Dandelion Wishes

Chapter 2

HOURS AFTER LEARNING of Tracy's release, Emma parked her car behind Granny Rose's sea-foam-green-and-white Victorian home in Harmony Valley and climbed the creaky planked steps to the front door. As a freelance graphic artist working mostly on print advertising for magazines, Emma could work on her laptop wherever she chose, uploading her completed work when she found an internet connection. She could design in Harmony Valley for a few days, hoping she might see Tracy, and upload her work before the weekend.

After the accident, the Jacksons had been guarded, not only with who visited Tracy, but with details of Tracy's condition. Granny Rose had learned that Tracy suffered from aphasia, but had never gotten a straight answer from Tracy's father as to why Emma was being kept away. She'd know how best to approach the Jacksons about visiting now that her friend was home. Well, home to their hometown anyway. Next best thing to their apartment.

The welcoming aroma of pot roast and the familiar canned sound of Gene Kelly on vinyl drifted out an open window. Granny Rose didn't have an answering machine or a cell phone. She hadn't answered her house phone earlier and didn't know Emma was coming.

"I'm singing in the rain. Just singing in the rain...." Gene Kelly's voice floated beneath her grandmother's breathless vibrato and above the shuffle of her shoes on the wooden floor. It was Sunday night and Granny Rose was reenacting one of her favorite musicals.

Emma opened the stained glass door, stepped inside and froze.

The last time she'd seen Granny Rose dance was a month ago. She'd been wearing a white silk button-down and a black pencil skirt. Fred Astaire had been spinning on the ancient phonograph.

"I'm laughing at clouds. So dark up above...." Her back to Emma, Granny Rose tipped an Elvis umbrella over her shoulder. She was wearing a pair of faded red long johns that drooped from her skinny butt. They probably would have bagged even more if her waist hadn't been cinched into a white tutu.

Rose, in yellow duck boots, tripped and nearly fell onto the antique coffee table, sending the wood-trimmed settee skittering into the wall.

"Granny!" Emma dropped her purse and ran to steady her grandmother.

Granny Rose shrieked. She elbowed Emma in the ribs, stomped on her foot and stumbled free. Turning, she hit Emma on the head with the Elvis umbrella.

Emma crumpled beneath one of the best Sedona landscapes she'd ever painted. The orchestra swelled.

"Granny Rose." She lifted her head. "It's me. Emma. Your granddaughter?"

Gene Kelly closed the song softly. Granny Rose lowered the umbrella and stared in bewilderment. "Emma?"

Emma nodded. Blood pounded in her foot and at her temple. "Is that the tutu from my dance recital when I was twelve?"

Granny Rose's gaze dropped to the stiff white tulle. She looked around the cluttered living room, taking in the phonograph needle butting against the record label. "My raincoat is at the dry cleaners." Her breathless voice lacked its usual confidence. "Is it time for cocktails?"

"Yes." Emma could use a stiff drink.

"I didn't expect you." Granny Rose steadied Emma as she stood, although the eighty-year-old needed a bit of shoring up herself. Her huffing as she caught her breath seemed to bow her shoulders. "If you stay until next weekend you can come to the Grand Marshal Selection Ceremony."

"I'd like that," Emma said, studying her grandmother cautiously. "Tracy moved back home today," she added. "I was hoping—"

Someone knocked on the door.