“Linc rehearses everything with me.”
Chickie’s hand dropped to her side as she shook her head in admiring wonder. “Isn’t that just darling? Aren’t the two of you just darling?”
“I think so.” Daisy stretched up and kissed Linc on the cheek. “Knock them dead, darling.”
“Thank you.” Linc bent to kiss her cheek in return and whispered in her ear, “Behave, brat.”
She smiled at him and waved, Chickie-style, and got in the front seat, rewarded not only by his look of trepidation but also by Crawford’s scowl. Good, two with one blow. It was starting to be her story after all. She turned and smiled as Chickie slid into the driver’s seat. “This was a very good idea,” she told her. “You’re so thoughtful.”
Chickie patted her knee and then put the key in the ignition. “Not at all, I’m just selfish. I just wanted to get to know you all by myself.”
As Chickie pulled the car out into the street, it lurched a little. Third gear not first, Daisy guessed, and turned her attention to Prescott.
The university had made the little town an odd mixture of cosmopolitan and provincial, with interesting combinations like a gourmet grocery next to an old-fashioned hardware store and a diner straight from the fifties. The one theater had a sagging marquee and an improbably chartreuse and hot pink facade, but it was showing the latest Tarentino, and the coming attractions posters promised a Bergman revival, and an old Walter Matthau and Elaine May movie called
A New Leaf.
“I love that movie!” Daisy told Chickie. “Have you ever seen it? He marries her for money even though she’s hopelessly disorganized and then he falls for her anyway. It’s wonderful.”
“I wish you were going to be here for it,” Chickie said with real regret. “We could go together, just like a mother and daughter. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“Yes,” Daisy said, a little taken aback to find herself in a story Chickie had obviously started without her.
“But you probably won’t get here before fall since Linc still has to teach at his old job.” Chickie sighed, and then brightened. “But there’ll be other movies we can go to when you get here. Lots of them.”
“If Linc gets the job,” Daisy reminded her, but Chickie just patted her knee again. The car swerved in response, and Chickie transferred her attention back to the road, and that’s when Daisy saw the art gallery.
“Tell me about that,” she said, pointing to the wood facade that said gallery in gold lettering, and Chickie slowed down and said, “Oh, that’s Bill’s gallery. He started it over thirty years ago and it’s very successful now. He has shows four times a year and all these big art people from New York come out to see his latest discoveries.”
All the breath left Daisy’s body in one long whoosh. “Discoveries?”
Chickie nodded. “He likes showcasing new artists, so two of his shows, the ones in January and July, are always about new people. He’s been written up in all the big art magazines. He showed me the articles. They even had color pictures.”
This is not your story,
Daisy warned herself, but it was too late. It had been too late since she’d seen the gallery. The universe was doing everything but dropping a big sign in front of her that said
This is it, this is your next move.
Only it wasn’t.
This is really cruel,
she thought, but she couldn’t think of anyone outside of fate and the cosmos to blame.
Chickie picked up speed once they were past the gallery. “We can go sometime if you like art. I don’t understand most of it, but I like Bill, and he doesn’t make me feel dumb if I don’t understand it.”
“Well, of course not,” Daisy said, momentarily jerked out of her dream. “Why would he?”
“Some people do,” Chickie said vaguely, and Daisy thought of overbearing Crawford and wondered what living with that kind of disapproving, domineering man would do to a woman. Probably drive her to
Chickie’s hand dropped to her side as she shook her head in admiring wonder. “Isn’t that just darling? Aren’t the two of you just darling?”
“I think so.” Daisy stretched up and kissed Linc on the cheek. “Knock them dead, darling.”
“Thank you.” Linc bent to kiss her cheek in return and whispered in her ear, “Behave, brat.”
She smiled at him and waved, Chickie-style, and got in the front seat, rewarded not only by his look of trepidation but also by Crawford’s scowl. Good, two with one blow. It was starting to be her story after all. She turned and smiled as Chickie slid into the driver’s seat. “This was a very good idea,” she told her. “You’re so thoughtful.”
Chickie patted her knee and then put the key in the ignition. “Not at all, I’m just selfish. I just wanted to get to know you all by myself.”
As Chickie pulled the car out into the street, it lurched a little. Third gear not first, Daisy guessed, and turned her attention to Prescott.
The university had made the little town an odd mixture of cosmopolitan and provincial, with interesting combinations like a gourmet grocery next to an old-fashioned hardware store and a diner straight from the fifties. The one theater had a sagging marquee and an improbably chartreuse and hot pink facade, but it was showing the latest Tarentino, and the coming attractions posters promised a Bergman revival, and an old Walter Matthau and Elaine May movie called
A New Leaf.
“I love that movie!” Daisy told Chickie. “Have you ever seen it? He marries her for money even though she’s hopelessly disorganized and then he falls for her anyway. It’s wonderful.”
“I wish you were going to be here for it,” Chickie said with real regret. “We could go together, just like a mother and daughter. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“Yes,” Daisy said, a little taken aback to find herself in a story Chickie had obviously started without her.
“But you probably won’t get here before fall since Linc still has to teach at his old job.” Chickie sighed, and then brightened. “But there’ll be other movies we can go to when you get here. Lots of them.”
“If Linc gets the job,” Daisy reminded her, but Chickie just patted her knee again. The car swerved in response, and Chickie transferred her attention back to the road, and that’s when Daisy saw the art gallery.
“Tell me about that,” she said, pointing to the wood facade that said gallery in gold lettering, and Chickie slowed down and said, “Oh, that’s Bill’s gallery. He started it over thirty years ago and it’s very successful now. He has shows four times a year and all these big art people from New York come out to see his latest discoveries.”
All the breath left Daisy’s body in one long whoosh. “Discoveries?”
Chickie nodded. “He likes showcasing new artists, so two of his shows, the ones in January and July, are always about new people. He’s been written up in all the big art magazines. He showed me the articles. They even had color pictures.”
This is not your story,
Daisy warned herself, but it was too late. It had been too late since she’d seen the gallery. The universe was doing everything but dropping a big sign in front of her that said
This is it, this is your next move.
Only it wasn’t.
This is really cruel,
she thought, but she couldn’t think of anyone outside of fate and the cosmos to blame.
Chickie picked up speed once they were past the gallery. “We can go sometime if you like art. I don’t understand most of it, but I like Bill, and he doesn’t make me feel dumb if I don’t understand it.”
“Well, of course not,” Daisy said, momentarily jerked out of her dream. “Why would he?”
“Some people do,” Chickie said vaguely, and Daisy thought of overbearing Crawford and wondered what living with that kind of disapproving, domineering man would do to a woman. Probably drive her to
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