"I wouldn't compare Ariana to Lonnie," I said, indignant.
Harriet chuckled. "Only in that one respect are they alike. And who knows? Maybe Ariana has a scorching sex life we know nothing about." She looked at her watch. "We'd better get a move on-things to do and money to spend."
I collected a protesting Jules-Melodie had made it clear she wasn't allowed outside without supervision-and followed Harriet through the back door. Ariana with a scorching sex life? The idea didn't please me much. I had to admit I'd rather picture Ariana all alone, high up in her Hollywood Hills home, waiting for someone-well, waiting for me-to come bounding in and declare, "Let me take you to places you've never been before."
No, I'd have to rephrase. That sounded too much like a tourist agent. How about, "Together, we can make wonderful music"? No, that's worse. I should be more direct. I could say, "I lust after you, burn for you…" Nix that. Ariana would flatten me with her cold blue stare, or worse, laugh. Maybe I should let my actions speak louder than words and-
"Kylie? I don't want to hurry you, but we haven't got all day."
"Sorry."
I picked up my shoulder bag, resolutely banning further thoughts of Ariana Creeling. That way lay madness.
Harriet was nothing if not efficient. We hopped into her old Volvo and set out for the nearest shopping center. In short order I had a mobile phone and some really nice clothes to mix and match so I'd have several outfits for my undercover identity. Last was the rental car. Without probs I acquired a four-door, light-tan vehicle filled with the smell of artificial pine. It was a car without much character. Strewth, compared to Dad's Mustang, it didn't have any character. An automatic, it was no sweat to drive, but no fun either.
I thanked Harriet and said goodbye to her at the rental place. She was sweet and asked me if I wanted to join her and Beth for dinner, but I said I wanted an early night. Then I drove back to Kendall & Creeling. There was lots of traffic, and I seemed to snag every red light, so I stop-and-started the whole way, using the time to dwell on the fact Harriet hadn't been asked to help me find accommodation.
Last thing last night I'd said to Ariana, "I should get a flat somewhere near the office, don't you think?"
I would've thought she'd be pleased to get me out of the office bedroom suite, but she hadn't given the impression of jumping for joy. "You can look for an apartment when you have a better sense of L.A. and know where you'd prefer to be," she'd said.
"Melodie or Harriet can help," I'd said. "They know the whole area, don't they? I'd be happy to take advice."
"I don't think you should rush into a lease. If you sign one, you'll be committed to an apartment for at least a year."
I hadn't seen it last night, but now I realized Ariana didn't want me to put down roots. If I remained in the office bedroom, it was a temporary thing. I could go walkabout any time. It all boiled down to one fact: She didn't want me involved in the business. She was just biding her time until I caved and she bought me out.
She could bide all the time she liked. That wasn't going to happen. I was going to implement the Wombat Strategy. A wombat is unstoppable, once its mind is set on a goal. Just like that furry little tank, I'd set my course and I'd keep on keeping on.
When I thought about the drive home last night, I realized the freeze had really set in even before I'd mentioned getting a flat. Ariana, reassuringly sober, had been driving defensively, a wise decision since the roads appeared to be teeming with vehicles performing erratic maneuvers. I'd made a casual remark about wanting to look over Kendall & Creeling's books.
She'd glanced over at me with a frown. "You're free to discuss the financial situation with our accountants." Then she'd really got up my nose by adding, "I believe that would be best. Unless you're an expert, Kylie, financial records can be incomprehensible."
"Oh, I think I might muddle my way through," I said with heavy sarcasm. I'd looked after the financial side of Wombat's Retreat, and I figured a pub's books were going to be quite a lot more complicated than those of a private eye business.
I had no thought Ariana was cooking the books-I was sure she wasn't-but if my partnership with her was to work, I wanted to know every single thing about the company.
A chilly silence had fallen between us at this point. Looking for somewhere to live had struck me as a safe, neutral topic. Major miscalculation.
I spent the rest of the day going to a Laundromat, usefully within walking distance from the offices, planning how I'd get out of moving into the Deers' mansion, and calling Mum to see how things were in the 'Gudge. It was late Sunday afternoon here and Monday morning there.
Not surprisingly, since it was less than a week since I'd skipped, nothing much had happened. With a certain wry satisfaction I learned that Mum's fiance, Jack, was already having a bit of trouble mastering the finer points of running a pub.
Mum asked-hopefully, I thought-if I'd be coming home any time soon. I said although L.A. wasn't a patch on Wollegudgerie- Mum expected me to say that, so I did-I was finding it a very interesting place, so I'd stay a while. Mum asked if I'd seen any stars yet, and I filled her in with info on last night's party.
Without fail Mum has her hair done every Friday at 'Gudge's hairdressing salon, so I knew she would have seen Raylene's new love, Maria. I was burning to ask if she had any news of Raylene but with great effort managed not to bring up the subject.
With the unerring instinct of a mother, Mum said, "I ran into Raylene yesterday at the drycleaners. She asked after you."
I could see Raylene as clearly as if she were standing in front of me. She had beautifully silky hair that fell straight to her shoulders and a mobile, expressive face. I'd always loved her laugh, an infectious, bubbling sound.
"How is she?" I said, as if I didn't care one way or the other.
"She's fine. Said she was planning a trip to Bangkok during the next school break. She and Maria."
That was a stab to the heart. Raylene and I had talked at length about visiting Thailand. We'd pored over maps and brochures and plotted our itinerary. And now she was going there with Maria.
"Kylie, it's no good running away from your problems." Mum was in her I'm-saying-this-for-your-own-good mode. "Stand and face them, I always say."
"I'm not running away."
Mum clicked her tongue impatiently. "Of course you are. Just because a relationship doesn't work, it's no reason to shoot through."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"America's a dangerous place." Mum was getting het-up. "I see it on the telly every night. People getting shot for no reason at all. You're not safe there. I want you back here in Wollegudgerie."
Suddenly furious that she was ordering me around like I was a child, I said, "I'm not coming back. Not yet."
"When, then?" My mum was great at pinning people down. "Next month? For Chrissie? When?"
"Jeez, Mum, give it a rest."
Mum changed tack. "I really need you here, you know. Running the pub's no picnic without you. Jack's doing his best, but he hasn't learned the ropes yet."
"He will."
Silence. Then Mum said brightly, "Let's not fight, darling. You'll come home when you're ready. I know that."
We chatted about safe topics for a few minutes, then said goodbye. I put down the phone with the resigned feeling that she hadn't given up yet. She never does. Tenacity should be her middle name.
After that conversation I felt hungry, so I went for a walk to a Kentucky Fried Chicken place I'd noticed earlier. I bought extra, just in case Julia Roberts felt like a change from tinned cat food.
Jules and I ate chicken, watched TV, and generally lazed around. I reckoned I'd need all my energy for the week to come, so I aimed on having an early night. Every now and then during the evening, Jules did her startled staring routine, but I told her she could bung it on all she liked, I wasn't falling for it.