The next morning, as Christine walked out of the guest room, she glanced down the hall to her left and noticed movement through the frosted, opaque sidelight adjacent to the front door. Curious, Christine went into the foyer.
“Hey, Viv,” Christine said. “You got company.”
Vivian emerged from the breakfast nook, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep. She carried a cup of chamomile tea and a small plate with a half-eaten slice of lemon bread cake.
“I saw what looked like a car,” Christine said. “It was making its way around the semi-circular drive to the front of the house when I saw it through that side window next to the front door.”
Vivian and Christine went to the foyer and looked through the sidelights.
“Even though we can’t see too well, I’m guessing it’s somebody with a wrong address,” Vivian said. “The security gate out front should be closed and locked. Why isn’t that so?” She turned away from the sidelight with her back to it, pensive.
“The gate could have been rendered inoperative by yesterday’s earthquake,” Christine said.
“That’d be the most likely plausible explanation.”
“Well, I don’t see a car anywhere. It was probably a police cruiser or a security patrol driving by to—”
The doorbell chimed.
Vivian turned around, opened the front door, and gasped in shock.
“No,” Vivian whispered. She shook her head in disbelief. “No way. It’s not possible.”
“It can’t be,” Christine said without turning to look at Vivian. “It’s just not feasible.”
Rose Hutchins stood before them, wearing a white turban fastened in the front by a two-inch gold pin with a pearl affixed in the center, a white blouse with a gold-and-pearl brooch, matching slacks and low-heeled pumps. She bore an air of great dignity.
“What are you doing here?” Vivian asked, astounded.
“Yeah,” Christine said, “and how the hell did you know about us being here, Miss Hutchins?”
Rose glanced behind her with a knowing smile. Vivian and Christine followed Rose’s line of vision and saw a limousine by the gate at the end of the driveway and a dark-blue car parked at the curb.
“I’ve come to reclaim my home, and for the record, my name is Mrs. Julia Windom,” she said, softly patting the back of her turbaned head. “I legally changed my name after your father’s death and before I remarried.”
“Well, for whatever purpose you had your name changed,” Vivian said, “I hope it served you well.”
“I had my reasons,” Rose said.
“And, what’s with the stoopid turban, anyway?” Christine said. “Hey, is that big, bad, blond boy over there one of your—” In that instant, realization dawned on her. “Wait a minute . . .” Her eyes narrowed, then widened. “That blond guy . . .”
“What about him?” Vivian asked, agitated and confused.
“I’ve seen that mop of blond hair before,” Christine said. “I only caught a glimpse of it, just for a second. Vivian, he was trespassing on the estate a while back, that day you thought you lost or misplaced your keys, that day you went to the market to get some groceries and I was alone . . .” she turned to gaze directly at the blond man “. . . or so I thought.”
“My goodness,” Vivian said to Rose. “Have you no decency? Is nothing sacred? You had someone spying on us?”
“I had to know what was going on,” Rose said.
“It had been reported in the news,” Vivian said, “that you were killed in the plane crash in London twenty-two years ago. You were declared dead, yet all this time, you’ve been alive. Geez, haven’t you caused enough grief already?”
“So you’re back from the dead,” Christine said. “And while you’re at it, why don’t you just go back to your grave where you belong? After all, there is a marker with your name on it at Forest Lawn!”
“Regardless,” Rose said, “step aside.”
“No way!” Vivian said and slammed the door shut. “Oh, man!” She exhaled, breathless. She put her shaky hands to her cheeks. “I don’t believe this.”
The door opened and in stepped Rose. “How dare you!”
“Get the hell out of here now!” Vivian said. “You’re not welcome here!”
“Oh, yes, I am.” Rose reached into her purse, withdrew the deed of trust and the thirty-day unconditional termination notice, and handed them to Vivian. “Read it and weep.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Christine asked.
As Vivian read the forms, she chuckled. “Oh, please,” she said. “You can’t be serious.”
“I assure you,” Rose said, “this is no laughing matter. The forms are official. You have thirty days to pack everything and get out.”
Christine became enraged. Her eyes flashed with hatred and flickered with anger. Her nostrils flared and she bared clenched teeth. If only the barrel of her .38 caliber gun hadn’t poked out of the mouth of her handbag when she dropped it on the floor, and if only Vivian hadn’t taken the gun and hidden it somewhere, Christine would’ve gotten the gun and killed Rose on the spot.
“Why you—” Christine said.
She lunged at Rose and clutched her neck. She wringed it with as much strength as she could muster. Profanities spewed from her lips.
“Christine, no!” Vivian said as she grabbed Christine to try to pull her away from Rose. “Don’t make it worse than it already is!”
“Let go of me!” Christine said. “Let go of me, damn it!”
After a moment, Vivian succeeded in pulling Christine away from Rose.
“C’mere!” she said. She dragged Christine into the living room and pushed her down onto the couch.
“You move from this spot and you’re dead, you hear me?” Vivian said as she pointed an angry finger at Christine.
Vivian heard Rose come into the living room.
“Okay,” Vivian said to Rose with a sigh. “You want us out? We’ll get out.”
“What?” Christine said. “No friggin’ way!”
“Be quiet,” Vivian said to Christine.
“I’m not leaving this place! It’s mine! Mine! Ya hear me! Miiine!”
“Christine! For once, shut up!”
“Oh, man,” Christine said as she glared at Vivian. “You’re messed up, but then again, you’ve always been messed up.”
Vivian gripped Christine’s face with the thumb and fingers of her hands and squeezed Christine’s cheeks tightly until her lips puckered.
“Oowww!” Christine said.
“You’d best shut your trap, you hear me?” Vivian said.
“Let go, damn it! You’re hurting me!”
Vivian pushed Christine’s face away from her. Christine fell back on the couch, then immediately shot to her feet, shoved Vivian aside, and excreted a large wad of saliva at Rose. It landed right where Christine had intended—in the middle of the old woman’s face.
“Bitch!” Christine screamed in Rose’s face, then bolted to the guest room and slammed the door hard.
Rose turned and walked out of the house. She strode toward the waiting limo as she wiped the saliva off her face with a handkerchief. The fact that someone spit in her face utterly disgusted her and made her feel queasy.
Don’t think I will go away any time soon, Rose thought to herself as she got in the limo. I will be back before you know it.