Montana Sky

rhyme or reason to the arrangement, no plot or plan. Whatever plants caught Louella’s eye had been plunked down wherever Louella’s whim had dictated. And, Tess mused, she had a lot of whims.
    Standing amid a bed of scarlet and orange impatiens was the newest addition, the headless torso of the goddess Nike. Tess shook her head and rang the bell that played the first bump-and-grind bars of “The Stripper.”
    Louella opened the door herself and enfolded her daughter in draping silks, heavy perfume, and the candy scent of discount cosmetics. Louella never stepped beyond her own bedroom door in less than full makeup.
    She was a tall woman, lushly built, with mile-long legs that still could—and did—execute a high kick. The natural color of her hair had been forgotten long ago. It had been blond for years, as brassy a tone as Louella’s huge laugh, and worn big, in a teased and lacquered style admired by TV evangelists. She had a striking face despite the troweled-on layers of base and powder and blush, with strong bones and full lips, slicked now with high-gloss red. Her eyes were baby blue, as was the shadow that decorated their lids, with the brows above them mercilessly plucked and stenciled into dark, thin brackets.
    As always, Tess was struck with conflicting waves of love and puzzlement. “Mom.” Her lips curved as she returned the embrace, and her eyes rolled as the two yapping Pomeranians her mother adored set up an ear-piercing din in their excitement at having company.
    “Back from the Wild West, are you?” Louella’s East Texas twang had the resonance of plucked banjo strings. She kissed Tess on the cheek, then rubbed away the smear of lipstick with a spit-dampened finger. “Well, come tellme all about it. They sent the old bastard off in proper style, I hope.”
    “It was . . . interesting.”
    “I’ll bet. Let’s have us some coffee, honey. It’s Carmine’s morning off, so we’ll have to fend for ourselves.”
    “I’ll make it.” She preferred brewing the coffee herself to facing her mother’s studly houseboy. Tess tried not to imagine what other services the man provided Louella.
    She moved through the living area, decorated in scarlets and golds, into a kitchen so white it was like being snow-blinded. As usual, there wasn’t a crumb out of place. Whatever else Carmine did during his daily duties, he was tidy as a nun.
    “Got some coffee cake around here, too. I’m hungry as a bear.” With her dogs scrambling around her feet, Louella rummaged in cupboards, through the refrigerator. Within minutes there was chaos.
    Tess’s lips twitched again. Chaos followed her mother around as faithfully as the yapping Mimi and Maurice did.
    “You meet your kin out there?”
    “If you mean the half sisters, yes.” With trepidation, Tess eyed the coffee cake her mother had unearthed. Louella was slicing it into huge slabs with a steak knife. Being transferred to a plate decorated with gargantuan roses were approximately ten billion calories.
    “Well, what are they like?” With the same generous hand, Louella cut a piece for her dogs, setting the china plate on the floor. The dogs bolted cake and snarled at each other.
    “The one from wife number two is quiet, nervous.”
    “That’s the one with the ex who likes to use his fists.” Clucking her tongue, Louella slid her ample hips onto the counter stool. “Poor thing. One of my girls had that kind of trouble. Husband would as soon beat the shit out of her as wink. We finally got her into a shelter. She’s living up in Seattle now. Sends me a card now and again.”
    Tess made a small sound of interest. Her mother’s girls were anyone who worked for her, from the waitresses to the bartenders, the strippers to the kitchen help. Louella embraced them all, lending money, giving advice. Tess hadalways thought Louella’s was part club, part halfway house for topless dancers.
    “How about the other one?” Louella asked as she attacked her coffee cake. “The one that’s part Indian.”
    “Oh, that one’s a real cowgirl. Tough as leather, striding around in dirty boots. I imagine she can punch cattle, literally.” Amused at the thought, Tess poured out coffee. “She didn’t trouble to hide the fact that she didn’t want either of us there.” With a shrug, she sat down and began to pick at her cake. “She’s got a half brother.”
    “Yeah, I knew about that. I knew Mary Wolfchild—at least I’d seen her around. She was one