Much Ado About Mother by Celia Bonaduce Page A

and said nothing. Erinn could sense that there was more to the equation than the batteries—there had to be! Why was Cary on her back porch instead of calling Erinn’s agent, Mimi Adams, about this?
    â€œThere is one little thing,” Cary said, but then said no more.
    Balzac said, “A flow of words is a sure sign of duplicity.” I wonder what he’d make of Cary’s fits and starts?
    â€œIt can’t be all that bad,” Erinn said.
    â€œThat all depends.” Cary looked at Erinn. “You see, Blu has fallen on hard times. . . .”
    Who hasn’t?
    â€œWe need to shoot the pilot in Blu’s house and at the shoe factory, you know, a day-in-the-life sort of thing.”
    â€œAnd let me guess,” Erinn said. “She doesn’t have a shoe factory.”
    â€œThat,” Cary said, “and she doesn’t have a house.”
    â€œWell, with a wide-angle lens, we can make her apartment seem like a house. Leave that to me.”
    â€œShe doesn’t have an apartment, either. She’s homeless.”
    All the puzzle pieces fell into place. Cary might need a good producer and camera op, but more than that, she needed a place for this Blu person to live. And how incredibly perfect that the guesthouse was currently empty. No wonder Cary was waxing poetic about Erinn’s perfect oasis! Talk about horseshit!
    â€œI know you’re probably thinking . . . ,” Erinn started carefully.
    â€œDon’t say anything until you meet her,” Cary said, motioning to a figure at the edge of the house.
    From the shadows of the side yard appeared an awkward child in shorts and a T-shirt. As the girl got closer, Erinn could see that she wasn’t a child, just the size of one, only with huge breasts, a surgically induced pout, and hair extensions. Even as small as she was, she was wearing six-inch see-through platform shoes the likes of which Erinn had only seen while channel surfing (and quickly surfing past) movies in the middle of the night.
    She must have hit on hard times after the plastic surgery.
    Cary beamed her best showbiz smile.
    â€œBlu!” Cary said. “I thought I asked you to stay in the car until I called you.”
    â€œIt’s hot in the car. I didn’t want to frizz.” Blu shook her red-and-blond-striped curls.
    Erinn started to panic. Yes, she needed this job badly, but she could never work with this little spoiled starlet, let alone rent her the guesthouse.
    A door slammed and all three women turned toward the guesthouse. They watched as Dymphna carefully locked the front door and walked toward them.
    â€œThat house is a riot!” Blu said. “It’s so small.”
    Erinn bristled. What a horrid person, what a philistine not to see the beauty and detail in the miniature house.
    Dymphna floated up the stairs and looked at the two newcomers.
    â€œHello,” she said sadly. “I guess you’ve come to look at the guesthouse, too.”
    â€œNot hardly,” Blu said.
    â€œWe were actually thinking . . . ,” Cary said, but Erinn cut her off.
    Dymphna might be an unemployed shepherdess but she knew about brown patches and cornmeal and she appreciated beauty.
    â€œThis is Dymphna,” Erinn said quickly. “My new tenant.”
    Cary shook Dymphna’s hand and didn’t seem at all displeased with the turn of events, which was a relief to Erinn. Maybe the job was not lost.
    â€œLucky you!” Cary said.
    Blu seemed completely uninterested in anything that was going on around her, and appeared ready to bolt, but Erinn wanted to seal the deal with Cary so she kept the conversation going.
    â€œDymphna is interested in wool. She was raising sheep until recently.”
    â€œYou were a shepherd?” Blu wrinkled her stub of a nose.
    â€œShepherdess, yes,” Dymphna replied. “But now I’m going to raise Angora rabbits for their fur.”
    â€œI love Angora,” Blu