The Georgias looked at one another, proud of themselves. Ro-Ro scowled in the corner, her card and five-dollar bill having been sufficiently outdone.
"This is the first time I've been to your home, Caroline," Ro-Ro said, her voice bouncing off the tile floor and echoing beneath the cathedral ceiling, just what we need, Julia mused, Ro-Ro in stereo. "Exactly how large is it?" Her gaze scanned the formal living room, settling on the second-story balcony.
Caroline's voice was shaky as she answered: "A little over five thousand seven hundred."
"It's too large," Ro-Ro snapped quickly. "My apartment is one thousand square feet. That's a nice size. That's the size of home you should live in."
"Rosemary," Madelyn was quick to defend her baby girl. "Caroline has two small children. She and Steve need a large house."
"Nonsense. This house is too large. You should sell it, but of course, there aren't many people foolish enough to buy it. Pity you didn't ask me. I could have saved you a lot of time and expense."
Instead of responding, Caroline bolted toward the kitchen. "It's time for cake!"
Undaunted, Ro-Ro carried on. "When Uncle Gregory and I lived in Lisbon, we had a house that was nearly ten thousand square feet."
"But that's twice as big as this house!" Madelyn exclaimed. "You didn't think that was excessive?"
"That was Portugal," Ro-Ro bit back. "Everyone who's anyone has a large home in Portugal. In Tulsa, I have a one-thousand-square-foot apartment." She didn't say that therefore, everyone who's anyone in Tulsa has a one thousand-square-foot apartment. That part was implied.
"Uncle Sherman had a home in Costa Rica," Ro-Ro went on. "You girls don't remember Uncle Sherman, of course," Ro-Ro said. Julia thought, That would be hard, considering he died in 1922. "He had a gold mine there. He always said t Heaven would look like Costa Rica. I guess he'll never know’
They all stared at one another, so Ro-Ro added, "U Sherman was a terrible man."
"You've led a fascinating life, Aunt Rosemary," Julia said and fought the urge to add, Now shut up about it.
"Yes, I have. It's a shame I'll be dead soon and will longer be able to share my experiences."
They all nodded in agreement, not sure whether she was fishing for the "Oh, you're still a young woman, Aunt Rosemary" speech or the "Oh, you're the only bright spot in our lives, Aunt Rosemary" speech. Whatever the case, the James family had learned years before that the safest thing to do was nod.
"That settles it," the old woman shouted with spunk. "I will stay here tonight, and tomorrow morning, Caroline will help me write my memoirs."
A crash came from the doorway. Julia wheeled around to see Caroline standing there, her arms outstretched but empty; the birthday cake she had spent six hours baking and decorating from scratch lay at her feet in a heap of frosting and smoke, as five crooked candles burned in the rubble. Caroline stood in the mouth of the massive room, gasping, not even noticing that her Hello Kitty cake was roadkill.
"You're staying here, Aunt Rosemary?" Julia asked, trying to play on the old woman's aversion to change. "Do you really think you'll be comfortable?"
"I suppose I will be." She grunted, then added, "Though it is a dreadful house."
Cassie began to cry, but Madelyn swept her into her lap and shushed her, and a heavy silence filled the formal room. Julia didn't think it was possible for ten five-year-olds to be so silent at a birthday party, but it was happening. Everyone just stared at the cake that lay burning at Caroline's feet, a pile of chocolate and frosting on her pristine floor.
"Happy birthday to you," Lance began singing. Julia looked at him as if he was crazy, but he motioned for her to sing along. "Happy birthday to you!" they sang together. Soon, very one but Caroline and Ro-Ro had joined in—Georgia B. providing the alto.
Later, when the crowd cleared and exhausted children were carried away in their parents' arms, Steve and Nina began disposing of the wrapping paper and ribbons. Madelyn went upstairs to put baby Nick down for a nap, and Caroline was on her knees, scrubbing away what was left of Hello Kitty.
Julia dropped beside her and whispered, "It's almost over."
Her sister's hands never stopped scrubbing as she said, "I can't believe my daughter had to blow out the floor."
"Caroline, I'm going to have to go home with Lance. . . . What am I going to do?"
"What are you going to do?" Caroline blew hair out of her face with a puff. "You have got to be kidding me. You have a kind and handsome houseguest. I"—Caroline paused for effect—"have Ro-Ro. Julia, you are on your own."
Chapter Eleven
WAY #7: Make your home your castle.
People sometimes fall into the trap of ignoring their own dirty dishes. But it's important for a person living alone to maintain a beautiful living space. After all, fresh flowers and a clean house might be all that's waiting for you at the end of the day. Give yourself something beautiful to come home to.
—from 107 Ways to Cheat at Solitaire
Julia imagined saying, "Sorry, you have to go to a hotel.' But it was too late; Lance already had the bags out of the ; trunk and sitting on her front porch. He stood behind her, waiting for her to unlock the door.
Cool, damp air blew in from the creek, carrying the aroma of dogwoods in bloom, but the porch light didn't reach the! creek bank, so the delicate white flowers stayed eclipsed by the] night. She wished Lance could see the way the house settled in the low, rolling hills. Visitors always commented on the serenity of the land—the ultimate first impression.
Not this time.
"Love what you've done with the place," he said once they'd stepped inside.
Sarcasm? Julia wondered, looking around at the chipped paint and sagging floors of the foyer and the living room, studying Lance with fresh eyes. I can respect sarcasm, she decided.
The floors creaked as Lance and Julia walked through her home—her one romantic notion. Built by a district court judge in the days of Indian Territory, the white two-story house deserved better than rot and decay. She'd remodeled the kitchen and master bath in order to make the house livable. Those rooms alone had taken a full year of worrying over every pull, knob, and tile. Nina had quit the project, saying no self-respecting interior decorator would work with someone like Julia, best friend or not. In the back of her mind, Julia realized that Nina was right, and if she completed only one room every two years, she'd finish the house just in time for Cassie and Nick to inherit it from her. Still, she didn't have the fortitude to tackle any more, and she'd grown accustomed to the sparse surroundings.