The Red Hat Society's Acting Their Age Read online

  “We’ve been staying with Mom since my divorce but, thanks to my daughter, I think we’ve about worn out our welcome.”

  “She’s a handful, that’s for sure,” Aggie agreed, arching a brow. “The girl didn’t come in until two o’clock this morning.” She turned to Mia and said, “You’re too easy on her. If she were my child, I’d—”

  “What, Mom? Spank her like a three-year-old? She’d only laugh at me. Ground her? I’ve tried that. She sneaks out the window.”

  Playing the part of the opinionated grandmother, Aggie lifted her chin. “I was about to say I’d take away her car privileges.”

  “I’ve tried that, too. She has plenty of friends who drive.” Mia sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with her. I’m about ready to lock her out of the house and throw away the key.” She held her breath, waiting for Pam’s reaction to that idea.

  Pam slowed her step until Mia and Aggie caught up to her. She laughed. “Maybe you should.”

  “Lock her out?” Mia laughed, too, though it wasn’t easy. She found nothing remotely funny about what Rachel had endured. It took every ounce of composure she could summon to be cordial to Pam Underhill. “You have kids?” she asked.

  “I had a foster daughter. Fourteen. Talk about a pain.” Pam stopped in front of a couch covered in muted stripes of cranberry and gold. She looked at Aggie. “Here we go. What do you think of this? The colors are right and you won’t find one of better quality.”

  “Ohhh.” Aggie tilted her head and winced. “All those stripes . . . it looks a bit like a circus tent awning to me.” She sent Pam an apologetic smile. “No offense, dear. You know what they say . . . one woman’s treasure is another’s trash. Or something to that effect.”

  Pam’s face turned the same shade of cranberry as the dominant stripe in the fabric.

  “Mother.” Biting back a smile, Mia nudged Aggie with an elbow. “It’s a lovely couch. Maybe you should be more specific about what you want. The woman can’t read your mind.”

  Aggie cut her eyes at Pam then turned away. “We were specific,” she said, barely lowering her voice. “You said classy, and I said comfortable.”

  Pam flinched again. “I have some others to show you.”

  Mia moved closer to Pam as she led them further into the store. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, glancing back at Aggie. “Mother isn’t herself today.” That was a gross understatement. Mia had never seen Aggie on such a roll, never known her to try so hard to get under another person’s skin . . . like a rash.

  Adjusting her glasses, Pam cleared her throat. “I understand.” She blinked and offered a taut smile. “I know how trying kids can be. Sometimes they bring out the worst in a person.”

  “So the foster parent thing was a bad experience?”

  “The worst. I thought it’d be an easy way to make a little money.” Pam eyed Mia cautiously, as if realizing she might’ve revealed too much. “And we had an extra room, so, you know? Why not help the kid out? But you couldn’t pay me a million bucks to do it again.” She laughed. “Well, maybe a million.”

  “It’s hard enough dealing with a child that’s your own flesh and blood.” Mia coated her words in sympathy. “I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to raise someone else’s.”

  Pam nodded. “My husband and I tried to set the girl on the right path. In return we got a few measly bucks and a whole lot of backtalk.”

  When the store manager started casually making his way toward them, Pam quickly added, “But y’all aren’t here to talk about that.” She stopped alongside an olive-green suede couch.

  “So what happened to her?” Mia asked.

  “The girl?” Pam cut a wary look at the manager, who had paused across the aisle to watch them. “She stole money and my husband’s coat and took off.” She kept her voice low. “This time, when they catch her, she’ll get what’s coming to her. I kept warning her about what happens to kids if they don’t act right.” Turning, Pam showed Aggie the couch and asked, “What do you think?”

  Aggie crossed her arms, her face tight, her body trembling. “I’ve changed my mind.” Her words sliced the air with rebuke. “I don’t want a new couch.”

  “But—” Blinking bewilderment, Pam stepped toward her. “I have others.”

  “You didn’t care one wit about that girl, did you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “All you wanted was the money.”

  Mia reached for Aggie’s arm. “Don’t, Ag. Let’s go.”

  As they started for the door, the manager rushed toward them. “Is there a problem?”

  “No, everything’s fine.” Mia gestured toward Pam. “She was very helpful.” Which was true.

  The woman had answered all their questions.

  Leanne pulled a short, fitted, denim safari jacket from a clothes rack and held it up for Rachel to see. It was dark green, trendy and definitely on her color chart. “What do you think about this?”

  “That’s so cute! I love it!” Rachel took it from her, slipped it off the hanger and put it on.

  Maneuvering around other shoppers and tables stacked with jeans, they walked to a nearby full-length wall mirror. Leanne stood behind Rachel, studying her image in the mirror. “It’ll look great with the jeans you picked out. You could wear it with skirts, too.”

  Rachel tugged the jacket together in front, turned left then right. “I look older in this, don’t I?”

  “Don’t be in such a rush to grow up, Packrat. You look fantastic in it.”

  “Would you wear it?” She glanced at Leanne.

  “If it were my size, I’d definitely want to borrow it from you.”

  Grinning, Rachel looked back into the mirror and, at once, her smile fell away. She stepped aside, shrugging out of the jacket. “You don’t need to get me anything else. You’ve already bought me hiking boots and a coat.”

  Confused by her sudden change of demeanor, Leanne took the jacket from Rachel and said, “I don’t mind buying you things. This is fun for me. You’re the only person I know who enjoys shopping as much as I do.”

  Rachel nibbled the cuticle on her index finger and glanced over her shoulder toward the cash register where a security guard spoke with the sales clerk.

  So that was it. Leanne draped the jacket over the hanger and said quietly, “He’s not looking for you.”

  Lowering her hand from her mouth, Rachel tilted her head to one side and squinted at Leanne. “How do you know? He was watching us a second ago.”

  “It’s his job to watch customers. Besides, don’t you think that would be too much of a coincidence? A guard staking out the juniors department of the store we just happened to wander into, hoping to find you?”

  “Maybe Mia and Aggie told him I’d be here.”

  “They wouldn’t do that to you. Neither would I.”

  She blinked back tears. “But, last night you said—”

  Leanne placed a hand on Rachel’s shoulder, silencing her. “We said we wouldn’t do anything.”

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know, Rachel. We’re trying to work all that out.”

  Still obviously worried, Rachel crossed her arms and looked down at the floor.

  Leanne glanced at her watch. “It’s almost time for my haircut appointment.” She nodded at the register. The security guard had left. “Come on. I’m buying you this jacket then we’ll head to Reynaldo’s.”

  Fifteen minutes later, a tattooed hairstylist secured a cape at the back of her neck before settling Leanne into the chair.

  The young woman nodded up front at Rachel. “Would your daughter like to watch?”

  Leanne didn’t bother to correct her. Instead, she called out to Rachel to join them.

  Rachel carried a chair to the back of the shop and set it down where she could observe without being in the way.

  While the stylist sprayed Leanne’s hair with water and started combing out tangles, Leanne watched Rachel in the mirror. The girl’s uneasines
s exposed itself in the way she popped the knuckles of one hand then the other, in the restless, constant movement of her body, in the flick of her gaze across everything and everyone in the room, except Leanne. Obviously, she hadn’t eased the girl’s mind about the security guard. Rachel didn’t trust her any more than Eddie did.

  “You okay, Packrat?”

  The stylist lifted a pair of scissors and snipped the first strand of Leanne’s hair.

  Drawing a sharp, noisy breath, Rachel stood. She met Leanne’s gaze in the mirror. “I—” Tears erupted. She darted for the door.

  “Rachel!” Leanne jumped up and started after her.

  “Ma’am?” the stylist called out.

  Ignoring her, as well as stares from everyone in the salon, Leanne ran through air pungent with perm solution, past humming blow dryers and women with foil-laced hair.

  Outside the door, the mall swarmed with faces, one blurring into the next. Dark, pale, young, old. None belonged to Rachel.

  Leanne’s heart raced as she pushed through the crowd. She looked over her shoulder, then across the center kiosks to the mall’s other side.

  A middle-aged man in a ballcap touched her arm as she passed him. “You need help?”

  Continuing to walk, she glanced back at him. “I’ve lost someone.”

  He caught up to her, his expression alarmed. “A child?”

  She nodded. “A girl.”

  He looked left then right, his eyes alert. “How old?”

  “Fourteen.”

  The man slowed his pace, and Leanne glanced back at him. “Check the food court,” he said with a smirk. Shaking his head, he turned and resumed his prior course.

  When Leanne turned around, she bumped into the person in front of her, jarring a startled cry from the woman. “Excuse me,” Leanne said, but didn’t stop.

  Ahead, ducking into a shoe store, she glimpsed the back of a kid’s head covered in spiky chestnut-colored hair. “Rachel!” She reached out, her arm tangling in the cape she still wore from the salon. She hurried her step, entering the store only moments later.

  Peering down rack after rack of shoes, she finally spotted the back of Rachel’s head again. Afraid to call out and scare her off, she quickly weaved a pathway around shoppers until she reached the end of the aisle. Coming up from behind, she grabbed Rachel’s wrist.

  “Hey!” A boy no more than eleven or twelve years old glared up at her with startled eyes. He was Rachel’s size, his hair the same color and a similar style. He jerked his arm free of her grasp. “What are you doing?”

  “Sorry.” Leanne fought to control her breathing. “I thought you were someone else.”

  Leanne left the store and waded upstream through a river of teenagers, wishing that they hadn’t darkened Rachel’s hair. Worrying about her. Frantic. Why? Why did the girl matter so much? Rachel wasn’t her responsibility. This time last week, she didn’t even know Rachel Nye.

  Because she’s so lost, came the answer, unbidden. Lost in the world. Lost in her worries. In yearnings and fears. Because I know that feeling.

  Rounding the corner into the food court, Leanne moved quickly from table to table, searching every face. She scanned the lines of people at the fast food joints, ignoring their amused glances at her wet hair and cape. She didn’t care what anyone thought of her. All she could think about was what might happen to Rachel if she didn’t find her.

  When she didn’t see her at any of the restaurants, Leanne hurried back to the main hall and worked her way down the opposite side. She reached an exit and left the building.

  Running along the sidewalk that circled the mall, Leanne scanned the parking lot, the outside entrances of every store she passed, shouting Rachel’s name all the while. The cold breeze whipped the cape behind her as she dodged occasional icy patches that hadn’t yet been cleared from the concrete.

  Rachel could be anywhere, Leanne thought, startled by the sting of tears in her eyes as a panicked sense of helplessness swept through her. How would she ever find her with so many vehicles in the parking lot? With all the people inside the mall?

  After crossing a long stretch of sidewalk, she reached the first corner of the mall and rounded it, her lungs aching from exertion and from breathing the brisk winter air. A cement bench sat in a snow-covered patch of lawn beside the next store’s entrance. Leanne made her way to it and sank down to rest, her chest heaving. Shivering, she looked across a segment of parking lot she had yet to search. She cupped her hands around her mouth, shouted, “Rachel!” then sighed and closed her eyes.

  At first, she thought she imagined the faint voice calling back to her. But the second time she heard it, Leanne opened her eyes and stood. Her gaze scanned over cars and minivans, trucks and SUVs. Then she spotted Mia’s Tahoe. Rachel leaned against it, hugging herself. As Leanne started toward her, Rachel pushed away from the vehicle and met her halfway.

  When they were face to face, Rachel stared at the ground, her lower lip tucked between her teeth. After a moment, she lifted her gaze to Leanne. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, ending with a squeak.

  “Don’t you ever—” Unable to finish, Leanne turned her head, her body trembling from tense relief and exposure to the cold. “I should turn you in right this minute, Rachel. You know that? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

  “I was scared.” A sob shook the girl’s shoulders. “I still am. I should’ve left Mia’s a long time ago. Maybe y’all won’t tell the sheriff about me now, but one of these days you will. You said so yourself.”

  “We can’t get around that, Rachel. Sooner or later, we’ll have to talk to your caseworker and straighten this mess out.”

  Rachel crossed her arms. “I won’t go back to the Underhills. I won’t let them put me in jail, either. If they try, I’ll run away again; I mean it.”

  “Running away from problems never works. You have to face them and try to find a solution.” Leanne instantly realized the irony of those words. It was easy to give advice, but so difficult to follow it. Wasn’t she running from her own problems? Avoiding telling Eddie her feelings? Hoping their problems would all go away?

  The look of frightened confusion in Rachel’s eyes softened Leanne. “We’ll figure something out, Packrat.” She touched the girl’s arm. “We won’t do anything until we’re sure you’ll be okay with the outcome. And we won’t trick you; when the time comes to go to Cade, we’ll tell you first.” She wiped a tear from Rachel’s cheek. “That’s a promise. And when I make a promise, I keep it.”

  Swiping at her eyes, Rachel stepped closer to Leanne. Another tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  “Where did you plan to go?”

  “I don’t know. I just ran. But when I saw Mia’s car . . . I couldn’t leave you.”

  Leanne wanted to grab her, to hug her, to offer more reassurances. At the same time, she wanted to shake her senseless. “I care about you, Rachel. If you disappeared I’d worry about you. I couldn’t stand it.”

  She looked into the girl’s eyes and felt something pass between them, one to the other, like an electrical current. Understanding. Recognition. Maybe they’d only met two days ago, but they knew each other. “Let’s find Mia and Aggie and go home,” Leanne murmured.

  Rachel’s eyes swept over her, head to toe. “We can’t go home, yet. You have to go back to the salon.”

  “I’m not in the mood for a cut anymore.”

  “But your hair’s, like, really lopsided.” Rachel laughed through her tears. “One side’s shorter than the other.”

  Leanne brushed her damp bangs aside. “You’re right. I guess I don’t have much choice.” The emotional roller coaster ride of the past half hour had drained her. The thought of walking back through the mall seemed as much a feat as climbing Mount Everest. She sighed. “I forgot to grab my purse and our shopping bags when I ran out of the salon. I hope they’re still there.”

  Rachel giggled. “You forgot something else, too. “You’re wearing a cape.”<
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  Leanne glanced down at herself and winced, then laughed, too. “You should’ve seen how everyone was gawking at me, running through the mall in this thing. I must’ve looked like Wonder Woman on speed.”

  As they started back into the mall, Leanne left her tension and doubts outside. Right or wrong, rational or insane, she was in this thing with Rachel for the long haul. The fear she’d felt when she couldn’t find her made it clear to Leanne that, for whatever reason, the girl was important to her. Tomorrow, she’d call Jay, her attorney friend, and make an appointment.

  She would do whatever she could for Rachel. Like Aggie had done for her a long time ago.

  Relief rushed through Aggie when Leanne and Rachel walked into the salon. The stylist had recounted their quick exit and, for the past fifteen minutes, Aggie and Mia had paced while waiting for the two to return.

  “What’s wrong?” Aggie asked Leanne, taking note of their disheveled appearances. Rachel’s eyes were red from crying and Leanne’s hair had dried in ten different directions.

  “Nothing. Everything’s fine now.”

  Neither Aggie nor Mia pressed for more information. Leanne’s expression indicated that they should drop the subject.

  The tattooed hairstylist was nice enough to work Leanne back into her schedule. While the haircut proceeded, Aggie, Mia and Rachel window-shopped in the mall. Mia bought the girl some underthings she needed, and some she didn’t. Apparently over whatever had made her so upset, Rachel finagled Mia into buying her a pair of frivolous thong panties. Aggie expressed dismay at the price of three inches of satin and lace held together by dental floss. But at another store, when she saw Rachel eyeing a small radio with earphones, she couldn’t resist her own little splurge.

  Now, Rachel lay in the back of the Tahoe with her new earphones on, listening to music, occasionally singing along with a chorus, oblivious to anything else.

  Aggie sat in the middle seat behind Mia, who drove, and Leanne, who sat on the front passenger side. Before leaving Amarillo, they had visited an ATM where Leanne and Mia withdrew enough funds from their accounts to pay back everyone from whom Rachel had stolen. Rachel would mail the money to her victims, along with a brief note of apology. She could work off her debt to the women by helping with baking for the coffee shop, laundering tablecloths and cup towels, and any other chores the women could concoct.