Role Reversal - Like Mother - Like Daughter --- Like
Mother --- Like..........
by rankamateur
"Scarecrow and Mrs. King" belong to Warner
Bros. and Shoot The Moon Enterprises, Ltd.
Between Seasons One and Two. Dotty knows how to drive -
even if she does make a lot of right turns.
This story is in response to Nightwing's Challenge of
Aug 2003 and is, of necessity, AU.
I use ** to indicate emphasis, as well with some phrases
that would generally require quote marks.
Thanks again to buffy for taking her valuable time to do
the initial work beta on this. And to kingmissy for a pretty complete overhaul.
All remaining mistakes are mine.
---------------------
The evening had been perfect. She and Lee dancing the
night away. He looked so wonderful in a tux.
She was wearing an exquisite white gown, which resembled something she
had seen pictured in one of those high fashion magazines that Francine enjoyed
reading. They were swaying to an old, romantic melody. He was looking at her
with those amazing hazel eyes of his--looking deeply into her eyes. And neither
one of them blinked . . . Suddenly the music sounded very discordant. What
happened? What was wrong? It sounded like . . . an alarm clock. 'Oh, no!'
Amanda rolled over and, after a few near misses, finally hit the *snooze* button. She really *hated* to wake up. Finally, she rolled onto her back and opened her eyes. The light streaming in through the curtains was enough to bring her fully awake.
She rubbed her stomach. "Hmmmm."
She seemed to have a mild case of indigestion, which was
unusual. Must have been the food at that new Hungarian restaurant the family had
tried last night, she decided. Spicy dishes, certainly not what they were used
to, and that gypsy fortune-teller. What a combination. She never did figure out
exactly what happened between her mother and that strange woman. She was busy
trying to convince the boys that this was an interesting change from pizza,
hamburgers and fried chicken, so she didn't hear what went on. She knew Dotty
had laughed at something the woman said and then the gypsy said something else,
in a language that Amanda didn't recognize, and made that peculiar gesture.
'Probably didn't mean anything. Oh well.' She yawned. 'Here I am in my ordinary room, in my ordinary house, in my ordinary neighborhood, almost ready for another ordinary day.'
Of course she *did* have that typing to deliver to Mr.
Melrose. And who knew what a trip to IFF might bring. She might see Lee and he
might need her help on a case. In this line of work--spying, not typing--you
could never be sure what might turn an ordinary day into one filled with
excitement, danger, intrigue!
'Funny,' she thought, 'I'm stiff.' She was aware of a
little crick in her neck, a slight twinge in her lower back, an odd soreness in
her left wrist. 'Must've slept wrong. I probably stayed too long in one
position. A nice hot shower and I'll be fine.'
Throwing back the covers, she gingerly swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up and stretched. After easing into her robe, she covered another yawn and stumbled sleepily into the bathroom.
Squeezing her eyes shut and then opening them wide, she looked into the mirror at her reflection.
Only . . . " Oh my gosh! OH MY GOSH!" It wasn't *her* reflection looking back at
her. It was . . .
"OH MY GOSH!" Dotty's panicky voice resounded
through the whole house.
It was a good thing that the boys had spent the night at
a friend's house. That many "Oh My Goshes" from their mother *and*
grandmother would have been quite unnerving.
"Amanda!" Dotty called out.
"Mother," Amanda wailed, as they met in the
hall.
"Amanda, what's happened? Why are you . . . wearing
my face? My body? My EVERYTHING?"
"I don't know why." Amanda leaned against the
wall for support, wringing her hands. "I wish I *did* know why you're me
and I'm . . . I'm YOU!"
"You even *sound* like me! I feel like I've . . .
*we've* fallen down that rabbit hole in . . .
in *Alice In Wonderland*." Dotty was almost sobbing.
"Calm down, Mother." Amanda put her hand on
Dotty's shoulder. Only it looked like Dotty's hand on Amanda's shoulder.
"Let's go down stairs and make some coffee and just . . . think about
this."
"All right, darling. That's a good idea. We'll
think about this calmly and rationally. There must be a logical
explanation."
"Right. A logical, reasonable explanation."
Amanda nodded her head.
"Like WHAT?"
They started downstairs, Dotty bounding down the steps
energetically, while Amanda made the trip a bit more circumspectly, trying to
accustom herself to her mother's slightly less flexible form.
-----------
Unfortunately, the answer to their dilemma was not to be
found in a cup of coffee--or even several cups of coffee.
"Mother, I don't KNOW what to do. It's not exactly
the kind of thing you can just . . . just write a letter to Ann Landers
about." Amanda paced around the family room in growing frustration and
agitation. "Things like this *just don't happen*! This is just *not
possible*!"
"Of course it's not possible." Dotty set her
cup down on the coffee table and leaned forward. "So why am I sitting here
looking like you while you're walking around looking like ME!"
"Oh Mother, I don't know." Amanda rubbed her
forehead, as if that would ward off the headache she felt coming on. "I
*do* know that I have some typing that I *have* to deliver to work this morning.
I promised I'd have it finished. And I guess you'll have to take it in for
me."
"Why me? Why can't you take it and say, ahh, say
your daughter's sick or something?"
"Mother, it's very hard to explain. But, trust me,
it's better if I--you--Amanda--delivers the work. I'll tell you what you need to
know to get by with it." Amanda rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Yeah,
we can make it work. Where's the street map? I'll show you where the building
is."
Amanda couldn't just come right out and tell Dotty that the company for which she did typing and other odd jobs, was actually a government agency--actually THE Agency! Dotty wasn't supposed to know about Amanda's work, for her own safety as well as for reasons of *national security*.
But Amanda was caught in a dilemma. This work had to be
turned in today. She had promised Mr. Melrose. No more extensions. She'd finish
it and deliver it today. And since her family wasn't supposed to know about IFF,
it had to be Amanda, or what looked like Amanda, who turned it in. She'd have to
tell Dotty enough so that she would be convincing as Amanda, but without
compromising the secret nature of her part-time job.
Dotty returned with the street guide and spread it out
on the coffee table.
"Okay, Mother, here's where the building is
located." Amanda touched the point on the map where the IFF office stood in
Georgetown. "It's International Federal Film."
"Nice neighborhood," Dotty observed. "A
film company? Why didn't you mention that before?"
"Oh well, you know . . . ," Amanda mumbled.
"Of course, dear." Studying the map, Dotty outlined a route that would involve
mostly, if not all, right turns, making notations on a scratch pad.
"Now, I'll give you today's password, just in case
. . ."
"Password?" Dotty repeated. "What do
people at a film company need with a password?" She folded her arms,
waiting as Amanda studied the ceiling.
"Well, you know . . . it's, it's to keep out people
who are trying to crash in because they think they can get a job in the movies.
See, most people wouldn't know that IFF just makes documentaries, mainly for the
government. So they don't hire just anybody off the street. Anyway, you
shouldn't need it, because all you have to do is give the typing to Mrs. Marsten.
She's--"
Dotty broke in, "Mrs. Marsten? I thought your boss
was a man."
"She's the receptionist, Mother. Umm, but if she
*insists* that you give her the word, it's *grapplinghook*"
"Grapplinghook. Who thinks these things up,
anyway?"
"I'm not sure. We just have to remember them . . .
whatever they are."
"Fine. I've got it. Where's the work?"
"I'll get it," Amanda called out as she went to the living room. She returned to the family room and handed a large manila envelope to Dotty.
"Now, there are a couple of other things . . .
." Amanda hesitated, took a deep breath and then continued. "If you
have to, ahh, go downstairs . . . well the elevator is . . . it, ahh, looks like
a closet. You just open the door, shove the clothes out of the way and push the
button marked *three*."
Dotty started to say something but waited, as it was
obvious that Amanda wasn't through.
"If you *do* have to go downstairs, you may meet my
boss, Lee. Sometimes people in the office call him *Scarecrow*."
"Scarecrow? Why?" Dotty folded her arms across
her chest. This was getting curiouser and curiouser.
"Well, because, he's tall and, well, he's not
exactly thin. He's actually pretty well built . . . ," Amanda trailed
off--apparently losing her train of thought. "Ahh, then there's a short,
kind of balding, black man, Mr. Melrose, he's Lee's boss. Oh, and you might run
into this kind of attractive blond. Her name's Francine. Just ignore her, if you
can. Anyway, give the work to the first one of them who'll take it and
leave!"
"Okay, I think I've got it all. But I'll tell you
something, Missy! You've got some *more* explaining to do when I get back."
"Yes, Mother."
---------------
"Mrs. . . . aah, Marsten," Dotty tentatively
greeted the distinguished looking woman behind the desk. "Could I just
leave this with you? It's the typing I promised the boss I'd have for him
today." Dotty dropped the envelope on the desk and started for the exit.
"Mrs. King." Mrs. Marsten's authoritative tone
of voice stopped Dotty in her tracks. "Mr. Melrose said he wanted to see
you as soon as you arrived."
"Oh." Dotty tried to be casual as she looked
around the room, trying to decide which door was the elevator. Crossing her
fingers, she started towards the door just to the right of the desk.
"Mrs. King, the password . . . ."
Dotty froze and then turned back to face her challenger. 'Password . . . password . . . . Oh, yes!' "It's grapplinghook."
Relief washed over her as Mrs. Marsten nodded and held out a small *Visitors Pass*.
"Thank you, Mrs. Marsten." She smiled as she
took the badge and clipped it to her sweater. Then she walked towards the door
that she fervently hoped was the elevator. Reaching out a shaking hand, she
turned the knob and opened it. Thank goodness! A row of clothes hung there, just
as Amanda had described. Ducking through the sweaters and coats, she pushed the
button marked *3*. In a moment the elevator started slowly moving down.
----------------
"Amanda," a voice called out.
Turning towards it, Dotty saw a tall, very handsome man
striding down the hall in her direction. 'Oh
boy . . . '
"I need you this evening and part of
tomorrow."
"To do what?" This man needed her? Or rather,
needed her daughter?
"I need you as part of my cover. We'll check into
the Baltimore Crown Regent Hotel and wait for my contact. He's driving down from
New York, and he's supposed to meet me between midnight and one a.m. We'll stay
the night and come back tomorrow. Just an easy assignment," he finished up
with a smile.
'This must be Lee,' Dotty decided. 'He has a lovely
smile and beautiful dimples. I bet he could get just about *any* woman to . . .
. Wait a minute!' "You want to take my, er, me to a hotel in Maryland and
spend the night?"
"Yes."
"In the same room?" Her voice rose slightly.
"Of course." He seemed very calm about all
this.
"But, I . . . ." She was at a loss for words.
"Amanda," he said in a slightly annoyed tone,
"what's the problem? We've done it before. It's just business. You know
that. This'll be a piece of cake. Okay?"
There was that smile again--that heart-stopping smile. Dotty felt her own pulse rate increasing--just a tad. Did he say he and Amanda had done this before?
What did he mean *contact*? What kind of *cover*? Just
what kind of films did this company make and exactly what parts did her daughter
play in them? Her mind was a whirl of questions.
And all the while that man--Lee--was standing there, waiting for her answer.
She swallowed hard. "Umm, what time do you want me
here? I assume we'll meet here at IFF?"
"Four o'clock and yes, we'll meet here and drive
down in my car. Oh, this place is really Five Star so we'll dress for
dinner."
"Oh. Wait a minute. I was told that Mr. Melrose
wanted to see me."
"This is what he wanted to talk to you about.
Helping me." Lee shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at her,
expectantly.
"Oh. All right. See you at four." What in the
world was she getting herself into? Well, anybody who had read as many Agatha
Christie novels as she had should be able to improvise. This might be fun.
-----------------------
Dotty opened the front door and looked around. "Amanda . . . Amanda? Philip? Jamie?"
No answer. Then she spotted the note:
"GONE TO MR CHICKEN FOR A LATE LUNCH. IT'S CLOSE ENOUGH TO WALK. SEE YOU LATER.
LOVE,
MOTHER"
Happily, she wouldn't have to face Amanda and come up with some story to tell her about where she was going. She wondered if Amanda had left the house because *she* didn't want to face Dotty's questions.
Oh darn! She'd have to leave a note with some kind of explanation for her absence. Her overnight absence!
What kind of excuses had Amanda given her for those times when she was away for a day or two? 'Hmmmm, how about . . . house sitting for one of her former pet-walking and plant-watering clients? Yeah. Good!'
That would work, Dotty was sure. Just say there was a frantic call from an old customer who had to go out of town and needed Amanda to stay at her home until tomorrow. She sat down and began to compose the note.
Then she had to get upstairs and pack. Dotty smiled.
She'd take that wonderful cocktail dress of Amanda's that she had always
admired. It was fun to be able to wear Amanda's clothes. It was fun looking like
her very lovely daughter, at least for a little while.
She had to hurry and get out of the house before Amanda
and the boys got back. Even if she had to drive around until her appointment at
4:00 o'clock. Until her appointment with . . . destiny?
---------------------------
As they drove along in Lee's beautiful silver sports
car, Dotty felt rather like a voyeur, looking through this unexpected, and
unexplainable, window on her daughter's life--a part that Amanda had kept secret
up until now. She glanced sideways at her companion and found him smiling at
her. He quickly returned his gaze to the road.
"Almost there," he informed her. "Hope
you're hungry. I hear they have a world-class Chateaubriand."
"Yes," Dotty answered a bit absently, "I
am a little hungry."
---------
The hotel was everything Dotty had imagined and more.
From the soaring atrium and the marble fountain, to the lobby, with the plush
carpeting, velvet wall coverings, gold leaf . . . . Everywhere she looked there
was some new treasure--from excellent reproductions of famous art works, to the
crystal chandeliers. Everything bespoke elegance and opulence--like a palace.
'This film company must be *very* successful,' she
thought, 'if they can afford to send their employees to a place like this--even
for only one night.' She suddenly felt rather inadequate. Had Lee ever brought
her daughter to this place?
Dotty noticed that Lee registered them as Mr. and Mrs. Steadman. That name sounded vaguely familiar. She didn't question it, however, and simply went along with the charade.
Lee rested his hand lightly at her waist, guiding her
across the lobby, as they followed the bellman up to their room.
Once they were alone, Lee gestured grandly. "See, a
suite. After that other time, I made sure that we had plenty of . . .
*accommodations*. You take the bedroom, and I've got this great big couch out
here."
'After *that other time*? How many times have they done
this?' Dotty wondered. "It's . . . wonderful," she commented. She was
more than a little awed by the luxurious surroundings. "Boy, when you said
we'd have to dress for dinner, you weren't kidding!"
"You want to hit the shower first?" Lee asked.
"Umm, yes, I think I would." Dotty removed the cocktail dress from the garment bag and picked up the rest of the things she planned to wear to dinner. She walked into the bathroom. It was just as impressive as the rest of the suite and filled with all the amenities, including two terry robes. She knew the one-size-fits-all lady's robe would be too large for her, and she imagined that the man's robe would be a little small on Lee. Besides soap and after-bath lotion, there was a plastic cap hanging in the shower, pale blue with the hotel's initials, BCR, in small white letters.
'Gee, I bet they throw these caps away after each guest
anyway. It'll make a nice souvenir of the occasion.'
------------
Would you like to share the Chateaubriand?" Lee
asked, lowering his menu and smiling that wonderful smile again.
"Sure." How could she possibly refuse? Dotty
wondered if he smiled only at Amanda that way or was it just part of his
standard operating procedure with all women.
"Is anything wrong? You seem a little distracted
tonight." Lee reached across the table and took her hand.
Amanda's hand, Dotty reminded herself. "No,
nothing's wrong. I . . . it's, ahh . . . you know."
Fortunately, Lee seemed to be used to her daughter's
sometimes rather vague responses. He simply nodded.
"Well, it's mother and the boys. School and stuff
like that." She took a sip of water. "Nothing you'd be interested
in."
"Hey." He gave her hand a little squeeze.
"If you want to talk about anything that's bothering you, I'll listen. You
know that."
Dotty studied him. He looked and sounded sincerely
concerned. Forget it. He'd never understand. How could he? How could anybody?
*She* didn't understand what had happened! "No," she finally said.
"That's okay. Let's just eat our dinner and enjoy ourselves."
----------
They had a delicious meal, accompanied by a very nice
wine and idle chitchat, much of it about people that Dotty supposed Amanda would
know. Of course, she hadn't a clue who they were. There were also some stories
about Lee's adventures in some pretty exotic locations. Somehow, a lot of the
things he had done didn't sound like he was making a movie--documentary or
otherwise. Dotty listened attentively and laughed often. Lee obviously felt
relaxed and at ease around Amanda. And she was relaxed around him. She. Did she
mean her daughter or did she mean herself? It was getting hard to tell.
When they had finished, Lee suggested they go into the
Lounge and dance. It would be quite a while before he was to meet his contact in
the bar. Dotty had learned that this contact person was bringing Lee an
important bit of film, even though it was apparently very small. Micro . . .
something.
She was a little surprised at how close Lee held her and the way he would look at her and smile from time to time. She wondered if this man and her daughter danced like this very often. And if they did, what effect did it have on Amanda? She knew what effect it was having on her! If she were twenty years younger . . . she'd give Amanda a run for her money! 'Oh my gosh! What am I doing?' Dotty chided herself. 'This is getting out of hand. I've got to remember who I am and who he is and hope that this bizarre role reversal will be over--soon!'
Well, maybe not *too* soon. Whatever would she say--how
could she explain it--if, suddenly, it was Dotty West and not Amanda King,
sitting across the table from Lee Steadman.
---------------------
Dotty had insisted on staying with Lee in the bar until he met this mysterious man who was bringing the film.
After a bit of a wait, Lee received a package from a
small, nervous looking man, wearing a rumpled, blue suit. It was time to head
back to their room.
Walking down the hall, Dotty tried to suppress a yawn.
"Tired?" Lee asked solicitously.
"Yeah, just a bit. It's been kind of a long
day."
"All right, Scarecrow, just keep walking. DON'T
turn around. I have a gun in your lady friend's back."
Dotty was startled. Not only by the rough voice with the
foreign accent, but even more by the feel of cold steel pressing into her flesh.
"Vladimir Borovitch, is that you? Long time no
see," Lee said with a little laugh.
He seemed somewhat amused, Dotty thought. Perhaps this
person was someone from IFF, playing a joke. Or maybe he was a rival film maker.
Oh my! Did the Mafia make movies?
"Hey, I'm only here tryin' to show the lady a good
time. Let her go to our room and you and I can go downstairs and talk this over
and you can tell me what it is you want. Honey," Lee turned towards Dotty,
"take the key and go on to the room. I'll join you in a little while."
"The *lady* will stay with us. And you know what I
want, Stetson, the microdot. I saw you in the bar, sitting by Rikker. We know he
escaped with the codes, so don't play the innocent with me and don't try
anything!"
'Vladimir? Codes? Stetson? I thought his name was
Steadman!' Dotty was beginning to feel as though she were in the middle of a
James Bond movie.
"She has nothing to do with this!"
"Perhaps, but I don't think it would be very smart
of me to allow your co-worker a chance to call for help," Borovitch
snarled.
Lee started to speak, but Vladimir cut him off.
"No, we will all go to your suite where I can make sure *neither* of you
can call for help."
Dotty found it difficult to breathe. That sounded
ominous . . . very ominous. Agatha Christie had not prepared her for this!
They reached the room and Lee unlocked the door and then moved between Dotty and the burly intruder, as they entered.
Somehow Dotty knew that Lee was going to try something.
Something brash and daring and . . . stupid!
After all, this goon had a gun!
Borovitch seemed to sense that something was about to
happen. As Lee turned toward him, obviously prepared to lunge, the big man was
ready and swung his arm, striking Lee on the side of the head with the barrel of
the gun. As Lee fell to the floor, apparently stunned, Vladimir leaned over him.
"I warned you Stetson, now . . ."
Dotty didn't stop to think. She picked up the lamp and
swung it as hard as she could at the man's head. It broke into a thousand
pieces. And Vladimir went down, out like a light.
Groaning a bit and rubbing his head, Lee sat up.
"Good job, Amanda!" he exclaimed. "You've done it again!"
-----------------------------
Using his pen knife to cut the now useless electric cord
from the lamp, Lee tied Vladimir's hands behind his back.
While Dotty went into the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face and collect herself, Lee went to the phone.
She heard him ask for *a team* to come over and pick up
the microdot and take Borovitch away.
When Dotty rejoined him, Lee took her hand and gave it a
gentle squeeze. "We'll have to go into the office for debriefing. I'm sorry
you won't get to stay the night here."
"That's OK," Dotty shrugged. "I
understand." Well, she didn't exactly understand. But *debriefing* must
mean telling what happened. She wondered how much detail she'd have to go into.
"Wait a minute," Lee's face lit up. "You
don't have come back with me. Even at this time of night, it'll take our guys a
good half an hour to get here. Then it's another half hour back to the
office." He shook his head. "This'll take most of what's left of the
night. Look, you stay here, get a few hours sleep in that big, comfortable bed,
and I'll come back for you in the morning."
"That sounds wonderful, but don't I have to be, ah,
debriefed, too?"
"Naw. I can give them all the information they
need. While I'm waiting I'll call housekeeping and have them clean up the broken
lamp. Wonder how much *that'll* add to our bill?"
"Oh my gosh." Dotty wondered if she should
offer to pay her share.
"Never mind. Don't worry about it. You just go on
in there and get some rest. You look kinda tired to me."
"I am. Okay, thanks. But wait a minute, this means
you'll have to stay up all night."
"Hey," Lee grinned and winked, "it won't
be the first time. Besides, I can sleep all day, once I'm finished."
"Right. I'll see you in the morning."
"Bright and early."
She went in the bedroom and shut the door. Soon she was
ready to slip between the sheets and go to sleep. It had been an interesting
evening, to say the least. 'Why in the world would that man try and take that
little bit of film at gun point? Probably had something to do with IFF making
documentaries for the government. Maybe they make training films for the CIA . .
. .'
----------
The next morning Dotty was up, dressed and ready to go
when Lee tapped lightly on the door. He opened it before she could open it for
him.
"Ready?"
"All set." She gestured towards her suitcase
and the garment bag laying across it. "Can we have breakfast first? It's
the most . . . never mind."
Dotty had a wonderful breakfast. Lee had coffee and a roll. She didn't want to ask too many questions, for fear of giving herself away. She decided it would be safe to ask what happened to Vladimir. It was a little surprising to hear that he was going to be deported. Of course, with that accent, he probably wasn't a citizen. And he *certainly* was unsavory.
After they finished eating, Lee took care of the bill.
The bellman brought their luggage and they walked out to the car. Time to begin
the drive back to DC. The adventure was just about over.
------------------------------------
Dotty picked up the station wagon at IFF and started for
home. She felt wonderful, confident and sure of herself. Why, she felt so sure
of herself that she even made several left turns on the way back to Arlington.
She arrived home about nine. The house was empty and
quiet. Amanda and the boys apparently had gone to church. She unpacked quickly
and then lay down on the couch in the family room, soon drifting off to sleep.
"Amanda, Amanda, wake up."
Dotty felt someone shaking her shoulder. "Oh, good
morning . . . Mother," she said sleepily.
"So, how did the house-sitting go?" Amanda
asked. Her expression was a combination of expectation and worry.
"Everything went fine . . . ."
As soon as the boys went out to shoot some hoops, Dotty
went into the kitchen, poured herself a cup of coffee and then filled Amanda in
on the events of the previous evening and night. She showed Amanda the shower
cap from the hotel. A little remembrance. "They would have thrown it away
and I needed a new cap," Dotty said somewhat defensively.
She spoke animatedly of her adventure, omitting only a few minor details. Such as how Lee had held her when they danced. And those glances. Maybe it was all part of whatever game he was playing. But then again, maybe it wasn't.
Dotty didn't want to confront her daughter about the precise nature of her relationship with Lee. He certainly appeared to be fond of Amanda. But his conduct had been above reproach. He was a perfect gentleman.
Perhaps that relationship was *just business*, as he had
said. Although it seemed the nature of that business was something *other* than
just producing boring documentary films. And, as she now knew from first hand
experience, it also involved an element of danger! In spite of the danger, the
romantic side of her nature hoped that there might be a future for Amanda and
her handsome, charming, brave . . . boss.
Philip and Jamie came bounding into the room, just as Dotty was winding up her narrative. She decided that, as difficult as it might be, she would hold off further discussion until the next day. The boys were supposed to go to the movies with friends.
Then she could be fairly sure of the privacy she wanted
when she asked some of the questions she had *promised* herself she would ask
her daughter--about IFF and this new line of employment.
"Hey, Grandma. Grandma!"
Dotty cleared her throat and inclined her head slightly
in Philip's direction. Then Amanda realized that he was talking to her.
"What sweetheart?" she asked with a heavy
sigh. Amanda couldn't quite shake the feeling of . . . of . . . was it jealousy?
Was she jealous of her own mother? No way!
"Can we go to Mr. Chicken for dinner tonight?"
Philip smiled encouragingly.
"Yeah, Grandma," Jamie put in, "that was
really fun yesterday."
"No, I've got everything ready for pot roast. It's,
ahh, your mother's favorite dinner you know."
"Yeah. But *my* favorite is Mr. Chicken. Can we go
next weekend?" her older son wheedled.
"Sure."
----------------
Amanda woke with a start. She was all tangled up in the sheet and blanket. Obviously, she had been tossing and turning for most of the night. She lay perfectly still, trying hard to recall her dream. Lee had figured prominently in it. Of that she was sure. But what else? She knew there was more.
It was gone. She burrowed down into the covers, hoping to drift back to sleep and maybe back into the same dream. Just then . . .
'That alarm. Why did I have to get such a loud one?' She managed to hit the button and turn it off on the first try.
She rolled over and grumpily thought about the prospect of spending another day in her mother's body. She loved her mother dearly. She just didn't want to *be* her mother anymore.
Stretching and throwing back the covers, she moved slowly to a sitting position. 'Funny, no aches or pains this morning. Hmm.'
As she pulled on her robe, she thought of the story Dotty had told in the note that she had left to explain where she was going.
'Pretty lame,' Amanda decided. 'Sounds like one of the
stories I've told her.'
And then her mother almost spent the night with Lee in that fancy hotel. If it hadn't been for that man, who must have been a KGB agent, what would have happened?
'Oh, Amanda,' she shook her head at the very thought. 'Don't be silly. *Nothing* would have happened! Mother wouldn't let anything happen, any more than I would. It would have been just business, of course. With Lee it's always *just business*!'
She walked into the bathroom, flipped on the light switch and . . . OH WOW!
It was--her face. Her very own familiar face. Just some
dark circles under those familiar brown eyes.
'Now what?' she asked herself, as she walked into the
hallway. Did she run into Dotty's room and . . . and . . . .
Before she could make up her mind about how to approach
Dotty with this welcome turn of events, her mother's bedroom door opened.
"Amanda, darling, do you know where this came
from?" She held out a shower cap, light blue, with the initials BCR,
prominently, but tastefully, displayed.
"Oh, umm." This was not the question she had
expected her mother to ask! "I got that from . . . ahh, a friend . . . at
work. She stayed at the Baltimore Crown Regent and took the cap as a souvenir
and then decided she didn't want it. I knew you needed a new one, so I brought
it home. I thought you'd like one from a fancy hotel."
"Well, thank you, dear. I've always dreamed about
staying at the Crown Regent." Dotty looked very pleased with this little
gift.
"Maybe one day you will." Amanda smiled and went back into her bedroom. Problem solved. And she wasn't about to ask how.
A nice shower, a good breakfast, and she'd be ready to face whatever this new day might hold.
She made a silent vow. They would *never* eat at any
Hungarian restaurant *ever* again! At least not at one that employed a Gypsy
fortune-teller!
end
