Tribute Page 0,37

Maybe I needed to be in turmoil to reach my potential. Who knows? Who cares?"

"I do."

With a soft smile, Janet turned to kiss Cilla's cheek. "I looked for love all of my life, and gave it too often, and too intensely. Maybe if I hadn't looked so hard, someone would have given it back to me. The red belt!" She danced away to snatch a thick scarlet belt from the clothes tossed on the bed. "It's just the right touch, and red's Frankie's favorite color. He loves me in red."

She buckled it on, like a belt of blood, and stepped into matching shoes. "How do I look?"

"Perfect."

"I wish you could come, but it's only going to be me and Frankie, and the funny old justice of the peace and the woman who plays the spinet. Frankie will leak it to the press without telling me, and that's how the photo of the two of us coming out of the tacky little chapel gets into Photoplay. Then the shit hits the fan." She laughed. "What a ride."

And laughed, and laughed, so that Cilla heard the echoes of the laughter as she woke.

BECAUSE SHE WANTED to let her thoughts simmer away from the noise and distractions, Cilla spent the majority of her time the next two days sorting out the dozens of boxes and trunks she'd hauled into the barn.

Cilla had determined on her first pass that her mother had already culled and scavenged whatever she deemed worthwhile. But Dilly had missed a few treasures. She often did, to Cilla's mind, being in such a rush to grab the shiniest object, she missed the little diamonds in the rough.

Like the old photo tucked in a book. A very pregnant Janet plopped on a chaise by the pond, mugging for the camera with a glossily handsome Rock Hudson. Or the script for With Violets-Janet's second Oscar nomination-buried in a trunk full of old blankets. She found a little music box fashioned like a grand piano that played "Fur Elise." Inside, a little handwritten note read: From Johnnie, Mother's Day, 1961, in Janet's looping scrawl.

By the end of a rainy afternoon, she had a pile designated for the Dumpster, and a small stack of boxes to keep.

When she hauled out a load in a wheelbarrow, she found the rain had turned to fragile sunlight and her front yard full of people. Ford and her landscaper stood on the wet grass laughing at each other, along with a man with steel-gray hair who wore a light windbreaker. Crossing to them from a little red pickup was the owner of the roofing company she'd hired. A boy of about ten and a big white dog trailed after him.

After some posturing, and looking out from between Ford's legs, Spock tiptoed-if dogs could tiptoe-up to the white dog, sniffed, then plopped down and exposed his belly in submission.

"Afternoon." Cleaver of Cleaver Roofing and Gutters gave her a nod of greeting. "Had a job to check on down the road, and thought I'd stop on the way home to let you know we'll be starting tomorrow if the weather's clear."

"That's great."

"These are my grandsons, Jake and Lester." He winked at Cilla. "They don't bite."

"Good to know."

"Grandpa." The boy rolled his eyes. "Lester's my dog."

As Cilla crouched to greet the dog, Spock bumped through them to claim Cilla's hand. It was a clear: Uh-uh, you owe me first.

Cleaver hailed the trio of men walking toward them. "Tommy, you son of a..." Cleaver slid his gaze toward his grandson, smirked. "Gun. Don't think you can fast-talk this lady into selling. I've got the roof."

"How you doing, Hank? I'm not buying. Just checking up on my boy here."

"Cilla, this is my dad." Brian, the landscaper, gripped his father's shoulder. "Tom Morrow."

"He's a slick one, Miz McGowan," Hank warned her with another wink. "You watch out for him. Before you know it, he'll talk you into selling this place, then put up a dozen houses."

"This acreage? No more than six." Tom offered a smile and his hand. "Welcome to Virginia."

"Thanks. You're a builder?"

"I develop land, residential and commercial. You've taken on quite a project here. I've heard you hired some good people to work on it. Present company excepted," he said with a grin to Hank.

"Before these two get going," Brian interrupted, "I've got some sketches on the landscaping I wanted to drop off for you to look at. Do you want a hand with that haul?"

Cilla shook her head. "I've got it.