The Revenge of the Radioactive Lady - Elizabeth Stuckey-French [32]
Nance, dressed in bleach-spattered Bermuda shorts and a big straw hat, waded into the English ivy and commenced weeding the Nandina, a nasty exotic bamboo that tried to take over, and Caroline’s dad, covered from head to toe to prevent skin cancer and bug bites, got to work near Nance, planting some bulbs near the prickly holly bushes in front of the house. The bulbs, which Nance had brought with her, were daffodil bulbs and wouldn’t survive in Florida, she informed Caroline, unless Caroline dug them up every winter and stored them in the freezer until spring, which she wasn’t about to do, though she didn’t say so.
Caroline supposed that what Nance might’ve wanted when she’d invited herself over today was to spend time with Wilson, try to get him to remember her. It was odd, but Nance didn’t seem particularly interested in getting acquainted with Caroline, her long-lost child. Surely she must care about Caroline, the way she’d talked wistfully about missing her only daughter. But maybe Nance could focus on only one person at a time, and she’d decided to start with Wilson. Caroline told herself she was fine with that. She could wait until Nance was ready to be honest with her. That is, if the woman even was her mother and she wasn’t just having paranoid delusions.
Right now she wanted to lose herself in yard work, which gave her immediate gratification. She forgot about Wilson and Nance while she mowed the front lawn. The cycle of summer soakings had recently started up again, and the lawn, newly fertilized, had turned a lush dark green—no brown spots or orange fungus yet. After the lawn she edged and blew the brick walk and driveway off with the leaf blower—tasks she’d recently taken over from Vic because he was always off at Suzi’s soccer games on the weekends. And just like with running, she could get some of her frustration out this way.
When she was up on a ladder with Vic’s electric trimmer, attacking the front hedge—Florida anise—inhaling the rich licorice scent, someone snuck up behind her and grabbed her calf. “Boo!”
The ladder swayed and Caroline’s stomach lurched. She turned the trimmer off. “My God,” she said, shaking free of Nance’s gloved talon. “Be careful. This thing could slice us up.”
Nance tipped her straw hat back on her head. Her face was coated with a sunscreen containing zinc oxide which turned her complexion chalky white. She looked like she’d escaped from The Mikado. She gazed up at Caroline. “I believe I’m done weeding for now,” she said. “You have a hand trimmer in that little shed back there?”
Caroline explained that the shed had once been used to store tools, but they’d bequeathed it to Otis after they got tired of his blowing things up in the house. He was working on something in there now that had to do with smoke detectors. “I think he tells his granddad what he’s doing but not me. He doesn’t want any of us to go in that shed until he’s ready.” The hedge trimmer was getting heavy, and she was itching to turn it on again. She was itching, period. Biting things were nibbling on her legs. She swiped her forehead with her T-shirt sleeve. “Well, back to work,” she said.
But Nance leaned on the ladder. “Aren’t you proud of that Suzi?” she asked. “She’s such a dynamo.”
“I am,” Caroline said.
“And Ava could be a model. Truly. You know that show, America’s Next Top Model? She could win that.”
“Never seen it.”
“The winner gets scads of money!” Nance said. “And, believe me, she’s got what it takes.”
“Don’t tell her that,” Caroline protested. She had a horror of her daughters being caught up in the cultural obsession with looks and youthfulness, perhaps because she was fighting her own battle with it. “But you’re very nice to say so.”
“I’m not nice!” Nance protested. “That child is gorgeous! Just like her mother.”
Caroline smiled. She and Ava looked like entirely different animals. “Where’s my dad?”
“Weeding over in the side yard. I’m going on home now, hon. I’m just pooped.” Nance waved good-bye and set out for home, walking quickly for somebody who claimed to be pooped.