Chapter Two
Joanna sat in the backseat of the Carringtons’ car, between the triumphantly returned Francophile Skyler and the Great Dane, Max. Max needed to stick his head out the window, Mrs. Carrington explained when she ushered Joanna into the middle seat. Seeing the amount of slobber flying past the window took some of the sting out of sitting in what felt like a built-in booster seat. Riding with her knees under her chin was a small price to pay for a free—and slobber-free—ride from the airport.
Between the highway wind, the blaring French pop music, and the shouted conversation among the three Carringtons, Joanna was having a hard time focusing on anything other than holding onto the front seat as Mr. Carrington switched lanes with reckless abandon. She remembered that about him now. If there was a way to drive faster, he would take it, no matter how green his middle-seat passengers got.
Of course, her greenness wasn’t just from the bad driving.
“I can’t get over how sweet it is that you’re coming home to take care of Peggy,” Mrs. Carrington said from the comfort of the front seat.
Joanna squeezed her hands together. The truth was, she had had no idea that Granny had been in the hospital, which made her feel like a monster. Joanna had seen the missed call from Granny’s cell when she was at LAX. She hadn’t felt up to talking to her, explaining to her that due to her stupendous badness, she had destroyed the first good thing to come from her musical career. She knew she’d have to do that eventually, but Joanna foolishly thought doing it in person would be easier.
No, she hadn’t. She just wanted to put it off for as long as possible.
She’d spent her last dime on the baggage fees that came with her one-way ticket. Her plan was to show up on Granny’s doorstep with a big “surprise!” and a plea for cab fare. She totally took it for granted that Granny would be there. Granny was good like that.
Now, even though Granny had foiled Joanna’s plan, she still provided a convenient explanation for why Joanna was back. Not at all because her career had blown up in her stupid face. Nope, she was home to play the dutiful granddaughter that nobody in town really believed she was. This made her feel like an opportunist in addition to being a bad granddaughter.
Well, nobody had to know the truth. Her heartlessness could be her little secret, tucked away where her soul used to be, before she sold it to rock and roll.
Joanna would feel a lot better about it if she wasn’t sick with worry.
“I haven’t talked to her in a bit,” Joanna said, hoping she sounded casual through her gritted teeth. “How’s she doing?”
“Of course, you’ve been on the plane. She’s coming home from the hospital today. Doris Sampson arranged one of those care calendars for meals. She must not have known you were coming home.”
“Nope. I wanted it to be a surprise.” Ha ha, surprise.
“Well, I’m glad you were able to tear yourself away from that rock-star life.” Mrs. Carrington giggled.
She really giggled.
Joanna turned to Skyler to commiserate over Mrs. C’s persistent un-hipness, but Skyler was asleep, her chin tucked into her enormous scarf.
“I used to tell Peggy, I can’t imagine what I would have done if Trina had followed in your footsteps. You were always such a troublemaker! Trina could never keep up with you!” Mrs. Carrington’s laugh sounded a little forced.
Joanna reminded herself that she should be grateful for the free ride from the airport. Not that she’d had much of a choice—Skyler had trapped her in a bear hug (she had always had a bit of hero worship for Joanna, that kid), then dragged her over to her parents, who battered her with questions she tried to avoid. Mrs. Carrington had always looked at her with a vague sort of pity. That poor girl, her parents ran off, nobody but her and her grandmother in that old house. Still, that pity made Mrs. C much more forgiving of Joanna’s bad behavior (just acting out, she explained). Teenage Joanna had enjoyed watching the conflicted look on Mrs. C’s face as she tried to maintain her self-appointed reputation of being a cool mom while also protecting Trina from a girl who was clearly a terrible influence.
Hey, Joanna didn’t put that joint in Mr. C’s nightstand drawer.
Sure, she took it up to Trina’s tree house and taught her how to smoke it. But it wasn’t Joanna’s fault that it was there in the first place. Besides, Trina was not as innocent as Mrs. C thought she was. Whose idea was it to drive to Schenectady to sneak into frat parties? Who made out with her math tutor while her parents were watching television in the next room? Who decided to perform the uncensored version of “Add It Up” by the Violent Femmes at the eighth grade talent show?
Okay, that one was Joanna’s idea. But still.
Poor, deluded Mrs. Carrington.
So, back at the airport, when the Carringtons embraced her (literally) and insisted on giving her a ride to Halikarnassus, Joanna’s guilt at her spoiled, misbegotten childhood ways made her resist. She wasn’t going to Halikarnassus, she insisted. Even though her grandmother was currently on her way home from the hospital, the Carringtons asked. Once her panic-induced deafness subsided and her blood was flowing normally again, Joanna quickly changed her story. Yes, she was going to nurse Granny and her broken leg, why else would her only next of kin be at a nearby baggage claim.
And since Granny might not even be home yet—thus making it impossible for her to loan Joanna cab fare—a ride with the Carringtons would be much more convenient. All she had to do was swallow her pride.
Much more convenient, she reminded herself as Mr. Carrington cut off a school bus and sped down the exit ramp toward Halikarnassus.
And just like that, Joanna was back.
If riding in the backseat of the Carringtons’ car wasn’t enough to make her feel like a kid, the long county road leading to Halikarnassus brought back memories so visceral, Joanna could practically feel the baby fat growing back. Each shrub was familiar. There was the house with the picket fence that people kept running into when they took the turn too fast. There was the shabby-looking cottage that made national news with its over-the-top Christmas lights.
No matter how much she tried to fight it, this place was home.
“Trina always had the talent, though,” Mrs. C continued, oblivious to Joanna’s tumultuous flashbacks.
She was right. Trina was the best drummer Joanna had ever worked with, not that she knew it when they were dicking around with their band in high school. She just knew she had a best friend who liked to make noise as much as she did. But then Trina went to college, and Joanna went to LA, and Trina fell in love with an insurance agent and bought a house in town and had a couple of kids.
Meanwhile Joanna was off living the high life, drinking cheap beer and sleeping on the floor of the band’s van, until she managed to destroy the one big break she had that would have shown all of Halikarnassus that she was not the royal fuckup they’d all assumed her to be.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar sound coming from the radio. The Carringtons’ top-shelf satellite radio was programmed to the easy rock station which, to Joanna, was just elevator music with electric guitars. Sure enough, it was everyone’s dad’s favorite band, the Penny Lickers.
The song was almost over, but Joanna recognized it. It was the one about the guy who was telling his girlfriend’s dad that the girl was too good for him, that he would break her heart, to tell her to stay away, except that the guy really loved the girl, and the dad saw that, and he was like, hey, listen, buddy, just do the best you can, it’s all we men can ever do.
A really charming song. Whenever she heard it—which was way more often than she wanted to—Joanna felt really bad for the daughter.
“And that’s the latest from the Penny Lickers, who’re out on tour now,” the DJ said with enthusiasm that didn’t sound entirely genuine. “It’s a great show, go out and catch them if you can.”
Joanna should have been on that tour. She didn’t want to be, she was sure of that. But that didn’t explain the little pain in her chest every time she realized what an opportunity she had squandered.
“Speaking of a great show, did anyone see them kick off their tour? Apparently there was quite the kerfuffle with the opening band, what were they called, Jimmy?”
“Bunny Slippers,” came the voice from the booth.
“That’s right, Bunny Slippers. Cute girls. Too bad their guitarist—”
Whatever the DJ was going to describe was mercifully drowned out by Max’s impassioned howling. Joanna wanted to kiss his slobbery face. Instead, she watched as Mr. Carrington slowed down—barely—to pull into Granny’s driveway.
“This brings back memories, huh?” he said as he put the car in park. “I haven’t dropped you off here in, what, fifteen years?”
More like ten, but Joanna didn’t feel like correcting him. She was just sitting between a sleeping teenager and a slobbering dog, taking in the sight of Granny’s old familiar car, the rosebushes on either side of the three steps that led to the blue front door. If she disliked it so much, why was her heart giving off little bursts of excitement?
She was just tired, that was it. And dejected. And useless. And, well, home. She climbed over Skyler, who grumbled in her sleep, and took her suitcase and her guitar from Mr. Carrington, and headed up to the front door.
She was home. And Granny needed her.
Wouldn’t she be surprised?
* * *
Peggy did not have enough counter space.
She also needed a bigger fridge, and maybe a second freezer.
Liam looked helplessly around Peggy’s kitchen at the stacks—literally stacks—of casseroles in containers of varying size and disposability. Each was labeled with the contents, the name of the cook, and instructions regarding the return or recycling of the dish.
It was a marvel of neighborly efficiency. As far as Liam knew, none of this had been here when he’d left to get Peggy from the hospital an hour ago. Of course, he’d been intercepted at the front door by Doris, who had Starr unhappily on a leash and who handed him Peggy’s spare set of keys and went on her way. For all he knew, the neighbors had been delivering this stuff all night.
He liked that about Halikarnassus. People took care of each other. They knew each other, and they looked out.
Maybe if he rearranged everything she already had in the fridge. He could make it work. It was just like a really complicated game of Tetris. Casserole Tetris. He could do it.
He had his arms full of a head of lettuce and individual yogurt containers when he heard the front door open.
Starr, who, last time he checked, had been curled up next to Peggy’s shoulder, came charging through the house, barking her head off and scaring the crap out of him. He bobbled the yogurt and heard a “holy shit, what is that?” from the front door.
He dropped his bounty into the sink—good enough for now—and went out to at least prevent Starr from escaping. Before he greeted Peggy’s guest, he scooped Starr up, and like clockwork, she stopped barking. She did, however, take a suspicious sniff in the direction of the woman standing at the door.
She had jet-black hair, a guitar strapped to her back, an enormous suitcase at her feet, and a look of utter confusion on her face.
She stepped back off the porch, looked at the front of the house as if confirming that she had the right address, then stepped back up. She looked even more confused.
“Is this still Peggy Green’s house?”
“Yes,” Liam answered, trying to figure out where he knew this woman from. Maybe a library patron? Although surely he would have remembered if she’d ever been to the library. She was like his teenage fantasy come to life: rock-and-roll looks and a bad attitude. Plus a guitar.
Ah. A guitar.
“Joanna?” Peggy hadn’t said anything about expecting her granddaughter, but then, Peggy hadn’t been saying much since she broke her leg. Mostly just snoring.
“Who’re you?” Probably-Joanna’s look went from confused to suspicious.
“Oh! Right. Hi, I’m Liam. I’m a friend of your grandmother’s.” He bobbled Starr and held his hand out to shake, but she just brushed past him, lugging her guitar and that huge suitcase with her.
“Is she here?”
“Yes. She’s resting. She, ah . . . she didn’t mention that you’d be coming.”
“It’s a surprise. Is she all right? I mean, broken leg and all . . .”
“She’s fine. Well, she’ll definitely be laid up for a few weeks, at least, but the doctor said everything checked out okay. I have a bunch of prescriptions I was going to get filled for her . . .”
“Is that your dog?”
Liam looked down at Starr, who was still giving Joanna a suspicious look.
“No . . . this is Peggy’s dog. Starr?” Liam knew Joanna didn’t visit much—or at all—but she didn’t even know Peggy had a dog?
“That’s Starr?” Joanna asked, in a way that suggested Peggy had not accurately conveyed the concentrated power and attitude that was Starr.
“Is she in her room?” It took Liam a second to realize she meant Peggy, not Starr. Because Starr was clearly not in her room, since she was squirming under Liam’s arm. He just nodded, and Joanna turned and walked down the hallway. Starr wiggled free and followed her. He heard a sharp bark, followed by an “Oh my God, my baby!” from Peggy; then the door closed.
Liam should go. Peggy’s granddaughter was home, and although she didn’t look like the warm, caretaker type, clearly she was here to do just that. Why else would she be here? Peggy once told Liam that Joanna had sworn never to come back to Halikarnassus again. Too boring, too claustrophobic, she said. It was kind of sweet, her breaking her vow like that.
Not that Joanna looked sweet.
He should leave them to their reunion and let Joanna take care of her grandmother. He could run and get the prescriptions filled, or, well, he definitely didn’t need to buy groceries. The least he could do was figure out how to get all this stuff into the fridge, he thought. He opened the fridge and channeled his internal Tetris master.