security guard had left. “Come on. I’m buying you this jacket then we’ll head to Reynaldo’s.”

Fifteen minutes later, a tattooed hairstylist secured a cape at the back of her neck before settling Leanne into the chair.

The young woman nodded up front at Rachel. “Would your daughter like to watch?”

Leanne didn’t bother to correct her. Instead, she called out to Rachel to join them.

Rachel carried a chair to the back of the shop and set it down where she could observe without being in the way.

While the stylist sprayed Leanne’s hair with water and started combing out tangles, Leanne watched Rachel in the mirror. The girl’s uneasiness exposed itself in the way she popped the knuckles of one hand then the other, in the restless, constant movement of her body, in the flick of her gaze across everything and everyone in the room, except Leanne. Obviously, she hadn’t eased the girl’s mind about the security guard. Rachel didn’t trust her any more than Eddie did.

“You okay, Packrat?”

The stylist lifted a pair of scissors and snipped the first strand of Leanne’s hair.

Drawing a sharp, noisy breath, Rachel stood. She met Leanne’s gaze in the mirror. “I—” Tears erupted. She darted for the door.

“Rachel!” Leanne jumped up and started after her.

“Ma’am?” the stylist called out.

Ignoring her, as well as stares from everyone in the salon, Leanne ran through air pungent with perm solution, past humming blow dryers and women with foil-laced hair.

Outside the door, the mall swarmed with faces, one blurring into the next. Dark, pale, young, old. None belonged to Rachel.