Page 35 of Find Me in California

Then because she can’t help herself, Julia asks, “Did you know Mama Rose lived here before you’d moved in? Is that why you chose Rosemont? Was it because of her?”

Liza wails for assistance.

“Oh, jeez. Let me help.” Julia reaches for Liza’s elbow. Liza pivots to avoid her and loses her balance. She grabs at the chair in a weak attempt to keep from falling, and misses. Suddenly, Trevor is there like a guardian angel. Liza lands against his chest. Her cane swings out, knocking Julia’s wrist. Pain flares up her arm. She cries out at the sting, but also with relief that Trevor saved Liza. She could have fractured a hip or shattered a wrist, and it would have been Julia’s fault.

“Thank goodness you’re here.” Liza grasps Trevor’s forearm and points her cane at Julia. “This woman is harassing me.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” She rubs the tender spot the cane left, her wrist already aching from her job.

Trevor shoots Julia a look of confused disbelief, clearly thinking Julia wouldn’t dare do such a thing. Mrs. Holloway must be mistaken. Rosemont’s residents adore Julia. She’s the one who occasionally tolerates their abuse. They aren’t always kind and don’t always treat her with respect during their massage sessions. Julia is a volunteer and doesn’t feel she has the right to complain. Instead, she and Trevor share war stories over custard and apple juice during their breaks.

Julia mouths “Sorry” to him.

“I want to leave,” Liza announces.

“Yes, Mrs. Holloway.”

Liza grips Trevor’s hand. “Take me back to my room.”

“Of course, Mrs. Holloway.”

“My book!” Liza glances back at the chair.

“I got it.” Julia grabs the hardback, a self-help book about appreciating life that she recognizes as one of Rosemont’s therapist’s favorites to share with her patients. “I think you’re the reason Ruby Rose wants the diary.” She gives Liza her book. “It has to do with you.”

“She’s still harassing me.” Liza walks alongside Trevor.

“I’m not harass—”

Trevor sends Julia a warning glare. He’ll have to report this.

She forcefully exhales through her nose, frustrated at how quickly this spiraled out of control until she thinks back on their conversation and Liza’s reaction. Whatever happened between her and Mama Rose left deep scars.

What did Mama Rose do to her?

CHAPTER 17

MAGNOLIABLU

July 14, 1972

I haven’t seen Matty in a week, but it hasn’t stopped me from thinking about him. I should, though; I feel guilty each time because Liza is my friend. Nothing will happen between Matty and me. It can’t, and I won’t let it, and I doubt I’m anything but a passing thought to him. Plain compared to the resplendent celebrities clamoring to be photographed on his arm. But he invades my dreams, and my mind wanders toward him while I’m toiling in the soil. Shamefully, I was having an intense fantasy about the two of us on the beach when Liza surprised me with a visit this evening as I was getting ready for bed. Earlier in the day, when she didn’t join me for breakfast, Adam told me that she was at a fundraiser planning meeting with the arts council. He said she had a very busy month ahead and wouldn’t be home much. But I found her inside my studio when I came out of the bathroom towel drying my hair and wearing nothing but a short, thin robe. She looked like a specter. Her complexion was as white as the sheets she’d purchased for me during our shopping spree when she helped decorate the studio.

She told me that she’d knocked and was worried when I didn’t answer. She stared at my bed with an empty gaze, rubbing her palms.I hung the damp towel on the bathroom doorknob and asked if she wanted to sit down. She looked around the room and settled on the armchair under the front window. I offered her a drink.

“Got anything strong?”

“Vodka on the rocks?”

“Perfect.” She smiled, still rubbing her hands.

I fixed us a couple of tumblers and asked about her meeting, wondering if that’s what was worrying her. But her gala planning was moving along fine. The event would be lovely at $500 a head. She said that she’d invite me, but she knew I couldn’t afford it, and they needed to sell every seat to meet their goal.

“It isn’t my sort of thing,” I said. I wouldn’t know the first thing to say to her people, most of whom were studio executives and their wives, or actors and producers and other important people I couldn’t even start to name. Everyone I’d met at her impromptu garden parties was larger than life. Their auras made them magnetic on-screen, and I felt intimidated in their presence. I only attended the parties because Liza asked me to. I suspected she liked showing me off. I’d already collected a stack of business cards and phone numbers penciled on cocktail napkins, neighbors begging me to come work for them after seeing what I’d done for the Holloways’ garden.

I took Liza her drink and sat on the edge of the bed with mine in hand. “Cheers.” We clicked our glasses and she took a deep drink from hers. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. I asked if everything was all right.

“I don’t like it in here.”

---