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Authors: Hillary Carlip
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APC—out of the gated driveway. That’s why we never saw the cars. She and Charlie park behind a gate! DUH!
Once she disappears down the hill, we run to the front door and knock. Her eleven-year-old daughter, Louise Goffin, answers. Long wavy hair and blue, blue eyes, she looks older than she does in the photos I’ve seen. But she looks a lot like her mom.
Greg launches into our ploy, “Sorry to bother you, but we’re waiting for our friends who aren’t home yet and really have to use the bathroom. Would you mind?”
“I guess it’s okay.” Louise opens the door.
While Greg’s in the bathroom, I scope out the joint. And there it is, larger than life, in front of a stained-glass window in her rustic, cozy living room. Carole’s piano. A grand piano. Dark black. Shiny. Dear God, Buddha, Mary—Swami Satchidananda—I pray silently in gratitude to all the forces at my spiritual buffet, THANK YOU!
THE DAY!!!!
DAY #50
Monday, August 9
X marks the spot, mission accomplished, case closed!!!
I wake before dawn and bake banana bread. It worked with Carly, why wouldn’t it work with Carole? Greg and I head into the canyon, and before we can chicken out, go right up to Carole’s door and knock. And as simple as that, after fifty-plus days on THE KING CASE…
CAROLE ANSWERS!!!!
There I am, standing face-to-face with the most talented woman not just on Earth, but in the whole entire universe.
“Hello,” she says in that voice.
I manage to get out a shaky “Hi.”
“We just want to tell you that we really love your music,” Greg steps in. I pull myself together enough to add, “You’re a real inspiration.”
“Well, thank you so much.” She is as kind and lovely as I expected she would be. Though we knew Carole was pregnant, we aren’t prepared for how much she’s showing! She looks like she’s about to pop any second, though of course, as any good detectives know, she isn’t due until December.
I hold out our loaf of bread wrapped in one of my mother’s pink linen napkins. “We baked this for you, in appreciation. It’s banana bread.”
“How wonderful.” She smiles as she takes our gift, her hand brushing mine. And then the heavens smile down on us. Carole King says, “Why don’t you come in?”
Everything we’ve been working for is finally paying off!! We step inside. Carole’s house is as colorful and warm as her most soulful ballads. We follow her into the tiled kitchen, where she serves us pink lemonade, and we chat for almost an hour. I tell her about how we discovered her before anyone else did, how I tracked down her Dimension Dolls album (well, I leave out that I had posed as a reviewer from a fake magazine to get the album! HA!). We play with her German shepherds, Lyka and Schwartz, while she keeps refilling our lemonade glasses.
Then she says, “I’d invite you to swim in our pool, but it’s full of algae.” God bless her for even considering the invitation! She’s a true star, worthy of every minute of our devotion. But the capper comes when Carole King, THE NUMBER ONE SINGE , lies down, right there on her tiled kitchen floor, and performs what she calls her “Lamaze” breathing exercises!!! I SWEAR!!! IT’S AMAZING!!! She wouldn’t do that in front of just anyone. Only friends.
When it’s time to leave, I start to really bum out. Even though we’re now officially friends with Carole, we can’t keep coming back to her house, can we? This is the end of the road—the end of THE KING CASE. We say good-bye to Carole—she even hugs us—and I do everything I can to be strong and not cry.
We did it. We befriended Carole King. Wow.
Wednesday, August 11–Friday, August 13
So what happens after you hang out with Carole King? You have to tell all your friends about it, NATCH! And just in case they don’t believe us, Greg and I devise a scheme. As Hayley Mills constantly repeats in one of my favorite movies, The Trouble with Angels,
Once she disappears down the hill, we run to the front door and knock. Her eleven-year-old daughter, Louise Goffin, answers. Long wavy hair and blue, blue eyes, she looks older than she does in the photos I’ve seen. But she looks a lot like her mom.
Greg launches into our ploy, “Sorry to bother you, but we’re waiting for our friends who aren’t home yet and really have to use the bathroom. Would you mind?”
“I guess it’s okay.” Louise opens the door.
While Greg’s in the bathroom, I scope out the joint. And there it is, larger than life, in front of a stained-glass window in her rustic, cozy living room. Carole’s piano. A grand piano. Dark black. Shiny. Dear God, Buddha, Mary—Swami Satchidananda—I pray silently in gratitude to all the forces at my spiritual buffet, THANK YOU!
THE DAY!!!!
DAY #50
Monday, August 9
X marks the spot, mission accomplished, case closed!!!
I wake before dawn and bake banana bread. It worked with Carly, why wouldn’t it work with Carole? Greg and I head into the canyon, and before we can chicken out, go right up to Carole’s door and knock. And as simple as that, after fifty-plus days on THE KING CASE…
CAROLE ANSWERS!!!!
There I am, standing face-to-face with the most talented woman not just on Earth, but in the whole entire universe.
“Hello,” she says in that voice.
I manage to get out a shaky “Hi.”
“We just want to tell you that we really love your music,” Greg steps in. I pull myself together enough to add, “You’re a real inspiration.”
“Well, thank you so much.” She is as kind and lovely as I expected she would be. Though we knew Carole was pregnant, we aren’t prepared for how much she’s showing! She looks like she’s about to pop any second, though of course, as any good detectives know, she isn’t due until December.
I hold out our loaf of bread wrapped in one of my mother’s pink linen napkins. “We baked this for you, in appreciation. It’s banana bread.”
“How wonderful.” She smiles as she takes our gift, her hand brushing mine. And then the heavens smile down on us. Carole King says, “Why don’t you come in?”
Everything we’ve been working for is finally paying off!! We step inside. Carole’s house is as colorful and warm as her most soulful ballads. We follow her into the tiled kitchen, where she serves us pink lemonade, and we chat for almost an hour. I tell her about how we discovered her before anyone else did, how I tracked down her Dimension Dolls album (well, I leave out that I had posed as a reviewer from a fake magazine to get the album! HA!). We play with her German shepherds, Lyka and Schwartz, while she keeps refilling our lemonade glasses.
Then she says, “I’d invite you to swim in our pool, but it’s full of algae.” God bless her for even considering the invitation! She’s a true star, worthy of every minute of our devotion. But the capper comes when Carole King, THE NUMBER ONE SINGE , lies down, right there on her tiled kitchen floor, and performs what she calls her “Lamaze” breathing exercises!!! I SWEAR!!! IT’S AMAZING!!! She wouldn’t do that in front of just anyone. Only friends.
When it’s time to leave, I start to really bum out. Even though we’re now officially friends with Carole, we can’t keep coming back to her house, can we? This is the end of the road—the end of THE KING CASE. We say good-bye to Carole—she even hugs us—and I do everything I can to be strong and not cry.
We did it. We befriended Carole King. Wow.
Wednesday, August 11–Friday, August 13
So what happens after you hang out with Carole King? You have to tell all your friends about it, NATCH! And just in case they don’t believe us, Greg and I devise a scheme. As Hayley Mills constantly repeats in one of my favorite movies, The Trouble with Angels,
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