his mind. 'You go on down the highway here about a half mile, till you pass the Knowles farm. You'll know the place. The barn's got 'See Rock City' painted on its roof. Well, you take the next turnoff, a dirt stretch called Glenhollow Road, and head on that way for three or four miles. The Hale place is the first house on the right.'
'Thanks,' said Ted. He gathered up his purchases and made his way past the tightly packed aisles of canned and dry goods, eager to be out of the shadowy store and back into the sunshine. He glanced back only once and saw the old man staring at him peculiarly. As if he wanted to ask Ted something… or maybe tell him something.
He quickly gobbled down the honey bun and chased it with the soda. Then he started his car and headed farther southward, trying to keep Roone's directions fresh in his mind. He found the Knowles farm without any trouble and turned down the dirt road, even though there was no visible sign marking it as being Glenhollow.
Ted drove down the rural road, his hands clenching and unclenching the steering wheel. The day was beautiful, and the dense woods to either side of him were green and cool. Birds sang in abundance from overhead and the air was rich with the scent of honeysuckle, but those things failed to soothe his frazzled nerves. He felt none of the control he had felt earlier that morning, when he had masturbated to the monster movie.
It seemed like an eternity, but he finally reached the first house on the right side of Glenhollow Road. Ted parked the Mustang next to a drainage ditch, a hundred feet from the structure. It was a simple, two-story farmhouse that looked as if it hadn't been treated to a good roofing or paint job for ten or twelve years. Tall oaks surrounded the house, and the yard was knee-high with weeds. Standing at the side of the road was a single mailbox with the name HALE painted on the side, nothing more.
It was at that moment that Ted Culman wondered exactly what he was doing there. Exactly what had he had in mind when he left California? Had he come to simply tell her how much he appreciated her movies and ask for her autograph? Or was there more to it than that? Ted thought about the fantasies he had been indulging in lately, but they concerned the Fawn Hale of the past. The woman had been nearing her forties when she retired. She would be in her sixties now, drawing Social Security and soaking her teeth in a glass by her bed.
The thought made Ted feel a little nauseous. He had the sudden urge to make a U-turn in the country road, retrieve his suitcase from the motel, and head home. But he knew if he did that, he would always wonder about Fawn and the meeting he had aborted out of sheer panic. He took a deep breath and, climbing out of the car, started up the road to the Hale residence.
As he crossed the unmowed yard, he began to wonder if anyone even lived there anymore. The front porch was littered with dead leaves, and many of the house's windows were broken, most notably those of the upper floor. The steps creaked beneath his feet as he approached the front door, and beyond the storm door he could only make out darkness. From the other side of the screen drifted a scent of mustiness and decay, the odor of a house that had not been aired out in a very long time.
Nervously he raised his fist and knocked on the doorjamb.
At first he didn't think anyone was going to answer. Then a form emerged from out of the gloom. 'Can I help you?' asked a feminine voice with a soft southern drawl.
Ted stared at the woman on the other side of the door, and at first, the mesh of the screen caused an unnerving illusion. For an instant it was like looking at a freeze-frame of a grainy black-and-white film. A frame of a buxom blonde, minus the sunglasses and fifties clothing. The resemblance was uncanny, almost frightening.
'Fawn?' blurted Ted, even though he knew that the woman couldn't possibly be the one he had come to see. She was too young; a little older than him, maybe twenty-six or seven. And her hair wasn't platinum, but a more natural shade of strawberry blond. But the eyes were identical to Fawn's, and that mouth. There certainly was no mistake that it had been derived from the same voluptuous gene pool.
The girl smiled. 'No, but I'm her daughter, Lori,' she said. She stared at him for a moment, waiting. 'Uh, can I do something for you?'
'My name's Ted Culman,' he said, still stunned by how much she looked like Fawn. 'I'm a big fan of your mother. I wonder if I could talk to her for a minute, if it wouldn't be too much trouble?'
The smile faltered on Lori's face and she looked a little sad. 'I'm sorry, but that's impossible.'
'Please,' said Ted, sensing that something was wrong. 'Just a couple minutes and I won't bother her again.'
'You don't understand,' said Lori Hale. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes full of pain. 'My mother… she's dead. She passed away about a year ago.'
Ted felt as if someone had sucker-punched him in the gut. 'Oh, no,' he muttered. 'But. how?'
'Cancer,' she told him.
Ted took a step back, his face pale. For a moment he felt as if he might pass out.
He heard the girl unhook the screen door and open it. 'Are you all right?' she asked, concerned.
'I… I don't know,' he said truthfully. Even though Fawn Hale had died in practically every movie she had been featured in, Ted had a difficult time accepting the fact that she was actually dead in real life. 'Could I sit down somewhere for a minute?'
'Sure,' said Lori Hale. 'Come on inside.'
Ted accepted her invitation and was soon sitting on a threadbare couch in a dusty parlor. The room was decorated with antique furniture, and the walls alternated between old family photographs and glossy eight-by-ten stills of Fawn in her prime, most of them showing off more of her teeth and tonsils than any thing else.
When some of the color had returned to Ted's face, the young woman seemed to relax a little. 'Are you sure you're okay?' she asked again.
'Yeah,' replied Ted. 'I was just surprised, that's all.'
'And disappointed, too,' said Lori. 'I see it in your face. Just how far did you come to see my mother?'
'San Diego,' he said.
'California? No wonder you're so upset.' She started toward an adjoining hallway. 'I'll go to the kitchen and fetch us something to drink. I just fixed a pitcher of iced tea. How does that sound?'
Ted's throat felt parched. 'Great,' he replied.
A minute later, Lori returned with a tall glass of iced tea in each hand. When she entered the room, Ted couldn't help but admire the girl's figure, clad only in a halter top and a pair of denim cutoffs. She possessed practically the same body that her mother had in her youth: perfectly formed breasts, graceful hips, and long, muscular legs.
Lori seemed to sense his attention, but didn't seem to mind. She sat down next to Ted and slipped a cold glass in his hand. 'There you go,' she said. She watched as he gulped several swallows of tea. 'So you were a fan of Mama's?'
'Yes,' said Ted. The tea was a little strong for his taste, but it seemed to calm him down. 'I have about every film she ever made on video.'
'Really?' asked Lori, impressed. 'Even
Ted laughed. He knew the film she was talking about. It was a dreadful science-fiction flick made on a shoestring budget of two thousand dollars and featured some really horrendous special effects, such as a sinister robot constructed from an oil drum, and a magnified iguana attacking a shoddy model of a small town. If there was one shining point about the movie, it was the appearance of Fawn as an unsuspecting diner waitress who falls victim to the Martian robots and their oversized lizard.
'I do have that one,' he said.
'That was one of my favorites,' said Lori. She smiled. 'You know, I do appreciate you coming. Mama would've appreciated it, too.'
'I'm just sorry I couldn't have met her,' he said. Ted thought of the way he had exploited the actress in his own sleazy fantasies and suddenly felt ashamed.
'She would've enjoyed talking to you,' Lori told him. 'She liked talking about her career.' A strange expression surfaced in the woman's eyes. 'Well, most of it, that is.'
Ted drank his tea, a question suddenly coming to mind. He wondered whether he should ask it or not, then figured it was safe to do so. 'Exactly why did your mother retire, Lori? I've read about everything I could dig up on her, but I've never been able to find out the reason.'
Lori avoided his gaze at first. 'There was a scandal.'
'Scandal?'
'Yes,' she went on. 'It happened during her last picture,
