The Pull Of The Moon

CHAPTER FOUR

THE SMELL OF HAM FRYING and the glaring intrusion of sunlight woke Danni. The pillow under her head and the woven throw tucked around her meant that Jackie was home, up to her usual ministrations.

Danni had originally hired nineteen-year-old Jackie Smith to work as a medical assistant, but had quickly noticed that Jackie had a habit of cleaning and straightening the office without being told. The hefty girl also regularly brought in wonderful homemade goodies for the staff to munch on. When Jackie had ended up needing a place to hide from her abusive, alcoholic man, Danni had asked if she’d like to move in with her in return for housekeeping duties.

Upstairs, a vacuum cleaner started, then abruptly stopped. Then came the sound of heavy footsteps galloping down the stairs, and Jackie’s voice—“Shit!”—followed by the sound of a spatula frantically working to save the ham.

“Trying to do three things at once again?” Danni mumbled from the couch.

“Doc!” Jackie whirled around from her cooking. “You’re awake!”

Danni sat up, looked over the back of the couch, and stretched. “Unfortunately. What time is it?”

“Eight o’clock.”

Danni cut short a yawn. “Shoot! What have I got at the office?”

“Nothin’. It’s Saturday.”

“Saturday?” Had she lost an entire day in the full-moon craziness at the hospital? “Then, where were you last night?”

“My night class, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. How’s that going?” .

“Great! I love accounting. Doc, I just can’t thank you enough for paying my tuition.”

“You earn it.” Danni waved a palm, dismissing her own generosity. What good was money if you couldn’t have fun with it? Then she frowned. “But when I came in at four, you still weren’t home.”

Jackie looked sheepish. “After class I had a hot date. Hope that’s okay. That’s why I’m double-timing it today.”

Jackie, a billowy size fourteen, always had dates coming out of her ears. Danni sighed, rose from the couch, pulled her robe up under her chin and padded into the kitchen. She poured herself a mug of coffee, swallowed a bit of her pride with the first gulp, and said, “Jackie, mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“Not at all—” Jackie was busy cracking eggs “—unless it’s one o’ them gynecological ones.” Jackie cast her employer a knowing glance. “Don’t worry about me. I’m careful.” Her dark eyes twinkled mischievously.

“Oh, it’s not that kind of personal. It’s hmm, well...” Danni jammed her hands into the pockets of her robe as she felt her cheeks grow hot.

Jackie stopped whisking the omelet she’d poured. “Why, Doc, what’s eating you?” She eyed her boss suspiciously.

Damn! The exact same question Carol had asked last night. Was it engraved on her forehead: Something is Eating Me! Danni screwed up her face. “Nothing is eating me,” she protested. “I’m just sick and tired of working constantly, followed by lonely evenings in this big, empty house. How the heck do you do it?”

Jackie looked genuinely confused. “Do what?”

“Get all those dates, for crying out loud!”

“Ah,” Jackie breathed and nodded, making her gigantic hoop earrings wobble. Then she pursed her thick brick-red lips and squinted at Danni. “Naw. You wouldn’t listen even if I told you. You’re above all that stuff!”

“Above all what stuff?”

“You know. Bein’ a man-trap.”

“A man-trap!” Danni’s mouth quirked in a smile. Jackie was such a case.

“Told you.” Jackie aimed her face back toward the stove and emptied the steaming omelet onto a plate, then held it under Danni’s nose.

Danni took the plate and set it down on the granite counter with an irritated clunk. She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m serious. Tell me what you do to attract all those men who are constantly swirling around you. Just give it to me straight. I’m a doctor, after all.”

Jackie hesitated, still holding the omelet pan, and gave Danni a long, frowning assessment.

“You’re a doctor, all right,” she finally answered. “Maybe that’s why you think you’re above the dating game. You know—too good to use a little perfume, a little color, a little pretty.” She shook her shiny earrings for emphasis.

Danni’s mouth popped open to speak, but Jackie was on a roll. “You think a man should look at you and see your brains and your character. Well, listen, honey, a man don’t want to screw Einstein—he’s lookin’ to screw a woman. A little advertising never hurt. A little something that says—” Jackie arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow “—‘I am a female.’ That straight enough for you?” She turned, mercifully, to rinse the omelet pan in the sink.

Danni’s mouth was still ajar. And she knew her cheeks were redder than the devil. But she had to do something. Even if it meant pumping a high-school dropout for information. Because the reality was, Jackie had men delivering roses to this very house.

“Are you telling me I’m unattractive?” Danni looked down at herself.

Jackie turned from spraying the pan and in one squinty-eyed sweep took in the faded pink robe, the disheveled hair drooping from a center part in no discernible style, the skin devoid of makeup. “Now, don’t take this wrong—”

“Go on,” Danni urged, looking into her coffee cup, then she took a long sip.

Now it was Jackie’s turn to plant her hands on her hips. “I been working for you two years, and I’ll tell you something, Doctor. You know a lot about human sexuality, as you call it, but not much about the human male.”

“I...” Danni’s mouth popped open, again to protest, but she clamped it shut. “I’m listening,” she said softly.

“Okay. You’re a smart lady, you tell me.” Jackie turned to the sink and pulled on a pair of household gloves. “Say you’re a man. What’s more attractive? Those combat boots you wear, or my purple spike heels? Those industrial-strength bras and saggy cotton underpants—” she jerked her thumb toward the laundry room where she’d apparently washed a load this morning “—or my pretty little teddies? My Obsession—” she waved her wrist “—or your surgical soap? I ask you? Which?”

Purple spike heels? Teddies? Danni’s mind rebelled. If she had to dress like a tramp to attract a man, forget it. First of all, she was too busty for a stringy, lacy anything. And what doctor in her right mind spent the day in heels? “You know perfectly well that I do not wear perfume because it nauseates some patients,” she replied haughtily.

“That’s fine for work—” Jackie plunged her hands into the sudsy water “—but what about the rest of your life? I have never even seen so much as a bottle o’ toilet water around here. And you with money to burn. Girl, you can afford the best.”

Danni was thoughtful as she pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Okay. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try a little perfume....”

“Yeah. And speakin’ of money. Why’re you so attached to those geeky glasses? I know you can afford contacts.”

Before Danni could answer that one, Jackie whirled around and lifted Danni’s hair away from one ear with a soapy glove. “You don’t even have your ears pierced. It’s like you’re afraid of acting like a girl.” Jackie stared at her for a moment, then turned back to the sink.

Danni sank down on the barstool. Well. She’d asked for this, hadn’t she? “You really think I should try those manipulative feminine tricks?” she said to Jackie’s broad back.

Without looking up from the dishes, Jackie nodded. “I ain’t talkin’ to these pans, sister. And these things ain’t tricks.”

“But I don’t think I’d be comfortable.... I don’t even know where to start.” Danni threw up her hands. “I don’t have the slightest idea how to... how to be...sexy.”

Jackie shrugged. “You asked me how I get dates. That’s how.”

Danni shook her head. “I’d probably make a fool of myself.”

Jackie looked up from the sink. Over her shoulder she gave Danni a thoughtful, sympathetic frown, then her best bad-girl grin. “I know! What you need is a sexy fairy godmother. And honey—” she cocked her hip, planted one sudsy fist there “—you lookin’ at the sexiest.”

The doorbell chimed. Danni and Jackie glanced at each other, puzzled. No one was expected. Then Danni groaned and ran a hand through her messy hair. “Oh, no. It’s Mother and Aunt Hetra and Aunt Dottie. I forgot they were going to drop by.”

“I’ll go and stall them with some coffee.” Jackie started to strip off her gloves.

“No, you finish your dishes. I’ll let them in.” Danni tightened the belt of her robe and headed down the hall, then called over her shoulder, “Actually, some coffee and rolls would be nice.”

Hetra, Dottie and Olivia fluttered through the door and into Danni’s foyer like a flock of colorful little birds. The three Bartlet sisters had grown up among the privileged of Terwilleger Heights in the shadow of the elegant Philbrook Museum of Art, which had been dedicated when they were children. The hours they had spent exploring the museum with their mother, a docent, had imbued the sisters with impeccable taste. Now all three were wealthy widows in their late sixties, still active and productive in the community, still beautiful and stylish.

Unfortunately, Danni had not inherited the family penchant for personal style, and as always, she felt homely, drab and unkempt as she hugged her mother and her aunts.

“Danni, dear!” Her mother pushed Danni’s wild hair back and kissed her on the cheek. “I hope we didn’t wake you. I’m afraid we’re a bit early.”

“It’s okay, Mom. I was up, but I haven’t pulled myself together yet.” Danni straightened the collar of her robe and smiled at her aunts. “Rough day yesterday, and an even rougher night.”

“Lots of ladies having their babies, dear?” her Aunt Hetra asked kindly.

Danni nodded. “That old full moon again.”

“Well, as I always say, a good doctor certainly earns her money!” Aunt Dottie chimed in. “And you must be one very busy obstetrician! Look at this house!”

Olivia beamed. “Isn’t it gorgeous?” The sisters walked ahead of Danni, fluttering and chattering, into the sunny living room.

Danni was pleased with their reaction to her remodeling job. At least she had inherited one aspect of the Bartlet sense of style—a flair for interior decorating.

The aunts noticed everything. They praised everything. Even Jackie’s cinnamon rolls.

“Did you get my message about going to the gala with Wesley Fuerborne?” Olivia asked while she was stirring cream into her second cup of coffee.

“Uh...” Danni took a sip from her cup. “I don’t know about that deal, Mom.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I, uh, don’t have a formal dress.”

“Well, who does this early in the season?” Aunt Dottie interjected. “That’s why we’re going over to Miss Jackson’s this morning, to start looking—I have a wonderful idea! Why don’t you come with us, Danni? We can all help you select something stunning.”

Olivia and Hetra cooed their approval of this idea.

“Oh, something blue.”

“Yes, get it done early.”

Danni raised a palm in protest. “I’m—Mom, I’m sorry.”

Just then, Jackie came into the room to collect the empty pastry tray.

“I can’t go,” Danni said and sent Jackie a conspiratorial glance. “I’m already going shopping with Jackie.”

Jackie raised her pencil-thin eyebrows, only a fraction, but otherwise maintained her smiling silence as she loaded empty china dessert plates onto the tray.

“Shopping?” Aunt Hetra asked as if something about the idea didn’t ring true.

“Yes. We go shopping together once in a while. For...essentials.”

“Essentials,” Jackie parroted smoothly, then bustled out of the room.

The ladies made their departure graciously, after Olivia had extracted a promise from Danni to decide about the gala “soon.”

Before Olivia had even backed her Mercedes down Danni’s driveway, Jackie pounced. “You know what, Doc? You weren’t lying. You are going shopping with me.”

DANNI APPRECIATED GOOD psychology when she saw it in action, and Jackie, it turned out, was the all-time master.

She started Danni out with a nonthreatening trip to the shoe department for some comfortable, classic, snipped-toe pumps, then she whisked her off to Better Sportswear to buy a silk pantsuit in a feminine shade of rose. Simple. Elegant.

Danni decided she was actually having fun.

At the perfume counter, Jackie sniffed and swooned like she was in heaven, but Danni developed a sinus headache. An astute saleswoman helped Danni choose a clean, understated scent that she loved, and that set her back $150.

“I will pierce my own ears,” Danni protested when Jackie tugged her arm in the direction of the local ear-piercing emporium. “I am a surgeon, for crying out loud.”

“Deal,” Jackie said and steered her to a jewelry store where she coaxed her into buying a thousand-dollar pair of diamond studs.

“These will look great against your hair.” Jackie held the open velvet jewelry box next to Danni’s jaw while they were downing a quick lunch. Then her smile dissolved into an appraising frown. “Speaking of hair...” She continued.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Danni clutched the big braid curving over her shoulder. “I’ve been wearing my hair this way all of my life—”

“Exactly. About time for- a change, don’t you think? And I know somebody who could work wonders on you, girl.”

Danni rolled her eyes, imagining that Jackie had some friend of a friend who’d give her a big-hair job that would knock your eyes out, perhaps literally. “No,” she replied in her best boss’s voice. “That is final.”

Jackie stuck out her full, crimson glossed lower lip. “Ah, now,” she said, making a pinch between thumb and forefinger, “not even a tiny little trim?”

JACKIE’S FAVORITE SALON was called Tres, for three—hair, nails, and skin—and Danni had to admit it was pretty chic.

First, Jackie hauled her over to somebody named Loretta, a cousin’s best friend, who gave Danni “the perfect French manicure,” keeping the length compatible with Danni’s professional duties. Not bad, Danni thought.

The facial they gave her while her nails dried wasn’t bad, either, Danni reflected as she lay under the soothing mask.

And she decided she definitely liked the pedicure. Not for the way her toes sparkled with ruby tips when it was over, but for the way her beleaguered calf muscles had completely relaxed under the pedicurist’s massaging hands.

Danni was beginning to wonder why she hadn’t indulged herself this way before, and then it was time for the haircut. “I can’t look!” she squeaked and covered her eyes as a “hair artist,” whose name tag read Naomi, winked at Jackie and raised gold-plated scissors.

The “tiny little trim” turned out to be a heart-stopping transformation of hideous proportions.

Jackie and Naomi kept patting it and exclaiming “Gorgeous!” while Danni looked in the mirror and wondered, What the hell have I done? Her formerly long, wavy hair now mushroomed up from her widow’s peak and cascaded into a thousand unruly layers that pricked at her cheeks and neck like tentacles. She looked like an extra on Star Trek.

“It’s...it’s big hair,” she stammered into the mirror.

“Uh-huh,” Naomi intoned professionally. “Big is back. ’Course, even with the perm, I had to use a lot of volumizer.”

AFTER BATTLING ALL WEEKEND to beat the mess on her head into submission, Danni showed up at her office Monday morning with two ridiculous little clips pulling her new bangs back from her forehead. She had seriously considered wearing a surgical cap for the next six months.

“What happened to your hair?” her staff asked in unison. The morning bustle of the office abruptly ceased, and they were all staring at her as if she’d walked in naked.

“Dr. Danni got a bad haircut,” she snapped. “Now let’s get to work.”

But, as usual, Carol was on to her. Danni saw her eyeing the nails and the earrings. She poked her head into Danni’s office after the last patient had gone. “George and the boys are at a ball game. Let’s go eat. My treat.”

As soon as Danni had taken a few bites of the comforting Mexican food, she confessed. “Jackie thought I needed fixing up. I let her drag me on a makeover spree.”

“So this is Jackie’s handiwork.” Carol brandished a tortilla chip to indicate Danni’s hair.

“Yeah. Permed, highlighted, and—” what had that woman called it? “—volumized.” Danni made a sour face and lifted a tassel of bangs that had escaped the clips. “Cute, huh?”

“Adorable. But the nails really aren’t bad.”

“You should see my pedicure.”

“Pedicure?” Carol stopped eating and gave Danni a skeptical look. “Why all this frou-frou grooming all of a sudden?”

Danni blushed, shoved in a mouthful of chili.

“It’s the man thing, isn’t it?” Carol asked.

“The man thing? Now you sound like Jackie. She wants to turn me into some kind of mantrap. Besides, I told you it’s not just a man, it’s a family I want.”

Carol’s eyes grew soft with understanding. “Oh? Well, I don’t recommend it, but a family can be had without a man.” She reached across the table, squeezed Danni’s forearm and continued more quietly. “Come on. You’re an obstetrician. Several unwanted babies a year slip through your hands.”

Danni bit her lip and considered that. As if she hadn’t a thousand times before. She’d placed a few adoptable babies with single mothers. Those cases had filled her with joy. Why couldn’t she just do the same thing for herself? She took a huge gulp of her iced tea. “Okay. I do want the man. I want a husband and a family. Okay?” She looked down at the napkin in her lap. “I just... I just...” She smoothed the cloth. “The truth is, nobody ever asks me out.” She was silent for a moment, then continued.

“Unfortunately, all the men I meet are soon-to-be fathers. And all the men I already know are either attached or they consider me a good buddy.”

Carol could sympathize. She’d been in Danni’s shoes herself, and her heart ached for the younger woman. All her own male friends from high school and church had known her as the studious overweight girl who would listen to their troubles—usually about other girls.

But then had come that glorious summer when she’d met George. The summer when she’d forgotten about her weight, forgotten about her social life, gone off to be a camp counselor, decided she’d spend the summer hiking with kids, being free and healthy. By the time she’d met George, she was tanned, firm, and vigorous. And because she’d thought she’d never see George again after camp ended, she had let herself relax around him. She’d flirted, been silly, and fun, and feminine.

Even now, she remembered the first time he’d asked her to dance at the camp social. Remembered how it had felt to dance with him, to be close to him, remembered his hand lightly resting on her hip when they’d ordered ice cream in town, remembered their first kiss. And that final stroll beside the lake when he’d proposed. It had all been so thrilling!

She looked Danni over now, with real compassion in her eyes. “Danni, have you ever considered that maybe you’re sending the wrong signals?”

“Uh-oh.” Danni started filling a fajita. “Signals. That sounds like what Jackie said. She said I needed advertising. Perfume and...purple heels, for crying out loud.”

“Purple heels? Oh, for heaven’s sake. What does that child know? I’m talking about healthy feminine signals, coming from real feminine confidence.”

“I’m confident,” Danni defended as she bit off a corner of the fajita and chewed.

Carol stared at her. “I said feminine confidence.”

Danni swallowed and looked miserable. “To tell you the truth, I don’t have the slightest idea what you mean by that. I always assumed I could be myself and get a man. My mother always says there are plenty of fish in the sea.”

“There are, honey. There are. And you should always be yourself, but when you go fishing...” Carol paused. “How do I say this? When you go fishing, you have to take some good bait.”

“Okay,” Danni said despite her misgivings—she hated the sound of the word bait. “What do you have in mind?”

What Carol had in mind almost caused Danni to choke on the mouthful of food she was chewing.

“I was thinking—” Carol smiled a slow, cunning—Danni thought maybe even a little fiendish—smile “—of putting you on a diet.”

“A diet! You, of all people,” Danni sputtered, “suggesting a diet. You’re always saying weight’s not an issue to a happy woman, how your husband loves you no matter what your weight is, how long ago you set aside those false notions about ‘thin’ equals ‘attractive’—”

Carol held up a palm to halt her. “We’re not talking about my weight, here. And the diet isn’t so you can attract a man. It’s to make you feel good about yourself—healthier, happier. That’s real feminine confidence. How about it? Just a little diet?”

BUT WHAT CAROL HAD in mind wasn’t just “a little diet.”

The next day after work she dragged Danni to Super Sports where she convinced her to buy enough exercise equipment to open her own gym.

“You have to commit,” Carol said cheerfully while Danni wrote the astronomical check and arranged to have the stuff installed in the sunny southern bedroom upstairs.

The next day she persuaded Danni that they needed to take a long lunch, and told Jackie exactly what to cook for it while Carol and Danni were upstairs “doing Danni’s workout.”

“That woman’s gonna kill you,” Jackie complained a few days later while she rebelliously scooped homemade chocolate chip cookies onto a platter. “One cup of steamed broccoli—” she mimicked Carol’s throaty voice “—three ounces of broiled flounder, and ten—count ’em—ten green grapes.”