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Misery welled inside her. “I’m just…confused,” she said in a small voice.
“You’re not confused. You’re spoiled.” Belinda’s scorn scraped her skin like rough steel wool. “You’ve had everything you could possibly want handed to you, and you haven’t had to work for any of it. Do you realize how immature you sound? It might be different if you had a goal, but you don’t even have that. When I was your age, I knew exactly what I wanted out of life, and I was willing to do anything to get it.”
Fleur felt herself wilt. “Maybe…Maybe you’re right.”
Belinda was angry, and she wouldn’t let her off so easily. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m disappointed in you.” She crossed the sad orange carpet. “Think about what you’re planning to throw away, and when you’re ready to talk sensibly, come find me.” Without another word, she walked out.
Suddenly Fleur was a child again, back at the Couvent de l’Annonciation watching her mother disappear. She came up off the bed and rushed out into the hallway, but Belinda had vanished. Her palms got sweaty and her heart raced. She turned down the corridor and made her way to her mother’s room. No one answered when she knocked. She went back to her own room, but she couldn’t sit still.
She headed for the lobby and found it deserted except for a couple of crew members. Maybe Belinda had gone out to swim. But the only person around the small motel pool was a workman emptying the trash can. She went back into the lobby and spotted Johnny Guy. “Have you seen Belinda?”
He shook his head. “Maybe she’s in the bar.”
Her mother didn’t drink anymore, but Fleur had no place else to look.
Her eyes needed a moment to adjust to the dim light. She saw Belinda sitting at the corner table by herself, twirling a swizzle stick in what looked like a tumbler of scotch. All the blood rushed from her head. After three years of sobriety, her mother had fallen off the wagon, and Fleur was responsible.
She dashed over to her. “What are you doing? Please don’t do this. I’m sorry.”
Belinda stabbed the swizzle stick toward the bottom of the glass. “I’m not feeling like the best of company right now. Maybe you’d better leave me alone.”
Fleur fell into the chair across from her. “You’ve been doing so great. Just because you have an ungrateful daughter doesn’t mean you should punish yourself. I need you too much.”
Belinda gazed into her drink. “You don’t need me, baby. Apparently I’ve been pushing you into things you don’t want.”
“That’s not true.”
Belinda looked up, and her eyes were awash in tears. “I love you so much. I only want what’s best for you.”
Fleur grabbed her mother’s hand. “It’s like you’ve always said. There’s a bond between us, as if we’re one person, not two.” Her voice grew choked. “Whatever makes you happy makes me happy. I’ve just been confused, that’s all.” She tried to smile. “Let’s go fo
r a ride. We can make up our mind about Paramount.”
Belinda dipped her head. “Don’t resent me, baby. I couldn’t stand it if you resented me.”
“That’ll never happen. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
Belinda gave her a watery smile and got up from her chair. Fleur bumped the edge of the table with her hip, and a little of Belinda’s drink sloshed over the rim. Only then did she notice how full the glass was. She stared at it for a moment. Belinda didn’t seem to have taken so much as a sip.
At the end of their first week in Iowa, Jake finally had a day off. He slept late, went for a run, then took a shower. He was just stepping out of the tub when he heard a knock. He tucked a towel around his hips and opened the door. Belinda stood on the other side.
She wore a simple blue and lavender wrap dress, and she dangled a white paper sack from her fingertips. “Want some breakfast?”
A feeling of inevitability came over him. Why the hell not? “Do you have coffee in there?”
“Strong and black.”
He gestured her in. She pulled the DO NOT DISTURB sign off the knob, hung it outside, then closed the door and withdrew two Styrofoam cups. As she handed his over, he smelled her perfume. She was one of the most fascinating women he’d ever met.
“Do you consider yourself a rebel, Jake?”
He peeled off the lid and dropped it in the wastebasket. “I guess I’ve never thought about it.”
“I think you are.” She sat in the room’s only chair and crossed her legs so that her skirt fell open over her knees. “You’re a rebel without a cause. A man who follows his own drummer. That’s one of the things that excites me about you.”
