Then came the painting of the exterior, which was still going on. Mabel had to keep the windows open all the time in this hot weather, even though there was the awful smell of paint from outside. But it all just added to the excitement. They were going to start painting the interior of the house very soon and putting wallpaper in the kitchen and bathroom. Mabel thought she’d buy a couple of air conditioners before the interior painting started. It was a thrilling time to be alive.
When they were having breakfast, Mabel said to Olive, “Do you think you’re up to going to an NA meeting this afternoon, dear?”
“Oh, sure,” Olive said, still looking pale from having to white-knuckle it.
“I started going to AA when I was sixty-two years old,” Mabel said. “After my husband died, the booze got the best of me. I’ve been in recovery ever since. You’ll meet some grand people there who will always be just a phone call away. I’m sure that the NA meetings are like AA meetings, just a different drug is all. But I have no doubt you’ll prevail. You’re a strong girl, Olive. You’ve never had a chance to prove it.”
“I’ll be okay, Mabel,” Olive said, trying to eat some scrambled egg.
Mabel’s physician had told Olive that a diet of nutritious food was essential for her, and Mabel hadn’t stopped cooking since Olive arrived. Mabel had seen that Olive’s attempt at unassisted withdrawal from methamphetamine addiction was very hard on her, so Mabel had taken Olive by bus to a doctor who’d treated Mabel for thirty years.
The doctor had examined Olive and given her medication to ease withdrawal symptoms but said that healthy eating was the best medicine, along with abstaining from all drugs forever.
Mabel was pleased watching Olive eat a forkful of scrambled egg and a bite of toast, washing it all down with orange juice. A week earlier she couldn’t have done that.
“Dear,” Mabel said, “do you feel well enough today to talk about the future?”
“Sure, Mabel,” Olive said, realizing that this was the first time in her life that anyone had ever mentioned her future. Olive never thought that she had a future. Or much of a past. She’d always lived in the present.
“As soon as you’re well into recovery I’m going to do a quitclaim deed. Do you know what that is?”
“No.”
“I’m going to deed this house to you with the provision that I can live here for the rest of my life.”
Olive looked at Mabel with a blank expression, then said, “I don’t think I understand what you mean.”
“That’s the least I can do for you after what you’ve given me,” Mabel said. “I was going to leave the house to the Salvation Army so the state doesn’t get it. That’s what will happen to Farley’s house, you know. He had no heirs and no will, so the state of California will take it. I think Governor Schwarzenegger is rich enough. He doesn’t need my house.”
Olive clearly couldn’t grasp it. “Me?” she said. “You’re giving me your house?”
“All that I ask is that you take care of me as best you can for as long as you can. We can hire one of those nice Filipino girls to help with the unpleasant nursing when I get to that point. I would like to die at home. I think my doctor will help me achieve that wish. He’s a good and decent man.”
Suddenly tears ran down Olive’s cheeks, and she said, “I don’t want you to die, Mabel!”
“There there, dear,” Mabel said, patting Olive’s hand. “My parents both lived until they were nearly one hundred. I expect I’ve got some years left.”
Olive got up and took a tissue from the box beside Mabel’s chair, then came and sat down at the table again, wiping her eyes.
Mabel said, “I never use that silly sewing room anymore, so that will be your bedroom. We’ll decorate it up real pretty for you. And it has a good closet. We’ll take you shopping and fill up that closet.”
Olive just kept looking at Mabel with eyes as quiet and devoted as a dog’s and said, “My own bedroom?”
“Certainly, dear,” Mabel said. “But of course we’ll always have to share the bathroom. You wouldn’t mind not having your own bathroom, would you?”
Olive started to say that in her whole life she’d never had her own bathroom. Or her own bedroom. But she was so overwhelmed she couldn’t speak. She just shook her head.
Mabel said, “I think we’ll buy a reliable car right away. You can drive, can’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” Olive said. “I’m a good driver.”
“I think when we get our car, the first thing we’ll do is take a drive to Universal Studios and do the tour. Have you ever been to Universal Studios?”
“No,” Olive said.
“Neither have I,” Mabel said. “But we’ll need to buy one of those fold-up wheelchairs. I don’t believe I could manage the long walk. You wouldn’t mind pushing me in a wheelchair, would you?”
“I’ll do anything for you, Mabel,” Olive said.
“Do you have a driver’s license?”
“No,” Olive said. “When I got arrested for DUI, they took mine away. But I know a real nice guy named Phil who makes them. They’re very expensive. Two hundred dollars.”
“All right, dear,” Mabel said. “We have plenty of money, so we’ll buy you one of those for now. But someday you should try to get a proper one.”
Thinking of the driver’s license, Mabel said, “Dear, I know your real name is not Olive Oyl.”
“No, that’s the name Farley gave me.”
“Yes, he would,” Mabel said. “What’s your real name?”
“Adeline Scully. But nobody knows it. When I got arrested I used a alias.”
“Adeline!” Mabel said. “Sweet Adeline. I used to sing that song when I was a girl. That’s the name that will go on the driver’s license. That’s who you are from this day forward. Adeline. What a lovely name.”
Just then Tillie, the striped tabby who was lying on the coffee table-a cat who had never heard a negative word spoken to her since Mabel rescued her-finished a can of tuna and slapped the empty can from the table in disgust.
“Oh, goodness,” Mabel said, “Tillie’s getting cross. We’ll have to open another can of tuna. After all, if it wasn’t for Tillie, we would never be able to have this new and wonderful life, would we?”
“No,” Adeline said, smiling at Tillie.
“And mum’s the word, Tillie,” Mabel said to the cat.
“I’m real happy, Mabel,” Adeline said.
Looking at her smile like that, Mabel said, “Adeline, you have such nice thick hair I’ll bet a stylist could give you a beautiful cut. Let’s both go get our hair done and a manicure. And I was wondering, would you like to have some teeth?”
“Oh, yes!” Adeline said. “I’d love to have some teeth.”
“That’s going to be something we tend to first thing,” Mabel said. “We’re going to buy you some nice new teeth!”
By the start of the new deployment period things were getting better insofar as car assignments were concerned. The Oracle liked the way Mag Takara was recovering and her vision was improving. He was thinking about putting her back on patrol.
Andi McCrea had been to Washington for a week, where she’d visited her son in Walter Reed every day. When she came back to Hollywood, she said she’d seen courage beyond words and that she’d never underestimate her son’s generation, not ever again.
There are no worse gossips in the world than cops, and few can keep a secret, so the word got around Hollywood Station that Andi McCrea and Brant Hinkle were getting married. Compassionate Charlie Gilford quickly offered his usual brand of commentary.
“Another double-handcuff ceremony,” he said to Viktor Chernenko. “Right now they’re calling each other darling babycakes and little buttercup. In another six months they’ll blow each other’s brains out. That’s the way it is in Hollywood.”
Viktor was especially happy, having learned that he’d been named Hollywood Station’s Detective of the Quarter, and paid no attention to Compassionate Charlie’s unromantic notions. He loved the sound of those terms of endearment.