Another Kind of Love by Paula Christian Page A

kitchen.
    Ginny came out of the kitchen looking like a scrubbed waif. “I’ve already poured three cups, so come on in.” Her face was bright with welcome. Somehow Ginny made everything seem more normal and more relaxed.
    But as they sat down at the now-familiar table, Saundra said, “Ginny’s quite taken with you, Laura. I’m glad she’s showing such good taste.”
    It was an odd remark—a baited one. And though it disturbed her, Laura pretended to ignore it . . . and Ginny pretended not to hear.
    A few minutes later they settled into Saundra’s Cadillac convertible. Laura sat in the middle, and Ginny and Saundra debated spiritedly over whether to put the top down.
    Laura began to relax.
    The drive south to Tijuana was filled with laughter, and an atmosphere of genial companionship prevailed. Saundra told them some funny and fantastic anecdotes about her rise to stardom. There seemed to be no trace of her cutting sarcasm, and Laura found herself becoming utterly charmed.
    Saundra took the longer route via the Palos Verdes Estates and pointed out the beautiful homes, and they admired the unbelievably impressive coastline. A short way beyond Laguna they stopped for breakfast and then continued down to San Diego. Instead of going around Coronado, they took the ferry across the narrow bay. About two o’clock they arrived at the Mexican border.
    â€œLook at the line of cars!” Ginny gasped. Cars were backed up for about five hundred yards, waiting to drive through the border inspection post. There was more honking and yelling than if the president had decided to fight the bulls himself that day.
    â€œPark here, ladies! Fifty cents all day.”
    â€œWin lots of money. Reliable scratch sheets.”
    â€œOver here. Over here. We watch your car! Fifty cents. All day.”
    People walked by dressed in what in had come to be known as the California fashion in clothing; cameras dangling, sunglasses, straw hats, cigars, and shorts with tossed-salad-patterned shirts.
    Saundra drove into a parking lot, and she explained, “It doesn’t pay to take the car across; it’s better to walk.” She accepted the lot ticket from a frowning youth.
    â€œHey. Ain’t you Lana Turner?” he asked in awe.
    â€œDarling,” Saundra drawled, “she’s my mother.”
    The girls burst into laughter.
    â€œMy admiring public,” Saundra commented dryly. They joined the crowd that walked toward the border inspection officers, joking and talking animatedly even under the hot early-afternoon sun.
    Laura felt enthusiastic about everything. She was aware that Saundra had contributed most of the wit to the day, but Laura knew without even thinking that it was Ginny who gave her the real pleasure.... She wondered briefly if just the two of them would have had as good a time. But she knew the answer to that, too.
    They could already hear the inspectors’ voices, touched by a trace of Spanish accent, “Anything to declare? How long is your stay?”
    As they reached the arches, Ginny grabbed Laura’s hand and squeezed it enthusiastically. “Look.” She pointed to the sign near the top.
    Laura looked up and then laughed. “It says Mexico. Where’d you think we were?”
    â€œI know. I know. But it really is.”
    Laura laughed again and returned the squeeze of Ginny’s hand. She felt very young and very carefree. She glanced at Saundra to share her good mood and was surprised to see Saundra’s tight expression.
    Laura felt uneasy immediately. But she just smiled at Saundra and decided not to analyze so damn much. Live it up, she told herself. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt as relaxed with anyone as you have with Ginny—so very long.
    They cleared the inspectors quickly and, after an unbelievably hectic taxi ride, arrived in front of Caesar’s Hotel on the main street of downtown Tijuana.
    Saundra led