My thoughts were interrupted when Mel asked me to dance with him. As we spun around the room I noticed Richard had moved off to talk to two pretty women while Mommy danced with someone who called himself Stingo. He had hair as long as mine and wore two silver earrings. Mommy's laughter was soon heard over the music. Every once in a while, she glanced my way and beamed a smile. She looked happy, like someone who had been rejuvenated. Was it possible to really turn back time, to be young again?

Suddenly, Bobby's band stopped playing and he announced to the crowd that there was a new talent in their midst, a fresh, innocent voice. I had no idea who he was talking about until he produced the fiddle and called out my name. Mommy looked as surprised as I was.

"No," I said shaking. "I told you I wasn't that good."

"We'll be the judge of that," Bobby declared.

"Come on, we're all bitter friends here," he added with a smile.

"Go ahead," Mel urged.

"I can't. I-"

"Just do it or he'll keep bugging you. That's Bobby."

Reluctantly, I stepped forward and everyone cheered. Mommy and Richard stood beside each other watching with interest and surprise. Although Richard looked pleased, a strange look came over Mommy's face. If I didn't know better I'd have thought she was jealous.

"This is a song an old friend taught me," I began as I took the fiddle. The crowd grew still, but I tried not to think of them and instead thought of Papa George and his pleasure whenever I played for him.

"It's an old mountain folks song about a woman whose lover dies in a feud. She mourns him so much that her heart turns into a bird and flies away, up to join his soul."

Someone laughed and someone else said, "Shut up, you idiot."

I lifted the bow and began, singing softly at first and then lifting my voice and closing my eyes. When I ended, there was dead silence.

"That was great," Mel said just loud enough for everyone to hear. There were murmurs of agreement and then there was loud applause and cheers.

"Looks like you got a real good new client, Richard," Bobby shouted across the room. Richard smiled and nodded.

"Do I know talent when I see it or don't I?"

"Is that a question?" Someone shouted and there was more laughter. Bobby and his band started again and the wild, happy mood returned.

"That was very sweet," Mommy said coming up to me. "You didn't waste much time getting to know everyone and letting them know you played the fiddle."

"I didn't. It just-"

"But I really don't think that kind of music is successful in Hollywood these days, Melody, so don't get your hopes up."

"Oh, I don't expect the fiddle to make me famous. I didn't even want to play it now. I didn't come here for that."

She laughed.

"Oh, maybe you did," she said with a wink.

Without another word, she grabbed the arm of a tall, dark young man and went off to dance again.

As I walked through the room everyone congratulated me on my performance and Sandy gave me a big hug.

"You're great," she declared. "You're going to make it."

"Make it? Make what?"

"Success, silly," she said before rushing off to dance. Mel stepped up beside me.

"You're a hit. No one has moved into this complex and won everyone's attention so quickly," he declared. "I'm not looking to do that."

"What are you looking for then? A job in the supermarket? I can help you get that," he teased.

"Somehow, I think you want more, just like the rest of us."

"No," I insisted.

I looked around at the gathering of young hopefuls, everyone believing something wonderful would happen if only they tried hard enough. They came from all over, the East, the Midwest, northern California, each of them waiting to get their big break.

It wasn't wrong to have ambition, but there was a line, a difference between ambition and false dreams, dreams that would only bring pain and disappointment. I had no idea where the line was or who was crossing it, but I wasn't going to be one to do so, I vowed. Yet I could see how easily someone could be tempted to believe in fairy tales. I couldn't deny the compliments and encouragement had me daydreaming about being a famous musician.

Cary's words came thundering through ray memory. It's more glamorous than living in an old house and harvesting cranberries. I don't blame you.

"I'm tired," I told Mel as my thoughts came back down to earth. "I've had a big day." I flashed a smile at him and grabbed Mommy's arm as soon as she danced near me. "I'm going back to our place. I'm tired, Sis."

"Whatever," she said, barely hearing me. She was too involved in her dancing.

"Hey, it's so early," Mel said as I headed for the door.

"Jet lag, I guess," I replied shortly.

"You're going to miss a good time. Things haven't even begun yet," he coaxed, still holding onto my hand. I pulled it away gently.

"There'll be other good times," I said. "Thanks."

His disappointment was written across his face.

Yeah, you're welcome. Anytime," he said turning away.

I slipped out of the party quickly and went across the hall to our apartment. Once I closed the door behind me, I let out my long-held breath. My face was flushed. The breeze coming through the window was too warm to bring any relief so I went out onto the patio and sat there, looking over the tops of the buildings at the brilliantly shining constellations.

I wondered if Cary thousands of miles away was looking at the same stars. I missed seeing the way they sparkled over the ocean, making wishes on shooting stars as I walked along the beach. Was the ocean calm tonight? Were the waves gently lapping at the shore? As much as I wanted to hear Cary's voice, I knew it was too late to call him. Everyone was probably asleep anyway, I thought.

I heard a car alarm go off on the street in front of the complex. It sounded like a wounded animal, an injured stray dog, its high-pitched scream lasting a good two minutes before it stopped. Then, it was relatively quiet again. My eyelids drooped. I got up and got ready for bed. The moment my head hit the pillow, I was asleep.

But a few hours later, I was woken by the sound of Mommy and Richard's laughter. They came bursting into the apartment, both sounding drunk and not caring how much noise they made. Mommy shouted.

"Where's my talented little sister?" She laughed and came to my doorway. "The hit of the party.

How'dya like that, Richard?"

"I love it," he called to her and she laughed again. I pretended to be dead asleep, but I opened my eyes and saw her wavering in the doorway. "Everyone thinks that was very cool, Melody . . . being a hit and then walking out of the party. Very cool. Looks like I taught you more than I thought," she said, "but just don't forget who's the teacher."

"Come on to bed, Gina."

"I'm coming."

She stood in the doorway glaring in at me. I didn't move.

"Sleep tight, Sis," she said. Then she laughed, wiped her forehead and stumbled away. I heard something fall on the floor with a crash and I heard her curse.

"Get to bed before you destroy the place and ruin all the good work your sister done," Richard teased.

Mommy cursed again and then she went into their bedroom and slammed the door. The whole apartment shook.

I heard their muffled voices through the walls, Mommy raising hers and then Richard yelling something. After that, I heard Mommy's sobs and wails.

Finally, it grew quiet.

She can't be happy here, I thought. She just can't. Tomorrow, tomorrow I'll start talking to her about going back. I'll remind her about my inheritance and how we'll have money and how she could do whatever she wants if she would only stop trying to be someone she isn't.

It was like I was in the land of ghosts, everyone trying to be another person and their true selves floating around them, waiting to return to their lost bodies. Ironically, that's what Mommy had to do . . .

return to her body, to her name, to the identity she had buried in a grave back in Provincetown.

Would she ever want to be Haille Logan again?

1 hoped so; because Haille Logan was my mother.

9.

Take One .

I woke to the same sound of shouting and muffled cries I had heard before falling asleep. By the time I rose, got dressed and went out to put on a pot of coffee, however, it was quiet again. Richard emerged first, looking furious. He poured himself some coffee and began mumbling aloud.

"It's like pulling teeth sometimes. Why do I have to put up with this?" he muttered. "She acts like she's doing me a favor. LET'S GET IT STRAIGHT WHO'S DOING WHO A FAVOR HERE," he shouted toward the bedroom.

"What's wrong?" I asked and he spun on me.

"What's wrong? Everything's wrong. She drank too much, as usual, thanks to you, and then she went into one of her crying jags and kept me up all night.

Finally she passed out and now she's miserable and hung over."

"Because of me?" I asked, confused, but he ignored my question.

"She moans and fights me. She knows she has to get up and look good. MY REPUTATION IS AT STAKE HERE!" he added, again, shouting in Mommy's direction. She finally emerged wearing sunglasses and walking with small, careful steps like someone who was walking on eggshells. She went directly to the coffee pot.

"You can't wear those sunglasses all day, Gina.

I told you to stop drinking ten times last night if I told you once, didn't I? Didn't I?" he asked furiously.

"I'll be fine," she said.

"Sure. You'll be fine. You'll look and act half dead and they'll fire you and once again, they'll blame me. Another market will be lost to me and my other clients!" Richard exclaimed.

"Your other clients?" She tried to smile, but that seemed to make her head ache, because she immediately grabbed her forehead.

"Does anyone want anything to eat?" I asked.

Mommy didn't reply, but Richard turned away from Mommy and looked at me.

"No. And get dressed," he snapped. "You have to go with us. I'm not coming all the way back here to pick you up. Your appointment is in West L.A."

"Dressed?-1- am dressed."

"Put on something . . . sexier. Don't you have a miniskirt or something?"

"No, I-"

"Go look in Gina's closet," he ordered. Mommy smiled.

"Yes, go do that, Melody. Only, don't wear my other bathing suit."

She laughed.

"Oh, you're so funny," Richard said. "I have all the responsibility here. I'm the one putting his neck out. It's about time I was appreciated. I mean it," he said sternly.

She raised her sunglasses off her nose. Her eyes were bloodshot and very tired looking.

"I appreciate you, Richard. You have no right to say I don't."

"Well, if you're not in tiptop shape when I deliver you, you put me in a bad light," he said. He turned to me.

"Didn't I tell you to pick something out? We're behind schedule because it took so long for me to get her out of bed."

I gazed at Mommy. She lowered her glasses again and sipped her coffee. She hadn't even said good morning to me. I went into their bedroom. It looked like war had been fought in their bed: the blanket twisted, the sheet pulled up, one of the pillows on the floor. Mommy's clothes from last night were piled over her shoes beside the bed. I found a miniskirt and matching blouse in her closet and put them on.

"That's more like it," Richard said. "You women have got to understand how to put your best foot forward when I bring you someplace," he lectured.

"It's not our feet they're interested in," Mommy quipped and then laughed.

"Very funny. Let's get moving," he ordered.

He didn't give me time to clean anything up. I barely had time to turn off the coffee pot before he marched us out of the apartment, mumbling angrily behind us that we put pressure on him by taking so long to get ready.

"He's a slave driver," Mommy said loud enough for him to hear. "But he's right. I'm lucky I have him looking after me."