“Uh-huh,” I said dubiously. “I thought it was an earthquake. So my body wasn’t happy, and neither was my mind.”
“I’m sorry, Max,” she said. “But if I don’t do this first thing in the morning I never get round to it. Is Chase up yet?”
“Almost. He was talking, but refused to get up when I told them about the earthquake.”
“Best to let him sleep. He got home pretty late last night.”
Chase had gone up to New York the night before, for a reunion with his ex-colleagues from the NYPD, the police force he’d worked for before moving to Hampton Cove.
“Chase should try napping,” said Dooley. “It’s very effective. Uncle Alec could put beds in the office so his officers can nap whenever they feel tired. Cats do it all the time.”
“Great idea, Dooley,” I said. “I love napping.”
“And I’ll bet it’s great for those dolphins, too.”
“I don’t think my uncle will like the idea,” said Odelia with a laugh. “But I’ll tell him.”
“Napping,” said Dooley, “is the secret why cats are so vigorous, vivacious and vital.”
On TV the routine had started up again, and moments later Odelia was jumping around again, the earthquake moving up on the Richter scale. To such an extent that moments later Chase came stomping down the stairs, rubbing his eyes and yawning widely. He stood watching Odelia while she tried to kick and touch the ceiling, then shook his head and moved into the kitchen to start up his precious coffeemaker.
Soon the sounds of Odelia’s aerobics routine mingled nicely with Chase’s baritone voice singing along. And as he rubbed his stubbled jaw and then stretched, a third person entered the fray: it was Marge, Odelia’s mom, and she looked a little frazzled.
Odelia pressed pause on the remote, and stood, hands on knees, panting freely.
“Odelia, honey, I need your help,” said Marge as she took a seat on the couch.
“Sure, anything,” said Odelia, grabbing for her towel again.
“It’s your grandmother.”
Odelia closed her eyes and groaned. “What has she gone and done now?”
“You know how she agreed to sing backing vocals in your father’s band? Well, she’s just announced she’s tired of playing second fiddle and she’s starting a solo career.”
“Of course she has,” said Odelia as she toweled off and sat down next to her mother.
“She wants to be the next Beyoncé,” said Marge.
“Beyoncé?” said Odelia with a laugh. “But… Gran can’t even sing.”
“Not to mention she’s old enough to be Beyoncé’s grandmother.”
“Who’s Beyoncé?” asked Dooley.
“A famous singer,” I said. “And a very popular one, too.”
“She’s been nagging me to get her a singing coach,” said Marge, “and just now she told me she wants me to find her a manager—one of those power managers that can launch her career straight into the stratosphere, on account of the fact that she doesn’t have time to build it up slowly.”
“And what did you tell her?”
Marge threw up her arms. “That I don’t know the first thing about showbiz or power managers or singing coaches! And that if she wants to be the next Beyoncé maybe she should start by joining a singing competition. They’ll be sure to tell her if she’s any good.”
“Good advice,” said Chase, who was sipping from a cup of coffee and looking a little bleary-eyed. “The best way to knock some sense into your grandmother is to subject her to a nice round of criticism—just as long as it’s not us who provide the criticism I’m sure she’ll take it on the chin and move on to her next foolish whim.”
“I sincerely hope that’s all this is,” said Marge. “With a husband in showbiz, and now an elderly parent, life is starting to get a little too showbizzy to my liking. Not only is Tex expecting me to go to every single one of his performances and cheer him on, soon Mom will expect me to go to all of her performances, too. And here I thought things slowed down once the kids were out of the house. Looks like things are just getting started!”
“Well, trust me, Mom,” said Odelia as she patted her mother’s arm. “I don’t have any plans to go into show business, so there’s that. And I’m sure Gran’s ambitions will be as short-lived as most of her endeavors. I give it a month—tops.”
“Speak of the devil,” Chase muttered through half-closed lips.
Gran had just walked in, looking as sprightly and vivacious as ever. “Odelia!” she cried as she made a beeline for her granddaughter. “You’re up. Good. Look, I need you to be honest with me. Do you think I’ve got what it takes to be the next Beyoncé?”
“Um… I don’t know, Gran,” said Odelia, treading carefully.
‘Maybe you can sing something for us?” Chase suggested. “How about Single Ladies?”
Gran eyed Chase strangely. “Single ladies? You don’t have to rub it in, young man. It’s true I’m a single lady right now but it’s not very nice of you to point that out. Very rude.”
“No, that’s the name of the song,” said Chase. “Single Ladies.”
“Never heard of it,” said Gran, still giving Chase a nasty look.
“Okay. So how about Crazy in Love?”
“I’m not, but thanks for the suggestion. I’ll sing Beyoncé’s biggest hit, shall I?” She took a deep breath, then placed her hands on her chest and closed her eyes. “Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me, I think they’re oka-ay,” she bleated in a croaky voice.
“Gran?” said Odelia, interrupting the songbird. “That’s Madonna, not Beyoncé.”
“Shut up and let me sing. Cause we’re li-ving in a mate-rial world…”
It sounded a little awful, I thought, and judging from the frozen looks on the faces of all those present I wasn’t alone in my assessment. Finally, Gran finished the song and opened her arms in anticipation of the roaring applause she clearly felt she deserved. When the applause didn’t come, she eyed us with annoyance.
“Well? What do you think?” she snapped.
“Um… not bad,” said Odelia. “Not bad at all. But you know that’s not Beyoncé, right?”
“’Of course it’s Beyoncé. One of the woman’s greatest hits. So how about you, Marge? What do you reckon? Knocked it out of the park, huh? Hit a home run?”
“Um….” said Marge, darting anxious glances at her daughter.
“Blown away,” said Gran with a nod of satisfaction. “That’s what I was going for. Chase?”
“Loved it,” Chase lied smoothly. “Best Beyoncé imitation I’ve ever heard.”
“Perhaps you should put a little more pep in your show, though,” said Marge.
“Oh, you’ll get all the pep you need. I’ve asked Beyoncé’s choreographer to work with me and he graciously accepted. In fact we’re starting rehearsals today.”
“Beyoncé’s choreographer is going to work with you?” asked Odelia.
“Sure. You all know him. My ex-boyfriend Dick Bernstein. He’s worked with Beyoncé for years. Choreographed all of her big shows, here and overseas. I asked him and he immediately said yes. It’s gonna be a smash, you guys. And now if you’ll excuse me—I gotta get ready before Dick arrives. Oh, and Marge? Can you tell Tex I’m not coming in today? My career takes precedence over that silly receptionist business. Toodle-oo!”
And with these words she was off, leaving us all stunned.
Except for Dooley, who was still wondering, “So who’s Beyoncé?”
Chapter 2
Odelia was just about to walk into her office, after dutifully informing her father that Gran wouldn’t be coming in today because she needed to launch her career, when a loud honking sound waylaid her. She looked up and saw that her uncle was trying to catch her attention.