Unfinished Symphony (Logan 3)

I told her about my visit to the apartment complex and the things Sandy Glee had told me about Gina Simon.

"I'm not getting good vibes, Melody.

Remember what I told you. Pack up and come back if things aren't what you hoped they would be," she said.

"I will," I promised.

"Good. How's my sister treating you?"

"Like royalty," I said. I told her about my room and my breakfast in bed.

Holly laughed.

"I hear you. She's a character, huh? And Philip, did he say more than two words?"

"About seven or eight," I said, laughing. It was so good hearing Holly's voice, hearing the sincerity and the warmth. "It's nice of you to call, Holly. It's nice of you to care."

"Would you be any different if roles were reversed?" she asked. "Billy sends his regards, too."

"Tell him hi and I'll call you guys as soon as I know . . . anything," I said.

"Okay. Take care and don't let Dorothy talk you into a face lift while you're there," she warned before hanging up.

Before I had even set the phone down, Dorothy appeared.

"Good, you're up," she said as she entered the room. "The stores are just opening."

"I'm sorry I overslept. I'm usually up a lot earlier than this."

"Overslept? Nonsense. A woman needs her sleep. That old fashioned idea about beauty rest happens to be true. If you don't rest your skin, it gets old faster. I never get up much earlier than this unless I have a very important reason. Anyway, I've called for the car. I just have to tell Selena what Philip wants her to make for dinner tonight and then we'll be off to the shops."

"Dorothy, really, I just want to go back to the apartment complex, see Gina Simon and(r)"

"You need something decent to wear first. Then you'll go," she insisted.

"Really, I--"

"Deaf," she said, shaking her head with her hands over her ears. "Meet me outside. Spike's bringing the car around."

She left for the kitchen. There was nothing to do but let her be generous, I thought, and then pay another visit to The Egyptian Gardens.

Anyway, I couldn't help but be impressed with the stores on Rodeo Drive. Papa George and Mama Arlene, who had lived next to to us in Sewell, West Virginia, used to say their grandparents came to America thinking the streets were paved with gold. This was the closest anything came to that, I thought. The designer clothing stores with their richly draped mannequins in the windows, the grand art and antique galleries, the beautiful restaurants and expensive jewelry stores all made it look like shopping for the rich and privileged. Everywhere I looked, I saw Rolls Royces, Mercedes, and other expensive automobiles, as well as limousines like ours with chauffeurs in uniforms opening doors for people who looked like they were all in a contest to outdress each other.

"Right here, Spike," Dorothy ordered and turned to me to say, "I know this boutique well. They have the sort of clothing young girls like these days. You'll see," she promised.

When we entered the store, I thought it was going out of business. There were so few things on display, each item was treated like a special work of art. Toward the rear of the store was a bar where a bartender prepared cappuccinos, lattes and espresso for the customers. The saleslady recognized Dorothy immediately and hurried over, her high heels clicking on the Spanish tile.

"Enchanted, Mrs. Livingston. How have you been?" she asked, her hand out limply. A gold bracelet filled with diamonds dangled from her small wrist. She looked like she had spent a half a day preparing her makeup and hair. Not a hair was out of place and she had the most even pancake complexion I had ever seen, which made her look tan down to the base of her neck, after which there was a milk-white line. Dorothy just squeezed her fingers quickly.

"Very well, thank you, Farma. This is my sister's friend from the East Coast. She had to rush here and wasn't able to pack her better things. So I thought we would just pick up something nice for her to wear during the day and something for the evening."

"Oh, how nice," Farma replied and gleamed at me with dollar signs in her eyes. "We just received this Italian pants suit in a perfect color for . . ."

"Melody," Dorothy said. "I knew you would have something appropriate."

"Come dear," she said, drinking me in to measure my size. "What a delicious little figure you have." "Doesn't she?" Dorothy said.

I never felt anything