The toast was cold and Jayne gave up on it after one bite. Always a compulsive eater, she’d lost her appetite right along with her husband, and now she existed predominantly on crackers and cheese. No time was required to fix crackers and cheese. She just got out the jar of Cheese Whiz and smeared it on a couple of saltines. It was true that she was a bit tired of eating the same thing, meal after meal, but she couldn’t bear the thought of preparing a gourmet meal and eating it alone.
She frowned as she thought of Paul. He’d stopped trying to work things out and she couldn’t blame him, since she’d been too stubborn to take his calls or even agree to see him. Now she was sorry she’d been so pigheaded, but it was too late to try to mend fences. Their divorce would be final in less than two months and her twelve years of being Mrs. Paul Lindstrom would be over.
Jayne blinked back tears as she picked out the melody of the song she was writing. It didn’t sound as good as it had last night, but she’d promised to have it finished by the end of the week. Barbie Rawlins needed time to rehearse before she recorded it.
Her notebook lay open on the piano bench, and Jayne frowned as she faced the blank page. The melody was easy, but lyrics were much tougher going. It was lucky that most country-western songs fell into two categories: love found or love lost. Since Barbie’s last song had been about losing a lover, this one should be about falling in love. It would be difficult to get into that mind-set since she was still grieving over losing her own lover.
Nothing was going right lately, including her work. The only good thing she’d written since Paul had left was a song about how much she missed him. Johnny Day had recorded it before leaving for Italy, but Paul would have no reason to tune in to a country-western station and no interest in a song by his soon-to-be ex. As hard as it would be, she had to face the fact that Paul was completely gone from her life.
Jayne got up to pace the floor. The words to the chorus were hovering somewhere just out of reach, something to do with a merry-go-round. “Buy me a ticket on the merry-go-round of love?” Jayne spoke the line aloud to check the meter. Too many syllables. What was another name for merry-go-round?
“Carousel! The carousel of love!” Jayne was so excited, she almost tripped in the headlong rush to get back to her notebook. “Carousel of Love” was a great song title. It would knock Barbie’s socks off.
Jayne scribbled furiously for a moment. She had to get it all down before she forgot it. Then she picked out the melody from a standing position and started to sing.
It’s the best ride in town and I wanna take it
And this time I promise I’m not gonna fake it
Mister, please buy me a ticket,
A ticket to the carousel of love.
She sang it once more to be absolutely sure, and then she started to work on the verses. The first three came easily, standard fare that she could write in her sleep, but the last one was tricky. Sometimes it helped to sing it all the way through, even though some words were missing.
It’s the best ride in town and I wanna take it
And this time I promise I’m not gonna fake it
Mister, please buy me a ticket,
A ticket to the carousel of love.
I’ll trade in all my lonely nights
The tears I cried when I turned out the lights
The smiles I smiled to try to hide
If that’ll buy me just one little ride.
Why am I standing down here on the ground
While the man I love rides around and around?
Mister, please buy me a ticket,
A ticket to the carousel of love.
I’ll swap my plans to that singular dream
A lady alone with her get-rich scheme
’Cause all I need is a blankety-blank
And a ride on the carousel of love.
Paul had been a genius for coming up with the perfect rhyme, but Paul was gone and if she started thinking about him, she’d never finish. Jayne picked up the telephone and punched out Ellen’s number. She wasn’t socializing much either since she’d broken off with Johnny. As the only women in the building who went to bed alone, they really ought to stick together.
Five Minutes before 10:57 AM
Ellen ran for the phone as it rang, hoping it was Walker. She still hadn’t located those mannequin arms. But it was Jayne.
“You got to help me, Ellen. I’m writing this song and I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. What rhymes with love?”
Ellen grinned. Jayne was always asking for rhyming words. “How about above, or turtledove, or even shove.”
“Nope. This one’s for Barbie Rawlins and she pronounces love like the museum in Paris.”
Ellen frowned. “You mean the Louvre?”
“That’s it. So what rhymes?”
“I’m not sure.” Ellen thought for a moment. “How about groove.”
There was a slight pause while Jayne thought it over. “Close, but still not exactly right. Barbie’s from North Carolina and there’s no way I can match her accent. Maybe I should just ditch love and go with affection.”
Ellen chuckled. “That sounds like a good idea in more ways than one. A rhyme for affection would be easy. There’s direction, or protection, or . . .”
“Erection?” Jayne let out a whoop of laughter. “Thanks, but I think I’d better hang on with love. You want to take a break and beat me in a game of tennis?”
“Not right now, Jayne. I’m stuck filling an emergency order and Walker’s in town at the warehouse.”
Jayne took on a serious tone. “Come on, Ellen, honey. We haven’t played for a coon’s age, and I need something physical to take my mind off Paul. Besides, it’s not good for you to work all the time.”
“I know, but I’ve got a rush order. And . . .”
“You’ve got all day to fill it,” Jayne broke in before Ellen could think of another excuse. “I figured out that you’re avoiding Vanessa, but you’re going to have to face her sooner or later, living in the same building and all. You might as well take the bull by the horns.”
“Well . . . all right. Is eleven-thirty good for you?”