Chapter 7: Mother Love

Mrs. Hallett was in her room, silently admiring the ocean.  Not for long.  The door burst open, and Carol ran in.

“Mom, can I talk to you about something?” she asked.  Something in her tone implied this was going to be a very personal matter.  Mrs. Hallett was used to dealing with personal matters; she’d done that with her children for years.  This wasn’t her child, though.  It felt very weird to her, but she remembered her role.  She responded:

“Yes, Carol?”

Carol walked over to her mother and handed her a note.  “It’s about school,” she said.  “Do you think I should trim my bangs or not?”

Mrs. Hallett didn’t answer; she was too busy reading the note.  I have to search the room.  Please pretend you’re carrying on a normal conversation with me, in case someone’s listening.

“Mom?”

Mrs. Hallett looked over at her daughter.  Carol was giving her a pleading look, and it wasn’t about bangs, either.

“I heard you,” said Mrs. Hallett.  “It’s just—well, it reminded me of something that happened to me when I was your age.”

“What?” asked Carol, peeking behind the paintings on the wall.

“There was a girl at my school named Molly MacPherson,” said Mrs. Hallett.  “She was the popular girl there.  It was a small school, and we all knew each other really well.  Most of the girls wanted to be like Molly.  When she cut her hair short—just above the shoulders, in those days—they did too.  When she started wearing jeans with a hole, they all trimmed one in theirs.  When lots of lipstick came into style, the guys did whatever they could to avoid being kissed.”

Carol, now spraying something on the window, laughed.  “What happened then?”

“Well, I wanted to do the same things they were doing, but my mom—”

“Grandma?”

“Yes…Grandma,” Mrs. Hallett felt so odd as she said the word.  “Grandma told me that Molly could start whatever fad she wanted, but that what’s on the inside was the most important.  So, my hair stayed long.  My jeans stayed in good shape—until I’d had them for a while, of course.  I avoided the lipstick.  And then, you know what happened?”

“What?” asked Carol, diving under the bed.

Mrs. Hallett stared at the two feet sticking out.  “When Molly got suspended for cheating, she wasn’t so popular anymore.  I never became the popular girl, but I didn’t see all my friends turn on me overnight, either.  It took me two years to realize this, and I only wish I’d learned it sooner.”

“Ah-ha!” came from under the bed, softly.  Carol peeked out.  “More!” she whispered.

“Well, uh, it was a valuable lesson to me,” said Mrs. Hallett.  “Perhaps more valuable than anything I ever learned in math class, history class, science class, English class, gym class—”

Carol came out from under the bed, zipping up her purse.  “Thanks,” she said.  “Thank you very much!  I love you, Mom!” she shouted, rushing across the room.

Mrs. Hallett couldn’t decide whether to bolt or duck.  Before she did either, Carol reached her, flung her arms around her, and pretended to kiss her.  “I’m going to tell that Jenny Marks exactly what you said,” she said.  “See you later!”

“Huh?  Oh, OK!” said Mrs. Hallett.  “Bye!”

I guess she found what she was looking for, Mrs. Hallett thought to herself.  Then, she chuckled.

I wish my kids had listened like that!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carol darted back into the room she shared with Renee and slammed the door.  Locking it, she rushed over to the window and shut the blinds.  Then, she plummeted down onto the bed and opened her purse.  She reached in and pulled out—

A menu.

Carol hadn’t been able to see the thing too well under the bed, but she had seen one thing.  “Don’s Drive-In—Serving Southern California since 1954.”  Now that she was alone, she examined the flyer more closely.

There was nothing unusual about it, except two things.  First, the #3 was circled.  It was “Don’s Famous Chickenburger—topped with lettuce, tomato, and onions.  Mustard, ketchup, mushrooms, and bacon available on request.”  Mushrooms was the second thing out of the ordinary: it was underlined.

Carol carefully placed the menu back in her purse.  She wandered over to the radio and put some music on.  Then, she slipped into the restroom and put on the shower.  She did not get in it, however.  Instead, she snuck into the closet, reached into her makeup bag, and pulled out a compact.

It wasn’t a compact.  It was a small computer.  Carol placed the second and third fingers of her right hand on a keypad, and the screen lit up.

“Carol Lawrence—Agent 3145-778.”  Carol entered a twenty-seven digit password.  Then, she clicked something and started typing.

“Don’s Drive-In—Malibu, CA.”

Nothing happened on Carol’s end for twenty seconds.  Then, the screen flashed.

“No Data.”

“Hmm,” said Carol to herself.  She went to the report section and typed, “1000 hours.  Found a menu for Don’s Drive-In hidden under Pearson’s bed.  The number three was circled and mushrooms was underlined.  Sending a photo.”

Carol pulled out the menu and waved her “compact” over it.  Then, she hit send.  Washington (D.C.) now had the data.

Yawning, Carol was about to flip her compact shut when she remembered something.  “Graz Conference” she typed.

Five seconds elapsed.  Then, something appeared on the screen.  Carol’s eyes grew big as saucers as she began to read.