Sisterchicks Down Under Read online

  “Is there anything you need to help you get settled? Groceries? Anything for your house?”

  “No, our apartment is too small to even hold the things we shipped over.”

  “Let me know if you think of anything. Anything at all.” She wrote down her phone number, and we agreed to meet here again next Tuesday for coffee.

  “Unless,” Jill added, as we rose and were heading for the door, “you think of anything you want or need, and then we could squeeze in a shopping trip.”

  “I actually wouldn’t mind a new bedspread.”

  “Then let’s go find you a bedspread. What does tomorrow look like for you?”

  Our plans were quickly formulated, and Jill asked if I wanted to look for anything besides a bedspread.

  “I don’t think so. To be honest, I shouldn’t be making such a big deal about this bedspread. Tony thinks I should be able to endure this one for three months, but it’s really obnoxious.”

  “Three months?” Jill stopped walking out of the café and looked at me. “Why do you only have to endure it for three months?”

  “Tony’s position at the studio is for three months.”

  “It is? Then what?”

  “Then we go back to California.”

  Jill looked surprised.

  “Didn’t I say something earlier about this being a temporary position?”

  “If you did, I didn’t catch it. And that is possible, with all the laughing and crying we were doing. But seriously, three months isn’t long enough.”

  “Not long enough for what?” Ever since we arrived I’d been counting the days until we could leave, and now Jill was telling me our stay was going to be too short.

  Before Jill could give me the answer that seemed to be formulating in her mind, we were interrupted by the sound of a long, flat car horn. We were standing outside the Chocolate Fish, and apparently we were blocking a prime parking spot. We hopped out of the way.

  “Excuse us,” I muttered with plenty of sarcasm.

  “Don’t worry.” Jill waved at the driver. “It’s Tracey. She’s a permanent fixture here at the café.”

  A petite, energetic woman with very short, very red hair hopped out of a vehicle that made me stop and stare. The 1952 classic Chevy truck had a rounded hood and roof, and lots of shiny chrome on the front grille and bumper. The buffed-to-a-shine paint was sunshine yellow. Someone had taken good care of that little gem.

  “Hallo!” The woman came toward us all smiles and gave Jill a hug.

  “Tracey, this is Kathy Salerno. She just moved here. Her husband is at Jackamond. You won’t believe this, but it’s like we had parallel lives in high school, but we never met until today. We’ve spent the whole afternoon comparing our lives.”

  Tracey greeted me with an unexpected hug. “You both had to come all the way to Kiwi Land before you could meet each other inside my little café. Lovely! Welcome, Kathy!”

  I wasn’t used to being called Kathy. I’d always been Kathleen. The more lighthearted Kathy had never been activated, because I viewed that as a name reserved for the popular girls—the cheerleaders and homecoming queens.

  With a lump in my throat, I realized that Jill had renamed me. In this new place of global turnabouts, I was being accepted as one of the popular girls by Jill, a former cheerleader, and Tracey a rich girl with a cool car.

  “Your truck is gorgeous.” I felt a little nervous that I might say the wrong thing and be banished from the group. “My uncle used to refurbish old trucks. He would have loved this one.”

  “We call her Beatrice the Dazzling Bumblebee,” Tracey said. “Bea for short.”

  “She’s a honey, all right.” I hadn’t realized I’d made a bee-related pun, but Tracey laughed generously.

  “Did your uncle let you drive his refurbished trucks?”

  “No, never.”

  Tracey glanced at Jill and then back at me with a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “Then you’ll have to take Bea for a spin to make up for lost opportunities.” She held the car keys out to me and gave them a jingle.

  I looked at Jill. Her expression told me that not every visitor to the Chocolate Fish was extended such an offer. I felt as if this was part of my initiation to the cool girls’ club.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Of course. Come on. It’s a perfect evening for a drive.”

  I bravely headed for what my brain said was the driver’s side. Tracey was right behind me, chuckling and saying, “Other side. You’re the driver.”

  “Oh, of course!” I laughed nervously, my American ways showing through.

  I peered into the cab and saw the steering wheel was huge, and as soon as I settled in behind it, I discovered it had a lot of “play.”

  I took my position with a thrill I don’t think I’d ever felt, even when I was in high school. I had been a goody-goody like Jill. I played it safe, taking very few risks. Driving someone’s “honey bee” down what felt was the wrong side of the road wasn’t a huge risk as opposed to, say, bungee jumping. But for me, this was a nerve-wracking leap into thin air.

  My heart was pounding as Tracey pointed out the gears on the steering column and reminded me to put in the clutch with my left foot before shifting. A pullout button on the front panel adjusted the throttle.

  “And you say you never drove one of your uncle’s vintage trucks? Not even when he wasn’t looking?”

  “No, this is all new to me.”

  “Well, Bob’s your uncle,” Tracey said.

  “Actually, my uncle’s name was Harry.”

  Tracey gave me a strange look, and then her face lit up and she laughed, as if I had just made another clever joke.

  “No, Bob’s your uncle,” she repeated. “We say that here. Bob’s your uncle. You don’t say that?”

  Jill leaned over with a dozen giggles sparkling in her eyes. “It took me a while to get used to that expression, too. It’s like we would say, ‘There you have it’ or ‘There you go.’ ”

  “Bob’s your uncle?” I repeated. “That makes no sense. Where in the world do you suppose that saying came from?”

  Tracey flicked away a giggle-tear. “Guess we can’t blame that one on the Americans. Go ahead and start up Bea. What’s the saying where you come from? Surf City, here we come.”

  Jill applauded. “We will take credit for that saying, since we are a couple of California girls.”

  Tracey sang off tune, “I wish they all could be California girls!”

  We laughed again, but as soon as the merriment dissolved, I felt the return of my nervousness about being behind the wheel of this imposing Queen Bee. With the mirrors adjusted and my feet in position, I turned the key, and the eager engine rumbled to life. My left hand was in place, ready to shift gears with a lever on our car that I would have used for the windshield wipers.

  “Go for it, Kathy!” Jill cheered.

  “Stay to the left,” Tracey reminded me.

  Easing off the clutch and giving Bea a thimbleful of nectar, I inched us away from the front of the café.

  “Don’t be afraid of her. Go ahead, drive like you mean it,” Tracey said, as I picked up speed and headed for the right lane. “Stay left!”

  “Oh, right”

  “No, left,” Tracey repeated.

  “Right,” I agreed. “Left.”

  “Just drive,” Jill said with a giggle. “Keep the dividing line on your side of the car, and you’ll be fine.”

  “Got it.” I attempted a less-than-smooth shift into second gear and could almost feel the startled engine working with me to make the adjustments.

  “She doesn’t need much coaxing,” Tracey said. “You’re doing fine.”

  In an effort to stay in my lane, I overcompensated with the large steering wheel and promptly rolled up over the curb. A burst of nervous laughter spilled out, and I turned too far to the right before veering back to where I should be.

  “You have the feel for her now,” Tracey said. “Where to?”r />
  “Why don’t you drive back to your place, Kathy?” Jill suggested. “That way I’ll know where to pick you up in the morning for our shopping trip.”

  “Shopping plans already, girls? Good for you.”

  “Do you want to come with us, Tracey?”

  “Ask me another time. Tomorrow is a busy day at the café.”

  I kept my hands at ten and two o’clock on the leather-wrapped steering wheel and felt confident I could find our place, since I knew it was on the same road. All I had to do was keep this buggy pointed in the same direction for less than a kilometer, and we’d be there.

  “Third.” Tracey tapped my leg.

  I knew she meant it was time to shift into third, and I did so with impressive smoothness.

  “Well done!” Tracey praised.

  I grinned. “Oh, yeah? Then where’s my chocolate fish?”

  Tracey laughed. “Very good! She catches on quickly, doesn’t she?”

  Jill laughed too, and somehow I knew I’d made it through this self-imposed initiation ceremony. I was cruising down the road like one of the cool girls now, head cheerleader, homecoming queen, brimming with glee and filled with pride.

  And you know what they say pride comes before…

  Exactly.

  As we motored down the road. I squinted to see out the window. In the glow of twilight, the houses I’d walked past earlier that afternoon now looked different. Just when I thought I recognized Mr. Barry’s house ahead on the left, Tracey spouted, “Look out for the pizza delivery boy!”

  I spotted a guy on the right, steering his bike with one hand and precariously balancing a pizza box in his other hand.

  “Hey, that’s—”

  “Kathy, stay to the left!”

  In an immediate response to Tracey’s shouted warning, I cranked the steering wheel to the left, then back to the right, and then way too far to the left. This time my overcorrection popped us up over the curb, heading for a garden of mums. I slammed on the brakes, but it was too little, too late. All three of us winced and then shrieked as we heard and felt the deep thud of obvious impact with something in our path.

  “What did we hit?” Jill was the first one out of the car. Tracey and I were right behind her.

  In the steady beam of the headlights, the three of us peered at the victim, who lay flat on his back in the golden flowers. I drew in a horrified breath. His head was still attached. His small eyes and impish grin still seemed to be directed at me.

  “The hobbit. I killed the hobbit!”

  “Don’t say that too loud,” Tracey said. “It could be considered a national crime. Besides, I think he’s okay. Help me get him back up.”

  “Kathleen?” Tony’s voice coming toward us was accompanied by the faint scent of pepperoni.

  Tracey whispered. “Did you order a pizza?”

  “No, that’s my husband.”

  Tracey and Jill snapped into formation beside me with their backs to the fallen hobbit.

  “Hallo,” Tracey said with calm cheerfulness.

  “Good evening,” Jill added, playing along with the innocent adolescent routine.

  “Lovely evening, isn’t it?” Tracey asked.

  “Kathleen?” Tony looked at me, as if he still couldn’t compute this extreme makeover from couch potato to highway hellion.

  “Tony, these are my new friends, Jill and Tracey.”

  “Hi.” He nodded and returned his incredulous stare to me. “Are you … are you okay?”

  “Sure, I’m fine! We were just, you know, out driving around in Tracey’s truck, and I parked kind of funny.”

  “You were driving?”

  I nodded like a bobble-head doll riding down a bumpy road at fifty miles per hour.

  Tony’s expression was difficult to decipher, Was he still stunned or was that boyish amusement on his face? “I, ah, I got a pizza for us,” he said. “There’s plenty. Tracey, Jill, if you want to come in and have some, you’re welcome to join us.”

  “Thanks, but I have to get back to the café,” Tracey said.

  “I should be going as well,” Jill said without moving.

  “Okay. Well, nice meeting you both. Good night,” Tony said.

  “Good night,” Jill said.

  “Cheers!” Tracey peeped.

  Despite our farewells, the three of us cruisin’ chicks hadn’t moved. I was hoping Tony would take the hint and go inside so we could get the hobbit back on his huge, hairy feet again. I was also hoping Mr. Barry wasn’t home, or if he was, that he hadn’t heard us or looked out to see what was going on.

  “I guess I’ll, ah … I’ll take the pizza inside and see you in a few minutes, Kathleen.”

  “Okay.”

  “Well, good evening, ladies.”

  “Good evening,” Jill and Tracey repeated in unison. The three of us inched our way to the right with synchronized steps. We had to keep our human shield at the proper angle so Tony wouldn’t see the horizontal Frodo.

  As soon as we heard the side door of the garage close, we turned and went to work putting everything back in order, trying hard not to let our giggles escalate to rowdy laughter.

  “That was close,” Tracey whispered.

  Jill giggled. “I can’t believe us! I haven’t acted like that since …”

  “Since far too long,” Tracey concluded for her. “I’d almost forgotten what a great laugh you have, Jill. It’s made my day seeing you like this. Kathy, you’re the best!”

  As Tracey was praising me, I was crouched down examining the grille of her truck to see if I’d done any damage to her beautiful Beatrice. “You might be a little hasty with your kind words, Tracey Look, I dented the grille.”

  She leaned close. “No, that was already there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. You’d have to be a lot more aggressive than you were to damage this baby. Not that I’m inviting you to be more aggressive next time you take her for a spin.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t think I’ll be imposing myself on poor Bea anytime soon.”

  “And why not? Now that you’ve gotten used to her, she and I will let you drive her anytime you want.”

  “Tracey, you are so gracious.”

  “Aren’t I, though?” The soft glow of the headlights brightened her whimsical expression as she gave me a hug. “Next time you come into the café, I’ll have a chocolate fish waiting for you. You too, Jill. And don’t stay away so long this time.”

  “I won’t.” Jill reached over to give my arm a squeeze before she climbed back in the car with Tracey. “See you tomorrow.”

  I nodded and waved. Tracey started up the engine. Bea seemed to slip into a contented buzz now that Tracey was behind the wheel.

  Entering our apartment, I found Tony standing in the center of the room looking at me with his new, mysterious expression on his face.

  “So that really was you outside.”

  “Yes, it really was me. The new, improved me.”

  “You know what I did?” Tony asked. “I actually walked in here and checked to see if you were in the bathtub.”

  “Why would I be in the bathtub?”

  “Why would you be driving around town in a vintage automobile with a couple of shrieking women and knocking down ornamental lawn fixtures?”

  “Oh. You saw that?”

  “I didn’t actually see it, but I couldn’t help but notice how the three of you were acting; so I added up two plus two.”

  Math. Math had never done anything good for me. Although, I have to admit that today, for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel as if my life was half over with only the boring part left. Today I felt as if the second half could hold more freedom to do the sorts of things I’d never had time for before. It was pretty fun not to feel responsible for everyone else in the family and to take a silly risk by getting behind the wheel of Beatrice.

  “How bad is he?” Tony asked.

  “Frodo? He’s fine.”


  “The flowers?”

  “Mum’s the word!”

  Tony stared at me without blinking.

  I couldn’t stop laughing. “Mum’s the word,” I repeated just in case Tony hadn’t heard my joke the first time. He certainly wasn’t as quick at picking up jokes as Tracey had been.

  Tony gave me a long, sunken-eyebrow sort of examination. “Kathleen, are you taking some sort of medication that I don’t know about?”

  That deduction really cracked me up. “No! As a matter of fact, this is the first day since we’ve been here that I haven’t taken a single pill. Not for a headache or a stomachache or sinus pressure. I’m finally all the way here, Tony. I know my body arrived on the plane two weeks ago, but the rest of me finally caught up.”

  At last my husband looked as if he was willing to accept the new me. We sat down to eat the cooled pizza, and I gave him a thorough recounting of what had happened since he had left me earlier that day.

  When I reached the end of my tale, I asked Tony what he thought of inviting Jill and her husband over sometime soon for dinner or at least coffee.

  “Sure, it’s a great idea. Did I tell you I cleared it with Mad Dog to take one of the vans tomorrow? I thought you and I could go do something.”

  “Tony, I told Jill I’d go shopping with her tomorrow. I’m going to look for a new bedspread.”

  “This one really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

  I glanced over at my vivid nemesis and was shocked when the first thought that came to mind was, I guess it’s not so bad. Apparently everything around me was looking better now that I had my equilibrium back.

  “Can you borrow the studio van a different day?” I asked.

  “Sure. And if you’re not going to be home tomorrow; I’ll go in to work. I was trying to find ways to make you more comfortable here.”

  I thought Tony looked relieved that he didn’t have two full-time jobs: one at the studio and the other at home trying to keep me from flipping out. I didn’t know if I liked the idea of his agreeing to overtime and working on Saturdays, but I did like being his companion and counterpart again instead of his patient and sometimes opponent.

  I fell asleep that night in my husband’s arms, dreaming up plans for how Jill, Ray Tony, and I could all fit in our apartment for a cozy dinner party. Or maybe with our limited space and furniture it would just be appetizers.