winding driveway leading to her apartment. She cleared her throat and wiped her eyes on a tea towel. “I know where it came from. It’s obvious.”
“You think Patrick is behind this?” Melanie stated the obvious.
Stephanie turned around to face her. “Who else would stoop so low to do something like this? I think he’s still upset at me for not allowing the girls to go to Claude’s with him to see the puppies.”
“I don’t think he’s that vindictive, or juvenile. I know he’s not the most classy guy in the world, but I really don’t believe he would stoop to this sea urchin level.”
Stephanie sniffled into the tea towel, not caring that she’d painstakingly embroidered the butterflies on it late one night when she’d had a hard time going to sleep. “You don’t get it, Melanie. The guy has it in for me. He thinks women like me are nothing but trash. I know what I’m talking about, trust me.”
“Well, I never trust anyone who says ‘trust me,’ but I can tell you this; whatever makes you think you’re trash and whatever ‘women like me’ are, I would be honored to walk in your shadow, Stephanie Casolino-Marshall. What you are is a decent hardworking woman who wants nothing more than a better life for her two daughters than she had. What you are is a loving, giving, caring mother and friend. Now I know you’re not going to like this, but in this instance I’m going to tell you, too bad. I’m calling Max myself. This childish behavior from his manager, and I use that word loosely, has to stop.” Melanie reached for the phone in the center of the table.
Stephanie placed her hand on top of Melanie’s. “I really don’t want you to call Max or Grace. It will seem as though I’m taking advantage of their friendship. And thanks for saying all those nice things about me. You’re a good friend, you know that, right?”
“Yes, I know that, and thanks. But friends don’t sit by and allow their best friends to get kicked in the butt when they’re already down.” Melanie held her hand up as if to ward off any further comments from Stephanie. “Go take a shower, wash your hair, and put on some makeup. Not that you need it with that peaches-and-cream complexion, but do it anyway. Then when you’re finished, get that black pant suit out of the back of your closet. The one you wore when you applied for your mortgage. No, on second thought forget that. Get the tightest, sexiest pair of jeans you own and top them with that bright red sweater I gave you.” Melanie was on a roll. “Don’t say another word because I’m not listening. Go on, get in the shower. You have one hour to sexy up.”
“Sexy up? That’s a new one,” Stephanie said.
“Yes it is. And that’s because I just made it up. It’s mine, an original, so don’t think I’m going to let you take credit for it. Now get in the shower, or I will toss you in there myself.”
“I’m not sure if I like you this way. Bossy and all.”
“If you don’t get out of here and get in that shower, I will show you what bossy is. Now git, and I don’t mean perhaps. Now! Remember, you’ve got exactly one hour.”
Stephanie gave up. “Okay. I guess I need to shower, but for the record, I want you to know that I will be okay with this.”
Melanie shot her arm out like an arrow pointing toward the bathroom.
“Okay, okay,” Stephanie whined before locking herself in the bathroom.
Melanie waited until she heard the shower running before she picked up the phone. She knew that Stephanie’s pride was on the line, but right then she didn’t care. What she cared about was that someone had caused her dear friend to lose out on her dream. Whether it was intentional or not didn’t really matter at that point. It only mattered that Stephanie had worked harder than anyone she knew just to save a few thousand dollars for a down payment on a home for her and her children. In today’s fast world of give or I’ll take, Stephanie was a rare breed. And what was a huge sum to Stephanie was chump change for Melanie, who had way more than enough to make a real difference. For the first time in her twenty-four years, Melanie felt like this opportunity, to do something really, really special for people she loved, was a gift to herself, not the other way around.
She hit *69 on the phone to get the last incoming number. She scribbled it down on a magnetic pad stuck on the front of the refrigerator.
“Jessica Rollins, please,” she said when a young woman picked up the phone. “And tell her it’s a matter of life and death.”
“Oh my gosh,” the young woman said, “I’ll take this call to her myself.”
Melanie thought the girl deserved a raise.
“Thank you,” she said.
A minute later, Melanie had Jessica Rollins on the phone. She made quick work of telling her what she needed and when she needed it. The woman was more than willing to jump through a few hoops to make her wishes come true. When they finalized their plans, Melanie dialed the number to the office at Maximum Glide.
A voice she didn’t recognize answered the phone. Melanie wasn’t sure if it was a male or a female either.
“Mr. Edward Patrick Joseph O’Brien, please. Tell him it’s a matter of life and death.” Melanie liked this new role of taking charge, sort of like kicking ass and taking names later.
Two seconds later, the man himself was on the phone. “This is Patrick.”
Melanie rolled her eyes. She was sure the man deliberately downplayed his intelligence.
“Patrick, this is Melanie, and we have a problem.” Just for meanness, she waited a few seconds before continuing. Let him wiggle in his britches.
“Is it Stephanie, or the girls?” he asked.
More meanness. “All of them.”
“Tell me where they’re at, and I can be there in minutes,” he replied anxiously.
Again, she let him stew. She knew it was mean, but it was her way of getting even over his putting Stephanie on that unpaid leave of absence.
“Melanie, tell me what’s wrong. Please!” He shouted so loud she had to hold the phone away from her ear.
“I need you to listen, and I don’t want you to interrupt me. Is that clear?”
She heard an intake of breath over the phone line. “Okay. I’m listening.”
Melanie made fast work of telling him what she wanted and when she wanted it. He complied as fast as Jessica Rollins had. Maybe graphic design isn’t my calling after all.
Thirty minutes later, Stephanie was showered, dressed, and looking like a million bucks.
“Now, I want you to get in my car. We’re going out for lunch.”
“Melanie, I know you’re trying to cheer me up, and I really do appreciate it, but I have to be here when the girls get home.” She looked at the clock on the stove. “And that’s in two hours. I don’t see how we can go out to lunch and actually enjoy ourselves in such a short period of time.”
“Did I say we were going to enjoy ourselves? Hmm, I don’t believe I did. Now go.”
“Well, I hope you know I feel like a fool, all dressed up, looking so silly, just to eat lunch. And we’ll have to go to a fast-food place because that’s all I have time for. And I won’t take no for an answer, not where my girls are concerned,” Stephanie said adamantly.
“I’ve arranged for my mother to be here when they get home.” She really hadn’t, but she would. “You have way too much blusher on. Go wipe some off before we leave. You look like Ronald McDonald.”
“I really don’t like this side of you.”
“Tough. Go wipe your cheeks. Now.”
Stephanie turned around and headed for the bathroom.
Melanie called her mother and explained the situation.