Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE NEXT WEEK, Jack was back. But he was by himself. Hostess Wednesday Addams seated him in Indiana Jones's section, and Donna noticed his eyes flitting in her direction throughout her shift.

She was dressed as a blonde Princess Leia, her real blonde hair wound into cinnamon-roll buns around her ears. She had to stop by her mom's house to have Grace help her, since Elizabeth was hopeless at braiding. More than one male customer lamented her choice of the modest white tunic Donna chose over the sexy Jabba the Hut slave costume. In response, Donna called a couple of them "half-witted nerf-herders." After all, Princess Leia was known for speaking her mind. Elizabeth, who was back in her favorite booth for the day, found it all highly entertaining.

Jack left without saying anything to her. And why did she think he would? The man was probably just stopping in on his way to or from the hospital.

The week after that, he returned again. This time, he requested to sit in her section, according to hostess little orphan Annie.

"He asked me not to tell you," Annie said, with wide, intrigued eyes. "But of course I'm going to tell you. Do you know him?"

"A little," Donna said, shrugging it off outwardly. But she felt a little zing in her heart anyway, which was ridiculous. Because, married man. Had he realized who she was after all? Or had she done such a stellar job serving him as Rizzo that he just had to come back? She wasn't entirely sure.

Donna had assumed the role of Daphne from Scooby Doo for the week, while her co-workers waited tables as Maria Von Trapp, Captain Jack Sparrow, and the Cowardly Lion.

Business was booming.

As Daphne, Donna needed to be upbeat, confident, and feminine. But her stomach did a couple of flip-flops as she approached Jack's table in her purple mini-dress. He was alone again.

"Jeepers, it's you again," Donna said brightly, handing him a menu. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Hi," Jack said, looking a bit hesitant—maybe even shy? He glanced down at her name tag. "What would you recommend, uh, Daphne?"

"It depends. Do you want something hot or cold? Do you need a pick-me-up or something to calm you down?"

He stared at the menu, considering.

Too long. Much too long.

Donna couldn't stand an awkward silence, so she jumped in.

"If I was just getting off work, I might want the chamomile tea. If I was about to go in, maybe an espresso or a latte?"

"You would, or Daphne would?" he asked, his blue eyes holding her gaze like a tractor beam. She was feeling uncharacteristically flustered.

"Both," Donna said. "So, which is it? Are you on your way to work or just getting off?"

"Just getting off," Jack said.

"Where are your scrubs?"

"We're discouraged from wearing them outside of the hospital."

"Why?" Donna asked.

"Germs," Jack said.

"So why was Dr. Balding—er, your friend wearing his the other day?" Donna stammered, embarrassed at her slip of the tongue.

Jack chuckled, clearly amused by the nickname.

"Surgeons. They think they're above the rules sometimes," he said. "And I think he likes to be fawned over."

"And you don't?" Donna asked.

"Depends on who's doing the fawning," Jack said and flashed a devastating smile.

Zoinks! Why, oh why, did he have to be married?

"What if it's a certain actress?" Donna asked, referring to Trynn but suddenly realizing he might think she was referencing herself. She felt her cheeks heat up.

"Still depends," he said with an air of mystery.

"What about Trynn Gentry, for example?" she asked, in an innocent Daphne voice, wide-eyed and sincere.

A dark look flashed over his face.

He stiffened slightly and looked back down at the menu.

Aha, busted! Donna thought. Hitting on waitresses as a married man.

Now it was clear that he didn't remember her from their past meetings. He would never try such a thing if he knew Donna knew his wife.

"What about her?" he asked finally, without looking up.

"So, you really don't remember me?" Donna asked him, still in her smooth, lilting Daphne voice.

He looked up and studied her face again, beneath her orange-red wig.

She decided to mess with him.

"That kiss," Donna said, putting on a wistful tone. "It was electric. For me, at least."

Confusion crawled across his brow.

"I've been trying to figure out how I know you," he said. "You look so familiar. Have I seen you in something?"

"Yep," she said.

"And you remember me somehow? From the audience?"

"You stood out."

"Am I supposed to be flattered by that?"

"Nope," Donna said in her sweet Daphne voice.

He gave her a helpless look.

"Our performance must have been riveting," she explained. "We could barely keep you awake."

"Unfortunately, that doesn't narrow it down much," he attempted to joke.

Donna narrowed her eyes. Why was he even bothering to come to the In Character Cafe if he had so little regard for the dramatic arts?

"I'm guessing you were in something with Trynn?" he asked.

"Bingo," she said.

"I'm not always the best with faces," he said. "You must know her pretty well then?"

She gave him a wry smile.

He seemed to slump a little in his seat.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to pull off a latex mask and reveal my secret identity," Donna said, more gently. "But you and I do go way back, you know."

"And you're not going to help me out at all?"

"Nope."

"Okay," he said, defeated. "I think I'll have the Cobb salad. Dressing on the side. And a chamomile tea."

The awkwardness didn't dissipate at all during the rest of their encounter. But Donna masked it well by leaning into her character.

When he finally left, she found a $50 cash tip and a note scrawled on the receipt, in characteristic barely legible doctor's handwriting.

Daphne—

Good luck with those meddling kids.

—Jack Gentry

Jack didn't come back after that.

Which was fine with Donna given that A) he was married, B) to one of her least favorite people, and C) he didn't "do" actresses anyway.

But she couldn't deny that he was by far the most attractive of all the married men who had hit on her at the In Character Cafe. A tan line or an indentation on the left ring finger was always a dead giveaway. And depending on the character Donna was playing at the time, she could turn him down with vicious sarcasm, or coy humor, or innocent evasion. She'd often subtly played a part while waiting tables in the past, but how she had license to go all out.

By now, Elizabeth had returned to Pomona for her junior year. Donna continued working full-time at the cafe through the fall, her itch to perform satisfied by her weekly rotation of characters. So she wasn't auditioning for anything at the moment. She spent her evenings casually dating, fighting for a slot in the Hudson babysitting schedule, or watching classic movies with her parents and the twins—when the 16-year-olds could be persuaded to stay home for more than an hour. But the new backyard pool, a 25th anniversary gift from all the kids (mostly Audrey and Ty) to their parents, was the biggest attraction.

Donna had been instrumental in pulling off the feat, which took over a year to plan and have installed. Brian and Julie were far too stubborn to allow their kids to give them such a generous gift, but the girls all agreed that after birthing and raising seven daughters and suffering through more than three decades of manual labor, their aching joints deserved some soothing weightlessness. So Ty simply hired a pool contractor and started paying him a monthly retainer. The sooner Brian and Julie decided what they wanted and green-lit the construction, the less it would cost Audrey and Ty in the long run. If Brian and Julie refused the gift, the pool contractor would continue to be paid indefinitely, but for nothing.

So they relented, and at the final unveiling party, each of the girls contributed whatever she could afford to the group gift, from pool noodles and pool floats to deck chairs and towels. Betty's husband Gavin contributed architectural plans, Cat made gourmet donuts in the shape of life preservers, and Donna managed to secure donated designer swimwear for every member of the family through her blogging connections, as long as everyone would consent to be featured on the blog. Even Ingrid Bergman, Frank Sinatra's replacement, got a doggie swim vest with a shark fin on the back.

Ingrid Bergman.

Donna was the only one who looked at Ingrid's sudden addition to her parents' household as a betrayal. For Donna, it was too soon to be expected to get attached to another dog. But Ginger, Grace, and Elizabeth were another story. They had no memories of life without a canine companion underfoot. The house felt unbearably empty, and Brian would do anything to ease his daughters' despair. So one day he came home from work carrying a salt-and-pepper Australian Shepherd puppy with one blue eye and one brown eye and a giant red bow around its belly.

All of the Gables were instantly smitten. Except Donna, who kept an iron fence around her heart—at least until the puppy stopped chewing on her Jimmy Choos.

Over time, as Ingrid would slink up and lay her nose on Donna's foot during a Doris Day movie marathon, looking up at her with those soulful eyes and expressive eyebrows, Donna would let little pieces of the fence fall away, one by one. Then one Friday afternoon, she woke up curled on her side on her parents' couch, just in time to catch the last 10 minutes Pillow Talk. She found sweet little Ingrid snuggled in the crook of her legs, snoozing. And with that, she was officially won over.

Ginger, noticing Donna's softened attitude toward the dog, gave her a satisfied smile from the other end of the couch.

"I knew she'd grow on you," Ginger said.

"Hpmfh," Donna said, but she reached over to scratch Ingrid behind the ears. The dog leaned heavily into her hand as if to say, "more of that, please."

"How far do you think we'll be able to carry this alphabet thing?" Donna asked. "Audrey had to go and name her child with a ‘H,' and the new dog is an ‘I.' So I guess the next grandchild has to be a ‘J.'"

"But Hudson isn't a classic Hollywood name," Ginger said. "So at least that pattern is broken."

"Wait, didn't you know that Hudson was named after Rock Hudson?"

"Who's that?"

"That guy," Donna said, pointing at the screen where the classically handsome actor was verbally sparring with Doris Day.

"My bad," said Ginger. "I guess the insanity continues. I wonder what letter we'll get to by the time I have kids. I better not get stuck with Q."

"It has to peter out eventually," said Donna. "I mean, surely not every husband will go along with this madness."

"It's so cute that Ty did," Ginger said. "And I love Hudson. The name, I mean. But also the baby."

"It's perfect. He's perfect," Donna agreed. "And Audrey will probably be grateful to be able to skip ‘I.' Is there any other choice besides Ingrid?"

"We couldn't think of any," Ginger said. "Plus, she looks like an Ingrid, don't you baby girl?"

Ingrid lifted her head at the sound of her name and wandered across the couch to plop down next to Ginger, expecting a belly rub.

"There are lots of good ‘J' names," Donna said, looking at search results she pulled up on her phone. "James Dean, Jayne Mansfield, Jimmy Stewart, Jean Harlow, Judy Garland…"

"Please not Judy," Ginger laughed. "I can't imagine calling a baby Judy."

"Jack Lemon! I've always loved the name Jack," Donna said, thinking briefly of a certain big-tipping doctor whose eyes had followed her around the cafe. "Or Joan Crawford…"

"Ugh, no, not Joan either."

Donna hoped someone broke the pattern before she started having kids, because she didn't want to be the one to do it, and she'd love a little boy named Jack. But they'd be well past the middle of the alphabet by the time Donna started adding to the gene pool.

"Aren't you glad Mom didn't name you after Doris Day?" Ginger asked, nodding at the spunky blonde actress on the screen, who was being carried through the streets of New York in her pajamas.

"Oh my gosh, yes," Donna said. "Remind me to thank mom the next time I see her."

"You're welcome!" Julie called in from the kitchen.

As much as she enjoyed Pillow Talk and Move Over, Darling . Donna couldn't imagine going through life in the 21 st century saddled with a name like Doris, and not just because of the Seinfeld joke about names that rhyme with female anatomy. "Donna" was old-fashioned enough. Most of the other Donnas she'd met were a decade or two older than she was. The only other Donna in her high school was a math teacher.

Donna sat up and stretched. She found she was always tired on Friday nights lately. Ginger made fun of her for being an old lady. And Donna couldn't disagree. She'd reached the age where she adored a good nap after a busy shift—especially an accidental nap on her parents' especially comfy sofa.

Grace came skipping down the stairs with her purse and keys.

"Hey, where are you going?" Ginger demanded, which just made Grace race faster for the door. Ginger leapt from the couch to chase her down.

Lately, they were always fighting over who got to drive Bart for the night. Despite being twins, or perhaps because of it, their friend groups didn't overlap in the least. You'd rarely see them together on a Friday or Saturday night.

Ginger came back in, looking dejected.

"Need a ride somewhere?" Donna asked.

"Could you take me? A bunch of us were going to meet at the Circle tonight, and I've had to bum a ride with Riggs like five times." It was Ginger's habit to refer to her friends, most of whom were also athletes, by their last names.

"Of course," Donna said, rising to get her keys with the belated realization that it was high time she got her own car, rather than continuing to take advantage of her parents' generosity. There were now four young-adult drivers and only two cars.

Elizabeth's campus was very walkable and only an hour from home, and she wasn't allowed to have a car on campus during her first year anyway, so Donna felt fine keeping Kermit all of last year. But Elizabeth was now in her second year. And even though Donna happily drove to pick her up anytime she wanted to come home—and didn't feel like bringing her laundry home on public transit—Elizabeth probably deserved her time with Kermit.

That wouldn't solve the twins' problem, of course, but everyone else had been forced to share vehicles when they were 16, and Ginger and Grace could too.

Donna was just returning from dropping Ginger off when Audrey and Ty's orange Jeep pulled into the driveway.

"Hudsy!" Donna squealed and ran to collect the 15-month-old from his carseat. "How's my favorite boy in the whole world?"

"No hot date tonight Donna?" Ty teased.

"Just Hudson, I hope," she said.

"You'll have to fight Grace for him," Audrey said. "She's babysitting while we go to a movie."

"Er, Grace already left."

"How did she already forget? I reminded her this morning," Audrey sighed.

"That's Grace for ya," Donna said, hugging her nephew, who immediately melted into her neck and made Donna's day. "But no biggie. Auntie Donna is here! I'll take him."

"Are you sure?" Ty asked. "He's into everything now."

"Don't let this fool you," Audrey said, reaching over to rub her son's back. "He just woke up from a nap. Beast mode comes later."

"Totally sure. Plus, Mom's here."

"Mom and Dad are going out with the Robertses," Audrey said.

Donna suddenly felt like a loser. Everyone was off enjoying their exciting and full lives, except for her. But hey, being a loser had its benefits. Like getting unexpected solo time with her nephew.

"I got it. I promise," Donna said, reaching into the back seat for the diaper bag. "Ooh, Prada!"

"Yeah, it was a gift from Lavinia," Audrey said. "Betty thinks I should sell it and provide meals for 2,000 homeless people."

"Eh, Lavinia probably got it for free," Donna shrugged. "And isn't Betty doing enough good with the foundation?"

"She is," Ty said. "But you know Betty. There's always more to be done."

Audrey walked Donna into the house, giving extremely detailed instructions about Hudson's dinner, snacks, the dangers of electrical outlets and stairs, and which creams to use in what order to help with his diaper rash. Donna didn't interrupt, knowing Audrey had to go through this list more to ease her own anxiety than to prepare Donna.

Sure, Donna felt completely out of her element when he was tiny, but she wasn't scared of him anymore. She'd found she was actually pretty good at entertaining the little tyke. Nobody besides Ty could make Hudson giggle like Auntie Donna could.

Rather than moving the carseat, with its complicated latching system that could not be installed without copious amounts of sweat and swear words, Ty suggested they trade cars for the evening.

"Don't worry about it," Donna said, addressing her comments to Hudson in baby talk. "We're not going anywhere, are we Bubba? We're gonna stay right here."

"It's just in case of an emergency," Audrey said.

"We're not gonna have an emergency, are we Big Boy?" Donna asked Hudson, and he responded by yanking a handful of her hair.

"Ow!" Donna said, disentangling his fist from her loose waves.

"I know," Audrey said. "But just in case."

"Fine, fine," Donna said, exchanging keys with Ty. "But don't roll down the passenger window. It gets stuck. And you have to lock all the doors manually, because the automatic lock is broken. Oh, and you can't adjust the driver's seat."

"Why didn't you just let me get you a new car for your graduation?" Ty complained, then snapped his fingers. "Or…we could go get you one right now!"

"Stop it," Donna said. "You don't have to be everyone's knight in shining armor. You've already taken Audrey off our hands."

Audrey swatted at her sister. Donna held Hudson up in front of her as a shield. Audrey gave her a "how dare you use my child against me" look.

"Once again, you underestimate the Gable pride," Audrey told Ty. "Anyway, I'll drive. You'll never fit behind the wheel if the seat won't scoot back. It'll be fun! Like old times."

"If the driver's seat won't scoot back, it won't be like old times," Ty said suggestively.

"Didn't need that mental image," Donna said, as Audrey blushed.

Donna still marveled at how down-to-earth her brother-in-law was. He could order a chauffeured car—or a private helicopter—to come pick them up right now. He could have an extra safety seat delivered for Kermit, like the one they'd given Julie and Brian for their mini-van. But he was willing to ride shotgun in an ancient hatchback to a regular movie theater and sit alongside regular people, when he could easily reserve every seat without blinking an eye, or get himself invited to a star-studded premiere.

While she loved these things about Ty, she also did not understand them. Donna had an eye for luxury but a middle-class budget, where Ty seemed to be the exact opposite. The man drove a 5-year-old Jeep for heaven's sake. He could afford to buy a new car every month, possibly even every day.

Of course, Donna and Hudson did have an emergency, just 45 minutes after Audrey and Ty left. Their phones went straight to voicemail, so they'd probably turned them off during the movie. Her parents weren't answering their phones either, because they were parents of a certain generation. And parents of a certain generation were not used to being chained to their technology. They'd probably left their phones in the car. Or maybe Brian's was dead and Julie's was vibrating helplessly from the bottom of her purse, under the table at a crowded restaurant. She didn't have the Robertses number, and she didn't know what restaurant her parents had gone to, nor which movie theater Audrey and Ty had chosen.

She didn't want to bother any of the grandparents. Or alarm them. And the emergency wasn't life-threatening, thank goodness. It was just an eyeball. Stuck up Hudson's left nostril.

Hudson wasn't even crying about it, but the thing wouldn't budge. He had managed to pry it out of a stuffed alligator and shove it up his nose during the two minutes Donna had run to the bathroom. He'd been kneeling on the living room rug, surrounded by a basket of toys Julie kept under the coffee table—some new and some from when the girls had been little—methodically picking up one toy after another, studying it, and then discarding it for something better, while Toy Story played in the background. When Donna came back, he hadn't budged one inch, but when he looked up at her, there were three eyes staring back at her—two lovely green human eyes and one glassy reptilian eye peering out of his nose. The skin was stretched tight around the yellow, marble-like eye, with its black vertical pupil. Hudson was grinning as though he was proud of himself.

"How did you even get that in there, Huds?"

"Dunno?" he said, holding his palms up innocently. This was his new favorite phrase.

Hudson mightily resisted every effort Donna made to dislodge the eyeball. It didn't seem to bother him unless Donna tried to touch it. Then he'd scream, throw his head back, and fight her off. She tried to mesmerize him with a popsicle, since he was rarely allowed sugar, and pinch the sphere out from the top. As soon as he was onto her, he started flailing and managed to push the eyeball further up, so his nostril was distended and you could only see the eyeball from below. She tried to talk him into blowing his nose, but the poor kid just looked confused. Donna had no idea at what age kids were capable of blowing their own noses.

She finally decided to call Cat for advice. She seemed the most naturally maternal of all of her sisters. And she was far enough away that she wouldn't be able to come take over, as Donna feared Abba and Papa Walt would do. And the other grandparents didn't live quite close enough to be of use. Besides, Donna wanted to prove she could handle the situation herself.

After Donna assured Cat that Hudson was fine and all alarm subsided, Cat couldn't stop laughing.

"I thought you'd be more helpful than this," Donna grumbled. She was starting to panic.

"I'm sorry," Cat wheezed. "But you have to admit it's funny. Can you send me a picture?"

"Hold on," Donna said, and texted a picture to Cat, which only made her more hysterical.

"Just let me know when you catch your breath," Donna said drily. She could hear Liam's amused voice in the background, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Sorry, sorry," Cat said, composing herself. "Okay, I think you just need to take him to like an urgent care. Or the emergency room."

"The emergency room? For this?"

"Yeah," she said. "Unless you know of an urgent care close by. They're cheaper."

"Ty won't care what it costs," Donna said, not wanting to bother researching where the nearest urgent care was or finding one that was open this late on a weekend. The hospital where Hudson had been born wasn't far, and it had a 24-hour emergency room.

"Okay, let me know how it goes," Cat says. "Wait, can we switch to a video call? I want to talk to my little buddy."

Donna made the switch and pointed the phone at Hudson, who was toddling around hugging the one-eyed alligator.

"Cat!" Hudson said, pointing at the phone. "Cat! Cat!"

"Hi sweet boy!" Cat cooed. "Yeah, it's your favorite Auntie Cat, who would never ever let you stick an alligator eyeball up your nose. Never ever."

"I knew I would regret calling you," Donna grumbled.

Hudson kept on insisting on putting the phone up to his ear and holding it with his shoulder, jabbering unintelligibly, like he'd seen his parents do.

"Okay, we better go, Hudsy," Donna said, picking him up and grabbing the diaper bag.

"I'll just stay on the phone with him while you drive," Cat said.

So Donna drove to the hospital in a lifted orange Jeep she had a hard time climbing into, with her three-eyed nephew in the back, now holding the phone correctly and babbling to his aunt and uncle in Boston face-to-face. The cadence of his voice sounded like he was saying actual sentences and carrying on an adult conversation, but the words were mostly nonsense, punctuated by regular bouts of laughter from Cat and Liam, who could see the eyeball clearly from the angle Hudson was holding the phone, down below his chin.

Donna had a feeling she would never live this one down.