Episode 12: Hidden Secret No Longer a Secret
Welcome to MOONDAY CAFE a podcast that’s posted every month on the day of the full moon.
MOONDAY CAFE is devoted to the mind-expanding, mind-bending magical power of story.
Dovey is presented with a perfect job opportunity and is paired with a promising collaborative broker who likes her spirit and has a common West Texas set of values and goals. She finds it a ‘fit’ and it becomes another turning point in her life, especially after agreeing to meet the sister of her mother. Things take an unthinkable turn for her.
Our guide is author, inspired performer, and barefoot cowgirl, Dovey Conlee.
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Episode 12: Hidden Secret No Longer a Secret
The French restaurant, Toulouse, was just a few blocks away from the recent interview where Dovey did secure the new job with the well respected commercial real estate firm.
Driving through the world of wealth that Dovey was not born into, but felt curious about, she shifted gears and took a short detour. She had some time before the dinner she had agreed to attend, so a short drive to clear her mind and take in the sights seemed like a necessary next-step. Due diligence. She needed to be more aware of this ‘neighborhood,’ so she took a drive through the some of the residential and retail areas of Turtle Creek.
Some of the homes were clearly multi-generational wealth epicenters with what looked pre-planned and over sanitized and curated, which was lovely, but Dovey’s empathic nature absorbed so much sadness and competition. Each home looked over monitored, over protected and some looked like living gargoyles.
Gardeners in uniforms clipped lawns and deadheaded rose bushes. Maids, real maids, not housekeepers, were entering side doors in uniforms. Circular drives held bevies of European cars and gourmet delivery vans. A large home held an enormous tent in a side yard. Servers were assembling at a bar beneath the big tent and a valet service was setting up in front of that. Clearly, an event of proportion was being hosted by someone important, she thought.
I gotta get out of here, she thought as she drove out of the residential neighborhoods that felt like a flashy carnivals.
The retail stores near Turtle Creek were architectural marvels. Little expense was spared to bring the Italianate Mission Style architecture to every shop, from the simplest gourmet market to the sparkling jewelry shops that serve the massive wealth in the area.
Before Starbucks, the coffee shops and small cafes in the Highland Park Village were like European bistros and Dovey took a pause for an espresso inside one of them to shore herself before the dinner and to allow for some people watching.
The crowd was well dressed and well groomed, for the most part. Some women sat together and watched the door, then clearly had comments as customers entered and exited. The crowd felt like a room full of privileged regulars, affluent and dangerous.
Dovey took a seat at a table that was clearly not a table for those needing to be seen, so it felt right that she was almost hiding in plain daylight. She ordered a coffee and watched the women in the room engaged in what looked like dismantling others. Some drank white wine. Some had coffee and some were finishing up the bits and crumbs of an afternoon tea, the kind where the tea is spilled and the scores of gossip are tallied before adjourning.
Children arrived after school, grabbing ice cream and visiting at different tables, nannies in tow. These looked like the children with childhoods that had been pre-planned and that were sanitized and over-scheduled, just short of a forced march with entitlement. Dovey’s waitress brought her the espresso with lemon and left the ticket open, giving her a sense that there was no need to rush. She took in the scene.
Above the general mummer of the restaurant with its sounds of clinking glassware and the buzz of soft conversation, it did feel like more of a club with a hierarchy and sense of protocol, even within its somewhat casual state of being. People knew people in this establishment and then, there were a few customers like Dovey, not regular customers, but treated well by the staff all the same.
Every now and then, one of the regular patrons would turn during conversation and give Dovey a long stare, followed by a polite, but ever so slight, half-smile. The kind of smile that accesses the threat, but dismisses the concern. Some of them studied her like a bug and others just gave a quick scan to determine if she was any type of dangerous competition.
A half hour after Dovey took her seat, a car with a driver pulled up to the front curb and the driver turned on the flashers, moved to the back of the Cadillac sedan and opened he rear door for a well dressed woman. The driver extended a hand to help her exit the big black car and a staff member at the cafe rushed to open the door for her as she entered the busy room.
At the hostess stand, just passed the threshold, the woman pulled off her sunglasses, greeted the hostess, then looked up across the room towards the one table that housed several of the coiffed women. She raised her hand to wave and three of the women stood to greet her, one pulling out a chair. This woman was expected and welcomed. As she reached the table and was overwhelmingly greeted, she walked past Dovey, unaware that Dovey sat nearby. When the woman turned to show her profile, Dovey could see that it was the same person she would be meeting for dinner at Toulouse; it was the very woman that told Dovey she was her aunt.
This woman was barely seated before the uniformed waitress for that table brought her a tall glass of champagne. As she pulled off her gloves and placed them in her purse with the sunglasses, the woman smoothed her skirt, and began talking before she took her seat at the table. The women’s heads gathered to listen carefully. This appeared to be salacious. It appeared to be some type of powerful news and it appeared to have some merit.
Dovey pulled out her own sunglasses and did her best to observe in disguise. It was as if this woman was spotted in her own habitat, coming to the watering hole where other adroit predatory animals in this urban jungle met for news and directives. IF this woman truly was the aunt of Dovey, then observing her was compulsory. She could now observe her on three levels: first at the party for the television station, then at this second unbelievable chance to observe her with her neighbors and friends and soon, in just a couple of hours, at the French restaurant where she had agreed to meet her for dinner. It was an outrageous moment and Dovey scanned the room for Indian.
Deliberately, she thought, he wouldn’t appear until he was needed and? He was not needed now, she thought. But?
Mama San? Mama San was who, and what, Dovey needed at the moment. The reflection on how that woman taught her to sink her teeth into healing her deepest wounds by guiding her into a tropical vision quest in Hawaii? That was the magic she needed. Now.
So? Dovey anchored. She called in that magnificent, undeniable power she had experienced and then, she became very, very still. She lowered and softened her breath. She swallowed the last of her espresso, placed a $20 bill on the table underneath the small vase of flowers and reached for her handbag, easing out of her chair and moving towards the back door of the cafe. The children entering for ice cream also took the alternate entrance that led to the manicured over-flow parking out back and by following that path, Dovey left the restaurant, unnoticed and undeterred. She needed to compose herself before the dinner. She only had an hour now.
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The French restaurant had a strong following and it offered quick and efficient valet service. Vastly expensive cars pulled forward as very fit, and young, attendants opened glossy doors and took keys from patrons that wore glittering rings with diamonds the size of cough drops and wore elegant perfumes that left trails, trails that led from the smell of exhaust in the parking area to the warmth of garlic and butter and whiskey as the double doors parted and the restaurant welcomed guests with open ‘arms’ and wide smiles. In front of the double doors, a red carpet acted as a welcome mat. The gas lights spoke of a true carriage trade.
Dovey pulled her convertible into the lane for the valet parking. She felt good about her wardrobe, but felt uneasy about her commitment. It was unlike her. She tried not to question the moment. A little lip gloss, a deep breath and a graceful exit from the driver’s seat, then? She was on her way inside.
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When Dovey entered Toulouse, it was another world. Far from the casual world of southern California. A world away from the shores of Japan, so very far from the vision quest of Hawaii and most clearly, light years away from the childhood that rejected her very birth. She entered the fray and took a stand. She reviewed the room.
After the hostess asked if she had a reservation and Dovey gave note to the hostess that she was a guest of a rather well-known patron, the game changed. The hostess smiled wide, raised a hand just above her shoulder and suddenly a waiter arrived with menus, he bowed slightly and then gestured for Dovey to follow him to the reserved table, which was vacant. He seated her, placed her napkin in her lap, opened her menu and quickly brought a glass of champagne to the table, stating crisply…..Madame will be a few moments. She had a previous engagement and should arrive shortly. Please enjoy the champagne.
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The grand piano played notes of love and comfort. Throughout the restaurant, waiters brought martinis in small carafes that were seated in ice baths that were then poured table side into frosted martini glasses, garnished with olives and poured with great flair. It was Paris in Dallas.
Dovey would later order one of those martinis and a glass of Pelligrino. The waiter brought it promptly and with a basket of bread. He knew the crowd.
Moments passed. The ‘aunt’ was a bit late, then the waiter reappeared to announce that….there had been a slight delay, but the escargot were coming to start the dinner and the aunt, who was on her way, would arrive shortly. In minutes the snails arrived, sizzling in garlic, swimming in butter and offering a promise of delight.
But, the snails were wrong.
Shortly, the notorious aunt did arrive. Once again, she entered with flair. She was honored and reveled, treated like royalty and swiftly ushered to the table where Dovey waited with the martini and the snails and the bread.
Dovey! Oh, Dear Dovey…..the aunt said….I am SO sorry! I had a meeting that lasted much longer than I anticipated.
Have the waiters treated you well? I called to make sure they knew I would be late and asked that you would be cared for IMMEDIATELY. They did take care of you, right?
Dovey nodded and gestured to the martini and the escargots, just as the waiter brought the woman her ‘usual’ double martini that she never had to order and as the woman eased out of her coat, she lifted her glass and offered a mock toast to Dovey.
Welcome to Dallas, she said with a wink. I cannot wait to get to know you. You know, I loved your mother.
There are emotional tears that roll down your cheeks and there are tears that squirt out of your eyes and hit the person in front of you. But, Dovey’s tears tonight? They were too dry to bother. Way, way to dry to bother at the moment. She could not respond.
Over the next hour, patrons and staff from the restaurant moved past the table to pay respects and fawn over the aunt. Drinks kept coming and food did not. The aunt waved away food and picked at the bread, drinking and laughing with her friends, holding court and introducing Dovey as her sister’s only child. Dovey watched. She observed and she stayed in wonder about her decision.
As the lights began to dim and the crowd started to thin, a tall, superiorly groomed and very handsome man moved to the table to virtually ‘kiss the woman’s ring’ and then asked her just who Dovey was and why she was joining her that evening.
As the aunt continued to drink and then become obviously more drunk, she introduced Dovey to the man, announcing proudly….Dovey, I’d like you to meet my former son-in-law, Don. He loves heiresses and we met when he married my heiress daughter, but? It did not stick. It could not stick. She is a handful. I adopted her after my own daughter died. You know, she died at 3 months, so I just went out and got another one.
Then, they both laughed. But, Dovey sat in terror.
The man bowed, kissed the woman on the forehead and offered a farewell.
Dovey excused herself, thanked the woman for the evening and stood to leave. As the woman stood, too, she couldn’t. She wobbled, weaved and flopped into the chair once more. Looking up at Dovey, she said….
I AM SO SORRY. I BELIEVE I AM OVER-SERVED. I DIDN’T EAT MUCH TODAY. CAN YOU HELP ME?
Wondering why she said yes, Dovey said…OF COURSE.
And, they made their way to the door, the maitre d’ in tow, helping the woman to the valet station.
It was evident that this woman could not and should not drive. Against her concern, Dovey opted to drive her to her destination, to her home, which happened to be a penthouse on Turtle Creek Boulevard; a posh penthouse with high security, little concern for outsiders and a gated entrance. Not doable whatsoever.
Second option? Dovey thought to take this woman to her own apartment to sleep off her indulgence. So, she turned her convertible around, placed her in the passenger’s seat and drove away with the wind in their hair as they made a short trip to the efficiency apartment that Dovey had made her own.
On arrival, she helped the aunt up from the parking area, through the sidewalks and stairs to reach the apartment door. Dovey unlocked the door, moved them both inside and helped plop this drunk woman down onto her couch.
They stared at each other for some long moments.
Shortly, Dovey brought a carafe of water and two glasses. The other woman asked for an ash tray and lit a cigarette.
She said….I need to talk to you. I need to tell you something important. It’s very important. Please sit.
As Dovey sat and watched the woman weave, drink water and draw on her cigarette, the aunt composed herself.
In a moment she spoke from her heart. She reached to grab Dovey’s hand. She said….
You need to know that I killed your mother. I didn’t try to, I was just so jealous of her. She had you and I had no daughter and she was happy and I was sad and when you were born and, boy you were huge! Did anyone tell you how big you were as a baby? You were a big baby, yes you were. And, you were so darling. You looked like an angel. When I went to see your mother at the hospital, she was not very strong because of the cesarian, but she was so happy to have you and that destroyed me. So, I told her a lie. I told her that your father had another lover. When she cried, it actually made me happy, Dovey. It made me feel powerful and that made me feel good, for some reason. I took you away from her and that night, after she wept for hours, she died. I didn’t think she would die! I never thought she would die!
And, in a crumble and as the woman attempt to comfort herself, she reached out to hug Dovey, asking…..Can you ever forgive me? Can YOU ever forgive me???
Her sobs were soft at first, then loud and wailing and then? In a short moment, she took a drag on her smoke, then placed her cigarette into the ashtray, took a sip of water and pulled a cover up over her legs and passed out on the couch. Dovey stared in disbelief. Absolute disbelief.
Out of the peripheral vision, Indian stood near Dovey’s shoulder. She smelled the horse fur and she heard the breath.
What do I do? Dovey asked.
From Indian, she ‘felt’ him say…..You will know in the morning. I am right beside you. Wait until the dawn.
Through the night, Dovey sat in her bed at first, curled into a fetal position for a few sleepless hours, dozed for a moment, then woke before the daylight. As she made her way into the kitchen to start some coffee, the aunt walked up behind her, still in her dress and wiping her face with a damp washcloth.
I am so embarrassed, she said to Dovey. I drank before dinner and didn’t drink with dinner and I just didn’t manage myself so well. Please forgive me. I hardly remember anything.
Dovey said, You don’t remember anything? You don’t remember our conversation?
The aunt said….I do not. I cannot remember anything I said. I hope I didn’t offend you.
They stood in silence.
In an hour, the aunt’s driver arrived to fetch her.
Please let me see you again, the aunt said.
Sure, said Dovey. We have a lot to talk about.
And, I certainly intend to.
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