“It’s lovely,” Meredith tells me.
“Thank you.” As with the rest of the family, her smile is kind of tentative, but I think she’s sincere. “Your hair is beautiful. Lots of women pay a lot of money to have hair like yours,” I tell her. “Have you ever rinsed your hair in cranberry juice? Of course, it’s sticky as all git-out, but it’s a natural boost for gingers and smells wonderful.”
She goes stiff, like my expert color analysis has turned her to stone.
The same can’t be said for Old Edie. “Your hair reminds me of my old cocker spaniel, Elvis,” she tells me, then leans forward and yells down the table, “Marvin, do you remember Elvis?”
“Of course, Mother. Father had him delivered when I was home for Christmas my junior year at Yale. Beautiful dog.”
“Yes.” She smiles as if reliving a fond memory and picks up a dessert fork. “Such a lovely scamp.” She turns to me and her scowl reappears. “Silky, but I would not want to wear him on my head.”
“No, ma’am.” I don’t know if it’s the wine, or cake, or the vision of Old Edie with a cocker spaniel on her head, but I start to giggle.
“Did someone tell a joke?” Harold wants to know.
“Ask Young Edie.”
“Huh? What did you say, dear?”
Old Edie cups her hand around her mouth and yells at her boyfriend, “Young Edie’s hair looks like Elvis.”
I shake my head and put my napkin on the table. “You’re a hoot and a half.” I scoot my chair back and stand. “If any of y’all would kindly point me in the direction of the ladies’ room, I’d appreciate it.”
They all stare at me, then point to the doorway. “Down the hall, through the music room, first door between the Chinese urns,” Burton says, and I think that’s the most he’s spoken to me since I met him.
“Thank you.” I follow Burton’s instructions and find the two urns. When I reach for the door handle, a child’s voice stops me. I catch a glimpse of a girl dressed in frilly pink and holding something white and furry. Her voice is joined by the deep laughter of a dark-haired man by her side. They disappear into the conservatory as quickly as they’d appeared.
I guess we’ve got company. The good news is that no one wants to talk to Edie, so I can just say, “Hello, it’s nice to meet y’all and good night.” Then I can take another soak in Edie’s tub, maybe turn on the jets this time. Before I leave the bathroom, I wash my hands and fluff my hair at the crown. I’m liking this new blonde bombshell look. It takes the kind of time I never had for myself when I was working at the Do or Dye.
By the time I make it back to the conservatory, the table has been cleared and the family is sitting at the far end of the room on big stuffed couches. A little red-haired girl in a pink dress and white stockings is sitting at Meredith’s feet and a small white dog is in her lap.
Claire looks up at me. “Rowan’s come for a visit and look who she’s brought.”
I glance around for the man with the deep laugh, but he’s nowhere to be found. “Who?”
“Magnus, of course.”
I remember Dr. Lindbloom asking about Magnus, and I wonder if that’s the name of the dark-haired man. If so, it’s unfortunate.
“Mommy’s home,” the little girl says, but she doesn’t sound too happy.
“Your dress is very pretty,” I tell her so maybe she won’t be sad about her mommy being home, although that doesn’t make sense. Meredith told me that she lives down the street. The little dog’
s ears perk up and it lifts its head. “I love pink.” The dog jumps out of her lap and runs at me like I’m made of bacon. It yips and quivers and dances around on its hind feet in front of me. My daddy has always had a dog or two. The kind that fetches stuff, rides in the back of a truck, and would kill a rattler if it came down to saving Daddy. This is not that kind of dog. This is the fussiest poodle I’ve ever seen. It’s white and its fur is shaved into pom-poms on its head, feet, and the end of its whippy tail. There’s a blue bow between its ears and a pale blue collar around its neck. “I have a dog?”
“For three years now.”
“Is this a boy?” I’d never make a male dog look like such a sissy.
Rowan comes to stand beside me, and I get down on one knee as she pats the top of its head. “Magnus is a good boy.”
So Magnus is the dog’s name. Its beady black eyes look into mine and the stupid thing growls at me. “It’s all right,” I say in a smooth friendly voice and reach for his collar. The damn thing snaps at my hand and I pull back just in time.
“I know you think I’m too rough with Magnus, but I took really good care of him while you were away.”
“Well, thank you. He looks like you took good care of him.”
She nods as the stupid mutt snarls at me like he has a super animal sense and can detect I’m not Edie. “Don’t get mad at me because your fur’s cut like a girl,” I say, and the sound of my voice makes him snap his teeth at the air in front of his nose as if he wants a chunk of me. Apparently, he has a problem with the new Edie. He’s not alone, and needs to get in line right behind Dr. Lindbloom. “He likes you better,” I tell Rowan, and lean back.