The Makeover (16 page)

Irene’s plump frame appeared in the doorway, quickly stifling their conversation. Irene sized up Shelby’s red face and frowned. “Your mama is looking for you. You better fix yourself up before you go out there so you don’t upset her.”

Camellia pulled a napkin from the dispenser and handed it to Shelby. “You relax,” she commanded. “I’ll think of something. I promise.”

TWENTY-FOUR

“I promised her I’d think of something, but I can’t think of one damned thing,” Camellia muttered, as Henry’s top half disappeared into the closet to find a tie.

“Between overseeing the house construction and running the diner, I’d say you’ve got enough on your plate right now.” Henry emerged victorious from the closet, a pale blue and gold striped tie in hand. “You can’t solve all of Shelby’s problems.”

Camellia raked her hands through her short crop. “Don’t you get it, Henry? I’ve always been able to solve problems. That’s how I moved up in publishing so quickly.
Flair
folding was the first time I couldn’t fix something. I have no intention of that becoming a regular feeling.”

Henry chuckled, finishing off an expert Windsor knot. “I’ve always loved you best when you’re feisty, so who am I to stand in the way of hard core problem-solving?” He kissed Camellia on the head then scooped his phone and wallet off the top of the dresser. “In all seriousness, just be mindful not to step on any toes. Shelby still has a mom and I can guess Sharene won’t take kindly to you acting as the super parent who can. Make sure whatever you do has Sharene’s blessing.” He moved to the doorway then stopped and turned, pondering a thought. “In fact,” he said, tapping at his head, “I think you’ll have the most luck if Sharene thinks the idea is her own. I
know
you know how to do that.”

After Henry left for work, and the cottage was quiet again, Camellia went downstairs and opened all the windows, aching for a breeze on what was to be a near record-setting day for the first week of August. The silk slip she had slept in was already damp from the humidity. She poured a half-cooled cup of coffee and sat in front of the empty wood stove, which looked even more hideous without a lively fire rollicking inside. 

It was hard to believe that in less than two months this tiny cottage would be a memory. She and Henry would have their expansive Cape Cod home on the picturesque lake. With central air, thank God. Things certainly had changed since they first moved to Markleeville eight months ago. She no longer longed for her job. She had fulfilled her desire for some purpose by running the diner, knowing she was allowing Sharene and Shelby valuable time they wouldn’t otherwise have. However, it had become too much time for Shelby. The poor girl had looked so sullen at the diner the week before. Camellia loved seeing Shelby happy. Even more, she loved being the one who made her happy, from gifting her with beautiful handbags to guiding her towards an exciting career.

“Shelby still has a mom.”

Camellia frowned, remembering Henry’s words. When she first set eyes on Shelby, she had seen the girl as a means to an end – her celebrated route back to Manhattan and the inner fashion circles. She had seen herself as a mentor, as an agent, really, molding a fledgling girl into the star Camellia knew was within her. Certainly she hadn’t thought of herself as a parental figure. Funny though, for how close she had become with Shelby, when she thought of her Markleeville friends, it was always Lisa and Deb who came to mind. Shelby wasn’t part of that mix. She was different. Shelby was more. But more what? What
was
her relationship with Shelby? Camellia shrugged off the thought and trudged upstairs to get dressed. She wasn’t going to make any progress staring at an old stove and daydreaming.

An hour later, Camellia was knocking at Shelby’s door. After all this time, she had never been here before, and had to get the address from a reluctant Irene, fibbing that she was coming here to talk about employee raises. Shelby’s surprised expression at finding her on the porch was exactly the reaction Camel
lia needed to pull off her half-cooked plan.

“Thank God you’re here!” Camellia cried loudly, thrusting herself into the house. “Is Sharene here, too, I pray?”

“Of course she is,” Shelby responded, her confusion apparent. “She’s sitting in the sunroom.”

“We all need to talk. Now.”

Shelby led Camellia through the dim house to an old but meticulous screened-in porch where Sharene was resting on a wicker couch, propped up on colorful pillows.

“Sharene, I’m so sorry to bother you,” Camellia said, taking the low wicker chair tucked in the near corner of the room. “I wouldn’t have come if I could handle this on my own.”

“What’s wrong?” Sharene asked, her voice weaker than her concern.

“It’s the cooks.”

“Bryan and Martin are at it again?” Shelby asked, perching on the edge of the sofa, careful not to disrupt Sharene.

Camellia nodded emphatically. “Worse than ever. Bryan’s threatening to quit if Martin doesn’t start respecting him, and Martin’s threatening to quit if Bryan doesn’t start listening to him. They’re both so volatile, I don’t know what to do to appease either of them.” She crinkled her forehead and bit her lip, attempting to convey the right amount of worry.

Sharene adjusted a pillow but didn’t say anything. Camellia and Shelby sat in silence, waiting. After an uncomfortably long pause, Sharene turned her head in Shelby’s direction. “You need to go make this right. We can’t afford to lose those boys, no matter how big a pain in the ass they are. It’s the end of the busy season. You can worry about replacing them in September.”

Nodding, Shelby stood and adjusted the pockets of her shorts. “I’d better go right now. Camellia, would you mind staying with Mama until I get back?”

Trying not to smile and blow her cover, Camellia nodded back with the most solemn expression she could muster. “Of course.”

Camellia could hear Shelby grab her keys and then the screen door swinging open and shut. Within seconds the truck engine fired up and then grew quieter as Shelby made her way down the street. Turning back to Sharene, she was surprised to find a sly smile on the woman’s face. Camellia tilted her head in question.

“You’re good,” Sharene said, flatly.

“What do you mean?”

Sharene wagged a finger at her. “Don’t be coy with me. I’ve been around long enough to know a decoy when I hear one.”

“But Bryan and Martin...”

“Bryan and Martin have been fighting like spoiled brats for at least five years. I know you’ve enjoyed the spectacle more than once with the amount of time you’ve spent sitting at the counter. They’ve never quit and they never will. Who else would have them?” She struggled to lean forward. “So what’s your real agenda?”

Camellia was speechless. She tried to find words, to explain herself, but they wouldn’t formulate. Instead, she just sat there, her mouth half-open.

“Whatever it is, I know you don’t mean any harm.” Sharene signaled for Camellia to help her up, and Camellia scrambled to oblige. “Whatever your reasons are, you’ve been nothing but good to Shelby, and I can’t thank you enough for that.” Sharene inched her way to the kitchen with Camellia on her heels, her hands outstretched to grab Sharene if she should lose her balance. Once in the kitchen, Sharene sat in the closest chair at the table. Her breathing was rapid.

“Can I get you anything?” Camellia asked, softly.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I would love a cup of tea. And my pain pills”

“Just point me in the right direction.”

Camellia fixed two cups of Earl Grey, added a healthy dose of milk, and carried the steaming mugs to the table. She found the pills in an upper cabinet and set the bottle on the table, opening the lid. She knew Sharene was waiting for a response, and for all the excuses she was inventing in her head, she came to the conclusion that the truth was what Sharene deserved most.

“I’m sorry for the lie,” she began timidly. “I’m worried about Shelby.”

Sharene carefully lifted the mug and breathed in the fragrant aroma. “So am I.”

“What are your worries?” Camellia asked, really wanting to know.

“I worry about what her life will be like when I’m gone.”

“Is that why you put the diner up for sale?”

Sharene nodded, sipping her tea. “I didn’t want her to worry about money.”

Camellia fidgeted with her spoon. “Does Shelby want you to sell the diner? She seems to love that place just as much as you do.”

“I don’t know,” Sharene said, grimacing. “I can’t say I ever asked her.” She fixed her gaze on Camellia. “And you? What are your worries?”

“I worry about what her life is like now.”

Sharene set down her mug and knitted her brows. “Now?”

“Justin broke off their relationship because they never see each other.”

“And that’s my fault?” Sharene couldn’t hide the defensiveness in her voice.

“No, of course not.” Camellia was reevaluating on the fly her decision for total honesty. Perhaps, in the case of a frightened dying woman, a little fib was kinder than blunt truth. “Shelby loves you more than anyone, or anything, in the world. She doesn’t want to leave your side for one minute. From the looks of her, that plan is taking a toll on her.”

Sharene sighed and sat back, rubbing her eyes. Camellia couldn’t be sure if she was tired or trying to restrain tears. “So what do you suggest?”

Perspiring from the heat – or perhaps it was the conversation – Camellia pushed away her tea and leaned forward on her elbows. “I suggest that you and I become friends. We spend some time together, giving Shelby opportunities to get out of the house and clear her head a bit.” She smiled shyly. “I’m pretty good company.”

Sharene stared hard at Camellia, as if trying to read her thoughts. “Why?” she finally asked.

“Shelby would never leave you alone, so knowing I’m here will make it easier for her to agree. And you said you were worried about what Shelby’s life will be like. Justin could very well be an important part of her future, and wouldn’t it be comforting to know that she had him to count on? To love her? They need a little time to be together. Just a couple evenings a week would probably do the trick.”

“No.” Sharene folded her hands in her lap and looked away.

Camellia was shocked. “No? You don’t want this for Shelby?”

Sharene held up a hand and shook her head. “If you want to spend time with me, you’re going to have to learn that sometimes I need a moment to catch my breath.” She inhaled deeply and refocused her attention on Camellia. “What I was trying to say was no, that wasn’t what I meant. When I asked you why, I was asking why this is so important to you. With everything you’re already doing at the diner – and Shelby tells me you haven’t paid yourself a penny, either – why are you willing to give more of your time to us?”

“Oh.” Camellia pushed back the chair and stood, too restless to sit still any longer. She carried her half-full mug over to the sink, spilling out its contents and washing it. “When I first met Shelby, I knew exactly what she represented to me: opportunity, redemption. It wasn’t until that opportunity was lost that I realized how much more she had become. I care for her very much.”

“I know you do.”

Camellia turned and leaned against the sink. “Even though I know she can’t have everything, I want her to have every bit she can possibly have. I want her to have time with you. I want her to have the boy she loves. I don’t want her to worry about the diner.” She stopped, shrugging her shoulders. “Does any of this make sense?”

Two tears ran the length of Sharene’s face. She nodded. “Perfect sense.”

Watching Sharene cry made Camellia tear up, too. “Ooh, that sure is contagious,” she said, ripping a sheet of paper towel and dabbing at her eyes. She tore off another and handed it to Sharene.

“I was awfully cruel to you, the day we first met,” Sharene murmured.

“You were coming from a frightened place. That’s totally understandable.”

Sharene wiped her eyes and balled up the paper towel. “Maybe. But what I said was completely untrue. And I’m deeply sorry for that.”

Camellia closed her eyes, remembering so much of her former life: purposely ruining designers’ clothing to prove she could; directing fashion editorials that few wanted to see; losing advertisers and never once caring; losing the magazine and only caring how it affected her; ignoring her parents at Christmas because she couldn’t face them; leaving her apartment and knowing Trey had won; initially writing off the residents of Markleeville because they didn’t meet her standards; being written off by The Snobs for reasons she couldn’t comprehend; using Shelby to further her own agenda; the despair she felt when her golden ticket was torn in two; and Sharene’s words – those harsh but truthful words that opened her eyes to the self-centered woman she had been for so long.

And through all of it, all the horrid decisions she had made in the name of art or business or self-preservation, there had been Henry, the handsome rock who remained steadily by her side.

She pressed her face into her hands. Facing the truth was hard. But at least her truth wasn’t Sharene’s. She had a lifetime to better herself, and make lots and lots of amends.

“Actually, Sharene, you were right on the money. And really, I should be thanking you, because you gave me the kick in the pants I desperately needed.”

Sharene pushed back from the table, taking her time to stand. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll keep kicking you in the pants if you promise to do the same for me. I don’t want to get so wrapped up in my illness to forget my daughter’s needs.”